High Aspirations, Low Expectations

First off, I have to make an apology.  I don’t think I’m going to finish off relating incidents like I said I would in the last post.  I have just thought better of it since I do not want to dredge up old memories but spend more of my life in the now and looking forward.  I’m not saying I won’t go into it, I’m just not going to force anything on this blog; it just doesn’t feel natural if I plan it too much.

I have had a social weekend for once as Saturday is my best friend’s 21st birthday and it has been an interesting time dealing with the feelings I was having while in the company of others and in the aftermath.  The events themselves were exceedingly different but as always, in some ways were painfully similar.  Yesterday was with strangers and acquaintances along with my friends out in the big, bad world and that day was small and only with my friends in the comfort and security in my own home.

Starting off with yesterday, I went out on a pub crawl in the nearby, idyllic town of Topsham, famous for its Topsham Ten (or, as it is now, really, Six!) pub crawl with my best friend and seven other people.  It was difficult.  It was difficult conjuring up the courage to leave my house having been so scared I got no sleep the previous night.  It was difficult waiting at the train station and believing that everyone else had got an earlier train and left me behind.  It was a mammoth, Herculean effort that forced me to try and be congenial for the good of the group and my best friend who is one of my few kindred spirits in this world.

My first observation of the day was that as always when I am around people in relationships, I find myself feeling uncomfortable and more depressed than I might be otherwise.  It is not that I wish I were attached or that I require the company, it is more that I feel like a wallflower and want to melt away into a puddle and flow all the way home.  You may think that I might be more comfortable being ignored in company because then I would not have to engage with the company present, but it oddly doesn’t work that way.  It makes me wish more that I could be normal and enjoy myself in groups and for once, win the game of social poker (something I’ll expand on later).

I was going well for a while.  The drinking was a big help and I did drink a lot, but eventually I hit the peak of my contentment in company and I started to come down, and then, I was properly sinking.  I noticed it just after we walked into the most crowded pub of the night and I felt really out of place.  As I was trying to check to see when the train left for Exeter, it did seriously enter my mind that I could just shoot through and leave on my own.  I got as far as just round the corner from the pub and I turned back because there really isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my best friends and I would never ruin their birthday celebrations, especially since I know what that feels like…

Going off on a tangent quickly on the topic of things I do for my best friends, I do not do much for them, in fact, I’m pretty sure I am the biggest and heaviest burden they carry.  I am hurt, and not just hurt, hurt badly and sorely, often.  Even the merest slight and rejection can be like a knife in the back to me and normal people are busy and have lives so slights and rejections happen.  The game of social poker as I call it earlier is a game of chance and a game of social poker.  When you are a student there are tons of house parties and loads of big group socials and social occasions to attend and get drunk at.  I can neither leave the house on most days nor be amongst lots of people.  Thus, I am always dealt the lower hand, for if an evening is spent with me, then it is spent giving attention to only a few, whereas when one of my best friends chooses to spend a night at a club with their mates or at a house party – the higher hand – the evening is more productively spent.  Every time this happens and it happens often, I do something for my best friends: I forgive them for hurting me though “they know not what they do”.  I am not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing anymore for either side, as I lose a little bit more of my self-respect every time it happens and I believe I am less and less worthy of attention each time and I am not sure if it isn’t just them finally tiring of throwing me a bone every now and then.

That is what happened on Saturday night after we were all pub crawling from 2-9pm!  Before the caper in Topsham, I made plans (and told my friends!) to go back to my flat and have a movie night with my friends like we used to do in the old times before I confessed my undying love for one of them and more or less made the other one feel uncomfortable at being included in the message (that is a subject that deserves its own post).  I wish that I could just go back in time and tell my stupid, foolish, lovesick, desperate, multi-adjectival self to shut the fuck up and then, maybe, I’d still have two best friends who could spend time with me without feeling like I was thinking about…well, things.  What upset me the most wasn’t that they chose the house party, that was inevitable, it was more that although the birthday boy and his girlfriend were sort of coerced but that my other best friend actually just forgot that he had agreed to come back to mine in the first place.

Sadly, I had the losing hand and there was a house party going on somewhere else in Exeter, so as usual, I went home alone, drank at home alone, slept at home alone.

Yesterday was a better day except I felt like the four Smirnoff Ices, medium glass of Chardonnay and Malibu and Coke and Jack Daniel’s Shot I had the previous night.  I saw my cousin and his girlfriend on their way home from Cornwall and they were lovely as they always are.  I was looking forward to hosting the film night that was supposed to happen the previous night, but I should have known that that was the queen of wishful thinking.

I managed to get at least three of the four invitees round (guess which one went with the upper hand the Superbowl and Walkabout played?) to watch “Me, Myself & Irene” and while I had hoped for a proper go of a film night, there were calls and texts and before I could really process everything, everyone had gone and I drank some more, watched some more and ate some more…all alone.

Image

LaBellaBorgia Speaks,

P. Mistry-Norman

03-02-2014

 

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