There's Someone For Everybody

You know when you're single and people tell you that there is someone for everyone? Not true. And forgive me if you think I'm taking a Louis C.K. bit but there really isn't. I think at a certain point, if you're single past a certain mark, you have to re-evaluate and accept that you will most likely die alone. Which is really not as grim as it sounds. Unless you live with a cat. And if I learned anything from the show "Hoarders," it's almost certain they will start to eat you. And then wear your clothes. Because cats think this is funny.

I live in a community of people where there CLEARLY isn't someone from them. I'm not sure how I came to be there, except, we may all share a common disdain for humanity. In my case, I'm a lone dude who has strange rituals. In their case, they're bitter cat ladies who've been screwed over, have screwed over, in the process of screwing, or just plain screwed up. These are very much angry embittered people who latch onto some slight, regret, pain in their past. Festering inside themselves. There are certain types that you can tell just hold it in. Around me, these are women who have fat bloated faces. Ruddy noses. Dour expression. And live in the armpit of Van Nuys, so no one in their right mind would visit. I'm certain there is also an air of former groupies of lousy L.A. bands that never made it. The tip on that is the concert t-shirt of bands that are WAY too bad for irony (not like these teens who wear a Sex Pistols "Never Mind The Bullocks" tee they found at Hot Topic).

No, I'm talking about miserable people who've congregated to one spot that people can hide from the rest of the world. We look at our neighbors and breathe a sigh of relief that we aren't as bad off. Well...I can say they think the same of me.

I notice, recently as the last "family" moved out, how wild that it never occurred to me that everyone around me was single. Not completely single, but my neighbor has a daughter, she's a single mom. Two doors down and above, there's a guy who sits by his computer and looks off into the L.A. river next to a computer that looks to be from the early 90's. Creepy. And alone. There's my neighbor directly above from me that has a stranger schedule than me. He comes and goes and doesn't say a single thing to me. In fact, one day I was standing outside smoking a cigar when he passed by, didn't acknowledge me. The landing to the stairs only really fits one person. Miserable fuck.

So my point being, I think at a certain age we really pick up fucked up shit about our habits. I think these habits are usually too gruesome to share with others. For instance, I watch 90's sitcoms on my laptop while I take a dump. Seems to be appropriate. But how could I possibly introduce a new relationship that would accept that? Or that my gym clothes are strewn around the apartment to "air out." Yeah, that'll get them hot.

A lot of this shit is in our heads. But still...if there is someone who could accept me taking a shit enjoying "Roseanne," what possible darkness could this person be harboring?

So going back to dying alone. I feel it's something we all have to go through. Dying alone. I don't like that feeling of people suffering/celebrating my death. And I don't like to be on the other end too. Somehow, just not having to fulfill anyone's expectation feels like freedom. No obligation. No disappointments. Just, living your merry way. One time I told an ex girlfriend, that if I was getting into another relationship, they'd have to be on my schedule or else they're not going to make it. Very arrogant and childish. But how often do couples look at their lives and wish they could make that statement. Is being alone bad? Most of the times, I don't feel so. But every once in a while...it's nice to remember and feel that feeling of being in love. It's been really a long time now, I only have memories. And maybe that's what my neighbors have too. Which is why we're all hiding out from the world. The miserable world. But at least it's yours. Here's some simple math for you:
If you have a wife and kid. What are the chances that they'll be the source of your pain and disappointment in life? Multiply that by how many years you want to live.

Now, if you're alone, what does that percentage become?

You have no one to blame but yourself.