so very alone…

I’ve had a membership at a nearby health club for three years, during which I have been to the gym five times, I think. I would have quit a long time ago, but it’s one of those places where they lock you in for five years by enticing you with a good rate. Which sounds fine, of course, when you’re all energized and committed about getting in shape. It doesn’t seem like quite as good of a deal when you realize two years into it that you’re paying an average of $480 for each time you go.

I don’t know why I went today. I didn’t have anything else to do, I guess. I literally had run out of things to do.

So I went to the "challenge" court today, where you don’t have to reserve the court. Anyone can come over anytime and challenge whoever else is there. Whoever wins gets to stay in the court.

I haven’t played racquetball in at least nine years until today, but it came right back to me. No, it more than came right back to me. I played better than I ever have. I may have, in fact, played racquetball today better than I have ever done anything before. For sure better than I’ve ever done any sport before.

I beat the guy in the court when I was the challenger, two games straight, then I beat the next two challengers to come in, both 2 games straight. By then I was tired and ready to go home.

A strange thing happened while I was playing, though. The first guy I played, I didn’t really have anything to say (I lied when he asked what I did for a living; I didn’t want to say I was unemployed). But the more I won, the more talkative I felt. By the time I finished beating the third person, I was having this strange almost out-of-body experience: "Who is this chatty, friendly guy who seems to be controlling my body?" I thought.

It makes me wonder: is the reason I always feel isolated because I am constantly "losing" to them? I lose in relationships, I lose at work, I lose with my family. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel particularly friendly in any of those situations (and those situations make up almost the entirety of how I interact).

One thing is certain: I am going back to play more racquetball tomorrow.

Isolation score (it’s been a long time since I’ve done one of these): 0!

23 Comments »

Some of you were bored by my description of what for me was one of the most intense weekends of my life. I am very sorry. I apologize if my life lacks the pizzazz of other bloggers. Perhaps I should have mentioned some other things that happened over the weekend:

* I had sex with Becky. Her fifth orgasm was so intense that she went into anaphylactic shock. Unfortunately, the medivac pilot had a heartache during the flight to the hospital, so I was forced to land the helicopter on the helipad with one hand while performing CPR with the other. At the hospital, I had sexual relations with two nurses while a third nurse had me sign the hardback edition of my most recent book.

* I shot and killed a goat from a neighboring farm.

* Zombies attacked the intentional community. Realizing the futility of trying to kill the undead, I bravely led us to our escape through ancient underground tunnels, where I discovered one of the tablets that Moses brought down from the mountain. Government officials whisked it away. That was interesting.

* The Academy tried to present me with a Lifetime Achievement Oscar for “Overall Excellence in Personality and Cinematic Taste.” I rejected the award due to Hollywood’s stereotypical representation of Cylons.

There. Satisfied?

34 Comments »

When I went back in the house the next morning, Chuck had the same predictable look on his face that he always gets. It wouldn’t matter if I walked in the door with a Hugo Award or a dead cat — he’d still look at me with that same bemused smile, as if he knows everything about me. Becky was baking bread and dealing with fussy children while Chuck presided in all his magnificence. The crying children made me want to leave, and the yeast smell made me want to stay forever.

“If you could be anything, what would you be?” asked Chuck.

 I thought about saying “You,” but I was afraid he’d take me seriously. I didn’t want to answer truthfully. What I most wanted was to be was a normal person with a wife and friends who come over and play Uno with us. If I had that, my life would be so rich and full that I wouldn’t want anything else.

“An astronaut,” I answered. Chuck’s hero growing up was Buzz Aldrin.

“You don’t realize the power that’s inside you,” he said. “All you need to do — and I mean all you need to do — is live the life of the person you want to be. If you want to be a famous writer, live like a famous writer. If you want to be a millionaire, live like a millionaire. Your desires will manifest.”

Becky was nodding her head.

“Are you coveting my wife?” he said. He got up and wrapped his arms around Becky from behind and started kissing her neck.

Becky left the kitchen trying not to cry.

Chuck sat down again and had that puppetmaster smile on his face. He knows everything about everyone.

I tried to stay there longer. I really did. While I was driving away in my car, I had in mind that I was just going out for a spin and that I’d return. I got lost and couldn’t find my way back, so I just kept going.

What a strange trip!

34 Comments »

I don’t know why I felt so comfortable at my brother’s house. In a lot of ways, the whole setting revolted me. For some reason, that didn’t stop me from being a chatterbox. I kept asking Chuck and Becky question after question, sometimes alone, sometimes together. And these were very personal questions. I think I talked more this weekend than I have in the whole last year. It wore me out.

The biggest conversation topic — besides the nonsense about The Secret — was the open marriage. I kept asking how it worked, and they both sounded like they wanted to be hip. “Yuppie Puritans want to drag their fascist sexual repression into the bedroom.” Chuck sounded genuinely convincing. Becky sounded like she was going along for the ride. She seemed fine with the theory of open sexuality, talking about how jealousy, rage, and one other emotion (bitterness?) should be shunned in all instances, but the actual practice seemed to be a different matter. My brother is a charismatic, intelligent guy – and selfish. I think he had convinced Becky to live against her sweet nature.

On Saturday night, Chuck went out after dinner to be with some of his weirdo secret religious friends. After I finished doing the dishes in the kitchen, I went into the front room to hang out with Becky. The room was lit by candles and moonshine, and the light from the fire made the room glow. She was breast-feeding her youngest child, who was more than two years old. It made me dizzy to see that big fat kid lying on top of his mother. It seemed sexual. Part of me felt like I belonged there, like I had finally come home. A different part of me felt like I was visiting from a different planet.

I left the house, got in my car, and thought about driving home. I just couldn’t bring myself to turning on the ignition. So I slept in the back seat of the car for the second night in a row.

37 Comments »

The bad news is that I had a miserable time visiting my brother’s family and I’m sick with a chest cold. The good news is that I have something to write about that doesn’t involve laundry habits or angry emails from ex-coworkers. Where do I start? I’m tempted to jump ahead to the most interesting things that happened, but I’ll go in order.

I had my brother’s address and a printout from Mapquest, so it should be an easy drive, right? Wrong. I think Mapquest is a deeply insecure program. When it doesn’t know where the destination is, it makes up fake directions because it doesn’t want to look stupid. I got lost and ended up sleeping in the car that first night (yes, I left late; yes, I lost money). After asking around, I finally figured out where Chuck and Becky live. 

They live in Amish country, but they aren’t affiliated in any way with the Amish, other than bartering goods here and hiring cheap labor there. One misconception I had about the Amish is that they’re a clean, hard-working, industrious people. Hard-working and industrious, yes. Clean? No. Maybe there are other Amish communities who run a tighter ship, but these people live in squalor.

Anyway, Chuck and Becky live in a poorly built home on five acres. There are eight other families who belong to their “intentional community,” and they all live on different sized lots with different structures. On one end of the spectrum, a family constructed a gorgeous country home next to a pond stocked with fish. On the other end, several families still live in old beat up trailers. Each family has different assignments. In theory, they should be able to get all their meat and produce from their own community, but the problem is that people are people. It doesn’t take long for a utopia to turn into dystopia. Still, despite all the in-fighting and laziness and bitter feelings, it seemed like a decent way to live. I’d even consider moving to a place like that if I were a completely different person.

First dropped bomb - My brother had no idea I had been mad at him for years. When I told him I was willing to forgive him, he claimed he had no idea what I was talking about. When I asked him why he thought I wasn’t returning his calls and refusing to see him, he said he thought I was me just being me — he thinks he’s the only sane person in the family. Then he said how glad he was to see me. I wanted to smack him.

Second dropped bomb - Becky claims that she and I were never dating. She says we were study partners and friends, but that was all. And here’s what’s odd about it. I think she genuinely believes her wild fabrication. After all these years, she’s been able to alter her memories somehow. I guess if you tell lies long enough, you start believing them. By the way, Becky has gained weight, but she looks as gorgeous as ever. Wow.

Third dropped bomb - Becky and Chuck are deeply religious people who have an open marriage. They have a name for their religious group and they told me who their guru is, but they refused to say much about it because they aren’t allowed to. They’re also into some new self-help program called The Secret. They wouldn’t shut up about that.

I just realized that this blog entry is going to be way too long if I keep going, so I’m going to end here and do this in multiple segments. I’m going to take a nap and write more when I wake up.

24 Comments »

Here’s an email message I got today.

[Harlan]:

This morning, a friend of mine forwarded a link to www.soveryalone.com to me, saying, "I just found this wierd website from the Bloggies award page! Does this sound like someone you know?" I think she was kidding around, but based on the time you stole my plant and the rose plant you sent me for Valentines day I am positive this is really your blog, "Harlan." And I have never been so disgusted in my entire life.

I can’t believe I used to try to be your friend, while meanwhile you were entertaining your little friends describing your creepy stalker behavior toward me. I used to feel sorry for you being fired (even though you say here that you quit, in a story so full of lies I don’t even know where to start).

I am going to say this one time, "Harlan." DO NOT EVER MENTION ME IN YOUR BLOG AGAIN. DO NOT SEND ME FLOWERS OR ANYTHING ELSE, AND DO NOT TRY TO CONTACT ME. DON’T EVEN REPLY TO THIS EMAIL If you do, I promise you that I will tell HR, "Richard" and everyone else you mention in your little blog about this, and I guarantee some of them will be a lot less fair about this than I am being.

I don’t like having to be like this, "Harlan," but you don’t leave me any choice. I am absolutely serious about this.

You need to get some help.

[Jane]

I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. I’ve heard other people say that before when they’re talking about something really bad happening to them, but I’m surprised how literal that feeling is. It’s really like I’ve been punched.

I’m sure Jane is reading this, so I hope she’ll forgive me for mentioning her one last time here, as an apology: I’m so sorry I hurt you, Jane. I hope you can forgive me some day. Not that I have any right to expect it, and I promise I won’t bother you again.

I’m already set to go out to see my brother tomorrow, so I’ll be gone for a couple days. That’s for the best anyways, because I need to think about whether I ought to have this blog at all. The thought of anyone (or everyone!) else I know finding out about this is about the most humiliating thought I have ever had.

80 Comments »

One of the odd things about not having a job — especially after spending some time in a casino — is that it’s easy to fall out of schedule. I take such long naps during the day that there’s no way I can sleep at night, so I don’t even try. And for some reason, I don’t want to sleep in my bed, so I sleep on my futon couch or on the sheepskin rug that I got from Pier 1 (yes, I paid for it). I’ve even fallen asleep in my computer chair (no, I didn’t pay for that one — let’s just say I got a screaming good deal at Walmart). I sleep best when the dryer is on.

I’m not exactly eating well either. You know your schedule is off when you’re eating cold pizza for breakfast in the evening. I think that’s one of the reasons I was so upset with Richard. If you have coffee with someone in the middle of the night, you’re going to be a little on edge. He’s still wrong to pick at me. Was I really dating Becky? What kind of question is that? We spent a lot of time together, I loved her, she seemed into me — end of story. I keep thinking about my vow to be as honest as I possibly can on this blog, even if it means showing parts of myself that aren’t flattering, and I honestly believe that Becky and I were dating.

One thing that did occur to me is that maybe my brother made the same mistake as Richard. Maybe he thought we were just studying together. But no. I have a distinct memory of telling him that I was in love with her, and of bragging about her. I have no illusion that he put his own needs over mine. I blame both him and Becky for the fact that I’m alone. I think all the time about what my life would be like if my brother hadn’t intervened. I’d have a house instead of a condo, I’d mow the lawn and plant a vegetable garden. I’d have children. And I’m fairly certain that marriage would help me overcome my social insecurities. We’d have friends over.

I’d be normal.

My sister tells me they’re living in a commune near the Amish. She says they call it an “intentional community.” She thinks the whole thing is weird, but I seriously doubt it’s any weirder than her life. Since I’m between jobs right now, I think it’s time to visit them. I just decided that this very moment, while I’m writing this. (At the very least, it’ll give me something to write about.) I’m going to click Submit and then head off to a pay phone.

27 Comments »

Richard sent me a long email message that seemed polite and condescending at the same time. It’s as though he thinks he’s superior to me because he’s got a job and I don’t. He loves talking about my problems, but the guy’s got his own problems. For crying out loud, he’s gay and his favorite movie is Top Gun! I agreed to meet him for coffee today, so I showed up at the Starbucks near my old work. I’d forgotten how much I hate the music in Starbucks. Who the hell is Robert Plant? And you know what else stinks about Starbucks? The pastries. How hard is it to get donuts and danish rolls that taste like they were made this week? Anyway, I was in a foul mood when I met Richard, and I’m still in a foul mood.

He started by apologizing for telling me to stop leering at women. He said it was none of his business and he just wanted to help me recognize a blind spot. And then he apologized for some other advice he’d given me in his email about not being so extreme (he went on a long spiel about how I was too timid or too bold, too quiet or too loud, blah blah blah). I accepted his various apologies and almost felt like we were on equal footing, so I decided to answer his question about why I was so reluctant to visit my brother. That’s when he pissed me off again.

Here’s the deal. Back in the college days, I was in love with the most beautiful woman in the whole world. Becky was bright and charming and funny. She was all I could think about. She was all I dreamed about. To make a long and painful story short (and still painful), Becky is currently married to my brother. Instead of sympathizing with my betrayal and joining me in my bitter hatred of my brother, Richard decided to play lawyer.

Was I actually dating Becky?

Did I think my brother might have been telling the truth when he spouted his bullshit about thinking Becky and I were just friends?

I’m afraid Richard had a hostile witness. Of course I was dating Becky! We sat next to each other in class, we studied together, we had lunch together, we went on walks after class. I loved her and she loved me! Just because we didn’t see movies together and go out on traditional “dates” and have sex doesn’t mean we weren’t in love! I was pissed. Instead of making a big scene and yelling at Richard, I just got up and walked away.

I’m thinking about turning off email.

38 Comments »

You know what I really like about not having anyone to see, or anywhere to go, or anything to do? I really like that I can wear the sweatpants I’m comfortable in, every day. And I can wear the two shirts I really like (they’re identical, except in color), wearing one of them for two days, then wearing the other for two days.

Then I do a load of laundry. And I never have to fold clothes, I just take them straight out of the dryer. And I never have to gather dirty clothes up, because when they’re dirty I throw them directly in the washing machine.

Then, when my sweatpants and both shirts (and socks and underwear, which I am careful to change every day, thanks for not asking) are in the washing machine, I run a load as I go to bed, then throw them in the dryer when I get up. By the time I’ve finished showering and have had breakfast, I’ve got a week’s worth of clothes ready for me again.

This is a great system. Several times, I’ve been tempted to throw all the rest of my clothes, hangers, and my dresser drawers away. Then I remember I can’t do this forever, I have to start looking for a job soon.

I know I should be working on my resume right now. But I get sick just thinking of job interviews.

It’s no fun always feeling alone, but subjecting yourself to the scrutiny of a job interview hardly counts as a friendly get-together.

18 Comments »

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a landline; a cell phone is all I need. But while I was away on my gambling spree or since I’ve been back, I’ve misplaced my phone.

I kind of suspect I left it in my hotel room. I’ve checked online, and no minutes have been used, so it’s probably in the hotel lost and found.

But I didn’t realize it was missing until yesterday, when I went to order a pizza. I couldn’t find it, so I ordered the pizza online.

Here’s what not having a phone means to me:

1. It means I have a great reason for why I’m not getting any calls. For all I know, all kinds of people are trying to get ahold of me, and they just can’t, because my phone’s missing.

2. It means I have a great reason for not telling my sister that I’m unemployed. She has never, even once, emailed me, so I don’t have to worry about her trying to check up on me that way.

Once I get my resume updated and start sending it out, I’ll get a replacement phone. Meanwhile, I’m discovering that not getting calls because you don’t have a phone feels a lot better than not getting calls because you’re not a fun person to talk with.

12 Comments »