The One Thing I Know
I've been feeling such immense loneliness lately that, as I am left alone with my thoughts, I realized there is only one thing that hasn't ever not been there for me: Technology.
For years now, since I started earning money as a paper boy, I've spent most of what I've made on electronics. I opted not to buy nice cars like all my friends and instead bought nice TVs, stereos, video game systems and - most importantly - computers.
These things have always been there for me, each and every moment I've been alone. I have instant access to things that entertain me and steer my thoughts from my solitude and direct them into fictional realms that delight my mind in lieu of pleasant stimuli from the real world around me.
But I find, more and more, that these things don't bring me as much joy as they did before. I can't watch TV for very long before getting restless; I don't want to play any games. And every time I'm on the computer, I'm reminded that, by another means, I am being ignored.
Everyone on my buddy list is always away. And when they come back, in those moments where I know they've been at their desk looking at AIM and they change their Away Message, they pass over my name without thinking that it might bring me some modicum of joy to send me a simple hello or a smiley face. Just as I never receive calls, e-mails or letters from anyone.
The years I spent isolating myself, followed by the years I spent engaged in what I thought was a beautiful and productive relationship, have today been shown to have had a great affect on my ability to interact in a meaningful way when my situation is as desperate as I believe it to be.
I was waiting for the train at 72nd St (sue me, I didn't feel like walking 30 blocks) and I really hot guy came walking towards me. I looked at him and caught his eye, holding my stare almost exactly as long as I think is effective at signalling some modicum of interest. In fact, the timing was perfect ... I don't think I've ever not stared too long at someone I find attractive. I'm apparently very bad at it. But this time was perfect.
I averted my gaze and, as he got closer, flicked my eyes up just in time to see him flick his towards me right as he passed by. He stopped about 20 feet away, milled about there a bit, and, as the train arrived, moved past me back the way he came and got on the same car I did, at the other end. Inside, I looked over and saw him look up at me.
Three stops later (the 2/3 is running local on weekends at the moment), we both got off and, as I passed him on my way to the stairs, we again made eye contact in what felt like an almost desperately meaningful way ... it looked as though he was as intimidated by being checked out by a guy he was checking out as was I (wrap your mind around that sentence once more ... it makes sense, I promise). I passed by, went down the stairs and will probably never see him again.
I feel that I should have been more empowered to do something in that situation. I should have been confident enough to smile at him, wink perhaps, or, better yet, simply find a way to make conversation. I should feel that there is nothing worse that could come of simply saying, "Hi ... I was wondering, if you're not busy, would you maybe wanna go get a cup of coffee or something?" to a complete stranger than their simply saying, "Sure," "I'm sorry, I'm dating someone," "Sorry, I'm not gay," or "No."
Are we, as people, so socially inept that we've made it seem like the above situation should be as uncomfortable as it was ... that we should somehow be resigned to feeling completely powerless to find friendship or maybe more in catching the eyes of someone who has also caught yours?
Is this somehow normal? Does everyone sacrifice the potentially amazing benefits that come from meeting someone new, simply because they aren't meeting in a bar or a club, or at a social gathering of some sort?
Do people no longer meet at random on the street or on a train? Did they ever?
Or am I just the only one?
For years now, since I started earning money as a paper boy, I've spent most of what I've made on electronics. I opted not to buy nice cars like all my friends and instead bought nice TVs, stereos, video game systems and - most importantly - computers.
These things have always been there for me, each and every moment I've been alone. I have instant access to things that entertain me and steer my thoughts from my solitude and direct them into fictional realms that delight my mind in lieu of pleasant stimuli from the real world around me.
But I find, more and more, that these things don't bring me as much joy as they did before. I can't watch TV for very long before getting restless; I don't want to play any games. And every time I'm on the computer, I'm reminded that, by another means, I am being ignored.
Everyone on my buddy list is always away. And when they come back, in those moments where I know they've been at their desk looking at AIM and they change their Away Message, they pass over my name without thinking that it might bring me some modicum of joy to send me a simple hello or a smiley face. Just as I never receive calls, e-mails or letters from anyone.
The years I spent isolating myself, followed by the years I spent engaged in what I thought was a beautiful and productive relationship, have today been shown to have had a great affect on my ability to interact in a meaningful way when my situation is as desperate as I believe it to be.
I was waiting for the train at 72nd St (sue me, I didn't feel like walking 30 blocks) and I really hot guy came walking towards me. I looked at him and caught his eye, holding my stare almost exactly as long as I think is effective at signalling some modicum of interest. In fact, the timing was perfect ... I don't think I've ever not stared too long at someone I find attractive. I'm apparently very bad at it. But this time was perfect.
I averted my gaze and, as he got closer, flicked my eyes up just in time to see him flick his towards me right as he passed by. He stopped about 20 feet away, milled about there a bit, and, as the train arrived, moved past me back the way he came and got on the same car I did, at the other end. Inside, I looked over and saw him look up at me.
Three stops later (the 2/3 is running local on weekends at the moment), we both got off and, as I passed him on my way to the stairs, we again made eye contact in what felt like an almost desperately meaningful way ... it looked as though he was as intimidated by being checked out by a guy he was checking out as was I (wrap your mind around that sentence once more ... it makes sense, I promise). I passed by, went down the stairs and will probably never see him again.
I feel that I should have been more empowered to do something in that situation. I should have been confident enough to smile at him, wink perhaps, or, better yet, simply find a way to make conversation. I should feel that there is nothing worse that could come of simply saying, "Hi ... I was wondering, if you're not busy, would you maybe wanna go get a cup of coffee or something?" to a complete stranger than their simply saying, "Sure," "I'm sorry, I'm dating someone," "Sorry, I'm not gay," or "No."
Are we, as people, so socially inept that we've made it seem like the above situation should be as uncomfortable as it was ... that we should somehow be resigned to feeling completely powerless to find friendship or maybe more in catching the eyes of someone who has also caught yours?
Is this somehow normal? Does everyone sacrifice the potentially amazing benefits that come from meeting someone new, simply because they aren't meeting in a bar or a club, or at a social gathering of some sort?
Do people no longer meet at random on the street or on a train? Did they ever?
Or am I just the only one?
posted by Dave at 5:34:00 PM
2 Comments:
/random smiley
:)
I meet people at random -Dan
Post a Comment
<< Home