Sunday, November 2
I Wrote This.
Loneliness is the worst feeling. Feeling alone when you’re amongst people is even worse. BEING alone when you’re amongst people is definitely the worst feeling.
It is with that in mind that I choose to tell the tale of an evening spent at home. Home. My home. The single place in the world where I should feel wanted and secure. The biggest single lie ever told.
To put it in simple terms, tonight was a house party that we were hosting in honour of Pete’s (one of my housemates) 21st birthday. Well, in any case it turned out to be more of a “sitting around drinking social event” than a party, but it was okay, I suppose. I had / have had a fair few beers, but I’m generally feeling none the worse for wear. A little double vision, from time to time, but I know what I’m doing and what I’m typing.
As per usual at one of these bashes, I had my momentary (read “15 minutes”) pause where I felt totally and utterly alone. I get this way every so often, especially when all around me I see everybody being happy in each other’s company. This isn’t to say that I felt as if I didn’t know anybody, because I knew a shitload of people who were there. I just felt weird, probably because everybody who I knew there (that wasn’t one of my housemates) was a friend of a friend. I knew them well enough to be at least amicable, and at most very friendly with, but they weren’t quite MY friends.
I felt let down, because a few of my friends who’d promised that they’d come to the party didn’t come, which in turn led to my being (relatively) friendless throughout. Add to this my annoyance about (or, resignation to) the fact that I am still single, and probably will be for a while to come, and I’m sure that it is clear just how crap I was feeling. Especially considering that there were a load of couples around.
I fucking hate how just about everywhere I go at the moment there are always couples around. Always, and always displaying their mutual love (lust?) through physical reassurances to each other, such as kissing and so forth. Are they particularly insecure, insomuch as they need to constantly display to the world (each other) that they are in love (lust)? I had a pair of friends who were like that. They were so insecure that they just had to be all over each other at every single opportunity, just to reassure each other that they were wanted and appreciated.
I can’t be doing with any of that shit. I’m very (sort of) secure with myself, especially when it comes to having any kind of relationship with the opposite sex that goes beyond friendship. He says, being a virgin and without a girlfriend for over three (three!) years…
I reckon that I am one of those people who expects the world to fall into his lap. A degree, a job, a career, a woman, a relationship, a family, absolutely everything. I don’t want to go out into the big wide world and hunt for these things. I don’t want to be rejected. Ever. I guess that I’m scared of rejection. Big deal. Who isn’t? Everybody wants to be accepted, everybody wants to conform to some extent. We all do, it’s human nature. So why do I feel so weird to be this way?
Perhaps as an illustration of this point, I should draw attention to my methods of action whilst in a club (etc). I’ve been going to pubs, clubs and bars for about three to four years, and in all of that time, I’ve only ever asked one girl who I didn’t know to dance. One! In about hundreds of times that I’ve gone out, it’s only ever been one girl that I’ve asked to dance. I like dancing, I really do, but I feel so scared of rejection (at least subconsciously, at any rate) that I never ever ask a girl to dance. Incidentally, the one time I did ask a girl to dance, it didn’t get me anywhere. So, 0% success rate then. Brilliant.
And just what am I going to do to change all of this? Absolutely fuck all. Being scared of rejection doesn’t go away with time, and without facing that fear. And yet I’m too scared to even face the fear. I’m too scared to go out and just try to get girls to dance with me (as an example). The fear of being rejected even overwhelms common sense, and even the deep-down chivalrous nature that requires men to be the one to risk everything by being the ones who initiate conversation, etc. I have that chivalrous nature (hey, so I’m middle class. Fuck you), and that also fucks me over in this aspect of life (existence?).
What a pointless and nihilistic way of existing, you might say. Well, so be it. Every (most) other aspects of my life are tootling along just fine, so why risk them for the possibility of acceptance unconditionally by another? Majority rule. It works, even if the minority is right.
