Companionship and subpar grammar.

I’m not lonely, there is an abundance of friends and family in my life. I’m always happy, I’m always smilling, I’m always with someone. But do you know what I miss the most? Companionship. Call it weak if you want, after all I’m just a man.
I want to be drug into a mall with my ball of a chain for a girlfriend and forced into holding hands with my best friend, despite how much I hate dealing with that ratchet palm sweat shit. I want to pick on every thing I see on display that I feel is over priced and cheaply made, especially if it’s not made in the U.S of fucking Merica! Speaking of clothes not made in the greatest country in the world, I want to buy her shirts that come across my news feed on fb that she can sport around that support my career as a Merchant Mariner. Because when women do shit like that, they sever the possibility of that entire “you don’t trust me” bullshit. Like, give a man a reason not to trust you… Ya feel? I crave sitting laying down in the Galley holding my phone ear listening to her talk about her day. All the while I’m sitting there diligently watching sports highlights because I missed every game that aired today for College Football. But, still be able to tune into.her conversation with a semi-related statement that ensures her that I’m a diligent listener and that her baby loves her… smh. Nights like tonight, a Saturday I believe, are nights that we good be out at our favorite bar and racking up empty bottle of bud light on the table while making jokes about all the regular basic bitches rubbing their old spice deodorant infested snatch on every dude with a legit Polo on. I mean it’s the simple things in life that really inspire me.
I can imagine the night pursing into a drunken meal prep run to Walmart @ 0200 just because there’s no better time to go to Walmart than when you’re slightly shit faced but coherent enough not to get into a fight with a mannequin for eyeballing your girl. Then, following that with a competitive teeth brushing get together in the bathroom that ends in a argument on who has whiter teeth and a more wore out toothbrush because let’s face it, not one single fuck is given for a human being with smelly breath. Especially before the pre-game sex activities that turn semi violent and end with the neighbors being reassured that the fine ass in apartment 214 is still banging that lucky bastard named Tommie.