What do you do for fun?

Victory is yours. All the bees in the world are dying off, but victory, sir, is yours.

 

Maybe it's just me, but what is so hard about making friends? I've had more than one person in the last couple days complain about having nothing to do because they don't have any friends. And I'm not judging, really, I'm just confused. Even if it's just having a beer with a co-worker, do it and you might meet someone that could become a friend. That sounds silly, but I don't know how else to explain it.

Anyway....I can watch re-runs of The King of Queens and call that fun. And when I'm not training for my next MMA fight, I enjoy taking a stroll through the walking park with my wife or driving around to see what's out there. You'd be surprised. And golfing, when my wicked slice takes the day off anyway.

 

It's not as easy for some people as it others. What's so hard to understand about that?

 

Honestly, I don't know, but I find it hard to imagine putting someone in a setting with a lot of people, say karaoke night or something, and not coming away with a friend or two. I suppose those that are awkwardly shy may have a hard time with that. Other than that, I'm stumped.

Oh, and I ate my first toasted PBJ tonight. It might not qualify as fun, but it was pretty damn close.

 

And for fun today I plan on using a stick to throw a ball at a brick wall over and over again. It will be bliss.

 

Man. It's almost as if everyone on this board spent a few minutes digging around in my thoughts from today. Ryan, driving home tonight, I began to assess my difficulty in making friends, so your question is keeping me up tonight.

I've got some great friends, and if you've ever read one of my stupid posts, you'd know I like to talk about them. Unfortunately, they're nowhere around me. We all -- six of us -- live in different states and see each other maybe two or three times a year; I haven't seen my best friend since Festivus, 2006. We keep in touch all right, some times better than others, but it's not enough for me. They're great, great people, and I couldn't ask for a better set of friends. Well, I could, but I wouldn't get them.

However, I think they've spoiled me for other friendships down the road, at least a little bit. When we all drifted in separate directions, I took it real hard. For as long as I could remember, I was surrounded by a group of friends. These guys, in particular, and I were inseparable as a group between 1998 and 2005. When we were all in town on college breaks, everyone would congregate at my place or a bar or the baseball field. As long as we were together, it didn't matter what we did. And everything went through me. I was the social director, so to speak; the Jerry to the group, although sometimes a bit of Constanza sneaked through the cracks.

It was extremely difficult for me to leave "home." I was the first one to go, and it felt terrible. I moved for a job, and I told myself, "This is what people do" and "I've got nothing tying me down" and "I won't miss anything in this town." I was wrong. I missed them terribly, and I still do.

You know how when you're a senior in the last part of high school or college, you say you won't date anyone because you'll probably just leave anyway? Well, that's what I did when I moved away for the first time. And it wasn't just with women, it was with anyone. I thought I'd be out of that town in a year -- if that -- so what's the point of making friends just to leave them and feel that pain, albeit a bit smaller, again? In my head, there wasn't. And of course I was wrong.

I lived in that town and developed a very good rapport with a co-worker, a news writer, who sat in the desk behind me. We were always very cordial to one another, poking fun at each other and complaining about the bosses. But I never felt comfortable enough to ask him to do something outside of work. I started the job on Sept. 9, 2005, and he asked me to go with his friends to the bar on St. Patrick's Day, 2006. From that point on, we became pretty close, so I thought my theory was total crap. Then he moved. And I rethought the theory.

I felt horrible again. He was one of the few people I could trust with anything. He introduced me to plenty of people, and was directly responsible for not drowning myself in boredom; he was Jerry. But he was gone, the first of three close friends I had there to move away, and each one hurt a little. Then I moved.

And here I am, living in a strange place for the last 11 months, socializing with friends who are en route to other places, relying on the phone calls and text messages and a semi-weekly meeting for lunch as my non-work, human contact. And I find myself subscribing to that theory once again.

And, yeah, Ryan, you're right. I could probably go to the bar and meet people, but that's really not my style. I hate when people come up to me and start a conversation, then never leave my side, and I have never felt comfortable or wanted to be that guy. There's nothing wrong with it, but it's not me. I'm a social guy, but I'm not. I'm introverted, but I'm not. I'm a mess, dude. But I like it. It's weird.

I really like to talk -- and type, too -- so when I go days without having a laugh with some friends, it's tough. And my neighborhood really isn't conducive for me to socialize within, largely for a reason I'd rather not discuss. Three of my close female friends beg me and "can't wait" for me to move because they hate seeing -- or hearing, rather -- me not going out with people and settling for "Boy Meets World," no matter how awesome the second season is; and it really is awesome.

I have fun at work, and I like the people there. But it takes a lot for me to become comfortable enough to spend time with anyone outside the workplace walls. I don't want the feeling I had three Septembers ago or last March and April.

Please don't think I'm complaining or asking for advice, because I'm not; I know what the problem is, and I know how to fix it. I'm just explaining why it's difficult for me to make friends. People aren't carbon copies of one another. What works for you might not work for Clever. What works for KY probably won't work for Byrnes' stalker.

Man, I really miss my friends now. And my Super Nintendo.

 

That post made me sad. Can I be your friend, Mikey?

 

Well, that's not fun.

 

Reread my post, Mikey.

 

Gotcha. And yes.

 

I actually understand what you're talking about, Mikey. It sucks when you move someplace new and have to start over in the friend department. Happened to me in Oct. 2006 when I moved 11 hours away from home. And while I adapted somewhat and made a few new friends, you're right, it's nothing like the friendships already developed. And it prolly never will be.

I gotta quit typing now. I'm starting to feel sad, just like Doc. Thank you, though, for the explanation. That definitely helped me understand your situation.

Didn't mean to keep you up all night. Then again, what else are you gonna do.

 

Thank god I never had friends in the first place. Phew, dodged that bullet.