I’m at a very strange time in my life. I’m 29, married to an amazing woman, have my own house, two dogs, a great job… I can’t complain. But, well, maybe I can. Happiness is relative, you can agree with me on that, right? So many things couldn’t be better in my life, but some things could. I look at it this way: Say I’ve got a headache. Now, it may not be a broken leg, but if all is well besides, then a headache is still pretty shitty, you follow?
I’m finding it really hard to express myself while not sounding like a total bitch. I am a very happy and content guy, generally. Sometimes I just go through these little spats. It’s like a cloud momentarily blocking out the Sun in an otherwise bright and clear day. I get a little depressed an usually mope around the house, assuring my wife that everything is alright, locking myself in my nerd lair to stew in my own juices (there’s a food reference for you). I’m a pretty unique individual. I think I’m the only guy on the planet obsessed with both RPGs and food. I sometimes find myself fantasizing about situations that I know will never happen: Buying a case or two of some seasonal microbrews and going camping with a bunch of guys, spending our time smoking barbecue, hiking, and playing D&D. To me that would be the greatest weekend ever. EVER. And I know it will never, ever happen. I’m realistic. Most guys would be just as happy hitting up the dollar menu at McDonalds and pounding a 30 pack of Bud on the front porch. That’s just not me.
While I may be realistic, I’m also sick of resisting. I’m tired of running against the grain. Before it was “They’re happy so I’m going to be happy too goddamnit, friends or no!” Yeah, that worked for a little while, but my seemingly impenetrable exoskeleton is starting to crack. A rust monster has got a hold of my Full Plate +3 and I feel defeated. As I type this I subconsciously let my shoulders slump. I’m vigorously waving the white flag of surrender.
Alright, let me get right to the point: When it comes right down to it, I pretty much don’t have any friends. I’ve gently brought up this topic of conversation with acquaintances, co-workers, family, just to get their take on it, and the answer is always the same: Its part of becoming an adult. Wait, what? Not having any friends is part of being an adult? I guess it could be a part of it. Dear friends of days past have moved to other states, gotten married, had kids, etc., etc. And I get that. What I didn’t realize is that marriage involves officially retiring your testicles. I guess we skipped that part of our vows.
I understand being busy, I’m just as busy as the next guy. Let me lay out a typical week for you: 5 days a week are spent either running or going to the gym with my wife and her best friend. The other two days are usually spent blogging, researching food travel ideas, cooking or going out to eat (usually with the wife and her best friend). And it’s KILLING ME. I find it very sad that my only dude time is when I hang out with my dad. While I wouldn’t trade my dad for anything in the world, it would be nice to have some dude friends with common interests.
I guess this is due a lot to that very reason: common interests. When I first started getting into food I was thrilled that I finally had something I could talk with random people about. Everyone needs to eat and therefore everyone has their own thoughts on food. I always find these food blog posts about the bloggers and their friends throwing these elaborate dinner parties and I can’t help but think to myself: I wish I could do that. The only way I get to see any of my now distant friends is to organize something on Facebook three months in advance. I find that more than a little frustrating. I’ve got as far as considering putting out a personal ad…
Young adult couple in search of friends in late-20s, early-30s. Interests include all things food-related (cooking, eating out, tastings, festivals, etc.), travel (domestic and international), beer & wine, camping, hiking, running, working out, movies, role-playing games, fantasy…
Something like that. Those last two things would probably be misinterpreted and we’d get nothing but swinger invites (love you Dave and Nat), in any case I would never have the balls to put out something like that. There are some strange people out there, and we’re normal, just different. That makes perfect sense, right?
I don’t really know what the point of this post is supposed to be. I guess it’s the siren call of my down-in-the-dumpedness. You’ve bled with Wallace, now bleed with me. Is having no friends really just a part of being an adult? I sure hope not. Now who’s up for some mole poblano and Crono Trigger? I lost. You won. Here’s fifteen points. Now wasn’t that fun?