It was only a few weeks ago that I wrote about my amazing friend Manuel’s passing in a long post. I know we have the attention span of a goldfish. Rob was also a “no frills” person that would probably tell me not to bother writing this at all.

I met Rob on social media. He lived in the UK. He was a mutual friend of a girl I met on the site. I don’t remember how I met her, but she and I became friends because I probably commented on some public post of hers. She’s hilarious, with a witty self-deprecation streak like me. Rob came after me once about a comment I made under one of her posts. I can’t remember what it was about, but I know he’d started an argument. (Figures) We went back and forth, until one of us DMd the other (I think it was him). I remember I’d said something to the effect of, “your arrogance is intriguing somehow…” and we became friends.

That was over 5 years ago.

Rob was not-my-style lol  He partied hard. He managed a pub once, he went to jail once, he had an ex girlfriend who stabbed him and ruptured his bowel. His friends were yobos too lol. On the sporadic occasions we’d talk back then, he’d tell me about his latest misadventure eg: a friend of his having something stolen and he and his group were going to go “get” the guy. This apparently meant beating up some other English lad and then calling a truce. I thought it was cool. I’m not really into bashing people (LOL) but this was somehow old-fashioned and endearing to me. I also told him to just call the cops so he wouldn’t get into trouble, but…you could never change Rob’s mind, not really. He’d let you give your opinion then he’d give you his one line explanation of why something needed to happen, and why you were wrong, annnnd then he’d just do whatever it was.

It wasn’t until last year that we got as close as we ended up. He told me he’d been clean from drugs for almost 18months. That was huge for him, I was surprised and proud. His other addiction was harder to give up. He had a severely alcohol-damaged liver from his younger days (as he put it.) He’d been told by medical professionals that he needed to give up alcohol and certain foods, otherwise things would not go well for him. He was warned to stop, and even given a time frame where that behaviour might take his life. But…he’d beaten that by about 2 years already.

I saw him try.

He’d cut down drinking a lot more this year than I was used to hearing about…but it was usually only a few days before he’d have “just one” because he was visiting his parents or having a BBQ, or his dad had some new beer to taste.

We’d talk about shows and comedians, we’d send each other pictures of our cities/locations when we were on walks and he’d get shut down insultingly when he tried to flirt with me. This usually resulted in him saying, “ahh, well, one can dream” and then talk about ordering food in the next sentence.  We texted every single day. Time difference meant I’d wake up to texts or have someone to chat to on the train to my slave gig.  We had that kind of relationship – joking and playing, but sometimes confiding our problems out of the blue. We got each other through some stressful, confusing times.

We once tried to create a children’s story in voice messages. Eg: He’d send something like “One day there was a ladybug on a toadstool” and I’d record one back,“But it was in the forest, in a garden that belonged to a witch!”  He’d also record words and slang from his area and make me copy them and send it back. I did the same, and it was hilarious. I showed him strange rocks and pictures of the beach, and I’d get to see videos of his parents while he harassed them with a squeaky toy pig  (LOL)

Audio Player

The lockdowns in the UK were exceptionally tough on mental health. Rob told me that he would literally be losing his mind if it weren’t for his pet rabbit, Terrance. He said he didn’t know what he’d do without him and would probably just want to die because his life was meh and the Rona stuff was ridiculous. Rob had pics of his rabbit all over his socials, always told jokes about him and recounted his pet’s cheeky antics, relying on him as a wingman with girls…He’d go to the shops, with all the restrictions etc, just to get Terrance the Blueberries he liked. Terrance had full run of the place and could do whatever he wanted, sleep on the couch and eat in front of the TV. Rob lovveedd that rabbit. I even have about a million pics of the fluffy lil monster!

Then 8 year old Terrance died. Rob was not in a good place for weeks after that, he didn’t have an interest in anything but alcohol, sleep and some comedy on late night TV. He’d get annoyed when I’d try to pull him up a little and, understandably, felt like crap. We both had a depression that made us very lonely. He’d also send me messages telling me that if I’m sick or sad it would upset him. He would be positive for me too.

When he started feeling okay again, he got the Coof (slightly before mid yearish?) Yes, the dreaded UK strain of the Rona. He was the second person I knew who caught it in the UK. The other person had symptoms linger for a month or so. Rob kicked it in 5 days, despite his health issues. He was just PISSED he couldn’t taste anything. He said even chilis, peppers, spices – they did absolutely nothing and it was so frustrating.

It was when he’d recovered from Coof and was telling me he felt a lot better since Terrance, that his body decided to give him another hurdle.

He got a bad pain in his guts one night. He said it felt like fire and he could barely walk. He went to the dr after some coaxing and a couple of nights trying to deal with it himself. Then he was home with some pain killers and told to rest. We went back to our messages and regular conversations.

Over the next three months, I’d get messages about how his feet and legs were swollen from fluid retention because his liver was playing up, but he didn’t want to catch a bus to the hospital, public transport didn’t start at 4am when this was happening anyway. Sometimes he would get a ride, and I’d get random pictures of his name bracelet in hospital and canulas in his arm or bags of blood for transfusions. He had procedures where he’d have fluid extracted from over his stomach so he could breathe better. Then he’d come home and lay around for a few days.

He’d recover and manage to take walks and even go to the shop and pick up some things to cook at his mum’s house for his family. He bragged about getting the Pork crackling just right because some of us weren’t blessed with that skill.

One of the times he was in hospital getting transfusions, he promised me he wouldn’t die. Not before we could catch up after this Rona bullshit, and have a drink/meal together on my way to visit CC. He told me that his Dr said (in June 2021) he had an 80% chance of being alive in 3 months if he stopped drinking.

When I asked how we get it to 99%  he told me he was going to quit drinking that Thursday. He told me it won’t come to that, he was a survivor.

I trusted him, and it became a routine of going into hospital, swearing off alcohol while he was there because of the pain, and fighting with me and his mother because he hated going to hospital when he clearly needed to. Then he’d come home and start being a real cheeky bastard again. Back to the old him. We’d have our daily conversations until I’d wake up to another “I’m sick, threw up blood, going to call my Dr.” etc Then it was another hospital visit.

((((–He was a cheeky shit in hospital too btw. I’d get texts about how he was sneaking an old guy out for fresh air in his wheelchair. He’d check himself out too and go home for some proper food before he’d have to come back when they noticed– ))))

The (second) last time he was there, his parents apparently got a call saying that he was awake after the procedure, but it had been life-threatening at one point. Again, he and I went back to normal. He got the cheer up/you’re a doofus but I’m glad we’re friends card I sent him on the 20th of August 2021. He thanked me and told me that he read it about 20 times and it mad him a bit emotional. He put it next to the rabbit ornament he had and confirmed that it did what I’d said I wanted and “brightened his day.”

Everything was normal-ish…but on September the 12th, I had a text saying “I’m really ill.” When I asked what was going on he said he’d talk later because he was tired of answering the same questions from everyone. I told him it was a good idea and to get some rest.

He came back to apologise for snapping at me, I sent a bitmoji-thing of me giving flowers and then…I never heard from my friend again.

The 17th of September 2021 was when I was told what happened. I obviously knew he’d been sick, it was still a shock that made me unable to breathe or swallow. The light from the phone seemed harsher and the writing 3D. He’d passed away 2 days after our last exchange. I was already missing my train buddy when I went to work that week, wondering what was going on, but thinking he must be needing space after the latest hospital stint…

He told me how much he appreciated my friendship and that I had no idea how much. I made him less lonely and we’d had amazing laughs together. We were there for each other through some tough times in a very lonely and challenging year. He said that I knew him better than a lot of people and he felt 100% comfortable telling me anything. I wish he was still here. But to come back into my life and me into his at this time meant I got to give him a send off, and friendship, excitement and positivity in the last year of his life here.

I got to walk him home. 

 

It’s a huge honour to walk someone home.

 

 

 

TLDR:

*Thank you, Rob, for letting me walk you home . We will have that meal together one day, I promise.

*It’s cliche but I’m so glad he isn’t in pain anymore. He’d often describe his days as “agony.”

*Not my greatest piece of writing but it’s been hard to go a day without crying since.

*I tried to keep it short. I can’t do a better job than this atm.

*Please support me on Odysee and my socials.

 

 

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All content is no copyright infringement intended. All posts are opinion only and are subject to change due to experience, kicking ass and learning how to adult more effectively. If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya. Elements of original content may be reproduced with expressed permission from Ever Eden

Flattery comes in many forms. Apparently.

Some forms include IMITATION – which was extremely annoying and didn’t make any sense while growing up. Conceited as it may sound, I had/have style and didn’t find interest in mimicking others. I was also into Fandoms before it was “cool” to be a nerd, and had no shame about it. I was on email lists; your fanclub would REPLY ALL – constantly, all day, thousands of emails a week. You were either in or you were out – none of this, checking the tv show’s Instagram or website at your leisure. You were repeatedly punched in the face with it. So you’d better love that show like it was your firstborn child.

I cosplayed and took cool pics, that were horrible quality, just to show friends and practice makeup skills. I was also “Goth,” (not “emo”) because I  gravitated to those people who usually used their darkness to create, and to be some of the funniest people I’ve ever met. I’m arty, I like to be theatrical. I like to dress in themes sometimes. Sometimes I want my outfits to be an art piece (for eg) if I wanted to have a theme of a Lorikeet maybe I’d wear a blue headband and a pointed red necklace of some sort to represent a beak. (*I’ve never dressed as a fucking Lorikeet, it’s an example.)

Many people have copied me. Some pretended to like things that I did until they believed their own bullshit and got more obsessed than I was about my favourite bands, clothes, shows, celebrities, fictional characters and more. Usually those friends had the money to take it further than I did lol, so it doubley-sucked.

When you’re younger and go to a friend’s house to see the music album you’d desperately wanted but had to wait for a sale when they got it on the first day because their parents were well off…ugh. If they were a genuine fan, you wouldn’t begrudge them that, but they jumped on the bandwagon because they could. As a very young person, that becomes frustrating.

It emerges in adulthood too. Only now when I encounter these people I shrug and feel a little bad for them.

THE WAY IT PRESENTS IN ADULTHOOD

You’re strolling through your favourite bookshop with a friend and you reallllyy want a book – with a hefty pricetag… You shouldn’t buy it because you haven’t been paid yet and you have upcoming bills. Your friend likes the book too because it’s pretty, your friend decides it’s a good project to get into because you seem to have so much fun with it, and they buy it with you standing right next to them. They make a big deal about how cool it is the following weekend and make recipes from said book to post all over their social media.

….Annnnnnd then they post an angry status later about them dropping the food all over the grass…and even add pictures!

*stifles laughter* Sorry not sorry.

GET RID OF PERCEIVED COMPETITION/JEALOUSY

Teens are weird creatures, at least when I was one. I was mercilessly bullied for years. By many people. I can’t remember this particular bitch’s specific transgressions but I remember that she intimidated me a lot. I could feel her staring all the time and waiting on a reason to say something about me. She wasn’t loud about it when she was alone, but she still went out of her way to make me feel bad. The worst of the bullying from this time was abated by my access to the photocopier in the library after school. It brought me a lot of joy to photocopy pictures of fairies and mystical lands so that I could colour them in and glue them to the front of schoolbooks etc.

Her last name was BUTCHER. -For the purposes of this post I will call her Bitcher. The class I had with this ugly blonde, Bitcher was Home Ec. (I think. And I was only in it because MetalWork filled up fast that year.) I think she was the teacher’s favourite  – she’d make a lot of things well and sometimes even stay behind to work and chat with her. I wasn’t great at the subject, but there was an assignment we were working on for weeks that I actually liked. It involved finding an image you liked and tracing it with a PROJECTOR onto material to make a big cushion, then painting it. I chose one of my fairies and worked hard to get it right. The background had a lot of paint, splotches and details. I was very happy with it, the teacher was very happy with it . I took it home to show my mum before the final touches and the insert of the cushion. Cue returning to class, adding final touches, hanging it out to dry outside the classroom with work belonging to other students, on the agreement the teacher would round them all up after we went home and she was locking up…then mine being the only one to go missing.

Every time the teacher mentioned my piece, and for students to keep an eye out for it, Bitcher would be looking at me Mona Lisa-smiling.

I couldn’t get graded for it and I couldn’t do another one because it had taken all of us weeks and there was no time. The teacher had to grade me on what she saw previously while I was making it, and my mum was down a present her young teen made her.

STOLEN 

KOS keeps getting stolen from my slave gig.

I ain’t mad tho.

We have community book shelves; people donate their old books/books they don’t want at home anymore. Then people borrow them. There are books you can check out without having to go to a library (yes, libraries still exist) buy them online, download or do anything that requires brain power. You literally have to walk past the shelves to go to the toilet block. I’ve seen books disappear and reappear, and I’ve watched people stand at the shelf and take the time to select something. It may be revealing too much of the nerd in me, but that’s exciting to me!

I walked past to get a good pic today but the books look beat up haha

This is not the first time I put KOS on the shelf with the others, or the first time it’s gone missing. But this time was funny.

The first time it went missing – Bitcher was on my mind immediately. I started trying to think of anyone who might resent me for some reason and whether they would throw it away. I even walked around a few of the open trash cans to glance in. I also thought maybe the two people at work who know I have a series being published took it home for themselves (- completely fine lol but it would have been nice to get a review!)

When I thought well maybe someone borrowed it, like I’d wanted. Only it never came back. Bitcher still on my mind, I pushed on. A few months later I moved work spaces, near another one of these community bookshelves. I set out with KOS, stuff for my other side project and got a lot of things done. I put KOS on the shelf and went to the toilets. When I came back through the hall (literally about 3 mins later) it was gone.

Bitcher!/weird excitement/where’d it go?/I will catch whoever it is/I wonder who has it/if it’s in the trash I will see it on top this time. *walks faster, rounds a corner to a section I don’t go to*

AHA!!! 

An older woman was pulling her chair under her, lowering herself and reading the blurb at the back of KOS. I went back to my area feeling good and hoping she likes swearing…

King of Spades never returned to the shelf!

This was a little annoying because I want other people to be able to read it, but it was also flattering because it went home with someone who was interested, and that’s what I wanted! I just kiiinda wanted more than one person to do that.

 

 

TLDR:

*Some bitch in high school was a bitch.

*Some people steal copies of King of Spades from work lol

*Some wounds don’t heal right and you have scars decades later.

*I spoke to my best friend from high school about this post. She told me not to make excuses for the behaviour of “that ugly bitch with the weirddd looking face” because personalities are formed by then and she knew what she was doing. Nasty people are just nasty, no excuses. You make a choice to be cruel.

*Sign up for the eventual news letter ! Follow me on socials.

 

Cowboy.” 1, Traditional animal herder who tends cattle on ranches usually in the North American region.

2, Derogatory term describing someone who is reckless, ignores potential risks, irresponsible or who heedlessly handles a sensitive or dangerous task.

RED COWBOYS IS COMING SOON

 

See the 

TRAILER HERE

 

 

 

 

 

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All content is no copyright infringement intended. All posts are opinion only and are subject to change due to experience, kicking ass and learning how to adult more effectively. If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya. Elements of original content may be reproduced with expressed permission from Ever Eden

I’m not a prude, I make jokes as dirty as they cum,

I draw the line at taunting, trying to use familiarity you don’t have the right to yet, and trying to bait someone on the off-chance they will say “yes” to your dumb sleazy shit. Those jokes are played out and, unless they’re timed well and you’ve already got some chemistry going, they’re not funny or charming. At all.

This guy looked okay. We texted a little and then moved to another app because it was easier. We exchanged messages about games we were currently playing (he liked, and owned, two of the four I was bouncing between,) we asked about why/how each other came to be on a dating site and each other’s jobs etc. There was banter, but it seemed a little forced and he was too preoccupied playing a game in the other window anyway.

We exchanged a few more messages and then he started to bring out the half-assed invites. I’m noticing a trend lately; men just want you to go to their house to “watch movies and cuddle.” Even if it’s not “Netflix/ Chill,”  They want an environment where they are comfortable.

It’s lame.

The Prince was the same. We did meet up again after the random, 2 word tantrum “Goodbye , Ever” text he sent me months prior. We had dinner at a burger joint (and I PAID because I was in a good mood and I also wanted to teach this strictly “dutch” guy that it doesn’t. fucking. matter. who pays as long as it’s not one person all the time. We continued to flirt for weeks until it became apparent he was either very, very naive or wasn’t interested enough to actually make an effort/actually had no time for a relationship that would mean anything.  (*dutch = as in split the bill down the middle, not the people who invented the speed camera, who I now hate having learned this. ha!)

I digress, they want you to come to them/their house (and it’s usually a lonnnng drive to get to them because they’ve bought a house in the middle of nowhere where their work buddies are located, or where it’s cheaper.)

  Then they answer the door in slides with socks(*shudder,*) while you show up all pretty and hoping they aren’t going to murder you.

I’ve travelled to a guy’s house a couple of times to meet up. (MEET, not BOOTY CALL.) This was in the early days of wanting to get out and date or meet people. When you’re young, you’re always going to the houses of people you just met through other friends etc You eat snacks and check out their room/pets/games and just hang out etc. so it doesn’t feel especially different to visit someone from a dating site and do the same.

–As a jaded burnt adult on the wrong side of 30, this is not a good mindset anymore.  I’ve been L U C K Y with the dumb decisions I’ve made. You might not be. Please don’t go to someone’s house or enter a strange situation for a first date/meet. Even a second date. If you’re a man and want a woman to come over to your house so you’re comfortable and you can be lazy and not go out on a limb, you don’t deserve her.

Of course, I will even this out for the willingly-offended; some men think the arrangement is okay, because a lot of “women” do too. They happily oblige, because they’re looking for the booty call/the free pizza and drugs, or whatever is on offer.  These females apparently make up the majority of profiles on these apps, (if what I’ve heard is true. I’m only going by 7 guys telling me about their experiences.)

Back to this guy, who was so charming I don’t remember his name.

He started talking about swingers events, within about 10 mins of some exchanged messages. I said I didn’t know there were many around this town, making conversation. I go on weird tangents etc so I am happy to engage someone else’s, and we can both have a laugh, but it wasn’t just a tangent for him. If Swingers stuff is your thing and it’s legal age, consensual, do whatever you want – but when I say thanks, but no thanks I don’t need to have it insinuated that maybe I was the type who’d like to come and just watch instead. Not funny. Kind of creepy. Kind of not first-conversation-material with someone who was sporadically answering between rounds of his video game anyway. I tuned out and left it soon after that because the conversation then descended into a sexual theme. He hasn’t bothered me since, which is nice.

Then I met SAME.

I dubbed him “SamE” because his name was Sam + Ewwww. And also because he played into the stereotype of a dating site male, making him part of “all the same.”

He was the first one to text me in awhile, who actually seemed like a nice guy and was good-looking. Eg: pleasant smile, nice clothes, photos of him doing regular stuff, not a BS Contiki tour he was on ten years ago where he took an obnoxious drunk pic in front of the Vegas sign. There were no pics of him skateboarding or surfing or drinking and being awesome. *rolls eyes*

Apparently he was “looking for a relationship,” stated on his profile (you specify what you want to find eg: eventuate into long term, dating, hook up -like the original MR PASSION lied about.) We exchanged a few messages and he seemed intelligent and funny too, so he made it to phone texts. The next morning we made a few jokes and small talk in text, then he started to tell me I should come over, to his house, almost an hour away. Annnnnd then he sent a dick pic. Randomly. While we were talking about his nephew and them going to the park the day before.

 

 

I was contemplating searching Google for a dick pic belonging to someone else to send back but…who can be bothered? SO I just finished the message I’d been writing to him, before my eyes were assaulted, and pressed send. Then he carried on the conversation like nothing happened, talking about his house and job. I didn’t reply, and ten mins later…

HE SENT THE SAME DICK PIC.

Yes, AGAIN.

Annnnnd I blocked the number.

WTAF.

 

• Mr Passion 1

• Mr Passion 2

• Mr Passion 3

• Mr Passion 4

• Mr Passion 5

TLDR:

*Fuckboys know they are fuckboys and no one -actually- wants them.

*Saw the same dick twice.

*My eyes have almost recovered.

*Swingers man – I do not share my toys, we don’t have much in common. He is on my gaming friend’s list and I haven’t talked to him since.

*A lot of people have been getting a laugh out of the SamE DOUBLE DICK PIC story.

*Sign up for when I launch the newsletter, which will not be spammy and would prob be a once a week thing with a link to the blog and whatever pic on instagram.

 

ALSO, CHECK OUT THE RED COWBOYS MINI TRAILER ,

 

 

 

 

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All content is no copyright infringement intended. All posts are opinion only and are subject to change due to experience, kicking ass and learning how to adult more effectively. If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya. Elements of original content may be reproduced with expressed permission from Ever Eden.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve never tried to premiere anything…wonder if I’ll fuck it up.

 

 

Cowboy.” 1, Traditional animal herder who tends cattle on ranches usually in the North American region.

2, Derogatory term describing someone who is reckless, ignores potential risks, irresponsible or who heedlessly handles a sensitive or dangerous task.

 

 

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All content is no copyright infringement intended. All posts are opinion only and are subject to change due to experience, kicking ass and learning how to adult more effectively. If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya. Elements of original content may be reproduced with expressed permission from Ever Eden

 

 

I deliberately chose this policy  to run against the policies of respected servicemen and women in the armed forces. There are a lot of things a PSA, the news, or the government can’t/won’t tell you. There is such thing as human collateral, there is such a thing as cutting perceived losses and leaving your people behind. Often, men behind desks decide the fate of those on the ground but for the most part, we hear about the brothers from another mother and sisters who are like family with the people they serve alongside and how they “never leave a man behind.” SEMPER FI. It’s a great sentiment and makes sense, you’d go back for family, you’d go back for people you respect, brotherhood, people who are worth whatever risk there is etc. There have been great books written and compelling movies made on this subject alone because it serves to describe key elements of the human condition; bravery, sentimentality, friendship/love, adversity, respect, commitment to one’s word/oath, and skill.

But that’s not how MDS agents roll…

MDS agents do not go back.

It’s mentioned in KOS, when Cleo is thinking about Agent Starr’s promise to always go back for her, despite the rules. The general notion is that agents handle their own business and get out, even in multi-part, multi-player assignments. I’ve so much respect and admiration for anyone in the armed forces, but I wanted to make MDS feel…more harsh and unsafe: anyone could turn on anyone for any reason at any time and it didn’t matter if you were serving the same goal. There’s no hint of the legendary brotherhood many people in the armed forces identify with. MDS agents know they are expendable to each other, also why there are rules against close relationships and friendships. The non-human, clinical, robotic vibe was much more suited and made Agent Starr’s personality more of an anomaly for the situation.

Real life soldiers can still desert their squads or mess up if they wanted, but those people usually get dishonourably discharged or court martial-ed, prosecuted for abandoning the mission and their units. EG, I’ve previously had a good seat watching the drama of Bowe Bergdahl, and the perception other soldiers had of someone who did what he chose to.

Number One would have much to say about an MDS agent up and voluntarily disappearing on an assignment, Number One would probably not be very concerned if a highly-ranked agent came home and said they’d had to make the decision to leave someone behind. Agent Cleo Darkrose knows the stakes, particularly in King of Spades during the scene at the dock in San Freedom. She’s caught in a dire problem and prepared to lose her life. She doesn’t expect anyone to help her out of her predicament, even with another MDS agent watching. It is what it is – that’s the life of an agent. No one has their back and it’s a very lonely existence.

 

 

TLDR:

*MDS is a harsh master.

*MDS agents are allowed to abandon each other once the collective goal is complete.

*Agent Starr is an anomaly, and that’s why we love him!

*Sign up for the eventual newsletter. It will never be spammy, just a once a week round up of blog posts you have have missed etc.

 

 

 

This post was prompted by the recent tragedy unfolding in Afghanistan, the young Marines who lost their lives in an suicide bomb attack, and the subsequent Pineapple Express story.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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EVER EDEN AUTHOR on Telegram and YOUTUBE!

All content is no copyright infringement intended. All posts are opinion only and are subject to change due to experience, kicking ass and learning how to adult more effectively. If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya. Elements of original content may be reproduced with expressed permission from Ever Eden