It's not true - I do have a friend in the world. Finding him/her/them perplexes me, though. I'm used to calling Benny, or Dan, or Tim, or Shirley, or Sus, or any number of my friends in New York or Chicago and say: "drinks?" "Sure!" they'd respond, and off we'd go to some bar at some ungodly hour on some weekday night for a night-cap and solidarity. It was easy then; it isn't easy now.
The past few (almost three) months have been a major adjustment. Difficult, very difficult times. Living at home, in the suburbs, makes going out near to impossible. I have to drive somewhere (the bus stops running at 6pm, and doesn't run on weekends), and most of my friends live somewhere in Chicago or Evanston or somewhere where getting to them - or they to me - is a challenge. Casual drinks at the bar are a memory at present.
But: what about trips? Planned events? Things that can be prepped for - nada. Hey everyone, want to go see a play with me -- a play at the most-recent Tony award winning company in Chicago? Nope. What about meeting for drinks after the play? Silence. Anyone want to hang out this weekend? Maybe. This inability to coordinate schedules -- the inability to bet people together -- is awful. It makes me doubt myself.
I don't think I've done anything wrong. Yes: when I got here I drank, a lot, as I dealt with my new-found post-graduate poverty and humiliation. Yes: I've gained weight in that same period of time. No: I am not any less of a person. People still had fun with me -- we laughed, and we've hung out since then, in a time when my shit is more together. They've invited me to events; but few show interest in what I want to do.
A childhood friend of mine, Franco, is my theater-buddy. That gives me some comfort; but, he too is working his way into a new, very high-stress, job. So his time is not as free as he'd like. Plus: he lives in Chicago's Gold Coast. So, beyond theater going, grabbing a night-cap requires significant planning.
Ashley is much the same: we've planned to meet for drinks. She, another friend I've had since kindergarten, knows the position I'm in (she was in a similar bind once she earned her master's in environmental policy). But she, too, is more than a phone call away. It stinks.
What stinks more than having friends who can't be at my beck and call (which is what I'm really complaining about) is that I'm single but can't "be single." Finances and sheer geography are seeing to that. My efforts to try and fix this situation (temping) aren't going too grand either: my two-week assignment is over, leaving me with nothing right now except an empty bank account (bills and a weekend out ate-up the small amount of money I earned). It's a bleak existence.
But I exist, still. Directionless and feeling alone; though I know neither is an appropriate feeling. This is just a rough period that I have to tough through.
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