Left to my own devices

"Hello, how are you? Have you been alright Through all those lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely nights?" - Telephone Line ,  ELO T here was a time when I used to love talking on the phone. This was before the ubiquity of the Internet, before cell phones, texting, video calls, etc. It was also before I had a job, and much of the work I've ended up doing over the years has fallen under the designation of customer service, where I would interact with folks either in-person or over the phone. That can wear down one's capacity for certain types of contact methods during off-hours. This was before all of that. This was when I was a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed young person.

Someone on Twitter shared an article about amatonormativity recently. I read it, and found it interesting. The article posits that our society places too much of an emphasis on the supposed virtues of romance, monogamy, and generally romantic and sexual coupling, to the detriment of the healthy and deeper development of platonic friendships. Indeed, it would seem to put a stigma on being single and alone (or "self-partnered," as the Harry Potter grown-up-kids prefer to call themselves ).  From the article: "Amatonormativity is, essentially, "the assumption that a central, exclusive, amorous relationship is normal for humans, in that it is a universally shared goal, and that such a relationship is normative, in the sense that it should be aimed at in preference to other relationship types," according to Elizabeth Brake." This is one of those scenarios where I don't necessarily disagree with the premise, but have doubts about what comes af...

The sexuality of one's friends isn't something I think about often. Well, why would you? The interests and commonalities we share with our platonic companions is enough to sate any curiosity we may have about them. We share our lives with them, talk about our days, perhaps recall moments that were shared together, and maybe discuss our plans for the future. The gender of their attraction isn't necessarily of paramount importance.

Sometimes someone says something and it doesn't appear to make a lot of sense. It's not that they're speaking gibberish. We aren't suddenly worried about their cognitive function. More like a non sequitur. That, or you simply think what they said was a tad odd. This happened recently and, as I was on a walk later thinking about it, the thought occurred to tap into some empathy.They could, potentially, not have known what to give voice to in the moment, and therefore said whatever came to mind. Some people may not know how to handle silence.

There was once a friend who told me he loved me. He said it very matter-of-fact, though there was some unease within his person about it. We sat there, on the bleachers at high school, blowing-off P.E. class one slightly overcast day, and we were talking, just shooting the breeze. There was a lot of subtext to our conversation, though I wasn't really analyzing it at the time. I was expending a lot of energy talking bitterly about being friendless, and how I didn't really fit in anywhere. There was a nasty undercurrent to my words that I wasn't aware of.

I'd heard of the suicide, of course. Nearly everyone locally, who paid attention to the news, or was on social media, had heard of the death. I didn't know the man who died, though knew several people who did. Folks seemed in a state of shock. He'd had his demons, yes, but, as is so often the case, very few suspected that suicide would be the ultimate outcome of his mental and emotional travails. He was young, somewhere in his twenties, I think. Yet another life gone too soon. It was maybe a month or so later when I was contacted privately, online, via social media messenger, from the young man abroad. We'd never met and, honestly, I don't remember how we came to connect online. He was cute, certainly, and foreign. He'd spent some time in my town awhile back, then moved back home. We said the occasional 'Hello' to one another on social media, but that had been about the extent of our communication. Then one day, there was the message from him...

In last night's dream, the friend came over and we watched TV. At one point, when we were getting hungry, he enthusiastically volunteered to go pick something up. We agreed on a place, sent in our order, and he bounced off the couch and left, soon to return with a bag of our food. We snacked on the couch, watching various things on Netflix and what not, late into the evening. At times, I worried that he was staying too long, that his family would be expecting him. This concern rose to a verbal question, and he was quick to dismiss it. "Don't worry," he said, "I've told them I'll be with you today." The business world likes to say that time is a precious resource, but that is an applicable statement to every facet of our lives, perhaps most importantly to our personal lives. I was touched that he was spending his time that day focusing on our friendship. Of course, the time came to an end and, around midnight, he went home. I was thinking...

I was somewhat taken aback recently when I learned that a single friend doesn't care very much for the company of couples. It is difficult not to take personal offense at this, being part of a couple, but then I took a step back and thought about the various types of people who I know and prefer to associate with socially. And the reasons why. It was an enlightening self-analysis.

It's true that I've devoted a lot of time on this blog to friends, family and neighbors who are no longer with us. That's probably not too uncommon, as it's a fallibility of human nature that we don't tend to overly-gush about the living. We wait until they're dead, then eulogize them. That's all well and good for those who are still around, but kinda sucks if you've already snuffed it. Pondering over the aforementioned thoughts made me realize that it's better late than never to show an appreciation for those who've made a difference in my life, both in the past and in the present. In fact, today falling smack dab as it does between two stellar people's birthdays (Terry's yesterday, Amanda's tomorrow) has prompted me to undertake a little written appreciation of them. Two folks whom I'm fortunate enough to count as friends.

Those of you who know me well are aware of my love for the British music group the Pet Shop Boys . But do you know where that love came from? Or, to be more specific, how I was first introduced to them? It was all down to my friend, Jeff. He was the first gay man I met after officially 'coming out' of the closet, and I cherish the time spent with him to this day.

This is likely to be an angry post. I (kind of ) apologize in advance, but, there you go. It has been a Matt-truism for decades that I've long been a very sensitive person. No point in going into all the possible reasons why at this juncture. It's simply a part of who I am, although I try every day to keep it in check, to not let it overrule my better nature. Yet, decades later, I seem to find myself back at square one when it comes to sensitivity in regards to interactions with people. It's a deflating, pathetic, lonely, maddening feeling.