|shiverreal, copyright 2011 artemis sere|
copyright 2011 artemis sere
a common situation these days: invited out with a female friend, only for the out to turn into meeting a group, sometime large, sometimes small, seldom a party of two. these change of “out scenarios” typically happen as a surprise, where the original scenario involved “two people hanging out”. why am I devoting blogspace to something so unique and personal?
this is a recurring theme in my life: where I’m not good enough to be “the one”, but am good enough to be someone else’s “plus one’. “Plus one” is a trendy term now that Google picked it up and created social activity around it. the term also applies to events, where you would be put on an access or guest list and be offered the ability to bring someone along. that person becomes your “plus one”. it would seem to be a flattering act to be someone else’s “plus one”, until that’s all that you are across the board: “plus one” for all, number one for none.
these days, the best I seem to do is act as “plus one” for someone. I suppose I shouldn’t care so much; I should be accepting of the gracious invitation with a smile and without hesitation or question, just be happy to be in the periphery of someone else’s circle. but I can’t help but feel slighted by the fact that I can do no better than someone else’s disposable hero, savior of the hour, lover for the moment. I can’t help but feel pushed away from the center of others while few have interest in nearing the center of me.
even more frustrating is that people can’t seem to understand what I’m talking about when I say that I’m disappointed in our change of plans–changes not initiated by me in any way, but changes that I must roll with regardless. sensibly, what I’m talking about deals with an imbalance of selfishness. i’m railing against the lack of equilibrium that I’ve been historically offered by my friends, the minimized level of involvement that people have in my world, my orbit, my drama, my history, my interests, my past, and/or my future. perhaps I’m too good at listening and being accessible to people in general. or perhaps my too accessible to certain people that have habits that I have been patient with.
I feel like a lesser person for engaging in a blog bitch session. few will read this, and even fewer will be able to relate to what I have to say. people on the normal path–with nuclear, mainline connections and common directions–cannot relate to the frustrations of a single man exiled by life; people on the single path seem to work the outscenes fluidly and dynamically, without thought, passion or care. the outscenes are there for oblivion, not heart; they’re there for comforting the lonely and the lost for a night, to push butterflies from cocoons and into regretful glances, one-night stands, and herpes-ridden beds. the outscenes aren’t there to help a person escape to a sane place.
the outscenes are there to nullify the personality of the plus ones, not give hope, not offer chances.