During an election, the incumbent party has everything to lose; in fact, many times, the event is referred to as a referendum. If the incumbent party stays in control, then the public grants them a mandate to continue its agenda. If the party loses, then the referendum states that the public does not have any faith in their regime. These options reveal highs and lows in greatest possible extremes.

Today, I witnessed a referendum on my legacy. I am an unhappy person, point blank; that part is not up for discussion. Recently, that idea has changed, as I met a girl who I became enamored with, and there was chemistry. Not just lust, chemistry; the type that kids would call puppy love. She was probably the closest match to my personality out of all my previous attempts…damn, it was magic. Shortly, I was certain of mutual interest, and I proceeded to raise the bar. I had her phone number, and a presumptive date for Saturday. Coming off a week where I did not do well in my classes due to my own desk rust, I smiled a happy smile. I skipped a happy skip. I did Jack Swagger’s intro while walking to my courses. For the first time in three years, I had the world on its knees.

However, like Shane Falco, I have impressive numbers across the board, but something happens that prevents me from grinning. I’ve been called a choker. I’ve been called unlucky. More famously, I’ve been called a “friend.” Better luck next time, I hear. It’s always better luck next time. There’s more fish in the sea. You’re not ready, quite yet. The wait will be worth it. These phrases and more I’ve heard…I’ve sat bitterly awaiting my time to walk the aisle victorious. Three belts adorn my wall, but a true titlist needs connection to survive. I miss the cheers from my youth. I miss the idea of social security even more.

As I’m floating along, the time comes to finalize plans. I fire off an email about “the best date ever. Ever.” The smile quickly departs from my face as I read:

Hey, A. Guy (yes, that is a good pun, although really, your last name is just perfect for lots of puns).
I’ve been thinking, and I don’t think I can go through with this. I thought I was ready to start dating again, but-
My boyfriend of three years passed almost two months ago, and everyone keeps telling me that I need to start dating again sooner rather than later, and I thought, here’s my opportunity, going on a date with someone who is pretty dang awesome..
I really, just can’t do it, though.
I am really, really sorry. I know it’s badly cliche, but remember that it was a yes to you, but a no to everyone.

Along with the other names, I’ve been called a wuss, because when it comes to crying, my emotions hang on my sleeve after falling from my pupils. Uncontrollable sorrow…the type that makes you want to kill yourself just to see if the puncture wound makes the trauma dissipate. Well, the blade stings a bit, but watching the blood flow leaves my mind and body numb. Cold. Dark. Emotionless. Fearful.

I’ve heard some really odd things when it comes to starting a love life. I’ve been brushed off. Slapped. Received a fake name once or twice. Hell, one is in Australia after I asked her out. I take it all in stride, because my ego has to appear strong enough to withstand a nuclear blast; whether it can or not is a different story. But never, have I received a rejection quite like this. The moment was set, the script was checked twice, and for once, I was not scheduling a rewrite. I thought the 22 unit semesters, 40 hour work weeks, the crippling social anxiety…it was gone. This time, was my time. I’m going to relax. I’m going to say “Mom, this is who keeps me grounded.” I’m going to dance long into the night, and watch the sunrise in a few minutes.

I’m going to cry myself to sleep, because life, is not fair.

I remember reading about Superboy-Prime’s rationale for going rogue. A young kid with the power of a god not being allowed to witness progress. That’s how I feel right now. Only when I’m angry can I truly feel the wonder of what I possess. It is at this point where The Godhand begins, and Anthony Guy steps aside. I didn’t adopt the nickname because I thought Ken Mishima was a great character; I chose it because it best equivocates my desire for unrestrained success. That is why I’m most fearful: I know what I can do…but realistically, I don’t want to do it. I want to have someone to hold and tell me that “hey, I was worth the wait, wasn’t I?” Instead, world domination looms because The Godhand understands that depression is merely anger without the enthusiasm.

I wanted happiness more than I wanted Berkeley. I wanted to humble myself to fully enjoy the world around me. This Saturday would’ve been the day that I can say “maybe those license plates were a little much…”

The referendum on my legacy states that I have been and never will be anything more than, a friend. I’m great for girls who need to discuss why their relationship is failing; nothing more. My one sole wish now is death; now that I know how my epitaph will read, I can’t stomach seeing it engraved in marble. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Age Against the Machine “Get On Your Knees”