"I don't have a girlfriend, I just know a girl who would be really offended that I said that."
See, I didn't have friends, I just had a group of people masquerading as friends. I remember the heavy fog of disconnection and apathy and yes, eventually; loneliness. Even so; I recall clinging to these "friends" as tightly as my noodle arms could muster. Why? Because I was under the impression that these WERE my actual friends. Furthermore that I would never make any other friends. I was an adult now, after all, and school was over. Where was one to meet friends after school?? I was afraid of everyone at the bars I went to, so I couldn't exactly go alone. And even if I could; what would be the point? To see how small I could make myself in the corner, I suppose. It was my understanding that in order to make friends as an adult, one needed to first rely on their root group of friends to take them out and socialize. I suspected that eventually this "root group" would grow into such a large number (from the inevitable onslaught of company we would open our arms to) that it would simply break off at some point, naturally. And that must be why some people are still friends with their high school buddies and some are not.
I did not realize that by cutting out the "root group" (or the "weeds", I suppose, to keep in time with the foliage theme) of toxic people, I could finally start my social life.
I did not realize that by fully recognizing that I was being a coward and that the "root group" was being a collective poo-pile, I could actually free myself. And in a good way. Not a lonely-old-coot kind of way. I recognized this, I cut out the fakers and I freed myself up to spend time with... myself, really.
When I was a child, I preferred to be alone; my days were overwhelming and all I wanted was peace. And the more children you threw at me, the more I found it increasingly difficult to keep calm. (And, if you've been paying attention you'll know; any social time I decided I could afford was preferably spent with my sister.) Something had happened from the span of my childhood into my early adulthood that made me lose focus and completely forget that I find alone time peaceful. And even preferable, at certain times.
Once I realized that I had nothing to fear (by spending time alone), I started growing. My own character had suddenly shown - and I did not care for it. I had considered myself fairly self-actualized; I wasn't. I was closer than some other people my age... but FAR from where I wanted to be.
From there it was just the play-out of the age-old-adage: Once I started focusing on myself and working on my own character and simply being the best kind of person I could, beautiful people appeared. Most of them through work, a couple from high school, some I even met at a bar (always the last place you look).
What's the moral, Aesop?
I'd say: don't be so afraid of having "nothing" that you cling tightly to vat full of poison.
(and so ends my lunch break.)
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