Saturday's Aftermath...

OK, I tried again, I went out on a date last night. Why, I keep asking myself, do I keep thinking things will EVER change? The guy [oh... and yeah, I'm gay just so you won't wonder](I won't mention his name because it doesn't matter but we'll call him "Mr. X") was someone I've been corresponding with online for several weeks. We exchanged photos early on so that bridge had already been crossed. In our phone conversations he came across as cute but DEFINITELY his age (30). I'm 42 and I usually make it a rule to not go out with anyone that much younger than myself but I decided to go out since I've been isolating so much. We went to a movie (Spiderman 3). Granted, I know movies aren't the best venue for first dates but this turned out to be a recipe for disaster.

First, we were supposed to meet for the 7 p.m. showing but he arrived at my place to pick me up at 5.30. I hadn't even showered yet so he had to wait on me. After I was finally 'presentable', I suggested we go to Starbucks as a chance to get to know each other a bit before the movie. I wish I had a dollar for the number of times he had to comment on the 'hot' guys he kept spotting. (Am I old-fashioned in expecting my date to pay attention to me?) Well, we get to Starbucks and they're already closed for the evening (This is downtown LA, after all...) So, the theater became our destination. As we stood in line waiting for the auditorium to open his body language and lack of conversation made it entirely obvious that he was less than thrilled about his company for the evening.

After a rather lengthy movie (during which he constantly commented on how 'hot' certain men in the movie were) we walked to the car in relative silence. The closer we got to the parking garage, the angrier I got with myself for having expected to go out with a man and have him find me interesting and/or fun (or, 'hot', even).

Needless to say, there was no goodnight kiss or hug (or handshake, even). ["Gee," I find myself wondering "am I *that* repulsive?"] Evidently, I am.

So, I spent the day trying not to obsess over Saturday night's failure. I watched "Running With Scissors" and HIGHLY recommend it to those who thought their childhood was weird. I thought mine was dysfunctional but kudos for Augusten Burroughs surviving that nightmare. If he can live through what he lived thru and turned out relatively happy maybe I can live through all of this and somehow find some happiness.

After last night, that's kind of a positive turn of thoughts, eh? Life's funny that way. The lessons come in strange forms and in unexpected ways.

One Scared Puppy

I began seeing a new therapist this past week and am going through the process of introducing myself to her and my life-long battle with depression. People have described depression as the absence of joy in one's life. Others have described it as being in a very dark, cold, lonely place. For myself, I think the best illustration is the scared puppy story.

We all have seen dogs who have been abused by people. Whenever a person approaches the dog (whether the dog knows the person or not) have you noticed how the dog will make itself as small as possible. Perhaps the dog will start shaking and whining.

That's me with depression. I feel I have been so 'beaten up' by depression that I feel like if I do my best to not be noticed then I won't be beaten again. I have, literally, become so scared of life that I'm in a catch 22. I want people to like me and I need people in my life but I am skittish. Whenever anyone shows some interest, I feel like part of me starts shaking and whining on the inside because I'm afraid I'll be hurt again. People notice this in the way this causes me to put up a protective wall. It's not that I consciously choose to be scared, I wish I wasn't. I've just been hurt so many times that I guess I just expect it to happen again. And, on those rare occasions where I've been able to beat that back, inevitably it comes back and bites me in the ass.

Just looking at me, you wouldn't think that is how I see myself. You see, I've learned (or, better yet, was taught) how to 'put up a good front'. I can fake happiness and exude grand false self-confidence because that's what people want to see from someone else. Have you ever heard the maxim "Never tell someone how you really feel when they ask how you're doing"? [because they REALLY don't wanna know or can't handle the truth.] You don't believe me? Try it with someone tomorrow. After you've both said 'hi, how you doing?' tell them 'lousy' and see what reaction you get. My bet is they'll probably say something like 'that's nice...' or 'good, glad to hear it.' Do I sound cynical and jaded? Yes, I know that I do and I don't like it. I don't like being in this frame of mind yet depression makes it one of my more frequent 'dwelling places.'