Things are about to get a little personal…

Part 1: Introduction

I have a confession…as much as I send out a vibe of ‘leave me the fuck alone’, I hate being lonely…that being said I do like my space (no reference to the social networking site). It’s a state of paradox. Do I open up and show my true feelings to the world? OR do I shut down even harder and make sure not one solitary emotion? Apart from a permanent sense of apathy which is sent out to the general public and my circle of friends most days. This leads me to the question…what does all this inner turmoil do for me…

Answer…fuck all.

Yet out of compulsion, I think too much, I’m thinking too much while typing this, thinking too much has cost me a fair bit, money, women, jobs…you know the important things…. I digress.

Why is it? That someone like myself (apparantly good looking, smart and talented) is hidden away in his room typing this into Word and listening to the music of his mp3 player. Because I’m lonely, especially in company. Once again, I reiterate….state. of. paradox.

I feel the most alone in a crowd, especially in a nightclub or rock venue. If I go out it’s with my housemates to a local nightspot. If I don’t get myself too shitfaced drunk to care about anything, I will get bored or jump into my shell and think..

‘I’m not like any of these people…why the fuck am I here….oh yeah. Strobe’

*Gav turns on the strobe light*

I have also said for years I don’t believe in the concept of love. To an extent I don’t….well not for me. I have never felt a closeness to anyone. I’ve had long term girlfriends, who’ve turned out to be maniacs, cheats or just don’t feel the same way as I do. I can and do care about the people I see every day, but i have very few people I’d call friends.

To make this worse, these friends are now growing up and settling down with there partners. Shit, some are getting married with plans for children. Here I am, writing blogs, brain full of crazy ideas on how to be famous or at least more wealthy, single and lonely. I’m career minded man without a career (because I fucked my radio career in 2007). Once these people get married thats it. It’s back to walking the street alone on a Saturday (no prostitution), going to a Perth music show with Schvendes on the bill, so I can wallow in the stupid emotional pain like some overwieght 15 year old girl…it’s fucking disgraceful on my part but thats where I see me heading.

If I don’t do what I’ve set out to do in the next 2 years, I’m going to be 26, living in a shitbox apartment alone somewhere near Perth, listening to music i’ve downloaded, eating shit food and slowly dying inside (in all senses of the term). The reason i’d get out of bed is to work, i’d still be on-air but you’d be able to tell i’m doing it out habit (I kinda already do). That and the need to be heard by someone other than me.

Part 2: The nomad…potentially

I recently went to Margaret River and stayed at a backpackers hostel. Why? To feel like I was in the company of like-minded people (that and I was pissed off with everyone I knew), I see backpackers as the lost children of this generation, they’re a lot like me in the sense, they feel that one place is just too depressing to hang around for too long. I don’t feel alone with these people, they have fantastic stories to tell and yet you don’t feel the need to get attached to these people and the stuff they share with you. It’s free, easy and in the case of the women…downright sexy. The best fun i’ve had in the last 24 years of my life has been at backpacker hostels, no one judges you for saying something silly (quite possibly due to the high drug and alcohol abuse from these people), backpackers love you for being a character (I guess you make a good story for them at the next hostel). It’s a strange sense of belonging.

As a woman said to me from “The Funkhouse’ in Sydney…’Once you Funk, you Funk’. This meant you’re one of us now, forever…that’s why such trivial thing such as this sentence stuck with me. It’s a simple idea (backpacker travel)… party, drink, chat, fuck, work until you have enough to move on and have the best time of your life. Then you return to you’re miserable life back home with the halfwit general public and your dead end job. I also spoke to a lovely Irish lass who said she’s never going home…trust me I knew the feeling when getting on the plane home from Sydney. Thanks to her.

Part 3: Love….whatever that means.

Maybe I just need to get laid, maybe I need to ease up on the intensity, maybe I need open the borders and let someone into my life.

Or maybe I should use some drunk average looking woman from the local nightclub, maybe should get into a drug habit, maybe I should get a girlfriend who’s terrible for me and makes me miserable everytime I see her and the only reason I stay with her is because of a steady stream of sex…

Yes, that was harsh…but that’s the foundation of a marriage isn’t it?

Harsh again…

Sorry, what I meant to say is, that maybe this whole thing stems from the fact that I’m feeling like a leper because I can find a woman that..

1. Will put up with me and my shit

2. Finds me attractive, phyiscally and mentally

and the all important…

3. Will love me for who I am and all of my shortcomings and will love me as much as I do her in general.

The Issues with this idea…all from my very narrow perspective.

1. There are very few (possibly none) women who fit this description…I don’t ask for much (I could ask for model good looks and and an incredible rack), yet this is how it is.

2. I’m now somehow been stuffed in the league of people who just latch onto anything with a pulse (no matter how ugly they are inside and out)…I know i’m above this…it may be fussy but I have standards and I refuse to lower them. It’s a good woman or nothing at all.

Note: any woman i’ve dated reading this, this is not a slight on SOME of you.

3. I’m a fucking idiot because I don’t believe in love, because I think it’s a cause of pain and sadness and financial debt.

Something that is supposedly as pure and wonderful as love is supposed to be is, for me I see love as I another way to get fucked over by someone. It’s really sad that I feel this way about love. It’s not even a word I utter verbally…it’s my taboo word.

I really try to believe that there is someone out there for me, but the divorce rate, people cheating on eachother, scheming women, arsehole men, rapists, wife beaters and me being the mentalcase that I am make me think otherwise.

I’d love to meet my match, i’d love to fall in love, wake next to my wonderful, beautiful girlfriend each morning, kiss her on the forehead and tell her “i love you and good morning” as I get up and do whatever it is I’d for a living. I’d love to watch indie films with her, go for a long drive to Busselton or somewhere of the like, get a hotel room and and talk, make love and cuddle for a whole weekend with our phones off and no distractions apart from meals. I’d kill for that. But rational/irrational thought says

‘Shut the fuck up you girl, that’s not going to happen so move on, hey look Family Guy on Fox8′

I’ll end this blog on this piece of conversation with my roommates (who are a couple):

Gav: There’s no such thing as love

Girl housemate: What do you call *name withheld* and I

Gav: Mildly deluded.

She gave me a disappointed, and angry look. The male roommate asks me where I got that quote from….I say “it’s original, sad huh?”.

I’d love for someone to prove me wrong.

With Love

Gav