#BEDM Day 3: Are You Sitting Comfortably?
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Things that make you uncomfortable
Well, after wanking on about made-up nonsense yesterday, I suppose I ought to rehabilitate myself and try to write something serious today, I guess…
It might be easier to write a list of things that don’t make me uncomfortable. Most kinds of interaction with other humans makes me literally writhe inside. Obviously close family, friends, colleagues et cetera I’ve become accustomed to, and back when I was serving customers on a salesfloor the almost prearranged nature of that relationship made it easy to slip on a mask of warm yet distant helpfulness. But they are pretty much the only exceptions.
Talking to people I don’t know still makes me uneasy but after many years in my profession thats the one I’ve most become acclimated to. However, I still can’t really stand crowds. I am overly aware of my own presence in them. What do people think I look like when I’m walking? Are they looking at me? WHY are they looking at me? Am I walking too assuredly? Do I look cocky? Is there something on my face, does my hair look stupid ARE MY TROUSERS UNDONE AAAARRGGHHHHH!!! I can’t be by myself in a pub or club. It just can’t happen, I literally self-combust. Even a McDonalds is pushing it, not that I frequent such places.
For that matter, even on the rare occurrences I’m actually aware of it, people finding me attractive makes me squirm. The first time a boy tried to chat me up in a club I literally ran away. Even someone trying to make eye contact with me is like a laser being shone in my eye and I have to look away. Even if they’re hot. Especially if they’re hot. Partly its because for many years I’ve been as big as a bus and I’ve never found myself attractive so can’t really fathom how anyone else could. And these days, with the advent of Grindr and things of that nature, even digitally-expressed interest is uncomfortable, mostly because I’m fully aware that I can’t really afford a social life let alone a relationship, and partly because most people on those things are absolute swamp donkeys, but still. I have to be very, very interested in them for my lust to overcome my discomfiture. This also goes for people who just want to be my friend. I’m not ever so good at making friends. I don’t have many. I usually can’t tell the difference between them showing polite interest and wanting to get in my pants and I have no idea whether or not I’ll actually even like them (I don’t actually like a lot of people, I just tolerate a great many of them) so I just think it’s probably not worth the expense of time and money it would take to find out. So I stay at home and read a book.
People giving me things makes me cringe. (God I’m so fucked up.) I’ve always considered myself to be quite generous with people I consider friends and the fact that my current fiscal situation precludes me from being so at the moment, coupled with the fact that I’m a prideful northerner, means that even someone buying me a meal in a restaurant is like someone singing badly out of tune in my ear. That probably sounds ungrateful and I’m really really not, it just cuts against the grain of me.
So this all probably sounds like I’m thoroughly, thoroughly broken. I probably am. I have to stress that most of this happens inside of me and hopefully outside I project a mask of slightly arrogant benevolence, and I’ve usually always been able to talk quite confidently. Bullshitting is something I’ve become relatively good at over the years, to the extent that some people actually think I know what I’m talking about, and the arrogant bullshit factor becomes massively more pronounced when I’m writing words down behind a computer. But please understand that underneath I’m constantly questioning myself, fretting and feeling monumentally socially awkward and inferior. Thank you for your consideration.