Valentine’s Day

For Valentine’s Day, my despair was kept at bay by pepper steak with onions, hot and sour soup, and wonton/ egg drop combo soup. K bought it for me through Uber Eats after my present for her came. I think she might have anyway, but either way, I was happy.

Later in the evening, I made a call to Mr. Semi-Attached, but we were having difficulties on Whatsapp. I told him to call on Discord if he wanted, but he was busy. He asked me what I wanted. “Just to say Happy Valentine’s,” I texted. No reply. OK. Let it be said, he’s got the social graces of Attila the Hun. If he ever does come down here, he’ll find someone to fuck if not me. The joys of polyamory, I guess. Me, I just want to see what I’ve been missing out on these 45 years. What I missed out on when I freaked out on my would be ‘fuck buddy’ when I was 33. Though the idea of being basically someone’s cumsock sent me into despair back then.

I can imagine how it would be. My old school chum/ fuck buddy would’ve got me undressed, I’d have been too ashamed of my bulbous body and shy to let myself feel much excitement, he’d bust his nut, and I’d avert my eyes until it was over. I remember feeling nothing but surprise when I suddenly found his tongue trying to get in my mouth and feeling distress when he said he’d like to add me to his fuck buddies, of which he had a few. But I knew then at 33 that it might be my only chance to cross The Thing off my bucket list. Maybe me freaking out was a divine intervention. My old school chum swooped down a couple months after my mom’s death, vulnerability being such a turn on I guess. I wonder had I had him in my bush, would he have looked out for me? Would I have felt such desperation 3 months later when I had enough, comically in February and made my half ass attempt? Considering he’s never so much as said hello in the last 11 years, I guess I got my answer.

My friend who might be coming in the summer is much nicer. I love him, but I don’t love him. This is the best way unless some magical meeting of the minds occurs and my extremely guarded, avoidant heart opens up. But I think he actually loves me a little.

I keep thinking what I’m missing out on, and it’s much more than my sex drive which I’ve felt more of late. Cock would be nice, but I yearn for so much more. I want someone who could see through my hideous exterior and love me for being me. I would love someone who got my shitty sense of humor, but also wanted to have lengthy serious discussions with me and who wouldn’t see me as an idiot. Someone well-read and patient and who’d see me as ‘special’ in the good way.

The older I get, the more convinced that I’m such an anomaly that there isn’t anyone, and if there was someone, I wouldn’t be able to walk up to him. One thing I often felt with my memer friend was what if we had a serious conversation once, a lengthy one, in which he didn’t lie? While it wouldn’t have changed our relationship as friends much and he’d certainly see me as intellectually deficient , seeing as he has at least 50 IQ points over me, it would’ve been interesting. I think one of the reasons I can talk to him somewhat less shyly than others, is that I already know exactly what he thinks about me. I know he thinks I’m an idiot, a welfare leech, and not worthy of life. Somehow, knowing this makes it easier to talk to him. I can’t fall much lower in his estimation and it’s somewhat freeing. As much as it pains me to hear about my faults and how that ‘everyone is laughing at you’ and about my lack of likeability, it is refreshing. I think everyone at least finds me annoying and dumb, but the uncertainty is the killer, isn’t it?

Shit, my ear is ringing louder than usual. Maybe it’s how I’m angled. I always worry one day my tinnitus will get worse.

That’s it, that’s all I wanted to say as I feel my mood plummeting and damp in my eyes.