The philosophy of "ic" is something that has come about through a series of misadventures, trials, tribulations, narcolepsy, the occasional moment of contentment and a hell of a lot of "fun" and will be explained in GREAT detail at a later date . To fully understand me - a 36 year old man sitting on the floor in his house typing this whilst watching Premier League football, I will have to take you back to the start.
I am one of two children to my dear mum. We grew up in a small home in Bayswater just the three of us. My dad left when I was very young and I really have no recollection of him whatsoever. It was always one of those subjects that I knew never to bring up with mum because I knew it would have upset her, yet I have many regrets that I never really learned what I needed to know about the man that brought me into this world and yet his absence shaped me into the person I am right here and now. Mum was a very giving sharing person, who gave without ever thinking of herself. Everyone else came first - no matter what the consequence or what it meant for her personally. She never really dated much at all over the years and as the years grew on, the less confidence she had in herself as a person and as someone whom a man would find attractive. Happiness for her, in her mind, was an unachievable goal. Something for everyone to experience and her to look upon from distance. What she did pass onto me though, that an living in a household with two other women where if you left the toilet seat up, you copped it in the back of the head two seconds later, was how I should treat a woman. I do honestly believe the absence of my father from my upbringing has had a profound effect on who I am today. Whilst in no way shape or form would I have had my childhood with my mother any differently, I do sometimes wonder how things might have been living in a "traditional" two parent family. To anyone who knows me or has met me, they can without hesitation say I am an emotional kind of guy. I'm easily swayed one direction or the other. The simplest of things can have the greatest impact upon me and despite the efforts of my male friends to "harden me up" (the polite terminology used !), it's not something that I can easily do and having the influence from my dad might have sharpened me as I matured entering this interesting world, and the side-world where things just seemed to happen to me :)
The first Mikey-ism I would like to share came at university. Bouyed by my rampant success with the female gender one New Years Eve, I looked ahead into a brave new world where I was considered a desirable prospect by the opposite sex. The women of today lay before me - a bevy of enjoyment for me to explore. One balmy Friday afternoon at university - lectures over for the day, resting away on one of the heavily stained, smokey couches in the sublime surrounds of the Biological Sciences common I was awaiting the start of one of the infamous sundowners. Kegs arrived, sausages were cooked, and it was not long before most of my uni friends and friends of friends were cooked as well on some nice cheap beer. At this particular time in my life I still didn't have my drivers licence for a variety of reasons ( all pathetic and lame and will not be explained any further here) so my mum had told me that she would come pick me up at midnight and to go get trashed and have a good time. In my brain, all I remember hearing was permission to get trashed. So after several ales, one Mr Kersten spotted a stunning girl leaning against the wall, beautiful smile, long flowing dress and just a manner and a way about her that just automatically drew you to her. With the confidence at it's peak, I decided that I would approach and use my exceptionally overstated charm and grace to woo her. Somehow it managed to work and before I knew what was going on (which may or may not have something to do with the copious amounts of cheap ale consumed) I found myself down the stairs, away from the party to the carpark passionately kissing this nubile goddess. The previously mentioned alcohol proved to be a slight impediment to vertical kissing so I felt at the time leaning her over a car bonnet to continue kissing her was the polite thing to do. (See previous paragraph emphasising respect and compassion for women). Shirts were undone, dress straps were loosened (hers !) and things had heated up quite nicely and I was going in for the kill before we were stopped by a light coming from a nearby approaching car. This interruption just seemed to kill the entire mood and somehow we parted ways and to this day I still cannot remember her name. I managed to regain my senses and looked at the watch and realised that midnight had arrived and that mum was probably waiting for me. Staggering across the carpark in my post snog, grumpy that it ended early state, I located her and proceeded to grumble something vaguely resembling Hi and passed out for the journey home. Surprisingly perky the next morning after what seemed like an awesome evening from what I could remember, I decided to be nice and offer to wash the car for mum seeing as she had come all that way to pick me up. What I did not expect however was her response. "That's great thanks - just remember to wash the bonnet well - I understand they can get extra dirty". I recall instantly shivering and trying to erase the image of my mother sitting in the car whilst she witnessed her son groping and fondling some poor girl several cars down from where she was parked in the carpark. Full respect for her that she did not interrupt or abort my attempts to develop a long lasting relationship with said nubile goddess but oh god ! I should have known then and there what my dating life, and life in general had in store for me
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