Nothing like browsing through your Facebook friends to decide who to invite to your birthday. My upcoming anniversary of life has opened up a large flow of emotions and realizations, an awakening to the isolation that has been slowly setting in.
I’ve been without a serious boyfriend for about a year and a half. I’ve dated a few people for short periods in there, but nothing that lasted. My friends have been sequestering themselves in the warm embraces of significant others, leaving our conversations and social interactions few and far between. I get that. It’s life. It’s natural to couple off and weave your time with another. I’ve done that most of my twenties.
I’ve got some single friends, too. There are some who are down to party, who are tons of fun. There are guys who I can occasionally lose time with in brief snippets of romance. There are work friends and acquaintances and the “oh yeah, that guy” of the world. My mom tells me how gregarious I am, which I know to be true to a certain extent, in short bursts of energy.
With all of these people I know, who do I want at my birthday? Who actually wants to come?
I made the sad realization that I am nobody’s best friend. I don’t even know if I have a best friend. There have been moments with people I know where real emotions bubble under my lips, but the words pop into a meaningless laugh and deflecting question. The loneliness is sometimes bitter and uncomfortable, but I’ve learned to manage. I would rather feel that than enter a relationship just to appease the feeling. I do wish that I had someone I felt like I could call when a life event happens. I wish I had someone who I could discuss real fears, hopes, experiences with.
I’m stuck on my own private island right now, but I know how to swim. It will be okay, I’m sure.