Well, it’s about 2:30 in the morning here eastern time, and I should really be asleep seeing as how I have both work and school tomorrow, but I just am not tired. I had planned on catching up on some of my shows that I have DVRed: Breaking Bad and a new BBC America show Copper that I haven’t watched yet, but I just don’t feel like it for some reason.
I don’t know if it’s just a quirk of mine, but I sometimes get these feelings late at night where I’m not sleepy, incredibly bored, yet nothing I can think of to do sounds remotely interesting. I’m used to the late night part. I’ve been an nite owl plus an insomniac for years, and I refuse to lay in bed if I can’t sleep. It’s the boredom tinged with apathy that happens now and then that really gets to me.
Lately, I’ve been writing when I can’t think of anything else to do, and I actually DO kind of want to write tonight, but I can’t for the life of me think of anything to say that anyone else might find remotely interesting.
So in the general spirit of this blog/therapy space for me, I might as well go back to the well of my personal issues and neuroses. One thing I try to do on here is to not spare myself embarrassment and to admit my faults in detail in the hopes that maybe I’ll eventually be able to change them.
So anyhow, 5 or 6 days ago, I had a few drinks in me and started feeling all nostalgic and maudlin, and engaged in what at best could be called looking up old friends and exes, and at worst could be called Facebook stalking..lol. Obviously most of them were now married and many had kids and all seemed, at least according to how they portray themselves on Facebook, to have pretty perfect lives. We’ll get back to this general theme in a moment but first I have a further embarrassing admission to make.
I actually messaged a girl that was a good friend of mine my first year in college, that I was in love with(or thought so at the time in my immature state), and that I basically ended up fucking up things with majorly to the point where we basically stopped talking. Sad but rather typical story, but for some reason after not even thinking of her for years, I had the bright idea to not only look her up, but to send her a message.
Luckily for me, and for her I’m sure, I’m actually still pretty a pretty coherent writer even with a few beers in me. She’s now married with a kid and all that good stuff, so I’m not at all sure what I expected to accomplish, but at least all I really did was say that I regretted how things had turned out between us, and that I was stupid and immature at the time and that I was happy things seemed to be going well for her and I wished her all the best.
I felt like a dumbass the next day but luckily she was at least nice enough to respond in a polite way, so no harm done. But basically all this whole situation did for me is make me feel like one sad fuck.
Probably the main reason I rail on Facebook, other than that it annoys me how few people on there seem to actually say anything of substance, is that it reminds me of my shortcomings..ie..that I’m 35 years old, have never been married, and no kids. To be honest, I’ve never even lived with a woman fulltime.
I’ve had relationships of over a year several times, but never even come close to marriage…a couple of them probably WOULD have married me had I asked, but I seem to have a pathological fear of settling when it comes to women. When I say settling, I don’t mean settling down. I don’t think I have a fear of committment per se, I have a fear of ending up with the wrong person and an absurd confidence in myself that I can always do better while at the same time an insecurity that any woman that would want to be with me must have something wrong with her.
Obviously that sounds like a paradox, but that’s the best way I can explain it. I’ve sabotaged relationships because I felt like I could do better and I would be settling to end up with a particular woman, and other times by letting my insecurities lead me to find faults in a woman that could actually love me.
I said in another self reflective post that I think it’s worse to be smart and self aware enough to know why you do stupid things or act in stupid ways, than it is to be ignorant and have no self awareness whatsoever. Meaning I mostly know why I am the way I am, but I can’t seem to change it.
Being a child of divorce and actually seeing a lot of divorce in my extended family, and knowing people in unhappy marriages, I have a real fear of ending up with the wrong person, being miserable, and perhaps even worse, exposing kids to divorce or parents that only tolerate each other.
Also as an only child that didn’t have to so much as share a room or bathroom with someone until I went off to college, I’m sometimes terrified at the thought of living in a relatively small space with the same person for years or the rest of my life. I don’t just value my alone time, I NEED it, or I can turn into a mean person.
I also know why I have a basic insecurity when it comes to believing a woman could love me. When I first started middle school in Atlanta, I was the new kid, got picked on, couldn’t get a girl to look at me if I was on fire; not exactly an uncommon story. In the later years of high school I started to party and drink and do drugs and managed to wrangle my way into the popular crowd, and I also had a lot of friends that went to other schools, so I hosted and went to a lot of parties. but I still had relatively little success with girls, outside of a few lucky times here and there. I had never developed that confidence that is the only thing an average looking guy like me can use to get a woman’s attention.
When I went off to college I still didn’t have that confidence. I joined a fraternity, made a lot of friends, had big parties at my apartment when I moved off campus, but I “hooked” up with fewer girls than most of my friends by far. I had chances, but I still lacked the confidence to “close the deal”. I was also at this point already picking apart any girl that was interested in me and worrying about what my friends would say if I hooked up with such and such girl. Not to mention I was drinking and partying a hell of a lot; I thought the only way I could approach a girl was the old liquid courage, and amazingly, women don’t seem to find stumbling, slurring drunk guys attractive(shocking I know).
Anyway, to avoid rambling for too much longer, after college is when my drugging and drinking really caught up with me and my life was too fucked up to even really involve a woman in it. It wasn’t until my mid to late 20s that I finally dealt with my shit and was comfortable enough with myself to actually feel confident around women and to know what to do. I had a period that lasted until relatively recently where I dated a few women seriously, a lot more casually, had some flings, some one night stands, and even a fuckbuddy here and there. I made up for lost time, sowed wild oats, whatever euphemism you want to pick.
But despite the fact that I now know from good experience that some women find me attractive, charming, funny, whatever…and I’ve had women declare their love for me and want serious relationships, in some ways deep down I’m still that stupid insecure kid that can’t believe any smart, attractive, desirable woman would actually want me, let alone love me. So either it’s not really true, or there’s something wrong with her.
So I don’t really know what the fuck the point of this whole discourse has been, other than to say that I know why I’m fucked up when it comes to women, but not how to fix it. I’m 35 years old and I don’t know if that perfect woman will ever come along…there IS no perfect woman, I know this of course, we’re all flawed beings, but I don’t know how my impossible standards and insecurities can be reconciled with each other.
Anyway, I’m actually finally starting to get tired and I’ve been writing for 1500+ words so it’s probably time to wrap this thing up. I honestly can’t believe I’ve put some of these things down for anyone with a computer to read, but as I said when I started this, I’ll try to be as honest as possible, maybe there’s someone out there as fucked up as me that can relate and feel a bit better..if not, at least I’ve owned up to my shit, which I guess is a step in the right direction.