Humans are social beings. This is not something I just made up, but it’s a construct that’s been chewed over and over again by science. We need interaction, support, and connections if we are to get somewhere meaningful in life. It makes a lot of sense in terms of evolution. Humans wouldn’t make it this far without sharing knowledge and ideas, thus expanding consciousness and elevating humanity to the next level of progress. If you translate it to modern times inundated with social platforms, if no one knows about what you’re doing, it didn’t happen. I tend to agree, but it’s not as simple as it sounds. In order to be around people, you have to like them and, more importantly, they have to like you. This is where I come in.
I don’t have any friends and I have never been in a romantic relationship that lasted more than a month, and I’m 43. My outlook on the world and humans is so twisted that I’m pretty sure I fall into a category of ‘not normal’.
The definition of an ideal normal: growing up with a sibling, raised by parents who never get divorced, spending weekends and summers at granny’s, making lifelong friends at an early age, meeting a nice person you fall in love with and the feeling is mutual so a man proposes, a woman happily accepts, they get married and bring children into this world, having nice, steady jobs, buying a house, sending their children to school, growing old together, having grandchildren, family getting along and gathering every holiday, and being an active participant in a community.
In the meantime, we have normalized divorce, not finishing school, changing jobs, chasing money, one night stands, mental health issues, gender changes, not disciplining children, earning millions by making videos and becoming a celebrity overnight, voicing opinions about anything, entitlement, white privilege, not voting and then being outraged by election result, to name just a few trends.
As for me, I am not comfortable with labels. What’s normal in Europe is definitely not normal in Africa, for example. What’s normal for someone who grew up with a silver spoon is definitely not normal for someone who grew up hungry. By all accounts, I should be normal. My expectations of friendships and relationships have proven to be unrealistic and selfish and I have believed for a long time now that I need psychotherapy. Rather than going through with it, I decided to look deep into myself and face my traumas and fix myself on my own. So far, so whatever. I’m still standing and I’m still processing. When my depressive episodes started occurring, I resorted to self-pity and eventually realized no one has time to deal with that and that was the reason no one wanted me around. I fixed that, but to an extreme. I started isolating myself so I could deal with it in private and come out of it ready to face the world that does not revolve around me. By doing that I have perfected being alone and independent, but I still like being around people with who I can lead interesting conversations and be on the same vibe. I am happy to say a lot of people I meet find me funny and that is what I aspire to. I love to laugh and I wish that’s all anyone could ever do. However, being funny is so not enough. Leading interesting conversations and being on the same vibe is not enough.
I yearn for a friend, just one person that would do anything for me, be there for me always, and give me everything and anything I needed. I also want to be that for someone. Unconditional love. I make friends very easily, but I lose them just as speedily. My father called me an idealist when in a debate I offered such obvious and easy solutions to what contributed to destroying faith in humanity. Couldn’t someone just kill Adolf? I see the world as black and white. Well, I did for a long time and when I realized it wasn’t, I accepted there are other colors, but I still struggle with the ‘why’.
Why is it easier to be sad and depressed, angry, envious, rude, impatient, evil? Why is it that in our lifetime we have to work on becoming the best versions of ourselves instead of struggling to be mean? We have to put effort into being happy, but no effort is required to be miserable. The irony of it all, even if you figure it all out and achieve that level of satisfaction that eliminates all further questions and dilemmas, you die. Mission accomplished. Congratulations, thanks for living. See you in the next life, where you will have to overcome another set of obstacles, unaware of the ones you already mastered.
An idealist and defeatist. Those two cannot combine, I’m sure. Perhaps this is another one of my attempts to break down why no guy I wanted, wanted me back. Lots of guys wanted me and had me and vice versa, but not one of those wanted to stay. There have been plenty of those who I didn’t want who had asked me to stay, but the point is it’s always been one-sided. Lots of heartbreak, buckets of tears, existential crises, questions of self-worth. Most guys I was with, it was instant attraction and I dived into it wanting to be with them and get ‘I love you.’ I still haven’t got what I’m searching for, but I haven’t given up. There’s only one thing I can do differently and that is strategizing. As an idealist, I never did, because I thought why waste precious time on games and delay what we both knew we wanted (I’m referring to sex), but it turned the tide every single time. And every single next time I did it again, thinking if he was the right one, it wouldn’t matter to him if we did it in two or ten days’ time. It did matter and it does matter. I was warned by my Mom and my friend that it’s all men want and once they get it, they don’t want more. Even though that’s the only thing I can experiment with next time, should there be a next time, and test whether he sticks around after I repeatedly refuse to surrender to the electric sexual attraction, a part of me still believes that I may meet a man who shares the same beliefs and wants me to be me at all times and matches my ‘normal’ to a tee. But then again, I have yet to meet someone like me.
About the author
Can't stop thinking even if I try so writing is my outlet. It gives (or doesn't) sense to my life. Either way, I love it. Some of my non-fiction works have been published, but I have a passion for biographies. Happy writing to all!