Everyone is a friend
“Well you know you’re a cute little heartbreaker”
I’ve recently gone a few nights out with a mate I used to know from school. Now I’ve never met anyone, bar myself, who has, at one time or another, had as much misplaced optimism regarding a particular member of the opposite sex as I.
He introduced me to the object of his desires on a buzz filled Saturday evening a couple weeks back. She seems fine but my friends first complaint was “She doesn’t drink. Not at all. Not even on nights out.”
He believed this to be making his task even harder to accomplish. I quietly supped my pint and watched this female creature for a few moments. She planted herself in the middle of the dance floor and swayed from side to side while attempting what you could only describe - if you didn’t know she was sober - a drunken display of movement. My friend then informed me that this would be her position for the entire course of the night. Yup, she would just dance the night away…
Meanwhile, my friend would spend the entire night devising ways of trying to get her attention. At one point she came over to us and asked him to dance with her. Moments later he crawled back over stating “I forgot I couldn’t dance.”
On the surface I showed empathy towards my buddy and tried to help forge plans for the rest of the night but on the inside I was feeling quite delighted that there was someone else this incompetent at gaining the favour of t’other sex. Incompetence is the only word for it really. He has a naïve vibe about him, the same as me.
You see it is a long, dull summer when you are single. That last few weeks I have been out has been for the sole purpose of meeting someone.
So far it has failed. I can see the look of dread attach themselves to these young girls faces when I approach them in a semi-drunk condition. I’m then forced to retreat in the direction I came…back to the place of shame with the other single breed.
I like to think I have a type. But I don’t, not really. As long as I’m attracted to them it does not matter , I wouldn’t cut myself off because they don’t match my pre-determined type. Actually, my only requirement is that they have a pulse.
But what hurts really is how much I like the female sex and how little they reciprocate this feeling. Especially the young ladies. In the advent of self analysis and the age of trying to improve ones self, you must first admit fault. I have the kind of personality that makes mothers go “ahhh he’s a nice lad.”
I wish I was more rebellious, outlandish, confident and daring but that’s simply not who I’m not. Even typing that sentence makes me feel more guilty for thinking it.
Sometimes I feel like a weirdo. Which I kind of like because at least it gives me a uniqueness. Sometimes I feel like a boring old tree. One that simply exists.
I don’t want to give the impression of a depressed desperado and basically one sentence sums it up.
I DON’T WANT TO BE SINGLE.
There was this one girl I remember from Friday night. I saw her and I felt like someone had injected me with a paralyzing drug. I literally couldn’t move. It wasn’t that she was amazingly beautiful. She wouldn’t be to other guys but to me she had a halo above her head. I approached her but she just pushed past me.
Now if it had only been a movie.
I’ve recently gone a few nights out with a mate I used to know from school. Now I’ve never met anyone, bar myself, who has, at one time or another, had as much misplaced optimism regarding a particular member of the opposite sex as I.
He introduced me to the object of his desires on a buzz filled Saturday evening a couple weeks back. She seems fine but my friends first complaint was “She doesn’t drink. Not at all. Not even on nights out.”
He believed this to be making his task even harder to accomplish. I quietly supped my pint and watched this female creature for a few moments. She planted herself in the middle of the dance floor and swayed from side to side while attempting what you could only describe - if you didn’t know she was sober - a drunken display of movement. My friend then informed me that this would be her position for the entire course of the night. Yup, she would just dance the night away…
Meanwhile, my friend would spend the entire night devising ways of trying to get her attention. At one point she came over to us and asked him to dance with her. Moments later he crawled back over stating “I forgot I couldn’t dance.”
On the surface I showed empathy towards my buddy and tried to help forge plans for the rest of the night but on the inside I was feeling quite delighted that there was someone else this incompetent at gaining the favour of t’other sex. Incompetence is the only word for it really. He has a naïve vibe about him, the same as me.
You see it is a long, dull summer when you are single. That last few weeks I have been out has been for the sole purpose of meeting someone.
So far it has failed. I can see the look of dread attach themselves to these young girls faces when I approach them in a semi-drunk condition. I’m then forced to retreat in the direction I came…back to the place of shame with the other single breed.
I like to think I have a type. But I don’t, not really. As long as I’m attracted to them it does not matter , I wouldn’t cut myself off because they don’t match my pre-determined type. Actually, my only requirement is that they have a pulse.
But what hurts really is how much I like the female sex and how little they reciprocate this feeling. Especially the young ladies. In the advent of self analysis and the age of trying to improve ones self, you must first admit fault. I have the kind of personality that makes mothers go “ahhh he’s a nice lad.”
I wish I was more rebellious, outlandish, confident and daring but that’s simply not who I’m not. Even typing that sentence makes me feel more guilty for thinking it.
Sometimes I feel like a weirdo. Which I kind of like because at least it gives me a uniqueness. Sometimes I feel like a boring old tree. One that simply exists.
I don’t want to give the impression of a depressed desperado and basically one sentence sums it up.
I DON’T WANT TO BE SINGLE.
There was this one girl I remember from Friday night. I saw her and I felt like someone had injected me with a paralyzing drug. I literally couldn’t move. It wasn’t that she was amazingly beautiful. She wouldn’t be to other guys but to me she had a halo above her head. I approached her but she just pushed past me.
Now if it had only been a movie.
posted by A.Lee at 10:43 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home