profound sadness
This has happened enough times for me to recognize a pattern: When I am anywhere from a little drunk to a lot drunk, and at a gay dance club or bar, I get depressed. I haven't tested it, but I think I can get depressed if I'm a little drunk and am in a social situation. To me, the depression comes upon me as a "profound sadness" about being single, and having been single my whole life.
When I'm in this state, my whole mind is consumed with the reality that I have never dated anyone; have never made the 'love connection' with anyone - that is, I've never found someone who liked me back, romantically; and have almost never been emotionally and physically intimate with anyone. The realization of all this hits really hard in this context, and I just cry and cry and cry. What sucks is that, there I am, bawling in a public place where fun and gaity is happening all around me. Fortunately, at a bar or dance club it's not too hard to hide what's going on - it's dark; lots of people; sweatty. I rarely have to burden anyone else with what's going on because they just don't notice. Or, if they do, they mercifully don't let on.
The crux of this depression is that I feel unloved and unloveable, in the romantic sense.
Clearly, being loved by my friends and family - which happens all the time - is a different thing than being loved by a lover. I've never had a lover. I've had a couple of passionate sexual encounters. One which seemed to include some tenderness and emotional intimacy - with Jeff Perrone from Houston. He just wasn't interested in continuing hooking up, and wasn't looking for a boyfriend. He really wasn't boyfriend material for me, though. So, the weight of this lands on me like a sledge hammer. It hits and stays. I cry and think and dig deeper into the hole. I try to be alone - even in a crowd. I revel in the feeling of sadness and helplessness. I feel like a martyr because of the choices that I've made that have kept me in College Station.
Time and again I have told myself - and have found others to verify what I tell myself - that the problem is this place in which I live. There just aren't enough eligible fags here. I need to be in a bigger place. A less conservative, closety place. That's a big motivation for moving away from here and to Portland.
But what if location is not the problem? What if there's something about me that is contributing in a big way? Will I find that after I move to Portland there is some other big problem for me to tackle? Rob had concern for me that (as far as I could tell) was concerned with the "rough edges" to my character being a possible stumbling-block for a relationship. Now, that may be valid, but I don't think I've ever been in a position to find out if there was any merit to that. I mean, aside from my relationship with him. I find it hard to believe that some of the subtle rough edges would have kept me from beginning to date someone. I can certainly see how the edges would be a factor once I was in a significant relationship: one where it is worth the time for both of us to work on smoothing these edges. But not here. Not at this point.
I cry because of nearly 39 years of singleness. I am sad because, out of those 39 years, I have been a relatively mature, interesting, intelligent, great-find for a bunch of them; but nobody has come around who wants to have a piece of it. I don't cry because of missed opportunities. I really can't think back to anything that I have missed, knowingly. No regrets except for being here for so long. Even that's not a regret. It was a natural extension of the good choices that I've made up to this point. I chose to stay here for Kyle. I chose to stay for Rob. For church. No regrets. But the consequences of those choices include my lack of a lover.
I feel unloved in a very deep, profound way. It almost makes me feel unloveable, but not quite. I can still use reason to take most of the fault off of myself, and to heap it on my situation. I can't shake the feeling - but it only really rears its head when I'm drunk and surrounded by queers.
I think I should just get high when I go to a club or bar.
I really think I need to get out of here.
When I'm in this state, my whole mind is consumed with the reality that I have never dated anyone; have never made the 'love connection' with anyone - that is, I've never found someone who liked me back, romantically; and have almost never been emotionally and physically intimate with anyone. The realization of all this hits really hard in this context, and I just cry and cry and cry. What sucks is that, there I am, bawling in a public place where fun and gaity is happening all around me. Fortunately, at a bar or dance club it's not too hard to hide what's going on - it's dark; lots of people; sweatty. I rarely have to burden anyone else with what's going on because they just don't notice. Or, if they do, they mercifully don't let on.
The crux of this depression is that I feel unloved and unloveable, in the romantic sense.
Clearly, being loved by my friends and family - which happens all the time - is a different thing than being loved by a lover. I've never had a lover. I've had a couple of passionate sexual encounters. One which seemed to include some tenderness and emotional intimacy - with Jeff Perrone from Houston. He just wasn't interested in continuing hooking up, and wasn't looking for a boyfriend. He really wasn't boyfriend material for me, though. So, the weight of this lands on me like a sledge hammer. It hits and stays. I cry and think and dig deeper into the hole. I try to be alone - even in a crowd. I revel in the feeling of sadness and helplessness. I feel like a martyr because of the choices that I've made that have kept me in College Station.
Time and again I have told myself - and have found others to verify what I tell myself - that the problem is this place in which I live. There just aren't enough eligible fags here. I need to be in a bigger place. A less conservative, closety place. That's a big motivation for moving away from here and to Portland.
But what if location is not the problem? What if there's something about me that is contributing in a big way? Will I find that after I move to Portland there is some other big problem for me to tackle? Rob had concern for me that (as far as I could tell) was concerned with the "rough edges" to my character being a possible stumbling-block for a relationship. Now, that may be valid, but I don't think I've ever been in a position to find out if there was any merit to that. I mean, aside from my relationship with him. I find it hard to believe that some of the subtle rough edges would have kept me from beginning to date someone. I can certainly see how the edges would be a factor once I was in a significant relationship: one where it is worth the time for both of us to work on smoothing these edges. But not here. Not at this point.
I cry because of nearly 39 years of singleness. I am sad because, out of those 39 years, I have been a relatively mature, interesting, intelligent, great-find for a bunch of them; but nobody has come around who wants to have a piece of it. I don't cry because of missed opportunities. I really can't think back to anything that I have missed, knowingly. No regrets except for being here for so long. Even that's not a regret. It was a natural extension of the good choices that I've made up to this point. I chose to stay here for Kyle. I chose to stay for Rob. For church. No regrets. But the consequences of those choices include my lack of a lover.
I feel unloved in a very deep, profound way. It almost makes me feel unloveable, but not quite. I can still use reason to take most of the fault off of myself, and to heap it on my situation. I can't shake the feeling - but it only really rears its head when I'm drunk and surrounded by queers.
I think I should just get high when I go to a club or bar.
I really think I need to get out of here.
posted by The O at
1:54 AM
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