Introversion makes the modern dating scene unexpectedly hard. One thinks that social media makes people more accessible, but for those who have issues connecting with others, it becomes another barrier—another uncomfortable form of communication to mess up. Tinder, OKCupid, and the like are all just a maze of anxiety creating another step of interaction to fail at. It’s easy to just try to avoid the whole thing entirely and resign oneself to dying alone. Just to avoid the panic of rejection or worse…intimacy. Simply accepting the natural inclination to shut everyone out is more attractive than any lubed up 19 year old. It’s a tempting trap. It almost seems like the most natural option.
I like being alone. Being alone is great. I’m great company. I laugh. I sing. I dance. The sex is great. I will probably never be as free with someone else as I am alone. Sometimes if I stare at a blank wall for long enough long enough I’ll start tripping balls. Once, I saw a butterfly that turned into two people grinding in carnival costumes, which then zoomed into their bumping genitals, which then turned into an eggbeater. A truly great experience. Even better was the time I pretended that “My Friends” from Sweeny Todd was about dildos instead of razors. A real hoot.
As of such, I spend the majority of my time alone. I honestly love it. It’s the most free and enjoyable thing I can do with my time. People are complicated and generally disappointing, and I find myself to be just the same when I’m around them. Whatever divine knowledge of how to navigate social interaction that was zapped into most people’s heads completely missed mine. There are very few instances in which I would rather someone else’s company over my own. Most of my time around other people is spent thinking about when I won’t be around them.
That being said, I’m human, and humans are social creatures. Being alone is all fine and dandy, but loneliness is another matter entirely. It comes rather unexpectedly at times. You’re happy, comfortable, and then all-of-a-sudden you realize that you haven’t touched another human being in months and you haven’t spoken to one in days. You walk passed them, but it seems like a glass wall is separating you from them. The only reason you for sure know your alive is that someone rolled their eyes at you when you were taking up too much space on the sidewalk. Sometimes, it’s been so long since you’ve had an interaction that the only thing reminding you that you’re not the only person left on earth is the sound of your upstairs neighbor flushing their toilet.
Eventually, your mind, once a pleasant place, turns into a chasm of unhappiness. It’s then that you feel this unending cold sitting on your back as you’re trying to sleep, calling out for something with a pulse to touch you. Only to have the call answered by an escaped pet mouse from aforementioned upstairs neighbor. That’s when you say ‘fuck it, people aren’t that bad,’ and you head out back into a world of disappointment, but at least there’s warmth.