Forlorn

Arthur swirled his beer at the bottom of the bottle and ordered another from the curly haired bartender. He wished he could still smoke in the bar since the ambiance in his mind was very film noir. The neon and the soft jazz in the background set the scene.

Arthur just didn’t get it. Relationships, women, girls, ladies, dames, skirts, broads, birds, none of it made any sense to him. It made him very frustrated and sad. He was raised right, he was taught to be upstanding and moral. He was taught to be passionate and kind, yet forthright and strong. He was told to be himself, but to be the best version of himself and women would find him and want him. But so far, those lessons, everything he learned, have not turned out to be correct.

He tried. He really made efforts to meet woman of intelligence and class, of sophistication and humor, but they always seemed to want nothing to do with him. He was always the good friend, or the lover, or the guy that could be counted on to provide some thoughtful advice.  He was always polite, he was always honest, and he was always willing to be there if she really needed him.

But none of these smart, classy and funny ladies saw themselves with Arthur. It baffled him. He thought about all the things he’d love to explore and see and do with someone very special, instead he rocked a bar stool and mused on the nature of his relationships. He used alcohol to cover how hurt he was inside by all the woman he’d wanted to love, tried to love or dreamed about that had essentially rejected him either through action or inaction. It made him terribly mad and sad. A state of being that he knew was a real drag for everyone that cared about him.  

Arthur had been broken hearted since high school and the rejection by the first true love of his life. He’d been in love several times since, but there was always something wrong or the timing of the relationship was off or he just couldn’t bear to be the anchor weighing down the potential of someone special.  So he’d put on his brave face and go out in the world and try to be attractive, to be worldly, and to be someone whose experiences would be delighted in.  

He failed. He’d meet woman who weren’t on the same page as he. They wanted to go cliff diving in Panama or whale watching in Alaska, or zip lining in Costa Rica, or sky diving in Milwaukee, all things Arthur just didn’t really care about. He didn’t find any of that interesting or charming. Arthur’s problem is that he thinks he’s worthy of being loved by someone who’d rather sit with him on the porch on a summer evening than drive to Mardi Gras just cause it was there.  He’d rather be adventurous with someone.

He’d fooled himself into thinking he was someone another person could get excited about. He wanted more. He wanted a relationship that was larger than him, but still something that could be held in his hands, close to his heart and looked in on from time to time with awe.

 Arthur had high standards. He needed his partner to be someone of substance. He couldn’t stand stupid women or classless women. He didn’t like crassness or rudeness. He didn’t like women that hid behind the affectations of youth culture rather than dealing with their issues constructively. He didn’t get girls with tattoos across their breasts that said things like, “Precious”, or “Princess”, he didn’t like excessive facial piercings, he didn’t like woman that didn’t like to read or watched too many hours of reality television. He didn’t like flirts or girls that seemed to want to talk to every guy but him and then be dismissive of his jealousy. He didn’t like women that were still girls.

Arthur tried to fit in to the mold created for him. He tried to be the open armed open minded lover, he tried to be the patient man, the hopeful romantic and believed that love would indeed conquer all. He was beginning to believe that was all just romantic tripe and reality was that he’d always be alone. He was starting to think that no one would find him charming or lovable or worthy of deep and devoted affection to the point that a life without him would be less important. It was the way he wanted to feel about someone. He wanted his life to really start the day he looked into her eyes and fireworks would explode in his brain. He’d know that these were the eyes he would want to stare into as he passed from this Earth.

For now though, Arthur had to deal with his reality. He was broke, he was tired, he hated his job, he was lazy, he was getting fat, and he was morbid and too sad for most people to take. He was annoying, he was silly, and he was discontented most of the time. Arthur thought that perhaps he’d have to try to find himself a bit more attractive and maybe someone special might too.

Arthur pushed back his barstool and stepped outside.