He was never a very popular boy.
Let me rephrase: I was never a very popular boy. There, I said it. To use the third person pronoun is to evade the subject. I am trying to avoid all that denial and those euphemistic phrases to describe myself… to avoid years of glossing over the facts, to face my reality, to accept my destiny.
Always the last to be picked for any team.
I realized this early, I was not an asset to any team, actually I was a slow, stumbling, fumbling liability. It was not hard to see, when I ran I could not keep up with the others, I could neither kick or hit or throw a ball with either force or accuracy. Although not ostracized by the kids, I chose to not participate, and began to stand by myself or wander with no true direction during the recesses. This caught the attention of the teachers who had me tested, the typical Stanford-Binet, I learned later. The test found me to be well above average and bright in some respects. Thank God! No one could understand why I did not get good grades and why I was such a loner. “He daydreams too much,” I once overheard a teacher say. I could not argue with that.
High school was not much different.
I hung with the troublemakers, “underachievers”, did not participate in extra curricular activities, did a bit of drinking, smoked pot, dabbled in psychedelics, which I really did not like because they made me look at myself. I did not like the view. I felt alienated in high school and took an option to attend tech school, which provided me with focus and a creative outlet through photography, video and music. Unlike most guys, I did not have any girlfriends in high school. There were girls I’d consider to be friends, but no girlfriends. Once here was one gal who acted like she was my girlfriend for a short time. I later learned she was using me to get to another guy. Ouch!
After high school, I moved to the wilds of eastern Montana. Continuing the wandering I worked, made friends enjoyed the freedom that a boy feels being on his own for the first time. Did a little college, met a few gals, had brief flings enjoyed discovering sex and girlfriends. Some happy, some disappointing. I got serious with one gal, thought she was serious too. But when I found her in bed with a guy I thought was a friend….Oh Well, Ouch! Again.
Moving on.
Drifting about Montana, Othello, Washington then landing in Sequim, WA at age 24. Fun time, new job, made friends, always social, very busy, many dates, many love interests. Fell head over heals love-at-first-sight for one who didn’t want me. Continued that pursuit for years. She’d relent, we’d be lovers for a while, then not, we both moved in different directions. Back and forth for a dozen years. It should have, but did not work out in the long run. Too bad.
Life in Western Montana.
Fine, built the house, settled in for nearly 25 years now… seems like a big number when I see it in print. Off and on new loves, love lost, had a gal move in while I built the house, thought we were going someplace together… She was pretty, smart, funny, sharp, but drank more than was healthy. Some times she would not come home. When she got pregnant and it wasn’t by me…
Ouch! big Ouch! Good Bye. She was not my destiny….Good thing looking back. That took a while to get over.
Life as a town drunk
After that, I kept looking for another spark. Took a bit too much to drink myself, tried to pick up the bar gals. That met with little or no success… another good thing in the long run. I must have come across as a pathetic and lonely man.. Drifting drunk from bar to bar, town to town, weekend after weekend never finding what I needed or wanted. Met some gals outside the bars, some married (that never works out), some who said they were not married, but were. Some who cared, some who didn’t. some who thought I was someone else, some who wanted me to be someone else. Some wanted to use me, and a few wanted to be abused. No clicks, no spark. During that time I met one, who could have been the right one, alas I would not move to the city, she would not move to the country. My fault, bad decisions, bad luck, too much immaturity on my part. My Bad.
The Internet.
A few years later desperate, and lonely, I sough refuge in the land of America’s most desperate.
There is a reason we are single.
Many reasons, actually. And it is not just a matter of luck. Over the years faces reappear on the match websites. I am one of those and can say I have had dozens of first dates. A few second dates. One has bloomed into a non-sexual friendship. But in the search for love….nada.
Some of interest, some with bad habits (if you have a habit at 40 you will likely have it for life.) Some too old, not always in chronological years. Some too young. Some who have lost the ability to find fun… too sad. Some looking for the perfect man. Some immature, such as myself, The boy who never grew up.
Some I like but no like me, some like me, I no like.
Reoccurring pattern, like a bad habit.
Falling in Love
There was one, non-internet love that I thought was real, one of those that love novels could be written about. I pursued her for years. When she said yes, she became my morning light and evening dreams, my fantasy. I was her stars and moon she would say. She announced to her family she was moving in with me, I could not have been happier, giddy was I, like being in love for the first time, maybe it was the first time.
Thing change fast.
One morning it was over. She said she had to break up. I didn’t think she was serious, I thought it was a phase of questioning, she’d get over. A low spot in her dysthymia. For a year I did not give up, we stayed in contact, talking several times a week. Then once a week, then every other week. Then she found someone else, he moved in with her right away. I guess she was serious.
That’s an ouch that does not quickly heal.
Over time, have met and dated more, been fortunate to meet one who have become good friends, I am really lucky in friends.
The Internet again.
Two years of searching off an on, one week in a frenzy of hope I had a meeting every day. Exhausting. I am too hard to please. My Bad.
Manifesto
After discovering I am just fooling myself to think I am going to find what I am looking for. I have decided from this point further to no longer disappoint myself or others.
Time to give in and face the truth…Sometime hope has no place in the truth.
Hell, I’m over 50 now, (another big number when seen in print).
It just ain’t gonna happen.
This last week I went through all the e-mails from all the once potential dates. Dropped a “hello, how are ya doin’” e-mail to all those who at one time displayed an interest that was mutual. Now, 10 days later, only one has written back. She to say she is happy with her boyfriend living in Vermont. My next step was to delete names and messages from all those past connections. Erase any trace of my activity. End the past.
Batting “0”
Some friends think I don’t care about being single, that I handle being alone so well, that I maintain a good positive attitude. Truth is being alone is no great picnic. Actually it gets very lonely.
Really.
