I Hate People (Gay Men in Particular)

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I Hate People (Gay Men in Particular)

Unread postby Retroman76 » 6 October 2019, 02:49

I haven't left home for (virtually) four days.

In my peaceful, uninterrupted time alone, I have tried repeatedly to think of a good reason to do so. And I've come up empty.

It's hard to explain to a world full of party animals and socialites (especially gay ones) just how that can be. Here, I suppose, is a half-hearted attempt at it.

There is a common misconception that recluses and introverts are such because the world has rejected them. This may be so in some cases, but I prefer to classify myself as one of those who has rejected the world.

I don't watch the news. I don't even look at MSN. I figure if I need to know anything, someone will tell me. I don't like what's going on out there and there's nothing I can do about it. So, no, I am not following politics, impeachment, or even the weather. If it shines, it shines. If it rains, well...I like the rain.

The onset of middle age has altered my thinking in many ways, but what it has perhaps triggered most is a sense of disappointment.

There is so little truth being told anywhere in our times--on TV, online, on social apps, or in person. Lies and fakery abound on every level. Everything comes off as a sales pitch, even buying a cup of coffee. "Do you have our rewards card? Would you like our rewards card? Are you sure you wouldn't like our rewards card? You come in a lot, so our rewards card would really help you..."

I sometimes just want to stick my head under the faucet and turn it on full force.

Or stick it in the toilet and flush.

Before I end up sounding too much like Holden Caulfield in "The Catcher in the Rye", denouncing everything in life as phony (even though a lot of it is, and he is right about most of what he says), I must claim personal responsibility for at least some of my desire to detach.

Life is a two-way street. You get what you give (sometimes). It all comes back to you. If you want a good friend/boyfriend/girlfriend/partner, then you need to be a good friend/boyfriend/girlfriend/partner. This logic is bedrock solid.

The trouble is...what if giving your share and being your best is just too much effort?

That logic then melts into quicksand.

I'm not here to whine about depression either, although it does factor into my increasing tendency to hibernate. But few non-sufferers, I think, realize just how tired it makes you. How overwhelmed a depressive can get in the face of a loud, colorful, in-your-face world through just a brief trip to the grocery store or the doctor.

And frankly, I see less and less reason for confronting that obnoxious world instead of locking the doors and drawing the blinds.

Yes, I work. I'm even one of the lucky few who finds his work fulfilling. But due in large part to my condition, I haven't worked full-time in years. I don't know how I ever did, much less worked the jobs I used to do. Most other people today seem to work two to three jobs or the equivalent in hours. Plus go to school. Plus, manage marriages/relationships. Plus, raise children, if they have them. That means trying to plan any social gathering or even a coffee date is an insurmountable feat. And it isn't as if I haven't tried. I've tried since I was in junior high…through college…through just a few months ago. If my memory serves me, over all that stretch, I was greeted regularly with "...Oh, that would be great, but my little brother's birthday party is that night". "Sorry, I have to work this weekend." "Visit during break? Ah, me and the fam are going to Minnesota to spend Christmas with my grandparents." "I wish I could, but I just haven't been able to find the time lately." (News flash: everyone finds the time to do anything they really want to do.) "Thanks, I'd like to, but I'm going golfing this afternoon." “Nah, can’t…going to the nudist camp on Saturday.” And so infinitely on.

Incidentally, anyone who finds golfing--along with video games and clubbing--an intriguing pastime has far worse issues than I do. I think a nudist camp would be more fun.

The point is, it wears one down to be rejected, even kindly. "They don't seem to need me," I began to think, "so I guess I don't need them, either."

Childish? A spoiled overgrown emo-brat's diary entry, dripping with self-pity and projected blame for his own faults? Maybe. But I'm worldly enough to know that there are many--MANY--whose faults are far worse than mine...yet seem somehow to always travel in packs and herds, or at least in pairs.

"Depression and negativity are not inviting. Not sexy. And I guarantee people read them in you before you ever utter a word. They're not attractive. YOU are not attractive."

Neither is half-carrying somebody covered with their own booze vomit onto their porch after a party at two a.m., yet from what I gather, it doesn't put a crimp in anyone's social standing. (And no, I'm not only talking about the young'uns.)

Long story short (too late) I’ve stopped trying socially. I never mastered it. When thrown in with a crowd, even now, I find myself listening only, ninety percent of the time--listening to other people hogging the limelight and holding court. Regaling others with boring anecdotes, general crudeness, and rambling recounting of their own mundane, mediocre lives.

Then you need to raise your voice and ramble about yours, too, you say.

First of all, I did not and do not have the energy to compete with them. Second of all, what’s there to ramble about? My “physical” life is the quintessence of routine. Work, home, coffee shops, very occasionally church. There is nothing else. And I’m not complaining. That’s the way I want it—peaceful and uncomplicated. What’s the alternative? I’ve established how I feel about chasing people down. I know nothing about marriage or children. The world I would choose to belong to vanished fifty years ago—its social decorum and etiquette; quality music, films, television—even fashion. To see a man in a suit and hat walking with a woman in a dress and heels would make my heart leap and bring tears to my eyes.

Why was I born so late? Why not at least thirty, forty years earlier, when society had not yet eroded to the point where it wouldn’t have a clue what to do with me?

And yet I survive. I fill my alone time with creative pursuits; writing, artwork. I’ve written and self-published novels, and several of my plays have been produced. You would think, wouldn’t you? You would think that people—even the uncultured morons of the local gay community—would find that interesting. Nope. When talking about these pursuits, I might get an “Oh, that’s cool”, but mostly just blank stares.

About a year ago, I went to what I know to have been my last party. It was a Halloween bash thrown by two long-term friends. I wasn't expecting much, but I thought that because I knew these people and had mutual friends with them, it might actually be fun. The hosts barely acknowledged me when I arrived and made no effort to introduce me to anyone. I felt like an outcast, and as I stood by, I accepted once and for all, finally, that I was exactly that, born and bred. Therefore, I should never have allowed myself to be lured again into believing otherwise. I went home and watched "Carrie" and felt better. Ever so much better. She never lets me down.

My birthday was a few weeks ago. I spent that evening fooling around naked with two friends who wound up getting along so well that they totally ignored me. I passed my goddam birthday night sitting in my living room while they played on my bed…until I told them to get the hell out. I spent the next day wandering alone through the downtown art district, thinking I might run into a friend or two. Not a soul did I meet, except an extremely aggressive museum curator whose mouth I practically had to slap shut to curb her spiel about the current photography exhibit and its prices.

See? You can't even walk into a museum without getting a commercial spewed at you.

And now we're home. Society...the world...life...has judged me and found me lacking socially, romantically, economically, and in most every other way since pre-adolescence.

However, I, in return, am not impressed, either.

A good metaphor might have me as a tough editor at "That's Life" Magazine. A nervous young writer walks into my office. I toss the article he submitted earlier back across the desk at him.

"What is this shit?" I ask. "How dare you hand me this utter fucking disappointment? This amateurish, infantile, tacky, virtually unreadable bomb in the hope of my putting it in as this month's lead story??? Kid, I wouldn't try to teach an illiterate go-go boy OR girl to READ with this ghastly garbage!"

The writer trembles and speaks in a whisper. "But sir...everyone else just accepted it the way it is. They said that's why our title is 'That's Life'."

My eyes glow red. "You're fired."

And you too, world. Here's your pink slip. Going forward, pretend you don't know me.
What a World, What a World...
-My Epitaph (if the fam doesn't want me to haunt them till the end of their days and then slap them hard when it's THEIR turn to cross over)
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Re: I Hate People (Gay Men in Particular)

Unread postby Eryx » 6 October 2019, 06:46

Ok, sorry, your text is huge. I read at least two-thirds of it, I hope you don't get mad about that.

My mind view is that... Well, I don't have a religion. I think what builds our consciousness is the electrical signals that keep firing at each other in our brains. When it dies, we die. When those electrical signals shut down, we do too.

Suicide will set you free, I do believe that, but you also won't be there to witness it. You'll simply be over. It's not what you make it out to be.

You've got this one chance, and life sucks a lot of times, but it's ALL that you've got. You're lucky to be here, and the fact that you've written such a heartfelt post about it tells me you're also an intelligent and interesting person. Make the most of it.

I don't believe there's redemption after suicide, because I don't believe in the afterlife. Good Christians die the same as suicide bombers -- by seizing to exist. It's a difficult realization, but it's the most probable possibility. So, work out, fight your managers, achieve your graduation, tell everyone else to FUCK OFF because this is the only choice of you ever being conscious. If it doesn't work... Well, you're thinking of suicide, so who cares? At least you've tried.
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You are not entitled to your opinion. You are entitled to your informed opinion. No one is entitled to be ignorant.
— Harlan Ellison
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Re: I Hate People (Gay Men in Particular)

Unread postby Marmaduke » 6 October 2019, 08:48

You’re lonely and you’re dealing with mental health issues, those two problems feed each other. Things are only going to get worse unless you can start making progress in one of those areas. Even if it’s in a small way, like getting a pet. I assume, with you having been off of work for so long, that you’re seeing someone about your depression? Perhaps make an appointment and raise these issues there.

If you want to close off from the world, stay inside and never go outside again, that’s fine if it brings you peace. If that’s what it takes for you to be happy. But it’s what you’re doing and you’re obviously not happy. You know that you have to make the change, but being depressed it’s not so much that you’re tired but just genuinely disinterested and profoundly unmotivated to do so. I know. I’ve been there. It never goes all the way away. I’ve figured out how to deal with myself, you need to do the same.
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Re: I Hate People (Gay Men in Particular)

Unread postby NvM » 6 October 2019, 16:12

you could attend a trump rally. The proud boys might have a sign up table there.
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Re: I Hate People (Gay Men in Particular)

Unread postby Derek » 6 October 2019, 16:16

NvM wrote:could you could attend a trump rally. The proud boys might have a sign up table there.

Good idea. Tell them you're a housewife and they have to venerate you.
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Re: I Hate People (Gay Men in Particular)

Unread postby CaptDunsel91 » 11 October 2019, 00:13

I hate to hear that you're so alone and frustrated. It's never easy being overlooked or ignored, but at least you're not in a toxic relationship (or bad health). You really need an honest friend to talk to, even if it's just a counselor or therapist. I'm always open to talk privately if you want. It's sad that cis gay men don't confide more in one another.
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