It’s 1:23am, I’m tired, and I’m on my own. Don’t get me wrong, there’s some great sides to being single, at least there would be were I not plagued by stupid mental health bullcrap that has no business being in my head.
I’m a guy. I like women. I wanna be out there exploring, or, better yet, exploring with one woman who is my own—totally not in a creepy possessive way—rather than feeling imprisoned inside my own head, and most of the time stuck indoors, typically with sod all to do except the same damn two things I’ve been doing for years, ever since I were a lad: guitar and computer.
OK, OK… so it’s not all bad. I can teach myself German, connect with people across the globe, get advice about obscure or embarrassing things, and totally not occasionally peruse certain dopamine-releasing websites.
I’ve started this suggesting it’s about the physical stuff. Sure, I miss the physical stuff. But it’s not just that sort of stuff that I miss, it’s the closeness, the passion, the love; all that gooey stuff women go mental over in
bloody, terrifying horror romantic movies, like Ghost and Dirty Dancing, both of which I’ve willingly actually seen, as in, without a gun to my head.
No, what I’m talking about is primarily the companionship; the kind of nearness you can’t get from another bloke, unless of course you’re wired that way, which I’m firmly not. I’ve been single for a few years now, but I do remember quite clearly how great it feels to have someone there. I miss the feeling of hope, strength, and purpose.
But I’m “disabled.” I don’t work as a result, and have no idea when or perhaps even if that’s going to be a proper thing that I can realistically, consistently actually do. I’ve never had an official job, only cash-in-hand type jobs that I somehow was able to do some millenia ago, oh and volunteer work a couple of years ago, which sadly did not last too long.
My point? I think it’s common for a man to measure his worth based on how much money he makes, so what happens when a man makes no money but instead relies on the income luckily provided to him by his government? How much am I worth, now? A woman wants security. Money offers security. Sure, I can clobber some robber’s head with an assortment of workout equipment, or just go it alone with lefty and righty, but I can’t go around beating up the council when they demand rent, or my ISP, when they decide they want their money; apparently it’s illegal.
I’m told it doesn’t matter how much money a man makes, but the older I get, the more I feel it truly does matter. A woman doesn’t want to provide for the man, and fair play to them—I get it—but what happens to someone like me? I suppose I should be grateful that I do have money, and I wouldn’t say I’m poor either, but none-the-less, I do not have a job, and my income is only through benefits, therefore, my desirability seems to sink to the deepest depths of something really deep.
I know there are situations in which two people might find each other and see past all this bullshit, but I find this a rare occurrence, particularly for the man. For some reason, it seems OK for the woman to be disabled by mental health problems, but the man gets overlooked. I’m sure I’m entirely wrong but this is an assumption based on an observation of the many single males with mental health issues, and the many taken women with mental health issues. I apologise for my pessimistic side looming over me, tonight.
Is this all in my head?
Truthfully, there are so, so many reasons why mental health problems are, well, a problem for relationships. There is, however, that one woman out there who gets it. That one woman is patient, understanding, and perhaps even has a little experience of such problems herself. That one woman still would love me for me, despite my downfalls that I never fucking asked for.
I did not ask to be disabled by this crap. This was not my choice. I have worked bloody hard to make the best of what I have, as little as that might seem to a normal person.