Where'd ya go CD?

MIA -noun
[ěm'ī-ā']
1. A member of the armed services who is reported missing following a combat mission and whose status as to injury, capture, or death is unknown

So I've been away for some time, neglecting this poor blog, for that I do apologize to both you Dear Reader and to you poor blog.

So lets play some catch up shall we?

Around mid April I was given notice that my contract would be ending on May 31st, it's been two whole weeks now that I've been underemployed, and a whole month since I have gotten a pay cheque. For a guy that unfortunately lives hand to mouth, this friends is not a good situation to be in. On the plus side I have managed to get a couple of writing jobs and am still slowly working on my Freelance Writer website.

On May 1st I headed back to Golden BC for a few weeks to visit with the most amazing girl. It was a bittersweet visit however, as I do not think I will ever get a chance to see her again.

After that I came back to Capital City for a week, then headed off to the Muskoka's to hang out at a cottage and clear my mind. I did some visiting back in Hometown and returned once again to Capital City. In my downtime, while looking for some means of gainful employment I put together a little blog network, which I have called My Big List Of Blogs. I'm not sure what I am going to do with it, but hopefully I'll get a little traffic and gain some much needed income with this pet project of mine.

So where does Chasing Distractions go from here?

I should be putting my efforts into finding some work, getting my life back together, but my ever-muddled mind still has the urge to chase distractions. Lately I've been focusing that energy on entering contests, you all know how I love winning stuff. Yesterday I won a ride in the Bluesfest limo, got treated to a Subway lunch and was handed 4 day passes for the festival. Today I put my efforts into winning some NXNE passes, but sadly I didn't win. But never fear Dear Reader, this story does have a happy ending, fellow CBC Radio3 blogger MoniSki graciously offered me one of her own NXNE passes. How awesome is that?

On Thursday morning I plan on taking what little funds I have, jumping into my Granpa mobile and heading down to the Big Smoke for one last weekend of music and excitement. Maybe I'll even run into The Details again.

Oh speaking of The Details, in an old post I mentioned testing out recording audio with my digital handheld recorder, it worked and the quality was much better. So I'll leave you with a video from that show back in March.




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I'm Back!

re·al·i·ty –noun
[ree-al-i-tee]
1.the state or quality of being real

After a month away I am now back in Capital City. I spent the last four weeks or so in beautiful British Columbia.

Where I went to volunteer at the 2010 Winter Olympics with the aerial crew.

And got to see some great sites in and around Vancouver.

Including going to see a couple of great shows, like:
Elliott Brood


and We Were Promised Jetpacks.


I also got a chance to do a little snowboarding at Whistler and Kicking Horse.

Where I met the most amazing girl.

And got to see her band, Jiva Tree, perform.


Over breakfast I realized where I want to spend the rest of my days.

But for now it's back to reality, back to my one room apartment and my work from home job. Back to trying to make ends meat and remain sane and happy all at the same time.

One thing I'm going to take from my trip is that I am going to attempt to bring a little bit of that Vacation Persona that we all have into my everyday life.

I'm going to get out more and try new things.
I'm not going to be afraid to talk to strangers anymore.
I'm pretty much going to go against everything I ever learned as a kid, except maybe that whole look both ways before you cross the street thing, that could still prove to be important.

My first step in this 'New Me' transformation is to upgrade to a Big Boy Bed, and from there the sky is the limit.


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Chasing Distractions Turns 1!

birth⋅day –noun
[burth-dey]
1. a day marking or commemorating the origin, founding, or beginning of something

Well it is official, I have been writing this blog for over a year now, off and on of course. The year began off on a bad note; I was suffering from a case of depression or some sort of quarter/mid-life crisis. I had just turned 30, broke up with my girlfriend, cut myself off from friends and family and suffered from a bad case of insomnia. It took awhile but I clawed myself back from the brink with the help of many distractions.

Now a year later I’m not sure much has changed. I’m still lonely, I’m still broke, but I have learned something from this all, and that is I get everything I ever want. And I mean everything. All I have to do is ask for it and the universe provides, from careers, to friends to girls to trips and prizes and all the highs and lows that come with it all. I have asked for all of it. The question then remains, why I am I still unhappy sometimes?

Originally I set out to write this post explaining that this blog had a good run, but I’m generally happy now and I have nothing to complain about anymore. Because really, that’s what blogging is all about right? Complaining?

I don't know, maybe I'll just stick around for a little longer.

If you’d like to give Chasing Distractions a birthday present, why not leave some comments, promote my Help Me Volunteer At The Olympics post, or simply donate to my ‘Get Me To The Olympics’ fund.



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Californication – The Television Show

hon⋅ey⋅pot –noun
[huhn-ee-pot]
1. a pot, as of glass or silver, for storing and serving honey

Craig Stephens' honey bear #2
The last few days I’ve been recouping from the 31st birthday celebrations that recently occurred in Montreal in la bell province. It’s not that I drank too much and am getting old – even though the latter is the case, also the former – but it is more to the fact that I caught a cold, or possibly the flu while I was away. The flu du cochon as I have been dubbing it. But as per usually I digress…

While I was wasting away in bed trying to overcome this sickness that still rides me like some demented jockey from hell, I received a text message from a good friend of mine. To paraphrase:

’Is it weird that David Duchovny in Californication makes me think of you?’

I, crazy with sickness, thought she was talking about Kalifornia and had to immediately watch the movie. I had no idea what she was talking about, ’I think it's his voice and phrasing, No wait... it's also his smirky, shruggy, mannerisms‘. As it would later turn out she was actually talking about the television show Californication, where coincidentally enough Duchovny plays a writer in both that TV show and the movie Kalifornia.

After sitting in my sick bed, missing a day of class and three days of work, I have to honestly say Californication is one hell of a television show. A new distraction to chase, and you all know how I love chasing distractions. I would have to recommend this show to anyone who likes smart, sexy, funny, hot television. Duchovny stars as Hank Moody, a drug and sex addicted writer juggling a 12-year-old daughter, an ex-wife whom he still cares for, and an insatiable appetite for beautiful women. Maybe my friend is right, that kinda sounds like me right?

In case you are wondering about the honeypot reference in this post, well I think the Urban Dictionary’s definition of honeypot would be more suited.

Speaking of honey, I learned something new today about our sweet treat. I went to the store to get some honey, ginger, lemon and tea to help battle this cold of mine and for the first time noticed that the bottle has the following warning: “Do not feed honey to children under 1 year of age”.

What the…?

But it's true, honey can actually cause botulism in infants.

On that note VALE! (just practising my Latin)



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Barney’s Version – The Novel

ur⋅ban leg⋅end –noun
[ur-buhn lej-uhnd]
1. a modern story of obscure origin and with little or no supporting evidence that spreads spontaneously in varying forms and often has elements of humour, moralizing, or horror
A few weeks ago I finished reading a humorous, yet somewhat sad tale called Barney’s Version, written by Canadian author Mordeecai Richler.

In a response to a book of memoirs, written by his sworn enemy Terry McIver, protagonist Barney Panofsky decides to give the true version of his life, as McIver’s memoirs paint Panofsky in a very bad light. Panofsky, an old man, recants his time spent in Paris as a young man, how he became a widow, divorced twice, the father of three children, a television producer in Quebec and the suspected murderer of his best friend. Throughout the novel the reoccurring themes are dealing with loss, with guilt, loneliness and the ability a person has to rewrite their memories as to make them more bearable.

The moment I read the last word I scribbled down this note:

Barney’s Version makes me flash forward on my own life, I don’t want to grow old alone

To date I continue my ever-lasting battle with loneliness and each day that goes by I get a little older and a little more certain that this funk is here to stay. In just six short days I will be the ripe old age of 31 and since I started writing this blog nothing has changed for me. I’m still alone. I’m still broke. And I’m still…

Next on the list Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller.



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Gray Days Make Me Feel Blue

im⋅pul⋅sive –adjective
[im-puhl-siv]
1. actuated or swayed by emotional or involuntary impulses
These overcast gray days always make me feel blue. I can’t help but look at my life on these days and feel sorry for myself. I guess I need more vitamin D.

Speaking of gray, the other day I found not one, but three gray hairs. It’s a sad state of affairs when you realize you are getting old and there is nothing you can do about it…

It is these type of days I mourn for my wasted life – being broke, lonely, and growing older by the minute I decided to give online dating one more shot.

This time things went well. Maybe it was luck of the draw, my slimmed down profile, or new profile picture, who knows, but I received many more contacts than I did before, from people that actually seemed pretty decent too.

I started a 2-week long correspondence via email with one of the people I connected with and a few days ago we met up for a date. In my mind it went well. Great conversation and laughs, I felt I was just charming enough and that there was some chemistry between us, but in the end I was wrong.

Maybe I blew the ending by not sealing the deal with a goodnight kiss, I didn’t want to be presumptuous, I am a gentleman after all. Or it could have been the text messages I sent not 10 minutes after the date stating what a good time I had. It might also have had something to do with me adding her to Facebook the next day, (she never did accept my friend request) whatever it was I never heard from her again.

What can I say, I’m impulsive, and in her I saw everything I wanted in a relationship. Came on too strong, or just not right for the dating world?

Whatever it is I better figure it out soon because I’m getting tired of doing everything alone and pretending to myself that everything is going to be okay. It’s exhausting.



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The Math Behind Getting Ahead

e⋅qua⋅tion –noun
[i-kwey-zhuhn,-shuhn]
1. the act of equating or making equal

When it comes to emails I normally I don’t like getting forwards. The vast majority of them come from family members and usually I just delete them. Every once in awhile a good one sneaks through, so I thought I would share this one that I recently received from my Uncle:

What Makes 100%? What does it mean to give MORE than 100%? Ever wonder about those people who say they are giving more than 100%? We have all been to those meetings where someone wants you to give over 100%. How about achieving 103%? What makes up 100% in life?

Here's a little mathematical formula that might help you answer these questions:

If:
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

is represented as:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26.

Then:

H-A-R-D-W-O-R-K
8+1+18+4+23+15+18+11 = 98%

and

K-N-O-W-L-E-D-G-E
11+14+15+23+12+5+4+7+5
= 96%

But ,
A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E
1+20+20+9+20+21+4+5 = 100%

And,

B-U-L-L-S-H-I-T
2+21+12+12+19+8+9+20 = 103%

AND, look how far ass kissing will take you.

A-S-S-K-I-S-S-I-N-G
1+19+19+11+9+19+19+9+14+7
= 118%

So, one can conclude with mathematical certainty, that while Hard work and Knowledge will get you close, and Attitude will get you there, it's the Bullshit and Ass kissing that will put you over the top.

I thought I would do a couple of my own:

S-E-X
19+5+24
= 48%

L-O-V-E
12+15+22+5
= 54%

R-E-L-A-T-I-O-N-S-H-I-P
18+5+12+1+20+9+15+14+19+8+9+17
= 147%

As you can see it takes a considerable amount of effort to be in a relationship. Basically you have to give it your all and then some to keep it going, a total of 147% everyday. On the other side it’s relatively easy to fall in or make someone fall in love with you, it only takes 54% effort on your part. The easiest of all is to have sex. It only takes 48% effort to ‘get some’; I clearly have been trying way too hard.



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The Big Boy Bed

sin⋅gle bed –noun
[sing-guhl bed]
1. a bed for one occupant

Since I was about 19 years old I have been rocking the single bed – in fact it is the same bed I had in college – my grandparents bought it for me in my second year when I moved into an apartment. For 11 years I’ve slept on this narrow bed, which as of late has grown uncomfortable with its springs that have now become sprung. Yet, financial issues aside, I can’t bring myself to upgrade just yet. It’s not a form of nostalgic attachment to some lost love, or a gift from my grandparents. It just seems to suit me, single bed, single me.

I’ve taken quite the ribbing from many people when they find out that I still have a single bed. Friends usually shake their head and tell me it’s time for me to buy a ‘Big Boy Bed’ or ask “How can you even bring a girl home?” or some variation of that question. Although sleeping can sometimes be difficult, I like the closeness my single bed affords, and the limited space has also been know to inspire creativity wink-wink, nudge-nudge.

Besides, I take solace in knowing that there was probably only one other guy in the whole world that didn't mind having a single bed:

”I wanna love you every day and every night:
We'll be together with a roof right over our heads;
We'll share the shelter of my single bed; “



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Foot In Mouth Disease

blun⋅der –verb
[bluhn-der]
1. to make a gross or stupid mistake, esp. through carelessness or mental confusion

"You can't even open your mouth without putting your foot in it."
I recently went on a first date – it was my first first date in a very long time, so I was a little out of practice. My last few relationships I completely bypassed the uncomfortable dating portion and got right to the fun stuff, which could very well have been my downfall. Here are four samples of the conversation on my recent date:

Me: “So, are you originally from Capital City? Do you have family here?”
Her: “Yes I am, in fact that is why I moved back, my Dad is very sick…”
Me: “Oh…?”
Her: “Yeah he has cancer and is on chemo right now.”
Me (thinking): ‘Looks like I won’t go out for that smoke’

Me: “Do you have any siblings?”
Her: “Yeah, well I did. I had a younger brother who died a few years ago,”
Me: “I’m sorry…”

Me (speaking about driving long distances): “It was such a long drive, and I was exhausted. I got to the point where I was like hallucinating and struggling to stay awake. So I was going to get a motel for the night and realized I was only 50km from Capital City, so I kept going.”
Her: “I’m the same way on long drives, so I try to break them up so it doesn’t happen to me. I should know better you know, after all my brother did die in a car accident.”
Me (thinking): ‘Of course he did.’

Me (speaking about getting older): “I found my 30th birthday was really hard to except. I was at my Nana’s and when they brought the cake out with that flaming 3-0 on it I thought ‘If I blow these out it makes it real’.”
Her: “I didn’t find 30 that bad. 25 was the big one for me.”
Me: “Really?”
Her: “Yeah, 25 was definitely the hardest one.”
Me: “That’s funny, a friend of mine always reminds me that when I was younger I used to say by the time you’re 25 you are pretty much dead anyway.”
Her: “Yeah, my brother died when he was 24.”
Me (thinking): ‘Of course he did, of course he did’

I guess first dates are like interviews. The more you have, the better you get at them. I’ll just have to see a doctor about this case of Foot In Mouth Disease I have.

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Life Can Sometimes Be Exhausting

mel⋅an⋅chol⋅y –noun
[mel-uhn-kol-ee]
1. a gloomy state of mind, esp. when habitual or prolonged; depression
2. sober thoughtfulness; pensiveness

Like many stories in my life, today’s reflection involves a girl; well in fact it is a build up of a series of events, all of which involve a girl. Without getting into all of the events in this post, as I hope to share the stories at a later date, today I have discovered one thing about myself – I love to be loved.

I am beginning to think that the many years I have spent alone have not been good for me. As David Leavitt writes in his story ‘Chips is Here’ from his collections of short stories ‘A Place I’ve Never Been’ his character remarks, “I am a pathetic and desperate man”.

I like the idea of someone liking me, and without being able to control it I will fully pursue a relationship with that person, even if my better instinct or gut judgement tell me otherwise. This latest fiasco lasted a total of 11 days, from initial attraction to final realization of my true feelings – if anything I guess I am getting better at it.

Either way, life can sometimes be exhausting.



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How To Be Lame In Ottawa

bor⋅ing –adjective
[bawr-ing, bohr-]
1. causing or marked by boredom

Over the last three weeks I have had three different friends from Hometown come visit, staying from six days to a weekend. I’ve now been living in Capital City for just under five years and you don’t realize how lame your life can be until you have someone come visit and you are expected to be their tour guide. It’s at the point when you are thinking of what to do with your guest that you realize `Hey I don’t really do anything, I’m pretty lame`.

Last night, around dusk, to chase away the ghosts I went for a long walk, which ended up being around ten kilometres. I would normally cross over the Rideau River and head towards the Market and stroll around, but last night I decided to walk along the Rideau River path, something I have never done in all the `just under five years` that I have been living here. It was very peaceful, away from the bulk of the traffic, listening to the sounds of trickling water and songs of different types of birds. I even stumbled upon some sort of ceremonial aboriginal dance. I wanted to stop and have a look but felt like I would be intruding.

On my three hour walk around parts of Capital City that I was just discovering for the first time, I took some time to reflect on the last five years of my life, specifically here in Ottawa. Understanding my lameness, I realized I could sum up my whole experience here in ten occurrences or less. So here it goes:


The TopOnly Ten Things I Have Experienced In Ottawa

1. When I first moved to Capital City I was a driving instructor, in fact that is the reason I moved here, I was transferred. The job only lasted eight months before I was laid off, but if anything I got to learn the city streets pretty well and hopefully taught a handful of kids how to drive safely.
2. The first two weeks that I was living here I walked around downtown and in the Market alone, going to bars and pubs by myself to check out the nightlife. On my very first outing I met a girl, and proceeded to never call her again. I thought to myself `Wow, if it’s this easy to meet girls…` Don’t worry karma taught me a lesson, and I didn’t meet another girl for 8 months, around the same time I lost my job, where in quick succession I met three girls and they all returned the favour by never calling me again.
3. At this point, an ex-girlfriend came back into my life for a brief period of time. When she would come to visit we would do some tourist type activities. We took a boat tour of the Ottawa River, we saw the Pompeii exhibit at the Museum of Civilizations, and took a walking tour around Parliament. I also took the Parliament tour twice, once with my Uncle who works in Centre Block and the latest time when a Hometown friend came to visit for six days.
4. After being a retired driving instructor for a few months I soon accepted a contract to work with the Ottawa Chamber Music Society and got a chance hear a lot of really amazing live classical music in many of the churches around Capital City. I also met the Governor General of Canada, Michaëlle Jean at one event. It was my responsibility to send out the letter to ask her to take part in our Christmas concert, where we wanted her to narrate the story of the Nutcracker. It was this contract that inevitably led me to my current line of work.
5. After my contract was up I took a job with a popular courier company, worked part-time at a local pub and started my foray into the world of freelance writing. If you haven’t noticed yet, other than the occasional night out at the bars, and the brief time I spent as a tourist with an ex-girlfriend I haven’t really done much in the terms of seeing anything in Ottawa. The last five will be pretty short.
6. I’ve been zip lining – although it is on the Quebec side.
7. I’ve been to one Ottawa Senators hockey game.
8. I’ve been to a handful of indie rock concerts and two Bluesfest.
9. I’ve hiked Gatineau Park approximately five times, two of them being on the most recent visits from Hometown friends. Again on the Quebec side, so I’m not sure if it counts.
10. For two and half hours I went snowboarding at Camp Fortune… once.

That about sums up my past five years in Capital City, other than dining out at some really good (and some really bad) restaurants, spending numerous times in the pubs and clubs, and attending the occasional BBQ, house or cottage party, that’s about it.

This my friends, is How To Be Lame In Ottawa.






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A Complete History of My Sexual Failures – The Documentary

re⋅al⋅i⋅za⋅tion –noun
[ree-uh-luh-zey-shuhn]
1. the act of realizing or the state of being realized
2. an instance or result of realizing
After a rash of failures and too many late nights I decided to spend the afternoon in bed watching movies and generally feeling sorry for my hopelessness when it comes to the dating scene. Thankfully I found a kindred spirit in Chris Waitt and his documentary A Complete History of My Sexual Failures.

Of course the title immediately caught my eye, frankly how couldn’t it, and within 89 minutes I was given a view, of what could essentially be my life, into the life a love loser.

After his most recent break-up, Waitt goes on a quest to interview all his past girlfriends, of which, as he reports, they have all dumped him for one reason or another. Along the way he experiments with Viagara and S&M, trying to understand what’s wrong with himself, why he is flawed when it comes to relationships.

If you are failing in the dating game, this may not be a bad approach. Contact all your ex’s, well the ones that will talk to you anyway, and find out your flaws. Get some constructive criticism, and work on your weaknesses.
Or just keep making the same old mistakes.

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The Ring & Friday The 13th

ring –noun
[ring]
1. a typically circular band of metal or other durable material, esp. one of gold or other precious metal, often set with gems, for wearing on the finger as an ornament, a token of betrothal or marriage
No this is not a review of some horror slasher flicks, but another memory of mine that has bubbled to the surface. When I was a teenager my mother gave me a ring, a wedding band to be precise, that belonged to my great-grandmother. My great-grandmother, Sadie as she was known, passed away when I was just a baby, but I was said to be one of her favourites.

Sometimes my family has a weird, paranormal type of thing that goes on with them. Well at least in hindsight they feel they do. When Sadie passed all four of her grandchildren experienced something extraordinary. While working on the assembly line my Uncle had a visit from his dead grandfather who let him know Sadie had passed. My Aunt, who was at a gala, suddenly turned white ‘as a ghost’ and had to sit down, she said she automatically knew what happened. My other Uncle, well I can’t quite remember his tale but it was just as amazing, if not more. Sadie, who wanted to see me one last time, although she later declined, as she was afraid the light surrounding her would wake me, actually visited my Mom herself. My Mom later said she woke up on the couch with tears streaming down her face but felt the visit was genuine.

From that day forward my Mom was convinced that Sadie was my guardian angel, and I grew up hearing the tale. When I was about 14 years old my Mom bequeathed to me my great-grandmothers golden wedding band. Four about five to six years I wore that band on the pinkie finger of my right hand. When in a flirtatious mood I would explain that the person who’s finger fit the ring would be my true love, and only they I could marry. Of course I am at my most flirtatious when I am in the drink.

Unfortunately I lost the ring, on one such flirtatious occasion, and have never found it. Some people say the spirit stays with material items, and if that is the case I may have lost my guardian angel. I may have lost a piece of the great-grandmother I never knew, but always felt was there.

And if my drunken flirtatious ramblings where correct I may have also lost the chance to ever meet my one true love.



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Not Into Head Games...

head games –noun
[hed gāms]
1. the act of deluding; deception by creating illusory ideas
Head games, we've all experienced them, either on the receiving end or the ones dolling them out. Why does one choose to play these head games rather than just say what is on their mind or just keeping their thoughts to themselves and leaving well enough alone? Who knows, besides a psychologist of course, but hey those cost money right?

I feel like sharing some reflection time so here I go. I once met the grandchild of a neighbour of mine. Now you might be thinking Grandchild!, but before I continue the story let me assure you that my neighbour is a 97 year old woman, and her grandchild is really an adult in their 30's.

Back to the grandchild, we met by happenstance; we exchanged phone numbers and email addresses. We talked, texted and instant messaged one another for about a week’s time. We planned to meet on a weekend, plans were changed, cancelled, and then changed again. Or first real date was an early weekend morning, what some kids these days are calling a booty call.

Alcohol fuelled decisions are never a wise choice.

The early morning weekend date was over at dawn, we parted ways with the intention to see each other soon. This is when the head games began. For the next 48 hours I was barraged with a roller coaster of emotions, text after text, after crazy text.

“I don’t think I really like you...”
“I’m sorry for what I said…”
“I never want to hear from you again…”
“I want to see you right now…”
“You will never have to hear from me again!”

Just 48 short hours later my neighbour’s grandchild was quickly sliding below the line on the Hot Crazy Scale. Starting out well above the line, one potentially wrong alcohol fuelled booty call and 48 hours later, well the following graph can explain it better:

Moral of the story – well I guess there are two:

1) If you have something on your mind, or feel guilty about a decision you made, just say it or keep it to yourself. Either way head games are not they way to go.
2) Unless you are emotionally ready for it, alcohol fuelled early morning dates (booty calls) are probably not a good idea.

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The Dating Game

dat⋅ing –noun
[deyt-ing]
1. a social engagement arranged beforehand with another person
2. a person with whom one has such a social engagement
3. to go out socially on dates
4. to make a date with; go out on dates with

The Chase

I find there is this cruel circle of fate(?) or karma(?) when it comes to dating, or just the very act of being interested in someone. It seems in life there is always a person being chased and that person is also chasing at the same time. If people just stopped and looked over their shoulder once in awhile they might find what they have always been looking for. But not everybody mind you (looking over their shoulder that is) or the chase would just end up going in the opposite direction. So maybe every other person should look over their shoulder. Ya that's it, every other person.

My advice: Strive to be that other person.



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For All The Gossip Mongers

gos⋅sip –noun

[gos-uhp]

1. idle talk or rumor, esp. about the personal or private affairs of others

They say you cannot choose your family, but you can choose your friends. So when the friends you associate with start to exhibit qualities that you find despicable, do you put up with it or is it time to move on?

How old is too old to make new friends anyway?


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Relationship Addicts

be⋅tray⋅al –noun
[bi-trey-ul]
1. the act of being unfaithful in guarding, or fulfilling: a trust.
2. the act of disappointing the hopes of; being disloyal to: one's friends.

Everyone has someone in their life. Everyone craves someone in their life. More often than not people seek out others to give them purpose. To befriend. To care for and pay attention to. It happens all the time and it is due to loneliness. What everyone is seeking is companionship. And the moment something better comes along, or the moment your usefulness as a companion starts to waver, you are brushed to the side. Your days as a temporary distraction are over.

Everyone has this friend. The moment they are in a relationship you never hear from them again. And the second they are out of it you get a phone call or an email asking how everything is going. You once again become their temporary distraction until something better comes along.

These relationship addicts.

People like me enjoy our independence. We have embraced our loneliness. Sure we crave contact and companionship, we are human after all, we just don’t require it to survive.

You see these relationship addicts going through their withdrawal. These addicts who cannot stand to be alone with themselves. These addicts who seek out companionship the way a junkie looks for their next fix. You become their crutch for a short period of time until they can get their hands on what they need. And then you never hear from them again. They are off enjoying their high. But because they have no control, because they cannot stand to be alone by themselves, the high does not last long. You see them start to come down. The arguments start. The fighting begins. The break-up ensues…

And then there they are again, looking for companionship.

Looking for you.

Looking for their temporary distraction.


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