Every now and then I experience that moment of vulnerability. Its like I take of my amour and realize the problems around me and my inability to solve them. I’m usually a very strong person but there are just some things that surpass the depths of my own strength. Today’s vulnerability is the fact that I’m alone. Being alone is not to be confused with being lonely; I’ve learnt to enjoy my own company fine enough. The problem is that sometimes you want someone to do things with and here is my downfall.
Being transplanted into another country comes with its own difficulties. If you’re a native, most of your friends will probably be people you’ve known all your life or people you’ve come to know through the people you’ve known. Its like a natural screening mechanism that helps you filter out the people you want to keep. On the other hand, when you’ve moved to a country where you have no one, its an endless series of trial and error. You have to stay on guard because you don’t know if the people you meet are truly there for you or what they can get from you. This has been my dilemma.
In the five years that I’ve been living in the UK, I have yet to meet someone that stands the test of friendship. The closest I’ve came was two guys. The first was my ‘friend’ until I discovered he was sharing things I had confided in him to other people. It wasn’t this that killed the ‘friendship’ but rather the fact that when I confronted him with my suspicion he denied it and then when I again confronted him with the evidence he lied about why he had done so. I loathe disloyalty and unnecessary dishonesty and therefore there was no basis for us to continue. The other ‘friend’ lived outside London and we chatted often and he would stay at my place when he came into London. After a course of events it was revealed to me that we weren’t really friends after all but rather he kept up the guise of ‘friendship’ so he would have a free, comfortable and convenient place to stay whenever he came to London to hit up the clubs and sex-spots. There are one or two other people I talk to from time to time but I could never take them seriously as friends because they are only ever available for phone conversations. They’re always too busy to actually meet up ad do anything.
One would think that it would be easy to meet friends in a vibrant city like London but in reality its not, especially if you want the ‘right’ type of friends. I’ve been through the cycles. I’ve met guys that live far beyond their means that to hang out with them you find yourself spending far more than necessary. I’ve met guys that practically live in the clubs and bars (they even know the staff by name). These guys cannot see beyond the next weekend and have no real career ambition (even though they believe they will one day be a CEO). I’ve met guys that will go anywhere with you as long as you’re paying the tab and others that believe every outing must end with sex (either with you or someone else). I’ve met guys that know every lyric to the popular songs but have no clue on global issues.
I sometimes desperately long for a basic group of friends that I could do normal stuff with; cinema, theatre, travel, meals. Friends that think nothing of spitting a bill and know that going Dutch has nothing to do with leaving the UK. Friends that aren’t looking to lube up but are excited to dissect the details. Friends that just want to know me and could care less about what I can offer them. I find myself wondering if I’m alone in this thought. I can’t be the only one in this big city feeling this way. Am I that much of an oddity?XOXO ~ City Boy