The other night a friend of mine asked me what I was planning on doing that night. And I told him I was going to cruise at home and read and write. And then he asked me what I had done the weekend before and I told him the same thing – that I had read a bit and written a bit. And then he asks me, how come you don’t call people and go out?
I explained to him that I just kind of wait for people to call me. And it’s not because I’m afraid of imposing on people or because I’m afraid that they’d be busy already and so wouldn’t want to hang out. It’s just that I don’t mind being alone and I don’t mind just staying at home. And even when I do go out, a lot of times I’m seeing some artsy fartsy movie that most of my friends wouldn’t be interested in (see blog 145).
And then it hit me. I’ve become kind of a loner. I mean I don’t see myself sequestering myself in the woods a la Ted Kaczynski but still, it got me wondering if I was on the road to being the eerie loner guy on the street. Of course I still live with my parents, but what about when I move up to Seattle in July? What about after that? Should I resist my recent new urge to start raising kittens?
I don’t know, I’m not all that worried about it. I don’t think I’m antisocial, at least not in the psychopathic sense. If anything, I’m kind of the opposite. Antisocial personality disorder is characterized by an extreme lack of empathy. Sometimes I think I have too much empathy.
Take this weekend as an example. My birthday is on the 27th and so I was thinking about calling all my friends and organizing some swinging soiree. But I nixed that idea pretty quick. Here’s why. I don’t know how many of you know this, but I like to dance. But not just any kind of dancing. I like dancing to good house music. I don’t like going to places where they play a lot of hip-hop or top 40 or (worst of all) booty music. But most of my friends aren’t into house music. On top of that, a lot of my friends don’t like to go to clubs to dance.
I suppose some would say, “it’s your birthday, go do what you want to do,” and I suppose that’s true, but if I were to invite my friends to some club, I’d be too worried about whether they were having a good time or not – wondering if they were only there because I lured them there playing the birthday card. And that’s kind of what I mean by too much empathy. I’d be too worried about them to enjoy myself.
And I’m not quite sure what to make of that. Is that weird?
I suppose I could have played the loner card again and checked out some club by myself but compared to a night at home with a good book or working on a blog entry, the time spent trying to find a place playing good house music that isn’t too expensive or too chichi just isn’t worth it ((and this is unfortunate because one of the reasons I used to like clubs that played house music was because it used to be about just getting out on the dance floor and getting lost in the music. These days, good house music has become the soundtrack to parties of the rich and famous and soul-less). And so I stayed home.
Don’t cry for me Argentina. I really, truly, honestly don’t mind hanging by myself at home, even on my birthday. That might sound like Swahili to some, but it’s the truth.
But…(seems like all my blog entries have buts in them these days)
But I’m writing about it because there’s a part of me that wonders if I should be this way. I mean as a single 34yo, should I be getting myself out more? Am I too young (and too single) to spend my weekends alone?
Anyone care to opine?