march 9th was my birthday (25) and while it didn’t suck it wasn’t as fun as i hoped it would be. that’s what i get for hoping. my best friend came down to visit and brought three of his friends which we are trying to make into mutual friends. it’s difficult, especially with a four hour drive wedged between our efforts to connect. two family members, two co-workers and one ex-co-worker showed up. some with partner in tow but most without. we had plenty of beer, liquor, food, pot and wii entertainment. still there were moments when the entire apartment was silent. lets see, more than fifteen (15) people present at any given time and all you could hear was the tapping of my foot.
i was too inebriated to care. it was a disappointment. it still is. but the important part is that i can’t do anything about it either way. and it’s very unusual for me to let things go. but i’m trying. i’m trying to really feel like it doesn’t matter. that i tried my best and sometimes some people don’t mix. but it’s hard to believe that all those who were there are simply that different. i find it hard to accept that they couldn’t make conversation out of something. i find myself thinking that i should have gone around and kicked everyone in the shins so they could have at least one thing in common. obviously, i blame myself. i wasn’t drunk enough to be charismatic and i wasn’t stone enough to be witty. i was tired.
i cooked and bartended and tried, but i still failed. and what’s the big deal? (you might be wondering, whoever you are) well, the deal is that i don’t have friends. not what i consider to be friends. what i’m talking about is that group of people that are always around, always up to keeping company, always down to go to a party. you know, the regulars. the people that walk in and out of your apartment. the people that sleep on your couch. the people that create inside jokes. the people that like you despite the fact that you’re you. those people. the regulars. i don’t have that. and even though i’m in a very fulfilling relationship, i lack that. and sometimes i get lonely from this lack thereof.
so if you throw all these irregulars together (as i did) you get a dull party. you get people leaving early. not drinking. not smoking. not smiling. not talking. i didn’t get them drunk enough. high enough. they didn’t laugh enough. play enough. eat enough. something was missing.
i’d be lying if i said i wanted to know what it was. it’s not important. all these people won’t be together again. won’t remember each other. but more importantly they won’t remember the party either. somehow i can’t make it happen. then i think how i’ve tried to have fun in their elements when i was out of mine. i think how i really did try to make it work but they outnumbered me with their unexpected shyness. all the beer bottles, all the ashes, all the red eyes…they all add up to how it could have been better and this persistent confusion as to why it was not.
here we are again. this is why i’m trying to let things go. trying to really see that i can’t do anything. i could have done more perhaps, but i didn’t. now it’s time to think of something else. i wonder if there’s a name for people like me. people who hold grudges, don’t forgive and can’t let things go.
my boss once asked me if i was a hopeless romantic (this, during a conversation about getting a raise). i answered “do i look like it?” he said i did. i laughed then but maybe he was right. maybe it’s romantic to want a perfect night full of jokes and laughter. maybe it’s hopeless to strive for that. or maybe he just said that to make me mad and making (and keeping, more importantly) friends isn’t as difficult as i make it.
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secondly; i had to borrow money from my parents. it was a very hard thing to do. my pride created a lump in my throat so large it was almost more than i could bear. of course my mother called it my birthday present (good call on her part) but it kept me up at night. even after smoking, drinking and coming. i feel as though i’ll never grow up. as though i’ll never earn enough to take care of myself without slinking back toward my parents. how can i support us when i can’t support me? i mean look at it; i have no friends and my parties suck.
but, i’m as healthy as any overweight person can be and my mental health is as good as extreme pessimism allows it to be. that’s looking on the bright side.
