“I’m just a lonely boy, lonely and blue. I’m all alone, with nothing to do. I’ve got everything you could think of. But all I want is someone to love.” — Paul Anka, “Lonely Boy”, 1959.
Don’t let the quote fool you. Valentine’s Day came and went and I wasn’t too blue. The period of time from October to March usually represented the half of the year when I got more depressed, morose or lethargic. I’m hardly the only one who experienced this, and studies have shown that the change of season often have that effect on people — less daylight hours. As I explained once before, it starts in October because Halloween represents a holiday I used to love as a kid but has become less enjoyable as an adult. Christmas has tons of false commercial cheer and New Year’s tends to bring regrets. February brings “International Sucks If You’re Single Day”. And my birthday is in March — where I grow another year older as what I am.
When I started this blog in 2014 it was right before this period and I am sure some of my posts during it showcase it. Not only did I intend this blog as an outlet for my memories and frustrations regarding whatever anyone could call my love life, I also intended it as a bit of a self experience. I had never typed up any sort of journal expressing my own thoughts on personal, non geek or genre related stuff in my life. I had no idea how I would react.
So this is the third annual go around of this “period of the year”. And beyond one period of frustration, I’ve been pretty “chill”. Recent reorganizations at work have kept my mind elsewhere, but I don’t think it is just that. Having this space to not only be able to vent, but to have some discussion or reflection after with others — albeit on my terms, since this is my blog — has helped. I’m not saying when the big 2/14 came around I was dancing in the street. Least of all because recent snows have kept the streets slick and ice ridden. But on the whole I was okay.
And anyone who has ever taken mass transit in a major city after February 14th can tell you, it can be a gauntlet if you’re in the wrong kind of mood. I work atypical hours so I usually come home later than usual. As in, around 9-10 p.m. That is after the period where couples who work can still meet after and do whatever. And boy, the couples were out in force. I didn’t witness any platform canoodling but there were plenty of flowers, balloons, couples just drinking in each other’s company. Being that I live in NY, these were couples of various types of people and orientations as one melting pot. One couple that were standing on the train for a while looked to be in their early to mid 40’s at least. The woman resembled Nancy Allen to me (of Robocop and Carrie fame). Since whenever I often see couples either making out or soaking in their time together, they tend to be younger, I actually thought it was cool to see a couple who were neither elderly nor college age.
As also part of my usual tradition, I got some a card and a small gift for my mother. It’s kind of lame that she’s really the only person I ever had to shop for on that day. I’ve sort of adapted it to being another time I have to buy her a present and a card out of the year. It isn’t that I dislike it or anything, it’s just something I compartmentalize in my mind. I barely even like mentioning it because of “Momma’s Boy” stereotypes that I have always felt surround me. Only in America are adults who live with family members and/or parents seen as immature or lessor than. For most people it is an economic necessity too, which also implies bad things. Her being handicapped of course complicates it, but most people don’t care, frankly. The American model is to abandon all of your roots as soon as you can, live alone, work for some corporate master, earn 10% of your worth, retire on 10% of that, and die. Hopefully after breeding at least once. It all seems so small and mechanical to me. Especially as plenty of super rich families all live close by or under one McMansion here like on Dallas. But I digress.
Regardless, I took an “International Sucks If You’re Single Day” without any real period of being glum as a good, albeit different thing. It is more evidence to the possibility that after so many years, I am finally accepting my status on an emotional and spiritual level. Perhaps having a safe place to vent on my own terms really was a missing component. Sure, there are times when I may feel a twinge of frustration or longing, but I don’t sense they’re as long or frequent as 2014 or 2015. We’ll see how I handle my birthday, which I always dread. I never want to be another year “past 30”. Enough of those and I’ll eventually be “past 40” and so on. If I hate living up to plenty of stereotypes of virgin men (I’m a geek, I live with my mother, I don’t have much money, etc.), imagine when I am a literal 40-Year-Old-Virgin. Being a working adult helps with that; I can keep my birthday on the down low, have a normal day at work, and be done with it as soon as possible. That’s exactly how I like it. After all, what is the point of a celebration to me? What sort of life do I have to celebrate? Sure, I have it better than a lot of people and I do try to appreciate that. But on American, NY terms I’m not even a face in the crowd. I’m on the lowest rung out of all of my friends. I am behind them and most of my peers economically and romantically. Why would I enjoy celebrating more of that? Just give me a normal day, thank you. That was always harder at school, where teachers and/or friends would insist on bringing it up every year. Plus, teenagers and adults in their 20’s always want to get plastered on birthdays.
I wonder if part of the acceptance within me, besides the sheer venting, is the recollection and listing of all of my past memorable incidents with women or futile romantic efforts. Actually laying them all out in text form from A to Z in rough chronological order has allowed me to go back at them beyond just my own memories. It was a release of some pressure, perhaps. Or maybe seeing it all in black and white helped me come to a place close to acceptance. I am what I am, and certain things were never meant to be. Fighting against this, hoping against hope, yearning for things I was not made to attract brought me a lot of pain. But now I have it all here, to read and reread if I need to. It is easier to finds a new angle on something. In addition, it’s easier to not have to recollect it as often, since I have it down in text here.
It could be argued that if I really accepted my state, I would reveal more of myself. I would reveal my virginity in my public profile or at least be willing to admit my exact age, name or where in NY I live. I wouldn’t hide my virginity to others or avoid the subject entirely. I would argue that while I may be closer to acceptance, I am not 100% of the way there, and even if I were, relapses or regrets are part of being human. I don’t like being judged, or pitied, and revealing those things openly would result in both. I don’t want to become a laughing stock at work. I don’t want to have some of my friends who are women pity me or misunderstand me. Being aware of public perceptions is part of acceptance. What I am is not normal. It never will be. I have lost too much time. Using the mantle of the Dateless-Man suits my purposes for now. I can vent and share without being judged or pitied on too personal a level, and I compartmentalize this from my “public” life a little. I am not ready to reveal myself as a freak quite yet. I am not ready for many awkward conversations about it. I barely even like to acknowledge it verbally.
At any rate, at least now is “Happy Cheap Chocolate Day”! Corporate candy overstock is my best friend.