A Depressed Man’s Guide To Convincing Yourself It’s Okay You Aren’t Getting Laid (Like, It’s Whatever)
I’m at almost a month for … for, you know. Which isn’t that long. I’ve gone longer than a year once, I think, so the first few weeks of 2015 isn’t a big deal.
Except I have this feeling that it might extend longer. Much longer. I have no prospects on the horizon, which is always demoralizing, and at least for the next few months I want to stay bundled up in my sweats, under my covers, which isn’t the best way to meet anyone. And I have no prospects on the horizon and really, I … I really have no prospects on the horizon.
Which is fine, I guess. It’s perfectly okay if the seven billion other people on this planet don’t want to fuck me. They’re free to do their things. I can’t be mad if a guy who lives in the desert in Mauritania doesn’t want to have sex with me. That’s perfectly his right, same as it is the girl I thought I went on a really great date with last week, but who didn’t give me her number, just as it is the girl I used to sleep with who decided to get back with her boyfriend around Christmas.
Should I tell her the results of my STD test? She’s a doctor and was adamant when we were hooking up that I get one, but not adamant enough to make me stop sleeping with me before I did it. I never got around to it, I’m lazy like that, but I finally went last week. It came back fine (go me!), so she has nothing to worry about, but like, do you think she’d want to know? Give her piece of mind? Would it be weird? Hey, remember me? I got no dick disease. How is you old new boyfriend?
I’m not gonna text her.
I haven’t met anyone since, despite everyone’s insistence these days that it’s soooo easy to. I guess it is, kind of. I don’t like having the uninspired conversations with strangers. Who are the people who do? Who has the kind of zest to message fourteen people a day in the hopes that one or two will—or I guess 14—will be interested in copulating with him. Isn’t that kind of sociopathic? Why does everyone want me to emulate that dude? I don’t.
Anyway, hooking up in the winter is weird anyway, leaving the house just to try and have sex. I do that sometimes, but only in the summer, that’s when I leave the house to try and have sex. At least, that’s my intention, but I usually stay in the circle of conversation my friends are having, pretending to enjoy it too much to talk to a girl at the bar. But not til the summer. It’s not right to have such a passion for intimacy that you are like … willing to forgo the natural rhythm of human life. It’s so cold out. We all should be hibernating right now, and there’s nothing shameful about hibernating solo. I don’t think bears get laid in the winter. Do you think other bears make fun of some of the bears who don’t have much sex? No, they’re just all bears.
I bought an electric blanket and it makes me so happy. It’s so warm to be under it and warm to be under and I just want to be under it more than anything else. All the time. I probably couldn’t use it if a woman was over for the night, since it would be too warm with the two of us under my covers. I’d have to set it to ‘1’ and you can’t even feel it when it’s at ‘1’. That would be sad, not getting to use my electric blanket because a girl was in my bed. That’s not what I want and I know what I want and what makes me happy and that’s watching The West Wing in bed, although not anymore. A lot of people think that show is kind of stupid and it is. John Goodman is the president now. I liked it when Martin Sheen was the president. I can’t even bring myself to start season five, because the finale of four was so ridiculous, but that puts me in a bummer spot. I don’t want to start a new show, because it doesn’t make sense to start a new one before you finish the old one. But I don’t want to watch this one anymore. So all that’s left is to rewatch old shows, and that feels lame, especially on the weekends, like this Friday, when I took some Xanax and watched episodes of Game of Thrones that I’d already seen. The Red Wedding one and another. It was okay, but it was like, I’m single and it’s the weekend and I want to leave the house, but I didn’t have anything to do and also didn’t want to leave the house.
That’s a lot of nights. I used to have something to do, but The West Wing’s gone. Now I don’t have anything to do. Plus, getting laid usually means staying up until 3:30 a.m. and I always would rather have a good night’s rest.
I think that’s okay … ? I like going to bed, so I should be happy with doing it. I am, but sometimes I’m not. I follow a lot of celebrities on Instagram and I always imagine they aren’t staying in during the weekend. I think they are fucking a lot. I want to be more like celebrities. They partying and have sex.
I only sometimes party and don’t have sex. Because it’s much easier to not go out. I don’t have to shower. But the people who are showering and leaving their house are the ones getting laid. Couples shower and then they go out and then they go home and then they have sex. People who are just starting to date do the same. Guys who are too aggressively interested in getting laid will shower, go out, go home and either have sex or snort cocaine and masturbate.
I used to be that way, when it was warm out, and when I was younger. Sometimes my friend and I would fail at getting laid and we’d go back to his place and neither of us would get off. We’d just chill and drink more. I guess it would be weird if we were so interested in getting off that we would we jack off next to each other on the couch.
I don’t the world sometimes.
I don’t get relationships. I haven’t been in one a long time? Is it for reliable fucking? That’s cheating to me. You shouldn’t be proud of all the sex you are having if you only get to have it because another person really, really likes you. I masturbate instead of having sex. It works good except, … porn. I used to love porn and I still do, I watch it a lot, but why are there so many people having sex in it. Like that’s all they are doing? Why isn’t there porn where people get coffee then go to work. Or do on-demand. That I would watch, instead of all the lucky people in the computer having sex. I wish there was a way where I could get laid while doing the things I like. Like watching porn. It’s not my fault obstacles presented in front of me are insurmountable.
I have to spend money, which I hate. And I have to leave my house, which I hate. I have to talk to people, which I hate, and I have to face the possibility of failure, which I hate. (That’s why I don’t write many of these longer thingies or share them when I do, because it’s not fun to know people think you aren’t worthy of what you want (praise for your writing and/or giving them you dick)). The past two people I slept thought I was worth those things, but they both told me they thought it was weird I didn’t talk at all during sex. That’s only because they were both girls I knew in high school who I reconnected with after moving to New York and having sex with someone you knew in high school is just as awkward as if you were having sex with them in high school. Like, 13 years later I still don’t want to screw anything up or do something odd even if I like it so they don’t tell everybody and then everyone thinks I’m weird and no one sleeps with me like no one is sleeping with me now. I basically tried to be a good, average lover with them with minimal quirks or flair and neither of them are sleeping with me anymore?
What I really want is someone I can call who would come to my house and make me feel not bad for staying in on a Friday night and maybe we could have sex or watch one of the Oscar nominees, because I’m always behind on the Oscar nominees and then in the morning without any subtle nudging leave or stay if I wanted them to. I’d probably want them to stay but maybe not.
All they need to be is not ugh. Not like cool hip slang for ugly, just not “ugh, this person.” That’s all online dating does. It puts us in touch with more ugh. Sure, we all present ourselves as not ugh, but we are, we so are. That’s why we’re there. Then you meet them and the ugh comes. Ugh, there’s no way I could stand a second date just to get sex. I don’t even want to stay for a second drink. I’d rather be home. Home is comfy and it loves me.
Except when it doesn’t. There’s no more West Wing to watch, so instead I’m home working on this right now, late on a Saturday and a girl just showed up to our house to meet my roommate. He didn’t go out for drinks or anything. She just came over. Good for him, except it sucks when you are sitting alone in your room on a weekend night, about to know you’re gonna have to listen to people get laid when you haven’t in a while. I was fine feeling like a loser by myself. I didn’t need any more help.
But good for him. I even let my dog out of my room so my roommate could use the “Hey, look at this cute dog,” line of conversation which always aids in seduction. Except now my glass is empty and I want another drink, but they are in our living room, and I don’t want to be the one to walk out to the two of them nuzzling on the couch in my dirty black sweatpants and black hoodie and beanie, and be like, “Hi, I’m the roommate guy with no friends guy.” (I guess I probably wouldn’t need to introduce myself to my roommate.)
But I miss my dog. I wish she were back in my room. And I want a drink. I wish Aaron Sorkin had never left The West Wing after season four. I wouldn’t be writing this if he hadn’t. I would just be in bed, happy, watching that show.
And it’s still three more weeks until House of Cards comes out. Hey, I just realized that! That should get me to when it’s warm.
Then I can try and get laid? I think. Yea. I can.
[Addendum: I started watching Archer and that’s made a big difference. It’s actually been a pretty good week since Saturday.]