I woke up this morning reminiscing about a relationship I was once in. It was one of the few that I remember fondly, so it was a bitter sweet way to wake up. I recalled travelling out to meet her family, going out to dinner in her small town and catching a movie, and sitting up talking with her and her mother until late that night before starting the long drive home, very content. I got along great with her mother, never met her father. I could vividly recall enjoying my time with her and then, unfortunately, drifting apart for no real reason. I thought to myself, I’d really like to reconnect with this person.

So I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts thinking maybe I’d shoot a text. It was at that point that I realized something; I couldn’t remember her name. I thought about it hard and the more I thought about it, the more details I was missing. What town was she from? What was her mother’s name? What did she look like? I couldn’t answer any of them.

The answer was obvious: she didn’t exist.

This realization was upsetting to me. The memories were so vivid to an extent that I was sure they had to be real. And maybe parts of these memories were real, the entire thing an amalgamation of true memories of other relationships over the years. My mind had constructed these false memories, fabricated this faux relationship for a reason, likely to meet an unmet need in my life.

I sat up in bed, gave my cat Asimov a good petting, and said to myself under my breath:

“I’m lonely.”

I hate those words, and I hate admitting them even more. But the more I think on it, the more that I know it to be true. I am lonely; I miss that companionship that you find in a romantic partnership despite years of telling myself otherwise.

The fact of the matter is that I made the conscious choice to stop dating some time ago. I went through a bad breakup right around the time that my mom passed away and knew that I was not emotionally equipped to be intimately involved with other people at that time. Originally, it was a temporary decision so I could work out my own issues. I got to the point where I was considering dating again a few years after that, only to find out that I had a heart condition. Between the medication and depression, I put on some weight that I haven’t really been able to shake, killing my self-confidence. After all, if I was disgusted with how I look, how could I expect anyone else to find me attractive? Eventually, the narrative became that I was just too busy with work and with school, and that both of these activities were emotionally fulfilling enough that I didn’t need to date. Friends and family would ask questions and it was always the same answer: I was too busy and was fine with that.

Clearly, this was a lie. A quick peek at my phone would show about 5 different dating apps at any time. A quick look at those would show you a complete lack of interest in me from potential partners, further reinforcing my own issues with my self image. It became a bit of a feedback loop of self loathing where I was desperate for someone to find me attractive but by constantly being rejected or ignored on these dating apps it reinforced my own poor self image.

Then, after seven years without a date, I reconnected with someone from my home town. We went on a date and it seemed like it went well. She told me she thought I was sexy, which made me feel like a billion dollars. We planned for another date and then she stopped answering my texts. For those unfamiliar with this, the term is called ghosting and it fucking sucks. Self confidence up, and then subsequently dunked through the floor.

My response to the world after this: “It’s fine, I like being alone.” In reality, that was me trying to convince myself that I didn’t need anyone. That I could be emotionally fulfilled without having that sort of intimate connection with another human. I always stayed on message, with that message being that I am fine with how things are and have no desire to change them.

This brings me back to my false memories. If this happened once, I could probably just write it off as a vivid dream. Even at two or three times I would be able to convince myself; in case you haven’t noticed, I have a penchant for self-deception. Problem is, that these waking dreams and false memories were becoming so common that I started to struggle with which memories were real and which were constructs. I began to look for proof that something I thought was real had actually happened, only to become disappointed when I realized it had only been in my mind.

I don’t know if you can perceive what sort of effect this can have on someone, but from a firsthand perspective it is fucking terrifying. I began to question things that I knew for a fact happened in my life. Did I actually go to a certain place? Did I actually date this person? Do these people even exist? Am I just a brain in a glass jar somewhere plugged into a computer?

The only solution for these questions was being honest with myself and admitting that no, I’m not fine and I hate being alone. Humans are not meant to be solitary creatures; even an introverted individual like myself needs emotional connection. For so long I managed through my loving group of friends and my amazing and supportive family, but with the Covid-19 pandemic and the necessity of isolating, I realized more than ever how much I was using those vital social links as a crutch for that lack of intimacy that one can only find in a partnership.

So yeah, I am lonely. Hopefully now that I have admitted it to myself and the world, I can begin to do something about it because these faux relationships that my subconscious keep creating are almost as heartbreaking as the real thing.

Today’s post is a little different and a little more personal than usual. I literally have been sitting here for almost an hour debating whether to post it or not as I am not the type to share out details of my personal life nor am I the type who wants people’s pity. I’m not looking for sympathy, but maybe there are a few people out there who can empathize with what I am going through. Maybe the first step for me is to be brave enough to post something this personal and allow myself to be vulnerable.

Only one way to find out.