Background Noise

I don’t know why I do this to myself. Here I am, yet again, quite literally, the odd man out. I came to this wedding as a favor to the bride. I was to take one of her friends with me as a plus-one. That should have been the first sign that things were not going to go well for me. I agreed, because I thought it would be nice to get to know someone outside of my social circle, such as it is. My plus-one cancelled two days before the wedding, citing a family emergency. I gave her my hopes for a positive outcome. I figured that would get me out of the entire affair, but I allowed myself to be persuaded by the bride to attend, saying, “I’m sure you will meet someone at the wedding.” The wedding was lovely, the ceremony was performed outside in perfect weather and everyone looked great. The reception was held in a historic mansion where there were plenty of places to get lost, and as the evening wore on, that is exactly what I did. I wandered the house and grounds until I got bored and went home. I did not receive one text or call asking where I was from those who supposedly wanted me there. As far as they were concerned, I was like background noise that was pleasant to have around, but would not be missed if it was suddenly gone.

My name is James Clay. I am just over six feet tall, dark brown skin, and I am in better than average shape for my age. I weigh about one hundred and eighty pounds, and I do my best to maintain that weight by working out a few times a week. I work as a project director at a construction firm with branches all over the southeast. I should be well ahead in the dating game. But as you will see, that is not the case.

I have often been told that I have a lot of friends. The truth is that I just happen to know a lot of people. I don’t know if I can name one person that is more than a casual acquaintance. It has been this way since I can remember. As a child, I was just popular enough to get invited to most birthday parties, but I could not tell you the last name of the birthday boy or girl without looking at the invitation. When I was the one having the party, I would be lucky to see five people show up. After my tenth birthday, I asked my parents to not even bother. My high school and college years followed the same pattern. Don't get me wrong, I did not isolate myself. I did my best to socialize, but those efforts were one sided most of the time. I made attempts to date in high school and college, but most times, I was rejected. It wasn’t the rejection itself that hurt, it was the reasons behind it. ‘You are like a brother to me’. ‘We have such a great friendship, I don't want to ruin that’. But when things went badly in their relationships, I was the first person they came to. Through their tears, inevitably, they would tell me something like this, ‘I wish I could find a great guy like you’. The irony of that statement never ceases to amaze me. Despite my struggles, I somehow managed to have a few relationships along the way. They did not last very long for various reasons, but they did give me hope. If I could go back, I would have abandoned that hope because it inspired me to imagine a future for myself that was never going to happen. I was ‘the nice guy’. I was ‘the safe guy’. I was the guy that women wanted as their friend, but not as a romantic partner. But I was expected to comfort them as they cried to me about their own romantic pitfalls. To call the experience frustrating is a gross understatement.

By the time I was twenty-five, I had resigned myself to the fact that I was going to be single for the rest of my life. I was content with that fate, but it seemed that my acquaintances, particularly of the female persuasion, very much were not. I can’t tell you how many conversations I had that would contain some version of the saying, ‘There is someone out there for everybody’. I will be forty-six in a few months and my ‘someone’ has not appeared. This is despite many attempts both on my own and having been set up on dates by well meaning colleagues. But still, those conversations are had and the pattern of the last twenty-five years or so continues unbroken.

I have a successful career, own my house and my two vehicles outright. I have never been married, nor do I have children, so no baby mama drama. My credentials should put me near the top of the dating market. But despite this, I have not had a relationship in years. I have stopped attempting to form more than surface connections. I no longer actively date and it has been a relief. I don't have to pretend to be someone I am not. I don't have to deal with unrealistic expectations from either myself or potential partners. I also don’t have to entertain the hope that caused me so much pain and disappointment in the past. I may sound like I am whining or trying to spin a sob story to gain sympathy. That is not my intent. I simply wanted to tell my story that I am sure, other than details, is one shared by more people than we might think. I wish that no one had to experience what I have. It is not easy, nor is it fair; especially for those who try to do the right thing. The difference between myself and others is that I have not allowed my loneliness to rule me. I remember it, yes I deal with it daily, but I don't let it become a force in my life. I have found that the challenge is not having the condition of loneliness, but in how you handle it.