This is the second excerpt in the ‘Story About Nothing’ which tells the story of life from a 23 year olds perspective. God that was a great description for it…I’m a genius…if you didn’t check out Part 1, read it here.
Cartoons were good. They made you forget about the right now and remember all the good things about back then. After about an hour I felt marginally better about myself and went to take a shower. After getting out, drying off and putting on some clothes (an ensemble that told the world that I cared and also that I didn’t care). I compulsively checked my phone. During my washing time I received a text message from my friend.
DUDE, YOU SHOULD HAVE COME OUT WITH US LST NITE. WE GOT FCKD UP!!!!
The text slightly ruined the improved mood I was in after the cartoons and shower. This particular friend of mine recently seemed to enjoy detailing every awesome thing that was happening in his life. He especially loved shoving his spectacular social life down my throat. It’s not like I don’t like going out and having a good time (didn’t we all just go to a bar last week?……month?) but I just have a natural aversion to too many people being in one place at one time. I also tended to be awkward around the type of women that one would meet in a club, or a bar. I don’t become some kind of stuttering retard or anything like that, I just haven’t quite mastered exactly how these things are supposed to work.
When I meet a girl in a club/bar my natural instinct is to want to have sex with them right away. This is the same thought I’m sure every straight man on the planet has. My problem is the small talk between meeting a girl at one of these places and getting them to come back to my place. I’ve been told that I’m kind of an asshole. When meeting strangers there is a certain decorum that you have to adhere to. Like a rule book for conversations. You have to tell her what you do, and hope she thinks it’s interesting, and then you have to listen to her tell the same thing and then YOU HAVE to act interested if you want it to go anywhere. Find some kind of common ground that you can both talk about, buy her a drink, ask her to dance, tell her you love this song (lie), tell her you’re totally into cats (lie #2), I can’t wait to have kids they’re adorable! (lies #3 and #4). Unless I’m talking to my parents I tend to be the worst liar ever. Maybe the type of women that you meet in clubs and bars aren’t the ones you want to take home anyway. Those generic drunk conversations you have with them can be stressful.
So I usually end up sitting or standing somewhere to side by myself thinking about who the inventor of strobe lights is and what the hell kind of DJ named himself DJ Darth Steve (DARTH FUCKING STEVE!?!?!?!?!?). My friends then naturally think something is wrong me and little by little I stopped being included in the mass text invite to go out to the newest club. Which was fine with me, except this asshole always managed to send me a text or a picture saying how drunk they got or some girl one of them fucked.
RLY? THAT’S FUCKING AWESOME 4 U GUYS………
The text probably came across more bitter and angry than I wanted it to but whatever. Almost instantly my phone beeped again.
DON’T BE MAD AT ME CUZ U ARE ALONE ALL THE TIME…..BITCH 🙂
A deep pang of sadness and loneliness instantly fell across me. Jesus, your friends are always the ones who really know how to make you feel like shit. I find myself realizing each day I go without meaningful human contact that no matter how much you think you don’t care, no one ever really wants to be left out…. Plus that smiley face emoticon pissed me off.
A desire to see someone I genuinely cared about came over me. I decided to text her to see if maybe she wanted to come see the manly man movie with me.
HEY, IM GOING 2 SEE A MOVIE LATER, U WANNA COME?
I was at least proud of myself for trying as I grabbed my keys and walked out of my apartment. Once I stepped outside I realize that I actually have a few more hours to kill before the movie starts and no idea what to do with that time. I know that if I take the lonely walk back up to my apartment I’ll end up wallowing in self-pity; drinking and stalking girls twitter pages. No, I need something fun to happen today.
It’s almost 1 pm now. So still with nothing but a faint sense of adventure I started walking in the direction of the closest subway station. Almost as an impulse I reached into my pocket and pulled my phone out to start mashing buttons. I hate my smartphone…. Well actually I hate all smartphones in general. I don’t know how to do anything on the stupid thing except text and call people. For a very long time I had this ancient flip phone that I carried around like a badge of honor. I was the last one holding on to the old ways. Those times when things were bigger than just texts and emojis. While everyone else had blackberry’s, and iphones that also served as garage door openers and remotes to your washing machine, I went about life with a shitty flip phone that shut off every time you sat it down on a flat surface.
That old phone placed me in a few awkward situations. Have you ever noticed that the cooler the phone a person has the more likely they are to take it out in public to look important? Before I upgraded my phone I would be at some party or other social gathering and there was always a point where the conversation lulled and everyone pulled out a phone. Well everyone except for me. I always just stared at people staring at their phones and assumed that they were sending out important emails or checking to see how much money they had in their bank accounts. Once I got a smartphone I realized that no one is ever looking at anything important at all. They were just scrolling through their fucking twitter timeline or playing Angry Birds… Those people are assholes. Wait, what am I saying? Just last week at a pretty good party with alcohol and actual hot girls I spent 30 minutes on Youtube. I am a part of the fucking problem.
The text message beep broke me out of my zombiefied phone slumber. It was her.
NO, I’M AT WORK
The bluntness in it stung me a little bit. Work on a Saturday? She probably wasn’t lying, her job consisted of her doing some important shit for an advertising agency, but even if she wasn’t working she still would have said no. She had grown up a lot faster than I did. It didn’t help that the last time we hung out with ‘her crowd’ I got super drunk and said that gay guys voices are kind of ridiculous. Turns out a few of the people in the group were gay guys. We had seen each other maybe once since. My mood soured again. I was at the train station.
I really had no idea where to go at this point. Most people on the subway looked like they knew what they were doing. They had horn-rimmed glasses, and sharp heels and government ID badges and $50 haircuts. As I made my way down the steps into the deep underground I already saw 3 people around my age wearing nice business clothes. Should I be out doing something productive right now? Beating down doors to try and find a job better than the shitty one I have right now? My father always liked to tell me that I was lazy when it came to looking for jobs.
“I understand that everything is on the computer now a days, but you need to get up off the couch and go knock on some doors, because some jobs out there still give out applications,” he would say. That’s probably one of the reasons I don’t always like talking to him.
No, it was Saturday…. These people are assholes. Everything doesn’t need to be so serious. I hopped on the first train that pulled into the station, just wanting to head somewhere out of the city. It was slower out there… Yea, slow sounded good right now.
That’s Part 2… …