Thursday, 19 February 2015

He Got Game

Day 45

Went out for my Birthday (did I mention it was my Birthday?) on Sunday to a bar in town. There was a band playing, there were lots of people and everyone was wasted. I sat at a table with my friends. I wanted to get up and dance but felt stuck in my seat. I felt like if I got up on the dance floor, I would just look stiff and stupid.

Whilst watching the drunk people sway to Bob Marley covers the band were playing, I notice this guy dressed (in my opinion) ridiculously. He's wearing (too) tight black jeans, a tight (too-small) t-shirt and a cowboy hat. And he's dancing like an idiot! He looks like a cowboy Michael Flatly. My first thought is, “look at this clown. What is he thinking?” Then I notice, however, that he is dancing with two quite attractive women. He's prancing about, putting the cowboy hat on their heads and they are loving it and getting all sexy with him.

My initial reaction was again one of scorn, both for him and (interestingly) the women he was dancing with. I was thinking, “why can't they see through it? This guy is an obvious sleazeball.” Then I realised the real reason behind my derision: jealousy. This guy had 'game' and I was completely jealous of him. He didn't care what I (or anyone else) thought of him, he was doing what he could and he was doing fine. And wait a moment, which one of us was dancing with two nice-looking girls here?


'Game' is something most (in general) Canadian men have in spades; if they think a girl is good-looking, they tell her, or they ask her to dance. They are very much 'men' and there is rarely danger of them slipping into the Friend Zone. This ability to convert talking to women into sexytime (or even just starting a conversation in the first place) is what I consider to be having 'game.' It's something by which I currently feel curiously deserted.

I'm becoming more and more convinced that porn was the crutch which stopped me from ever getting past this point or facing this fear. Normally after a night of frustration like this, I would go home and whack off and this (somehow) would make it alright. Now I'm not doing this, however, I know I've got to grow up, be brave and (re)learn how to interact asap. I'm frustrated enough to make a change as I now have no alternative.

Really what I think is that access to porn is making and keeping us ever-more alone and anesthetizing us to the reality of it. Just as alcohol, tobacco and caffeine prop us up throughout our tedious weeks in our shitty jobs, so porn makes us feel less alone when we come home to an empty flat after a long day.

Porn makes it bearable that we don't speak to people on the train or approach those we find attractive; we've got an alternative which offers us just enough to keep going. Sure, it's a pale imitation of real human contact, but the longer it stands in for it, the more the memory of actual contact fades and porn begins to replace it completely. A simulacrum of the real, it becomes our 'human' contact.

Take it away and we feel the loss. We (porn addicts) actually have a relationship with our laptops. The routine of PMO becomes built into our lives until porn essentially becomes our girl/boyfriend! It's a shite state of affairs!

Day 46

Comedy gig in the big town a couple of hours drive away. Did nearly 70% brand-new material and nailed it. Felt great to be brave. For some reason, my confidence in this area has been far higher since I got to Canada. I think being an 'oddity' gives me a bit of a leeway and I guess also I'm not afraid of being judged by my (English) peers so I have more confidence. Whatever the case, it's working for me right now.

Q: How I can I be brave enough to do this and still not brave enough to talk to women?

Actually a couple of girls did speak to me (saying “good job” etc) including one who was clearly up for it. But she seemed pretty drunk and trashy, and she had this ridiculous faux-British accent which really put me off. Also, she evidently wanted to talk while there was an act on stage and I was not into this.

Etiquette dictates that if you want to be listened to when you're on stage, you listen to others when they are. Also, I am a die-hard comedy fan, and can never abide cnuts who talk through performances. So I moved away from her. She ended up talking to some hipster (she to him: “I love your jacket.” Him to her: “thanks, I made it myself.”), both of them then getting told to shut up by the (awesome, grey-haired biker) promoter.

So I had a (half) chance and I intentionally blew it. What is it they say about beggars and choosers? Anyway, I had a great night comedy-wise. I could see some of the women in the room watching me as I left. In a perverse way, I enjoyed ignoring them (!) and disappearing into the night like an enigma (twat), but really I'm pretty lonely and would love for one of them to have spoken to me. That sounded a lot less sad in my head, by the way.

I got to thinking, is this why I do comedy? So girls will pick me up? Seems like a lot of effort to go to just to avoid a small amount of rejection, but there could be something in it.

In other news, got a match on Tinder with this girl with an intentionally gross profile pic where she's squishing up her chin to give herself a double. NOTE: never discount out of hand the intentionally 'ugly' profile pic. Could be a secret hottie with a gsoh.

Day 48

Have started to feel that I am wasting my time. Not with the NoPorn Challenge (convinced on that one) but with the diary and the blog. What's the point of doing all this writing if no-one's ever going to read it? Does anyone even care about whether porn is having a negative affect on the world? Is there even any point to what I am doing? And how do I get any cnut to read it if I can't tell my friends about it?

The other day I was describing the project to a house guest of my room mates and he asked what it was about and I couldn't tell him. I just mumbled something and said I''d rather not say. Now they see me writing the whole time and it seems weird that I can't tell them what it is.

In a way, I am not prepared to tell them what it is until it is successful. But it will never be successful unless I tell them what it is. Catch twenty-bloody-two.

I even applied to put the blog on Mumsnet! What was I thinking? Mumsnet!? The best that's going to come of this is that I get a load of middle-aged housewives reading about me whacking off, the worst is that I end up on the f***ing Register!

I see the page views go up but have no idea how many of those are just me re-reading what I've written. So here's an appeal, friends, if you're reading and enjoying, tell someone! Anyone! Just tell them and then get them to tell someone else. And then get them to tell someone else. And then get them.. You get the picture.

Thanks,

Wayne


P.s Sprained my thumb snowboarding so have been off the hill again. Been in the house all day by myself fighting powerful PMO cravings. Usually these would be the ideal conditions for me to binge in but I am still staying strong. Been watching Charlie Brooker and Catastrophe, both of which are aces. Also been writing a lot (obviously). I remain porn-free, though it is still a challenge.

No comments:

Post a Comment