From: Thad_Engeling@quickmail.natinst.com (Thad Engeling)
Newsgroups: alt.angst
Subject: more depression
Date: 31 Dec 1992 01:40:53 GMT
Organization: National Instruments
NNTP-Posting-Host: red.natinst.com

I'm pretty new to this newsgroup so I hope this post is appropiate.
I've been reading it for a while, but I was finally prompted to
write when I read the following post

>dlightne@magnus.acs.ohio-state.edu (David E Lightner) writes:
>   I'm twenty-five, and was a virgin until I was twenty-four.  I lost my 
>virginity in a one-night stand with a woman I haven't seen since and have no 
>desire to see.  The only reason I slept with her was because I couldn't stand
>being a virgin.

This is exactly the same as my case, except that the only reason I slept
"the woman" was because I was drunk off my ass and desperate as hell.
Anyway, my post is an E-mail letter I sent to a friend of mine a couple
days ago.
It's kind of long.


Today is my birthday. Happy fucking birthday to me.
I'm 25. I don't feel old. I feel like life is creeping by me and I'm slipping
backwards all the time. I feel depressed, frustrated, angry.
I'm 25 facing the prospect of dying alone. It's so far off in the future
so why does it bother me now. I'm 25 and I have never had a serious
girlfriend. I'm past my prime and still celibate (except for one night
of drunken stupidity which I would rather forget.) God I'm sitting
here feeling sorry for myself, it's fucking pathetic.
The real stuff comes out now.
Yeah, this is what has been bothering me for the last three or four weeks.
So where do I start.
Do you even want to hear this.
I hope so, cause I need the proverbial shoulder to cry on. Maybe I can clear
some of these thoughts from my head and move on.
Emily (you met her at Lollapalooza) introduced me to a friend of hers named Ali.
(pronounced like alley) The three of us went to Acropolis (a dance club). I went
even though I can't dance worth a shit. All I can do is slam. And modern club dancing
seems so pointless to me. It's impersonal and self-gratifying for the most part.
Still I went. I instantly fell in love with Ali. Well, love is too strong a word.
I liked her immensely. She is gorgeous, outgoing, intelligent. And she is a good dancer,
so I spent a lot of time just watching her. and watching guys hit on her. and burning up.
My passive nature dealt me a blow. At one point I was standing on the edge of the
dance floor. Ali came and and wrapped her arms around my arm. And I just stood
there, like a fucking statue, just a stupid grin on my face. All I had to do was move
my other hand a few inches, just touch her hand or something, anything just to show
the slightest interest. But I failed even that simple gesture. I still run that night
through my head, over and over, and curse myself for my passive nature, my fear
of rejection. My damned incessant inactivity.
Women scare me. Especially women I am attracted to. I always end up saying
something stupid. My timing is bad. My wit fails me. And every failure compounds
the problem. A vicious circle.
So then the three of us went to a tea bar a couple nights later. We played hearts
for several hours. Ali was flirting with me the whole time, and a lot of the general
conversation was about sex. I was red faced a lot of the time. And I just didn't
know how to handle it. I'm assuming you don't want to hear all the details.
So now I was thouroughly hooked.
My hopes were high. Poised for the fall.
About a week before Christmas, Emily had a party. Emily parties consist of a lot of
people sitting around on the couch and floor talking. Towards the end of the party
I ended up sitting next to Ali, or rather against her. She didn't seem to mind, at
least she didn't leave. And she still flirted with me. I got her phone number.
Progress.
The cliff gets higher.
So I called her a couple nights later. We talked for a while. Then we went to a party
that friend of mine was having. We stayed there for a while, and then we went to
Emo's and saw some local? bands (Crust, Bomb, and Sugar Tooth). We talked a lot
between bands, and I saw a different side of her personality. She was much quieter,
introspective, almost shy. Of course all this did was make me like her even more.
I wanted so badly to kiss her, but, coward that I am, I didn't.
Tension elation desire.
The depth gets darker and deeper.
I called her a couple more times before Christmas, but she wasn't able to go out
either time. "I'm already going ou...uhm...I already have plans tonight" How much
should I have read into that slip of the tongue.
Christmas comes and goes.
So last night I called up Emily to see if anything was going on. We end up talking
for over an hour. One subject that came up (Emily brought it up, not me) was Ali.
Emily said that she should have warned me that Ali flirts with everyone. That's
just the way she is. My stomach sunk. So it was all just a lie. A fucking joke.
Over the edge.
Ali had a boyfriend for the last two years. She recently kicked him out. It turns out
that he had been pawning off her stuff to pay for his drugs. Emily also tells me that
the guy (his name is Chris) is a total jerk and he treats Ali like shit. He has been
mooching off of her for the last two years. He dropped out of high-school, has no job,
is a junkie, and has no goals in life. According to Emily he is a total fucking loser.
So it turns out that the night that I called to ask her out, Ali was going out with
Chris - giving him another chance.
Why.
Nice guys always lose.
So does this mean that Ali is basically fucked up. She is continuing in an obviously
bad relationship. Is it because she likes being mistreated? Why? She could have
just about any man she wanted. She has had other boyfriends, and Emily said
that guys are continually drooling over her. So why does she stick with this creep.
We all end up over at Emily's that evening.
Ali doesn't even look at me all evening. Not even a glance.
Falling.
Crash.
I drive home listening to the Sex Pistols and Skatenigs. Screaming.
Fuck god fuck the world fuck life.
When I get home I destroy a cardboard box because I can't think of anything better to do.
I nearly pierced my eyebrow.
I got the needle part way through, but then I came to my senses.
I do have a job and I don't really want to get fired.
So I sat and listened to the most depressing music I could find.
Lycia. Bauhaus. The Cure. Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
And I went to sleep.
I woke up this morning and came to work and now I can't concentrate because I'm
so angry. At myself. At this perverse world. At Chris. At men who hurt women.
At women who allow men to hurt them. But mostly at myself.
I'm going to call her again and see if she'll go out sometime this week.
I can't give up yet.
I just keep hoping, so I end up hurting myself.
Fuck.

Sometimes I wish I were dead, but that happens to everyone.

-Thad

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