Sadness is an emotion I have no use for. It’s the unfortunate by-product of working too much and sleeping too little. Being sexually frustrated also doesn’t help. Nor does listening to Jewel.
The worst part about my job is that a lot of it is spent driving places or waiting on things…i.e. I have a lot of time to dwell on things that should really be stowed away somewhere for a rainy day. Or for never. And because of my current singular situation (I guess I should be used to it by now) I end up thinking about all the instances where my confidence failed me, and I didn’t say or do something I wanted to, and all I can do now is wonder what would have happened if I had done something different.
The perfect couple
So this past week, my roommate’s girlfriend visited. They’re the kind of couple that you don’t mind hanging out with. They don’t make you feel like a third wheel. They’re funny and engaging, and they’re not obnoxiously touchy-feely with each other. But every now and then, they’d share a glance or a smile, and I’d get a look at their incredibly true relationship and feel this pang of jealousy. You could practically touch the love between the two of them.
It’s hard not to be whiny and ask (to whom I have no idea), “When’s my turn? When will I find someone with whom I can share a similar bond? Will he just appear out of nowhere, like a wraith, or do I have to actively search for him? And what about the time in between? What about my libido? Should I just sleep around? (and how does one go about doing that by the way?) Should I be chaste? (and how does one go about doing that by the way?)”.
Course, there’s no escaping happy couples. They’re everywhere. They’re sharing a quick kiss at the stoplight in the car in front of me, or holding hands walking down the sidewalk downtown. They’re my parents, who still flirt playfully with each other after 35 years of marriage. They’re my two married sisters and my brother who just celebrated one year dating his girlfriend.
So then comes the next set of questions: “What’s wrong with me? Am I too picky? Am I too stand-offish? Am I intimidating?” Or maybe I’m just shooting myself in the foot with my inability to communicate my interest to guys and my natural inclination to hide any evidence of my preference.
So what now?
Should I just get in my car and track down every guy I’ve ever had a crush on and didn’t say something to? Or should I continue my search here in town (on a 6-day week work schedule)? Maybe I should buy myself a better vibrator. Or just stop listening to sad love songs. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, my dream guy will just appear on my door step in a brown paper package tied up with string. But I suppose in the meantime, I’m going to look into buying a better vibrator.