Goodbye To Romance

Being fucking cool. That’s all I ever wanted as a kid. I wanted to be the toughest, the coolest badass who saved the girl and then got the girl. It could be done. My heroes were all doing it. Destroying giants, rocking out and saving the princess every fucking day.

This has been a terrible year. All my heroes are dying. Muhammad Ali was a huge reason why I learned to fight. I lost myself in the music of Prince, Bowie and, of course, George Michael (Really? George Michael?!?!). Florence Henderson and Gene Wilder and Alan Thicke and Alan Rickman and fuck, there are just too many more to mention.


But Carrie Fisher. Damn. That was a whole other thing. I was nine years old when Star Wars came out and I, like all of my friends and everybody on the planet, fell immediately in love with Princess Leia. She was tough, smart, sexy and cool, unlike any other girl I had witnessed. And I was in love. It made sense that those two dudes battled for her attention. Well, at the time it did.


Over two more movies she grew up. And so did we. By the time she presented herself to the world in that gold bikini, I was a sex-crazed, clueless teen who had been dreaming of her for six fucking years. It was the first real long-term love affair of my life. I was done.


We are the sum of all our experiences. We are all made up of a billion little parts. I am in the phase of my life where those parts are starting to die, one by one. And it does make me feel more alone. Everybody is screaming at 2016, wanting the year to just be over. But we all know this isn’t going to stop.


There is no surprise here. We knew this was how things rolled all along. And so we move on. We find other heroes. I love my life and I couldn’t be happier. There are new treasures now. I lose myself in the ferocity of Slipknot. I am inspired by my team members at Toronto BJJ, where I continue to train in Jiu Jitsu. My daughter is the most beautiful girl I could ever possibly imagine. Watching her grow up over the last seven years has been a mind-blowing concussion of love.


And my son? Well he is just fucking cool.


Happy New Year, motherfuckers. Make it great!

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