I just confirmed for myself that this blog exists for a good reason. I hung out with some old Junior High schoolmates last night. I was okay at the time (probably because I was drinking), but now it makes me feel weird. I get this feeling like I don’t really know who I am when I’m with them. Naturally that’s crazy. I do know who I am, don’t I? I’m just a regular person who feels the same thing other people feel. I’m just a little bit insensitive sometimes. Isn’t everyone? I say things that are offensive sometimes. I often think they’re funny. Hell, they ARE funny! I just feel like there is so much I can’t say around them because they don’t think the shit I say is funny. That brings me back to my friend (what are we calling him? OMG or something stupid like that. OMB says that if I’m the only one laughing, then it wasn’t a joke. I asked, “What if I meant it to be a joke?”
“You didn’t.” He stated, rather matter-of-factly.
Is that true? Do I say mean things and then laugh in the person’s face after insulting them? Do I secretly want to insult people but cover it up with humor to make it seem harmless? Who does that? Do I really care so little for other people that I don’t give a damn who gets hurt? The strangest and most disturbing part of this train of thought is that I don’t know how to answer those questions. People tell me I’m a nice person all the time, but those are mostly the people who don’t know me that well or people that I love. Yes, I said love. I mean every kind of love. I wouldn’t torture the people I love, would I? Yeah, maybe. That is how I was raised. If you can’t punish those who love you, who can you punish? Sure that may be sick, but at least I’m not in denial about it like most people.
Then there’s the whole gender gap thing. Men find it endearing to heckle each other roundly. Women just…well, I don’t really get women. As a woman, that probably makes me some kind of weirdo. However, that is the plain and most honest truth I could ever speak. I DON’T GET WOMEN. I don’t understand what they expect from friendship. I expect my friends to:
pick me up when I’m stranded
calm me down before I do something irrational that may land me in jail or on Jerry Springer
provide me with a place to sleep if I need to spend the night
tell me when I’ve done something wrong, ESPECIALLY if I didn’t catch it myself
be honest and direct as much as humanly possible
expect the same in return
With most women I meet and try to be friends with, I can never really figure out why we’re friends. In other words, I don’t get the feeling that I can count on them for any of the things I listed above (or that I could even feel comfortable asking). With men, you know where you stand. It’s not a guessing game. When it comes to friendship, it really shouldn’t be. Seriously, life is hard enough.
Maybe I’m just mocking people and getting some selfish jollies out of it. Whatever the case, I’ve obsessed over it all damn day and I’m pretty much tired of thinking about it. I’ve already determined that trying to be more sensitive is not going well for me, so I’ll just resign to believing that those who are too sensitive to be my friends will just go away and find others to coddle them.
In the meantime, I still need to figure out some way to stop being so closed off to the world – emotionally. I’ve shrouded myself in aloofness so much that it has now been over six months since the last time I was even kissed. I’ve made no moves towards changing. In fact, I am more solitary with every passing week. With the exception of those I see every weekday, I don’t really socialize at all. Sure I go to clubs and dance, but rarely with anyone that I don’t already know and never with anyone showing some interest in me beyond that dance. It has come to a point where it makes me feel uncomfortable when I’m being pursued now. I dread that moment when I have to tell the guy to back off. The way I socialize with people is so often misread as purposeful flirting that I try to avoid more than polite interaction.
I sometimes fear that I will turn into a hermit, but that’s just crazy talk… isn’t it? Maybe it’s the moodiness from this traumatic and disgraceful BP oil spill that is now in its 53rd day. 53 DAYS!!!! It’s tragic. It’s the worst thing that we (humans who use and develop technology) have done. I’m ashamed of myself for being a dirty human. I am ashamed of us as a species. I suppose this is not the best frame of mind to be in when one is looking to rediscover themselves socially. Six months may as well be six years if it's not meant to be.
