I'm a loser. I really am. I may be well educated, intelligent, and morally decent. I'm kind. I have a good job that makes pretty good money. I have a lot of things going for me, but despite all that, I'm still a loser.
Someone I know has been trying to set me up with her very attractive sister for literally 2 months now. She told her sister about me. Her sister stopped into work to "check me out," and then told her she'd like to go out for drinks with me. She gave me her sister's number telling me she wanted me to call her.
I never did. It's not because I'm not interested. I am. From all reports, she's a really nice girl, and some have even said that we'd probably hit it off right away if we met. I really have no explanation as to why I haven't called her or at least made some attempt to meet her, except that I'm scared to death... Hence, I'm a loser.
I suppose it's a self-esteem problem, but with me, it's more stupidly complicated. I feel like I'm not good enough for her. I actually feel that I'm not good enough for anyone. I feel that no matter who I'm with, I'll always be holding them back from being with someone better. If I thought higher of myself, perhaps I wouldn't think like this. However, I'm a person who's grounded (too much so) in logic. I think that any girl that I'd be interested in would be able to get a better looking, more fun, more adventurous, more caring guy.
See, I'm the kind of guy who's not really offensive in any way. I'm OK looking; not ugly, but certainly nothing special. I'm nice. I'm smart. I can converse about a wide range of topics. I have a good job. I'm polite. There's nothing about me that would make someone turn and run quickly away.
However, I don't have a lot that would make someone interested to be any more than friends with me. I'm not exciting in the least bit. I'm a slave to routine. I'm not especially keen on trying new things. I tend to pick a few restaurants I like and eat at them all the time, rarely trying some place different. I don't like to dance (at least not at clubs). I don't have much passion for anything (except maybe examining my own shortcomings).
You know how some people are so excited about things that their energy is infectious, and it makes others get excited as well? These are the kind of people that could be so enthusiastic about reading a phonebook that others wouldn't be able to wait to join in. I'm the exact oppossite. I have a knack for making everything I do sound incredibly boring.
"What did you do last night Mike?"
"Well, I went to eat."
"Really??? Anyplace good?"
"No... not really."
"Who'd you go with?"
"No one really... just a few friends."
That's generally how a conversation about anything I do goes with me. A great example of this was my trip to Miami with a few friends last fall. My friends tell everyone stories about late night drunken fun, and always say how much fun they had. I tell everyone that it was OK, or that the weather was nice.
Often times, I feel like the only emotion I feel is frustration. I get frustrated with stupid people at work. I get frustrated with my boring life. I get frustrated with my parents and friends. I rarely feel happy. I rarely feel excited about anything. Few things move me at all.
Anyway... Within all that stupid meandering are the reasons I haven't called this nice, intelligent (at least her job would make you think she had to be intelligent), very attractive girl. The reason I'm writing about this now even though it's been going on for a couple months now is because the girl who was trying to set me up with her has pretty much given up and is now trying to set her up with someone else.
I actually feel jealous about this. How stupid is that? I have repeatedly shrugged off calling her, but now I'm feeling jealous that she's now trying to set someone else up. I think that's the definition of insanity. It actually goes right back to what eventually caused my break up with my ex; I'm afraid to say how I really feel. I want to scream out, "Wait! I really do want to meet your sister!," but I just can't. I can't get the words out of my mouth. It's almost as if it physically hurts to say what's actually on my mind.
In any case... that's why I'm a loser. I lament about how miserable my life is, even though I know perfectly well what I have to do to make it better. I'm really not lost or confused. I just won't, or maybe more accurately, I can't take those steps to self-improvement... and that makes me more miserable.
So again, I'm a loser.