The Nine Faces of Dave
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my predictions are coming true
It's one in the morning, I have class at 9:40, and I decided
to spend the evening at the improv open rehearsal instead of
reading my CS book like a good nerd. Ah well, I guess that
if I flunk out it'll be my own fault.
So I was looking through old entries when I came across this
gem of a line from one:
"I wonder what the odds are that I'll end up a bitter single
male with no meaningful relationships and a job I hate."
So far, I'd say the odds are damn near one hundred percent,
seeing how that's what I am now. I'm still single, I don't
really have any close friends yet (that is, nobody I really
trust with my secrets), and while I don't loathe my job, I'm
only in it for the money.
It would be wrong to say that I'm entirely unhappy, because
at least at college there's more freedom. But I don't think
things are going as well as they could. And still I put on
a facade. Why? Because my dissatisfaction is so fucking
pathetic in nature.
I'll admit, I'm sick of being single. "Waah, Fucking Fatass
Dave doesn't have a girlfriend and now he's depressed. What
the fuck do you expect?" That's the problem: I expect stuff
to be different from how it is, probably because of all the
shit I had to deal with for nine fucking years. I guess I'm
expecting the wheel of fortune to turn in my favor.
But let's face it, I'm being unreasonable to want for women
to find me attractive, or at least think I'm cool, because
it just isn't going to happen. I'm a tubby programmer with
long hair and a beard. When was the last time you saw some
guy like me with any member of the opposite sex?
And the worst part is, deep down, I know the whole thing is
my fault. When you really think about it, there is just no
one else who can take the blame. Sure, you could blame the
fuckers who picked on me and beat me up in grade school for
stunting my social development, or you could blame the dicks
who pulled shit in middle school for destroying my ability
to trust people, but how far will that go?
I'm the one who let myself get fat. I'm the one who was too
paranoid about getting suspended to actually get into a few
fights and prove I wasn't a wuss. And you know why I didn't
do it? Because I am a wuss. I'm weak. I'd like to change,
but I just can't do it. I'd like to lose weight, but I love
food and I'm too lazy to exercise regularly.
And I forgive the transgressions that others commit against
me in hopes that they'll someday atone for it by turning out
to be a really good friend. And even though it never works,
I keep on trying.
What woman in her right mind would want to be with somebody
like myself? For that matter, who'd really want to befriend
a fool like me? Probably only others like me.
You know who ends up being successful in life? People like
my roommate. Now he's probably the best roomie I could have
asked for, but the interesting thing is that he is the sort
of person I probably would have hated otherwise. Athletic,
popular, and evidently very attractive to the womenfolk. He
is, for the most part, everything I'm not, and yet we still
get along great. Guess things like that don't matter now.
So this has probably been the stupidest entry I've written
in a long time. Jesus, I can't even do this right. I am a
failure at my life.
I'm going to sign off before this thing starts making even
less sense than it does now.
This is Dave, saying "fuck it" to trying to be happy.