Why Bother?

Of course, we are talking about the fact that I cannot drag myself out of the house to go out to any gay bars.

Even after all this time, I still have the same anxieties weighing me down, making me think of excuses not to go anywhere: I'm too shy, too ugly, too this, too that, you know the drill.

I put up a good front for others; in my email to Phil and Keith, I said that I should put on a t-shirt from Abercrombie & Fitch, douse myself with enough cologne to stun a buffalo, and go out. But this is easier said than done when a person feels like a pariah. 

I still don't see the point of going out by myself; I know better than to think I would have the guts to actually approach someone, and if someone approaches me, I become tongue tied, coming off as standoffish. And I am sure that the walls of gay bars can stand up on their own; they don't need me to hold them up.

I have to remember: Justin is in Florida. He will not be coming back. I was the one who turned him loose. So if I am lonely, that is my own stupid fault. I just have to weigh the lesser of two evils: loneliness, or rejection and heartbreak.

I am off Sunday. If I felt courageous enough, I would take a change of casual clothes to work, and jump on the Metro to Dupont Circle to find someplace to hang out. But why bother? What is the point of taking all that time and expense of going somewhere where I will just leave unhappy and dejected, never to go again?

I am also off on Wednesday, I could go to Freddie's and sing a few songs on Tuesday night. But there are too many memories there. And I still don't know anyone, and if Justin trashed me before he left, I don't know if I want to find this out. So again, why bother? 

Adding to my list of old thoughts is the fact that it is now five months to the day since I last saw Josie. And her parents clearly don't care if I live or die.

So I sit here, listening to "Chill" and feeling sorry for myself. Wish I knew what to do.

Eric Out.