These days I can’t make a fucking friend for the life of me. Like, being asocial equates to not having a strong online presence. I don’t tweet, I don’t take pictures of myself or anything I eat, I’ve no interest in Pinterest, and my only internet access is through my desktop (it’s pathetic what qualifies as a luddite these days). I made a friend at my last place of employment, but we hung out a total of three times. She never calls me and I never call her because she never calls me, so no one ever gets called. I do wish she’d call, though. I didn’t like her initially, but then I thought I was just being an asshole, because that happens from time to time. She’s a lady from Idaho and pretty cutesy and likes some band called Mumford and Sons (I don’t know their music, but it’s a telling sign – from what I can tell), but I got over myself and realized she’s pretty rad. And it’s not like I have to like everything about my friends.
My point is, there is no easy way to meet and keep friends. And everyone mostly sucks. I get on the bus and am immediately aggravated when some jerks (this includes women) don’t move for an elderly. I seethe when a car pulls ahead as I’m walking when I have the right-of-way. I hate people who talk into their cellphones in public. And would lov3 to punch girls who are out shopping like it’s a big fucking deal.
As an adult, for this adult, anyway, the only way I meet new people is through work and then it lasts until I start working somewhere else. I never moved around a lot as a kid, but this must be what it feels like. Fuck that. This is why I joined the YMCA (I just enjoy working out and getting sweaty, okay. And their facilities are really nice for only 22 smackers a month). Subsequently, I enrolled in a boxing class there, but stopped going after one session. Before the first class even started I was standing in the corner with a glove fastened on my left hand, but didn’t have an extra hand to do my right. I started to bite at it and had a really hard time getting it sufficiently tight. I wanted to vomit.
I recounted this story to my therapist and she asked me if I had considered asking someone for help. I wasn’t sure. But I wasn’t going back.
Anyway, now I work from home, bay-bee. This is awful. Without a strong online presence, how will anyone know I exist? I don’t matter. Sure, I can get bored, want for company, and then go out for chicken and beers, but then I come home and instead of vegging out in front of the soothing glow of a television, I sit at a computi and putter around the internet. I also watch a lot of 48 Hours Mysteries and I Survived.