I missed the first day of the year, as I was extremely busy and in deep practice of distracting myself from the introspective and reflective melancholy that strikes me like a sledgehammer to the kidneys every New Years Day. I had planned my day around hitting the Fang show that night with my boys, which was a success. We made up about a third of the audience and the band was killer, even after having played a matinee show not but hours prior and it being the end of their tour.
I returned home later than usual only to fall asleep and wake up earlier than usual to open the vape shop. I spent the majority of the day today fighting off exhaustion, and trying to think of what I was going to write tonight. I was hoping to make this a bit more topical, as I have come to loathe the self-importance of writing my thoughts and feelings, as if they bear any weight on whomever may stumble across this blog.
And still I am so wrapped up in my own self-pity and lonesomeness that I have come to believe that I must write through the bullshit if I am ever going to come to anything culturally valid and noteworthy. SO bear with me as I indulge myself yet again. At least maybe now I can just reference this blog post, instead of trying to explain myself.
I initially got sober ten years ago. Eight and half years ago, due to the same crippling lonesomeness that is still the prevalent tone of my day-to-day life, I tried to kill myself via overdose, but being unsuccessful all I got out of the deal was a relapse. So I have been continually sober for eight and half years. But this blog is dealing with the whole ten years. For in this ten years of sobriety, I have been single and sexually inactive for eight and a half years of it. Nine months was spent primarily in a long distance relationship, where the distance between us continued to grow, not just physically but intimately as well. The other nine months period was spent with a girl damn near half my age. After the longest period of time I had gone without knowing the touch of a woman, a drop dead gorgeous eighteen year old basically placed herself in my lap, and I threw away everything I knew to be ethical and correct solely for the sake of not being alone anymore. Needless to say that relationship ended in a great deal of heart break that took me two years to get over. In March it will be three years since she has left I will still have spent the time alone minus a handful of uneasy encounters. That is not for lack of trying.
I have spent the majority of life as a sober human trying to figure out what is wrong with me and my perspective of the world that I remain so perpetually single and alone. Granted I have had a number of opportunities to have sex or date the completely wrong person. But after my last bout with foregoing my ethics, I have decided against it on each occasion. One would think though, that even in the face of that, coupled with my level attractiveness (I am not ugly. Maybe chubby but not ugly.) and my lovers/artists heart, that I might still be able to find a mate. And yet everyday, I watch as my peers fall in and out of love, in and out of numerous beds, and I am still the one who seems doomed to be alone. This and all the while being the go-to-guy for a great deal of friends who seek my input about their relationships, or lack thereof.
I often find myself wondering if it has to do with my antiquated ideal of romance, the same bullshit lie that every John Hughes film has convinced us, that we must be friends first before we are to ever become lovers. However in the early days of my somewhat imposed celibacy, I heard the same response over and over again:
“You are more like a brother to me,” ” I just don’t see you like that,” and the ever infamous, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”
These would cut. Now I am NOT bitching about being put in the “friendzone” and I have NEVER thought that being “nice” entitled me to anything. I am mostly commenting about the frequency and the lack of the other way around. I suffer from no delusion that “if I am just a jerk women will like me.” And no matter what, I will always remain an ally to women, and have no desire to be romantic with anyone who doesn’t feel EXACTLY the same way about me.
(It is getting late and this is already three days late so I will wrap it up)
After all is said and done, I just don’t understand what keeps me from being able to achieve any amount of success in the romance department. There a few reasons that seem valid, like my inherent gruff exterior, obscene opinionatedness, my lack of levity, being fat, sullen, angry and serious all the time. Unfortunately these are things I neither can nor want to fix, as any “fix” would be a departure from the man that has struggled and bled my way to where I am now. I am trying to cultivate some levity, but I find most small talk demeaning and shallow. I would rather be intelligent and serious than stupid and carefree.
So I am going to shut up about this now. Good day and good night.