I sent a postcard today to that famous person I've been going on and on about for these past several months.  Actually, I sent it to her fan club address. It got picked up in the post office's mailbox down the street from me.  I was looking her up online and saw something that mentioned her fan club address, so I sent her the card.  

I hope she reads this blog, so she knows I sent it.  I'm announcing that I sent the card today in much the same way I announced beforehand on this blog that I would ask that former cashier at that grocery store out a day or two before I did just that in October of 2021.  Announcing that I would ask that former cashier out didn't seem to diminish how special it felt to me to finally ask her out, so that's why I'm announcing the fact that I mailed a postcard to that famous person today.  There was only a little room on the card to write her a message.  I said I hoped she was doing well, and I talked about the comic book story I'm working on now.

Speaking of that former cashier, if I had the inclination to bet on the efficacy of this whole gesture, I would place the smart money on the over all issue of unavailability, inaccessibility, and unapproachability factoring in as the things that kill this deal too.  However, I will give it the old college try, to the tune of about three or four more postcards, before I give up on this person as well. 

I feel as if this situation involving that famous person I've gone on and on about these past several months finds itself in the winding down phase of these kinds of deals I get myself into with unavailable women.  I could be wrong about that.  I certainly hope I'm not wrong about that.  If I saw her at a museum or other public place with her full contingent of security and whatnot, I sure as hell don't think I'd want to approach her to introduce myself.  Even if she didn't have her security and I saw her in a museum, well, that's all fantasy scenario speculation.  Who knows?  

As far as approaching more available, accessible, approachable women for the kinds of basic social interactions that I find sorely lacking when I make it about unavailable women, well, I'm open to such interactions, but I don't want to force anything in that direction, either.  I think if I looked as if I was trying too hard in such situations, that would not come across well to the women I wanted to talk to.

What happens in the wake of my fixation on that "A" list celebrity?  How do I top that?  That question captures my imagination to some extent.  Will I just find some other unavailable type to get hung up on, or did my fixation on her and its constructively executed resolution, thanks to me, represent a turning point for my tendency to get hung up on all conceivable categories of unavailable women?  Is recovery from love addiction progressive, as I've postulated before?  What would progress look like from here on out?  Will I enter a new, better phase in my relationship with  women, or will I just stay stuck in the same rut, but able to manage the love addiction really, really well? 

If I do get hung up on someone else, how long will that take before that happens? What will be the circumstances? What setting? My best guess involves the notion that I could have a year or a year and a half as an unavailable-love-interest-free guy before someone else could even conceivably come along. Would that person come from the same place as the previous two?  

I mean, I figure that the former grocery store cashier and that famous person tried to execute some vendetta against me on behalf of someone from my distant past.  Would the next one be trying to execute this exact same agenda on the behalf of the same person, or would the next unavailable woman just be some dumb kid who knows nothing of the situation I believe I found myself these past, oh, fifteen years or so with this one person from my long ago past?

What if no more dauntingly adversarial situations of the nature I've faced, one after the other, since 2014 or so, come my way?  Will all those who try me just prove easy matches for me to win, or will no more adversarial situations of the nature of these past eleven years happen at all, ever?  Will life lose all meaning if that's the case?

I don't think life would cease to have any meaning in the prospective absence of such personal conflicts, any more than the prospect of life losing all purpose without cigarettes, booze, or drugs.  Yeah, I figure I'll give it a year, year and a half to see how things shake out for me.  My health is pretty good, and I have stuff to do creatively, and my employment prospects look pretty good, so I should not have too many distractions that would impede on my ability to assess my over all relationship with women I've so ardently sought to improve since 2009.

 For the past couple of weeks, I spent some moments meditating on how well I've learned how to manage my tendency to fixate on unavailable women.  I've not eliminated my tendency to fixate on unavailable women, but I've learned how to manage it.  These unavailable women I've gone on and on about in this blog seem a LOT less radioactive than they did even in these past ten days or so.  That is to say, the NOTIONS I have of these unavailable women seem a lot less radioactive than they did as lttle as ten days ago.  

In my last post, I wrote about how I first had a desire to dramatically change just about all aspects of how I thought about girls and women, and how I often acted towards girls and women, since the age of fifteen or sixteen years old.  I said I didn't come upon the means of HOW to change until I reached the age of twenty-three.  I talked about how a young girl named Sara backed me into a corner, so to speak, in an Art History class during my senior year at U-Texas Austin.  I came up with an idea to try to "turn my back on love," and see how that went.  That whole concept led to this cat and mouse game that ended up with me cutting Sara loose in the fall of 1988, after I'd graduated, but when I'd still see her in the hall at school whenever my graduate school application process took me there.

My complaints about Sara-the things that compelled me to cut her loose-stemmed from how unavailable, inaccessible, and to some extent, unapproachable I found her, still, after how well I managed her getting all up in my grill, so to speak.  I have those same complaints, essentially, about that former cashier from that grocery store I patronize, and boy, do I have those same complaints about that famous person I've never even met (on STEROIDS in her case).

Well, I don't know if I need to inform anyone of this, but I, along with just about everyone else, live in a world that's CRAWLING with available, accessible, and approachable women.  Granted, they are not typically twenty-two year old hotties, but what, again, was my principal complaint about those two women in the above paragraph; that they weren't available, accessible, or approachable. I may not particularly want to date women from such an available pool, mind you, but I don't think seeking out opportunities to engage with more available, accessible, and approachable women, but stopping at that, makes me a bad person.  Does it? We shall see.

For the longest time, I thought that if I could achieve success in dating hotties through the "turn my back on love" approach, I could solve the problems all of these "nice guys" and incels have with women. I thought they could see my success and adopt my approach and the techniques that went along with that approach. Now however, I'm not so sure.  In these past two posts I wrote about having a tremendous desire to change that went back to my teenage years.  I don't think incels and nice guys could handle giving women who weren't twenty-two year old hottie types the time of day.  If I could instill a tremendous desire to change in incels and nice guys, and have that desire to change lead these guys to the places I'm willing to go, I would probably not even be sitting here typing away on this blog, but rather occupying the top spot in the White House on Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington fucking D.C.  That is all. 

In my last couple of posts I put out there the notion that this famous person I go on and on about these days might have a fixation on me, but not necessarily a romantic love fixation on me.  So, what kind of a fixation is it?  That is, of course, if my notion of this person lines up in any way with the real person that really exists in the real world.  What's her fixation on me about?  Two posts ago I wrote about how this person gets seriously menaced by male stalker types who seem to often have psychiatric diagnoses that are similar or identical to mine.  My diagnosis is schizoaffective disorder, so we're talking about men who have problems within the schizophrenia spectrum of psychiatric diagnoses.

Why the fixation on me?  Well, I don't engage in any of the behaviors towards her or anyone else that she and those around her find so troubling.  Why is that?  I think these blog posts reflect an ever-continuing desire to change those parts of myself I that I find I have in common with the men who so bedevil her existence.  I've had a desire to change my relationship with girls and women since my adolescence, and I knew I had to somehow address these same interactive, behavioral, and cognition issues I had, and to some extent still have, with women who all looked pretty much as good as her, in a lot of cases.

I finally experienced some of the change I so desired for so long, at the age of twenty-three, in 1988, when Sara backed me into a corner via our mutual enrollment in an art history class in college.  See the blog post, "I'm not bad," from January or February of 2016 to get more info on that.  Like I said in that post, I decided to revive the whole, "What if I turned my back on love?," experiment in September of 2012, because trying it in full effect just that one time with Sara in 1988 seemed to have a profound impact on how I related to women I desired in the years afterwards.  A real ripple effect, so I thought I'd revive the experiment in full flower.  I wanted to, and still want to, see what happens when I take the experiment "far enough"  this time.

But yeah, that all came from an overriding desire to change in the first place that I'd had since the age of fifteen or sixteen.  These men that give this famous woman so much grief, some of them might be perfectly fine with themselves just the way they are.  Some of them might be so deep into their psychosis that the need to change on their part just doesn't register as a need at all.  Some of them might think the change they so desire will come from their idea of success in their efforts to get close to this woman.  

Therefore, I can see why this famous person would have an interest in me that, while no longer adversarial, may not be romantic, either.  I can see how she might find it in her best interest to study me more from the distance from me she maintains, so she and those around her can see how I function in the coming weeks, months, and possibly even years to come.  And I can see how she would have no desire to fuck me up by trying to reach out to me in any substantive way, ever.  I, of course, have no problem with any of this, especially the no-longer-adversarial part. 

I look back all the way to high school and recognize that my tendencies to cling to delusional beliefs that this or that girl or woman liked me run throughout my life from those days to these in a pretty consistent way.  I think my decision to commit to abstinence from drugs and alcohol proved pivotal in altering this self defeating way of looking at my relationship with women in general and in assessing the actual level of interest this or that individual woman actually had in me romantically.  I'm not sure if my willingness to face reality actually enhances my attractiveness to women to the extent that I wish it would, but I definitely like women in general better with my learned ability to make intelligent decisions about such individual women over these past twenty or thirty-plus years of making that effort.

Broadly speaking, my tendency to cling to notions that an individual woman has a romantic interest in me hinges on a moment or two in the narrative timeline where I feel that I can definitely point to a sign of interest.  In high school, this girl flashed me her titty in an incidental way as we talked at length during an art field trip one day.  Boy, that really got me going.  The tendency to see such women as more available than they really were became a big stumbling block for me, and a major source of tortuous, angst ridden thinking that lead to major bouts with depression and despair in my high school years.  That tendency to cling to such moments in the face of other, contradicting evidence really lead to a lot of trouble for me over the years.

A really helpful thing I taught myself to do involved opening up a skeptical line of inquiry regarding such women.  In a skeptical line of inquiry, I consider every possibility I can think of about such a woman that contradicts the idea that they actually like me, see if I can definitely rule those possibilities out, and hopefully rule out every conceivable contradicting possibility until the only real prevailing possibility that remains is to conclude that the woman in question actually has a romantic interest in me.  This way of thinking worked well with a young woman in 2015, when I concluded that she just wanted to make me over into some bad guy she could have as a source of drama in her life, and I could never rule that possibility out, so my skeptical line of inquiry stopped right there.  I still think that way about her to this day. It works.

In reference to the person I've written about most recently, gaping holes exist in any argument I try to make that says she has a romantic interest in me.  True enough, there are some incidents in the narrative timeline I COULD latch onto to support the argument that she actually likes me in that way, but a skeptical line of inquiry would bring EVERY CONCEIVABLE contradicting observation about the whole deal front and center, and say those elements that contradict this love connection thesis need attention and a great deal of regard.   And that's where I sit in regards to the person I've brought up these past several months.  And that's precisely where she stands with me as well.

In my last post I brought up the possibility that this person has an interest in me, and possibly an interest in me that rises to the level of fixation, but that this strong interest in me is not romantic in nature.  I seem to run across young women, young women who look as if they could claim membership in her legions of fans, that look at me in some way, or say some incidental thing such as, "Sorry," as they scoot past me in a bar or club, and I make some out of context connection to such a look or gesture that goes back to this famous person.  However, do I really want to use such observations as PROOF that this famous person I've never met loves me?  Well, no I don't.  

Couple that with the obvious observations that I've never met this person, that I have no means of direct communication with this person, that I've never even read in any celebrity news stories any reference from a "source" (that's a person a tabloid type site will often pay money to in order to get supposed inside info on such a famous person) that directly says this person has an interest in me, Richard Alexander, or even alludes to some unnamed person who could be me (okay, one reference to someone who could be me, but too vague and imprecise a reference for me to count as a hit).  I've never read any social media posts from this person that seem to strongly allude to me, and that's a big one, given the times we live in.  Those observations compel me to take the out of context looks and excuse me's and sorry's from supposed fans of this person, plus whatever narrative events that occurred with the person at the same time I perceived something going on with me....I can't say any of that "evidence" in support of my idea that this person has a romantic interest in me amounts to much.

I write often about a date I had with someone in 2015.  She's the one who said that she did not compete for men to me, twice.  I think, after she got her problems sorted out, they let her in The League.  When I saw her in 2021 at an event where I sold my comics, she acted very happy to see me, and interacted with me in a way that indicated she had knowledge of The League's ways.  So that's an example of one type of woman who can gain admittance to The League.  At this same event in 2021, one of the women who organized the event interacted with me as if she were in on it too.  She had no romantic or sexual interest in me, but she played the role of benefactor and admirer of my comics and of a general friendly face and supporter.  So she got in too.

Just because I figure that Schmaylor Schmift may not have passed muster for membership in The League, that doesn't mean she's not deserving of my utmost respect, care, and regard.  She has a lot of men with mental illness diagnoses similar or identical to mine menace her in very shitty, dangerous ways, and I feel bad for her.  Schmaylor may continue to read this blog and whatnot in oder to let herself know that not all mentally ill men who think about her a lot are someone she has to worry about.  She may even be fixated on me, just not in a romantic way, probably.  That's cool.  With that in mind, I can accept the possibility that I will never meet her in person, much less date her, for crying out loud.  All good.  Best of luck to you, Schmaylor Schmift!

In my last post, I cited the ability to neutralize aggression from the normies as a life skill I had to learn much in the same way I had to learn how to drive or cook for myself or work the jobs I've had over the years.  A key element to neutralizing normie aggression stems from the ability to keep myself at arms length emotionally from women I have an attraction to.  I first learned to do that, in full effect, with Sara in 1988.  Even though I thought about Sara ALL THE TIME after she started in on me, I could still distance myself from her emotionally to the point where all of her shenanigans directed at me didn't bother me to the point where I really compromised myself.

Here we go again; I learned how to keep someone such as Sara at arms length emotionally when I got with the concept of "turning my back on love."  Turning my back on love involved, practically speaking, a willingness to let opportunities to get with her slip through my fingers.  By explicitly demonstrating this willingness to let the whole deal slip through my fingers, I showed to myself, Sara, and those around us that I stood willing to accept an outcome where Sara and I did not wind up as boyfriend and girlfriend.  By showing that I could accept an outcome where we did not become boyfriend and girlfriend, I could look out for Sara's best interests as well as mine much better than if I'd really had a serous stake in the boyfriend/girlfriend outcome I so normally desired and worked towards in such situations.

And so it went with that virgin girl in 2014/ 2015, her buddy in 2015/2016, several others in that grocery store, several baristas over the years, that one former cashier I still go on and on about, and these days, Schmaylor Schmift.  One thing keeping myself at arms length from someone such as Schmaylor does for me centers around the question of whether or not The League has truly brought her into the fold or not.  She might have some other agenda with me than becoming my girlfriend in the foreseeable future, just as those cashiers and baristas also had totally bogus agendas concerning me.  In other words, Schmaylor might not be cool enough to rate The League bringing her into the fold.

I mean, Schmylor Schmift started in on me in 2016, by my estimation, and still, she's not my girlfriend, is she.  None of the other girls I listed in the above paragraph: that virgin girl, her buddy, that other cashier I got really hung up on, or those baristas seemed cool enough for The League to have reached out to them, and so far, I see no substantial evidence that Vernon Hoe, et. al., thinks Schmaylor's cool either.  I really look for clues to that effect in those bullshit stories and social media posts I read online, and so far, nothing conclusive.

I started having to deal with people wanting to take me down-because they saw me as the bad guy- I started to have to deal with that in 1986.  At some point, I learned to stop retaliating against such people, and learned that my very, very effective methods of neutralizing the aggression they visited on me served my best interests more than any base revenge I could exact.  

When I neutralize people as effectively as I do, and don't try to strike back, it can give them a chance to reflect on their behavior and try to do better.  I sort of learned this lesson in my computer lab intern job I just finished, when I drew a parallel between the Good Guys and those occasional clients who would go off on me for whatever reason.  At my intern job, I would just play it cool and never try to match them in my response to their shitty behavior towards me. A couple of times these same people would seem to realize the error of their ways and come back at a later date being much better towards me.  Other times I'd never see them again.  

Why do people see me as the bad guy so readily?  Why do they so readily accept the idea?  I guess being a mentally ill guy with a tendency towards romantic obsession just rings a lot of bells for people, and they all see themselves on the side of the angels in any conflict with me.  

I remember a middle-aged, intellectually disabled woman very, very effectively throwing my effort to cruelly make fun of her back in my face, in like, 2001.  I then figured out that I probably have a lot more in common with her than I do with normal people.  We both got very, very good at recognizing and neutralizing bad attitudes and behavior visited on us by the normies in our world, because we both had so much opportunity to practice at it.  

Looking back, me learning my skill set with that stuff reminds me of how I learned other things, such as how to drive a car, cook for myself, work a particular job...  It was just part of learning skills in life I needed to learn in order to get by.  No more, no less.

Nowadays, I'm beginning to see how that intellectually disabled women learned to be so FORGIVING of the kind of shit I threw her way.  I just don't have the time or inclination to harbor a deep, burning HATRED towards the sheer numbers of people who've tried shit with me over the years. There's just so many of them.  There's just been so many incidents I can refer back to.  

Like I said in my last post, I've learned that retaliation against those who took up the garb of the White Knight against me only creates a lot more problems than it solves.  I think I can behave in a civil manner to ANYONE I've busted doing this shit on me, because I just don't have the time or inclination to be any other way towards such people.  I mean, who doesn't want to be the Good Guy?  Good Guys defeat Bad Guys.  They see me as the Bad Guy.  I get it.  This is me trying to be nice.  I'll be nice to ANYONE who wants me to preach this type of sermon to them in real life.  I promise. 

Over these past few months, I've found myself in the proximity of an ongoing domestic situation.  A situation so serious that people called the cops about it.  The most recent episode really slapped me upside  the head about things that have been going on in my life for quite a number of years.  I've concluded that I've normalized some pretty fucked up things going on with me, probably because of the way I was brought up.

I've talked about two women in particular these past however many years.  One I actually approached for social reasons, and did quite well at that, given the circumstances, and another who exists for me as more of an "entity" than an actual person I know.  For the one that I asked out, I hope I never see her again.  For  the "entity," if this being actually exists in the reality we all can agree on, I hope I never meet her.

I had the right idea when I brought up the idea of a probationary period for both of these parties. My only mistake about imposing the probationary period on both of these parties resides in the notion that the period in question will happen at some future date for both of them. I now conclude that both of these parties have already had their probationary period, and that both of them have utterly failed to meet the conditions under which I have any desire at all to move forward with either of them.  Why the shift, one might ask?  Because I said so.  Best reason there is.

As for these two parties and others in my world whom I suspect of having any kind of adversarial role towards me in these matters, I can forgive them and move on,  I can forgive them in the "turn the other cheek" sense, because any imagined retaliation on my part towards them will cause only more problems than said retaliation will solve, and those parties that I choose to retaliate against will not feel as if they deserve such punishment from me.  That's not how humans work.

The only reason i would consider accepting a romantic prospect from either the young woman I've actually interacted with, or the phantom entity I've talked at length about, would have to do with the "better the devil you know" concept of security and certainty about what would lie ahead for me in the future.  That's a terrible reason to accept any prospect of getting with either of these parties. In my case, the devil I know goes all the way back to my childhood, when putdowns, harsh criticism, and pitiless judgement from my siblings and my dad, along with my mom sometimes, ruled the day over support, love, or affection between us. I don't want that devil in my emotional life anymore, in any form, inside of me in some way or out there in the my world.  That is all.

On Thursday morning, right before my farewell lunch at my intern job, I felt the fever break on my love-eye-tis.  As I drove to work that morning, I thought seriously about posting on this blog more demands of a young lady I once asked out.   Now, not so much. Nor do I have any demands of Schmaylor Schmift.  Nope, no demands of anyone.  Something about the pleasant-yet-real experience of anticipating my going away party those nice ladies at my intern job organized for me seemed to snap me out of that whole otherworldly jag I've been in these past several months.  I can't recall snapping out of this sort of thing so rapidly since, well, ever.  Maybe all those years of trying to get myself to think about all of this love stuff in different ways than I automatically think about that stuff paid off in that one instant where I just snapped out of that whole state of being.  And in snapping out of it so suddenly, I kind of see that constant ruminating over issues of love, dating, and relationships does not necessarily constitute a "normal," "resting" state of mind.