The Dumbest Lover I Ever Had

David Cassidy died today and I suppose it means that another part of my childhood is gone so before we get to the heart of the post we’ll share my favorite Partridge Family song.

I don’t have to ask to know that some of you have never seen a minute of the show and that others know every word to this song and many of their others.

Nor do I have to ask whether some of you clicked to find out if the title is clickbait or whether I am sharing information about the dumbest lover I ever had.

Cue Blue Swede singing Hooked On A Feeling and read along to see if your very irritated author proves he is unfiltered online and off.

The Dumbest Lover I Ever Had

I don’t know if anyone ever asked me the question but if they did and I chose to respond I’d give the standard answer, “the one who let me go.”

That is as about as safe an answer as you can find because it is relatively nondescript and general.

Though I am the kind of guy who is willing to be brutally honest I see no reason to give any real thought or credence to it.

Especially because the powers that be threw me out Eden and into Hell.

“Dance motherfucker, dance in the fucking fire or burn.”

If you know me well you know I turned, made eye contact and stared while my flesh burned but Satan doesn’t give a fuck if you are frying and the people that flung me int0 the flames couldn’t see me so I started to dance.

It was an awkward combination of moves, bad break dancing, a sort of lumber shuffle that turned into a tango and eventually helped me make my way back to the surface.


If I told you I understood how certain things happen I would be lying because I don’t but not for lack of effort.

I studied…hard.

Went to the best the libraries, found the best teachers I could and still couldn’t catch on.

Put my fist and forearm through the wall when I figured out I was either too dumb or too smart to get it.

Turned around discovered the problem wasn’t just one wall, but many and a bitter smile crossed my face.

I may not be built for grace, but demolition…this I know.

I am built for destruction. I am built to tear down and destroy.

But the trick here is understanding wanton destruction wasn’t going to fix anything. It would be reckless and dangerous.

Almost two years in to it, this much I knew and understood.

This Song Has Nothing To Do With Anything

I stumbled across it while looking for that Partridge Family bit and figured what the hell, might as well add to the soundtrack.

Almost used this clip instead, but I didn’t.


“Sir, do you understand what I said?”

“I do.”

“Do you have anything to say?”


“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I have nothing to say at this time.”

“Will you have something to say later?”

“Thank you for your call.”

I didn’t wait for a response and hung up.

There wasn’t a point to telling a flunky I was disappointed and unwilling to accept what they were trying to force feed me.

She had no authority to make any changes and was asked to contact me because they didn’t want to be challenged.

But very few things in life cannot be challenged and or appealed. You just have to be willing to figure out the process.

And I already knew part of it required a letter.

There are many people who are better writers than I am but this isn’t about winning a Pulitzer or any other prize.

It’s just a story with a beginning, middle and end.

More Than Words

I am not fond of apologizing more than three times.

Hell, there are a handful of people that have heard me yell “I won’t say it more than three times” and I always meant that.

If I said “I am sorry three times that was probably all you are going to get from me.


Because I meant it every time and I can’t force people to accept it.

But in rare cases, you say it as often as necessary.

I am sorry.

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