Lonely Nights on the Town - Episode One

Okay, technically this should be episode two, but since the first solo excursion wasn't actually planned, I'm not going to count it. Also, I'm not entirely sure I would actually advise going out by oneself unless you're fairly certain that you're going to run into friends or people who you kinda sorta get along with.
The main reason for this is that I don't find these solo outings to be all that fun. I can handle going to the movies by myself because I'm there to watch a movie, and hence not really there to meet anyone or socialize. But even in that scenario, I'm usually the only single dumbass in the theater, so yay me. And I'm not writing this for the pity ("Awww...that's sooo sad... You poor lonely f***. Don't you have any friends? A boyfriend? A girlfriend? We won't judge...lol...j/k..."), or to be applauded for my "bravery" ("Brava! I could never do what you do, you brave, brave soul. You must be super confident! You went out and willingly surrounded yourself with hot, skinny chicks and happy couples who just can't keep their hands and lips off of each other. Sooo brave!"). Yeah, I get it. I'm a friggin' role model and saint over here. Real groundbreaking stuff I'm doing. Changing the world by planting my derriere in a different club or bar once every two weeks and downing one cocktail after another. No, this is just mainly a way for me to process these types of experiences, maybe someone else out there can identify with this (and of course, one/some/all of the other entries), and who knows, it might be somewhat entertaining to some of you (even though this really isn't a super funny story...sorry...I was going to go to a sex convention last month, and as entertaining and interesting as that potentially could have been, I just couldn't find the motivation to do it). And if you wind up pitying or admiring me, that's fine (I guess), but that's not really the main goal of this entry.
Anyways, this was actually supposed to be posted last weekend, but then I just didn't get around to it. Or maybe I was just too lazy...I don't really remember anymore. So, what exactly does a lone wolf do on a Friday night? Well, for starters, she goes to a street food event that is being held right outside of a night club. This part was fairly easy because there weren't really any people out there that night. As it turns out, very few enjoy eating street food outside in late November when it's cold and raining. Obviously, I do. Unfortunately, I wasn't too thrilled with the selection available and I had other plans and I wasn't even really hungry, but if you're planning on boozing it up later on, even if you're more voluptuous like I am, you still need something to help delay the absorption of all that alcohol that you're planning on consuming. Sooo, tacos and fried ice cream it was for me. While both were good, the tacos weren't necessarily the wisest choice since they served them with red onions and I could smell those on my fingers for hours and multiple hand washes after the fact. In addition to that, I had my first cocktail of the night, which was good, but clearly not strong enough because I pretty much downed it in five minutes at the most. In fact, I had to pace myself...which is probably one of the reasons why I should always go out with at least one other person. If I have a distraction, I won't drink as quickly, which is somewhat weird because people usually complain that I eat and drink way too slowly. It's true. Ask anyone who has had the pleasure of eating/drinking in my presence. And don't say, "Well, that's a good thing. You'll eat less because your body will realize it's full before you overeat, so you'll gain less weight." Soooo, my slow eating is preventing me from being fat? Oh wait... But the drink was delicious and as tempted as I was to try another one called "69," which just has my name all over it...what?! I'm a Cancer, 69 is the sign of the crab! How believable is that excuse?...I did want to make it to the downtown area in time for ladies' night. Unfortunately, it dawned on me that standing in the dark...by myself...next to the abandoned brothel...while waiting for the bus was both kind of funny and not very smart. Oh well, life is risk, right? hehehe... (I'm kidding...I would not advise for a single female to be standing alone in the dark next to a brothel, abandoned or not. I do it because it's me. And I realize that that's an unsatisfactory explanation.)
As for ladies' night, I was expecting there to be a line standing out the door waiting to be let in at that particular bar/restaurant/club, only to discover that I was one of the few schmucks to show up on time (on time = 10 p.m.). Okay, now what?! Was that a rookie move on my part?! I don't get out much, okay?! Nobody teaches you this shit! *ahem* Where was I? Oh yeah...a singleton at ladies' night. (I'm not sure I can use that word quite like that, but it is still very appropriate...and some of you will get why.) I was a bit surprised and intrigued by this fairly sizeable group of goths in front of me, and was kind of hoping that they were all going to the club to drink and dance too, but they really only wanted to sit down and eat burgers, which was disappointing... It also seemed that not only did people not want to party when the event started, but that the club itself wasn't even ready for potential partiers at 10. Because it's just not cool or sexy to be on time, I guess. Befitting the theme of ladies' night, they had pink lights that threw images of pink kitties (do I really have to explain the choice of cats?) up on the wall and a disco ball and last year's Victoria's Secret Fashion Show playing on a big screen. Of course, seeing a group of the most attractive and svelte women in the universe on repeat several times throughout the night did wonders for my self-esteem... *tugs on sweater* I mean, I do kinda sorta like the show, but I also don't at the same time. I'm a very confused individual, I know. Since I was one of the first women to show up (who are we kidding? I was THE first one there...loser...), I got a free welcome drink...which was so sugary, it actually gave me cramps. Super sexy... Now, I'm guessing that that's because the considerate organizers were doing us chicks a favor by mixing in some type of super artificially sweet diet soda so that we could control the amount of empty calories that we would wind up inhaling over the course of the night. I don't know why because I ordered a vodka and coke before I was even done with that cocktail. As for the music, it was pretty good (at least in the beginning) and it certainly helped that the DJ was fairly easy on the eyes, not that you could really see that much of him. And no, I wasn't interested in him. Knowing my luck he would've wound up being only 21 or something like that, which is adorable, but most people that age still have quite a bit of maturing to do. But it was smart to hire a fairly attractive male DJ for a ladies' night, even though one could also argue the point of hiring a female one as well.
Even though I wasn't on the verge of tears (like I had been during a previous lonesome night out on the town), I was hyperaware of my outsider status. There was one other person who was alone - a middle-aged guy who was drinking a beer - but I think he really just wanted to be by himself and promptly left after more people showed up. Other than that, I was the only person who was stupid enough to be out by herself. There were a lot of women who showed up in pairs of two, some in groups of three and more, there were of course the friends/groupies of the DJ, the couples, and female-male-female threesomes (don't get too excited, the guys in those types of groupings weren't really digging the whole "ladies" part of the ladies' night). The most noteworthy and bizarre group I saw was one that I'll just call the patchwork gang. This was probably the biggest gathering of people, but they were also very random. What makes me say this? Well, because there was no more or less uniform dress code. If you hadn't seen them slowly assemble bit by bit, you wouldn't have been able to tell that they all knew each other. They all seemed to surround this one young woman who was dressed like she just got back from a friggin' movie premiere and wasn't able to change out of her evening gown. Or maybe she simply thought she was attending the Vanity Fair Oscars afterparty. And I know that the Oscars aren't until the beginning of next year, I'm just trying to paint a picture, okay? She was there with two other women and one man who appeared to have just returned from an insurance convention since they were all dressed in black office attire. Maybe they were Miss Hayworth's assistants? (I'm kidding...I like Rita Hayworth, but her styling was vaguely reminiscent of that era.) In addition to that, there was a guy who initially looked like he was one of the servers because he was dressed in a simple black sweater and pants, but considering how much time he spent with that group, I wound up thinking that he was a personal bodyguard...until he kissed the chick in the eveningwear. Granted, he could still be the bodyguard or driver or both (or maybe even a gigolo, I don't know), and maybe she was fulfilling a sexual fantasy of being Whitney Houston in The Bodyguard. I'm not judging, I'm just guessing and trying to make sense out of the whole situation. More than likely, he's probably just the boyfriend (/bodyguard/driver/bouncer/etc.). And as if that weren't bizarre enough, they were all later joined by a group of frat boys. I don't know how they all know each other or if they just wound up being stuck to each other on the way to da club like a bunch of magnets, but it was really one of the most bizarre groupings I have ever seen in my life.
Of course, the other people there would probably say the same about me. Yes, that I'm one of the most bizarre groupings (of atoms) they have ever seen in their lives... It does seem that at least in a university town like Heidelberg, you just don't see a woman (or anyone for that matter, unless you're a middle-aged guy heading to the bar after work) going out by themselves. Therefore, I was stared at a lot...and not in an "Oh my gosh...I'm super intrigued, let me get to know you"-way either. It was more in a "Did you get lost?/Dafuq are you doing here?/Didn't we kill all of your kind?"-way. I mean, look people. Not all of us are so lucky that we have friends who are always available, some of them have families of their own, some of them have partners to sleep with, others live too far away. Not all of us are lucky enough to have someone in our lives who's so willing to f*** us that he'll let us schlepp him to friggin' ladies' night. Not all of us have been blessed with hot bods and gorgeous faces that have men falling all over themselves to wife us up before someone else does, but we still want to be able to have a tiny bit of fun and be able to say that for once we didn't get wasted in the privacy of our own homes because that suddenly makes everyone think you're a budding alcoholic. (It's a joke...I can't afford to get wasted all the time, not even in the privacy of my own apartment. It's too expensive and too many calories. I don't need to wake up and walk around with bloated hamster face every single day. Only hamsters look cute with hamster face. Fine...some people look cute with hamster face too.) So, if everyone could do people like me a kindness and not stare and then whisper and giggle about us with your friends or partners/bed buddies, that would be great. You can give me a quick once-over, but unless you're planning on striking up a conversation with me, just don't stare. Not only is it rude and potentially hurtful and threatening, I'm doing my darndest to not make you feel uncomfortable or judge you either, so you could easily extend me the same courtesy, especially since you're actually out with other people and in a far less vulnerable position.
All in all, it wasn't terrible, but it also wasn't fun. For me. Who knows...maybe if I repeatedly expose myself to these types of situations, I'll become more comfortable and actually learn to find them enjoyable, but I'm not sure if and when I'll do something like this again. I'm also not entirely certain that the energy that I have to put into these excursions is actually worth the exhaustion, anxiety and discomfort that I feel before/during/afterward. There are better uses of my time than throwing myself at the mercy of wolves.    

The Muse

Another night on the town, another bar packed with strangers... Why this was my friends' idea of fun, or why they would think that I might find it enjoyable, I have no idea. Actually, that's not entirely true, my friends think that they're doing me a favor by dragging me off to some bar or club so I can hook up with some chick who won't be able to remember most of what happened anyway. It's not like I have a problem with the ladies, I'm a decent-looking guy, but I don't really see the point of having sex just to have had sex...especially not with someone who needs at least half a dozen shots of tequila to "loosen up". Besides, most of the women just wind up looking at me like I'm some brainless hunk of meat. Some of them use gender equality as an excuse, as in "Men constantly ogle at women, so why can't we do the same", whereas others just don't care or have their own little reasons for approaching me.
So, here I am...putting on a good show for da boyz. Be it in the name of solidarity, in the name of bromance, whatever...I just go through the motions. Smiling, laughing, pretending to listen to their stupid jokes and anecdotes, pretending to scan the room for a pretty face, drowning in the sea of laughter and idle conversation. "Ayo bro! Are you gonna drink that or what?! Or are you already narrowing down the list of honeys you wanna hunt down later?" "Hey...what about that one cute brunette we saw over by the dancefloor when we walked in?" "Dude no, did you see how big her entourage is? She ain't here to play. At least not with us." "Maybe if we can find a trio, Mark and I can distract two of them while you disappear with the third to a more private location." "Yeah, but let's make sure we find some quality chicks this time, okay?"
Blablablabbitybla... I like my friends...I do, but sometimes...okay, a lot of times...I just have to tune them out. For the sake of my own sanity, of course. Fine...so I'll look at the ladies present tonight...each and every one beautiful in her own right. Dolled up, wearing their prettiest clothes, some here on girls' night out, some here to unwind after a hectic work week, some just here for a bit of youthful fun, some here to hunt and play. And that's when my eyes fall on her...sitting at the bar...possibly the rarest of sights for this kind of place. All alone with only a vodka soda to keep her company, she seems to be scanning the room for something and yet nothing at the same time. Her body posture exudes an extraordinary level of cool and casualness, while giving off the vibe that she is in no mood to play games of any kind or with anyone. Some people stare, especially other women...and why not? She isn't adhering to some unwritten code, she simply doesn't fit. Like an errant puzzle piece, she is upsetting some kind of balance, breaking some imaginary law of nature, but in the most delicious way possible. How dare she not conform? How dare she not play along? She is the lonesome wolf refusing to operate according to the pack mentality. Through her mere presence she seems to be defying all of the superficiality and bullshit. She isn't here for them, she isn't here for me, she is just here.
I can't help it, I feel drawn to her. To her alabaster skin that reflects the blue and pink lights from the dancefloor. To her hair that is just the right amount of disheveled. To her lips that are just plump and pink enough. But especially to her eyes. They seem to be able to cut right through to the center of one's very being. Despite that meticulously-crafted tough and cool exterior, I can still see her pain and sadness, and I can't help but want to take her away. Away from these people, away from this bar, away from whatever might be hurting her. I wan't to be selfish and tell her about my feelings and what I see when I look at her. And so I find myself walking towards her with the greatest of ease. It's almost as if I'm not moving at all and the universe is merely shifting around me. Ignoring the ramblings of my friends, the glances from other people... As I get closer, I can see her eyes turn sideways ever so slightly. Great, she realizes that I'm approaching. Now what? Sure, I could always turn back...and look like a moron...but no, there's no turning back now. Come hell or high water, I will talk to her, I will at least try to get to know her. It's now or never, do or die, deep breaths, don't look like you're about to have a stroke, smile...but gently, you don't want her to call the cops...here goes nothing... "Hi..."    

Just another one of those days...

Today was just another one of those days... With no real trigger or cause I simply found myself fighting against the building pressure time and time again...and losing time and time again. Looking up to the skies (or apartment ceiling) I just felt the tears fall down my face and neck. I'm not entirely sure why I bothered to look up. Was it to pray to the heavens or universe for some kind of relief? Was I looking to somehow ease the pressure? Maybe I was just trying to prevent myself from looking like a complete mess afterwards by letting the fluid flow downward and out of my face.
I could feel my right hand clutched firmly around my throat. Not enough to choke myself in earnest, but just enough to make me feel the pressure. A pressure that was meant to be oddly calming, to counteract the pressure I was feeling on the inside. This lasted for a few seconds, until I could feel my breathing steady itself. And so I removed the hand, only to feel the next wave of sadness rise up inside of me.
They say that crying is supposed to make one feel better and provide relief, but I think that people who say that have never had to wonder when the crying will stop. I've always felt like the tears and sadness were threatening to tear me apart. As if the pain of a thousand souls were weighing on you and had yet somehow infiltrated your very being at the same time. Impending doom and destruction pulling and tugging and yet pushing and tearing away at you...it's no wonder that I try to avoid crying. The fear that it might all overpower me and finally push me over the edge and cause my whole being to be ripped apart has probably helped me build up such a strong resistance that the tears hurt more than they should.
Of course, there's also the issue of pride and dignity. Who would want to see someone like me cry? Nobody should be subjected to the sight of me period, let alone the sight of me in a vulnerable state like this. So, these were the days when I shut myself in and locked myself away from the world, even though these were the days when I needed people the most.
Getting up, I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The tear-streaked face drained of all color, the soaked eyelashes reflecting the light of the lamp, the bloodshot whites of the eyes turning the irises into brilliant emeralds shimmering in a sea of red. From a more objective point of view, one might almost say that there was an incredible beauty to my misery and despair.
As I get ready for bed, I can't help but feel relief that the end of another one of those days has finally come to an end, for the few hours of sleep will hopefully give me a chance to recover from my inner turmoil. And as a final thought, all I can think is that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will be better. Maybe tomorrow will not be another one of those days...