It’s funny to me when people talk about the internet as not being real. I mean, communities on the internet. I understand that attitude from twenty years ago when it was new and unusual. But. It’s been a thin now for quite some time, and people have made lifetime friendships and even met their long-term partners in this fashion. I met Ian on Twitter a decade ago, and our friendship is still going strong. Most of our interactions are online-based, but that doesn’t make it any less real. I know that he would do anything for me (and has). He knows I would do anything for him (and have). My door is always open to him and vice-versa. He’s coming to visit in a week and staying for two weeks. It’ll be the first time I’ve seen him since the pandemic, and I cannot wait. We have such an easy rapport that it’s like being by myself (which is a compliment). My cat loves him almost as much as he (Shadow) loves me, and that’s saying something.
I met K in person nearly three decades ago, but we only talked once every few weeks. This was before messaging and texting was common. We got together once every other month or so, but we knew that we could see each other more often than that if we wanted. Until she moved to Philly. I will admit that was hard. Even though we didn’t see each other that often, the knowledge that I could drive fifteen minutes to her house was comforting. We message every now and again, and we talk once a month for hours. She’s planning on visiting in a month or so, and I cannot wait. I picture us thirty years from now in an old folks home, heckling the other inmates.
The fact that I have to use technology to nurture both of these relationships for the most part doesn’t make them any less real. We don’t have to be physically in each other’s presence in order to care about each other. I love both of them just as much as if I see them every day. Honestly, probably more because I am a solitary person. I wouldn’t want to see any person every single day, though Ian did stay with me for four months (on was it three?) when he had an internship with Game Informer, and we had no problems.
I get that there are different vibes when you’re hanging in person than when it’s online, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be a different kind of friends within an online community. Like in the RKG Discord, I do genuinely care about the people. I want the best for them. I’m happy when something good happens to them and sad when something bad happens. There are in-jokes and short-hands. There are shared experiences and some of them meet in person (the Brits) on the regular.
I don’t think it’s sad or pathetic. If I’m looking to expand my community, I’m going to go to the internet first. I have many reasons it’s difficult for me to meet in person, not in the least because I have a very shitty immune system and we’re still in the middle of an endemic. Yeah, I’ve decided it’s an endemic and not a pandemic, but that doesn’t make it any less serious. If anything, it’s more so because we’re going to have to deal with it for the rest of our lives.
I have started thinking about dating, mostly because my brother is so into it. It’s been really interesting to watch him apply his go-for-it mentality to dating because I’m such a drag-my-feet kind of person. He’s out there, meeting women, and not getting too hung up in if they really like him or not .It’s probably part of being on the spectrum, but I wish he had tips for me. I care too much about what other people think/feel; he cares too little. If you mash us together and split us in half, that would probably be the right amount of caring.
When he’s here and we’re both looking at the apps, he’s swiping right and left with abandon while I’m answering dozens of questions on OkCupid, but not actually swiping anybody. He’s actually meeting people whereas I get overwhelmed by the apps. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it certainly cuts down on my ability to meet people.
Which, you know, I’m mostly fine with. I like my own company and my online presence. But, I’m wondering if it’s making me a little TOO comfortable. A part of me thinks it’ll be good for me to actually meet up with people in the physical world. To grab a coffee with someone, though the idea sitting in a closed environment with someone scares me a bit.
I know I could probably suggest an outdoor meeting, but I don’t want to go through all that just to meet someone new. Most of my depression and anxiety disappeared when I died (twice!), but there is still a trace of both, which pops out at unexpected times. This is one of them.
I am terrible at dating. Just awful. First of all, I’m attracted to people who aren’t attracted to me. Straight women, gay men, committed people, and so on. I realized in my thirties this was because I had issues with commitment. I thought I wanted to be in a long-term, monogamous relationship, but realized it’s not exactly true. Since I was waffling about it, of course I would be attracted to other wafflers.
I do want sex, though. But, again, I’m worried. Why? Because I had two cardiac arrests and a stroke. Granted, it wasn’t because of my heart (which is as right as rain), but who’s to say? The doctors. They say I’m fine, but I can’t get it off my mind. Again, it’s hard to find stats about people who survive sudden cardiac arrests because, well, it just doesn’t really happen. So I’m living my life not knowing what will happen–which, I mean, that’s just life innit?
My medical crisis has taught me not to limit myself because this is the only life I have. But it’s not as easy to put into practice as I would like. I’ll keep trying, though, because what other option do I have? It’s a myth that we can predict what’s going to happen, and my medical crisis has really opened my eyes on that subject. A month or so after I left the hospital, I was arguing with my mother about keeping the weekly nurse visits. She wanted me to do it, and I was ready to stop them. She finally said that it made her feel safe because they could help me if something happened to me. Which was completely not the reason for the visits. She wanted a guarantee that nothing else bad would happen to me, which was an impossibility. I was ready to live my life, which is still my ultimate goal.