Here I am, on the eve of my 24th birthday, a Saturday night, crying my eyes out for the 5th time tonight, if my count is right…I never was good with numbers. I almost never get teary-eyed (except during Titanic), provided I’m an incredibly masculine dude (okay, that’s a straight-up lie, I did say I like Titanic). I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster these past few weeks that has caused me to break down several times, with alarming increasing frequency. I like to pretend I’m not a big birthday person, and well, I guess I’m not, but mostly by virtue of the embarrassingly small group of people I’d be able to get together for such an event.
Let me be clear, I really don’t give much of a damn about my birthday…it just so happens to coincide with a very, very low-point in my life. What spurred this recent depressive run? A girl…my female roommate (one of three, actually–don’t ask how that happened). I knew I wouldn’t stand a chance with her. I mean, how could I given I apparently haven’t stood a chance with anyone else, ever (aside from my date with Lost every Wednesday…) That’s right, I’ve never really been on what you could call a “date” (aside from a one-time online dating site thing, which didn’t go well). I had never kissed a girl before (more on that soon) and I’m still a virgin (my hand, however, certainly is not). And hell, she pretty much told me as much a few months ago when we were both stoned, on the couch and she directly addressed the issue to me, making it painfully clear she likes me “as a friend” (she apparently was tipped off by another female roommate who sensed I had a crush on her, and I guess she wanted to head it off at the pass). Oh, if only I had taken that to heart, maybe I wouldn’t be the emotional basket-case I am now.
Well, since then we’ve continued to hang out, going out to play pool, seeing movies, and even getting hammered at home. There were moments when we would get close and snuggly while watching TV, but that’s it…until last Tuesday (two Tuesdays ago, that is). Even though it was a work night for me, I was having such a great time talking and drinking with her that we ended up staying up until almost sunrise the next day. By around 4am, after a lot (and I mean A LOT) of talking and drinking, we started making out, heavily (which, for those keeping track at home, is my first time ever–weeeee!). I honestly don’t know if she was making out with me out of pity, a beer-fueled attraction, or because she just wanted me to know what it felt like, but dammit, she was putting her tongue in my mouth and I just didn’t care! I, of course, had no idea what I was doing, made clear by the occasional bumping of teeth and my complete lack of technique. Afterward, I wound up sleeping with her in her bed, spoon position (though nothing further happened–remember, I’m still a virgin!).
This, my friends, has fucked my head up immensely. I’m pretty sure that what happened that night was mostly alcohol induced (as she had quite the hangover the next day), but my heart just can’t accept it. Every time I see her, it reminds me of the social failure I am. I don’t meet girls. Scratch that, I can’t meet girls. And the few I have met (see previous threads) have gone absolutely-fucking-nowhere. I just feel so god damn awkard in almost every situation I’m in. I don’t interact with people well, outside of a very small group of friends, and even then I still feel awkward at times. So to have a girl like this actually express interest in me, physically even…well, it made me feel more alive than I have in years.
And since then, nothing else has happened. We haven’t really discussed what transpired that night since, despite hanging out about as much as we did before. And this is killing me! Like I said, at this point, I am convinced nothing further will come of this, and it breaks my heart that, once again, I CAN NOT GET A GIRLFRIEND. I am an utter failure at the social game called Life. I am running blind, awkwardly stumbling my way through every god damn social encounter and each subsequent day is making me hate this ‘game’ more and more.
By most other standards, I’d say I’ve been relatively successful. I have a decent job making 61k a year, and yet, I’m bored to death of what I do. But I’m afraid to leave it, given the shitty economy (truth be told, I would love to run my own business). But even making decent money hasn’t made me happy…or even happier. My life is going nowhere fast, on all fronts, and it’s pissing me off.
I feel like I’m missing out on so much life has to offer, especially during these youngish years when I feel like I should be experiencing it most. And the fact that I’m going to be 24 tomorrow, honestly, scares the shit out of me.
I know I’m going to regret posting this tomorrow morning, and can already feel a tingling sense of the ensuing embarrassment I’ll suffer when I revisit this thread later. I really try not to treat the dope as my own personal blog, and do try to keep these very intimate postings to a minimum, but I really have no where else where I can express myself. I’ve tried cognitive therapy, twice, with few positive results. I feel like I’m beyond help and am doomed to living a sheltered life like this forever. I honestly have no idea what to I hope to gain by sharing this, aside from perhaps learning there’s hope for me yet.
Oh, and next week is Valentine’s Day—how f’ing great is that? sigh