"If fate doesn’t make you laugh, then you just don’t get the joke.”

I don't think I get the joke.

Above quote is from a fascinating book I read a while back - Shantaram. It struck me as an interesting view on life events. First of all, I regularly ponder the existence of "fate" and second of all, when it seems to appear in my life (despite whatever name I may give it) it rarely feels funny. Not "haha" funny, perhaps more "cruel joke" funny.

Last night I find myself at a party with a good friend - surrounded by nobody else I know. Yes, a nightmare for one who lives with anxiety. Luckily, I have an amazingly supportive friend (many, actually) who helped me feel comfortable and had no problem with the idea that I may tap out and leave at any moment. I knew about this party for about two weeks, and told myself that I would probably end up backing out last minute, and that was okay. After all, I back out last minute on most things these days. Then, I didn't! I didn't back out, I sucked it up and went. Two reasons were behind my decision - one, I wanted to see my friend badly. Two, I have been *craving* human experience. Day in day out it's all safe and staying safe and seeking safety. Safe can be okay, until you realize you're missing out on some of the best things in the world: human experience with other humans. Socializing. Meeting new people. Having NEW conversations.

As soon as I had given up on meeting someone interesting, single, age-appropriate, hot... did I mention interesting?... I did. Last night, fate, or luck, or random circumstance struck, and I have once again been reinstated with a feeling that there are still people out there in this small town who I haven't yet MET. And all I could think today was: what if I hadn't gone? What have I been missing all these times I've stayed home. Stayed safe.

Needless to say, as the high of the evening wore off (and after a hug that turned my knees to jelly and made my tongue tingle), I realized that other people probably experience this feeling far more often than I, and that I shouldn't put too much weight on the experience. That's when the old habits began to kick in for me. All those thoughts reminding me that the chances of someone feeling a spark with me when I feel a spark with him is minimal. The chances that another person is ready to be in some form of relationship or mutual dating experience when I am is minimal. The chances that if we were to get to know each other that we would both have strong feelings for each other is minimal. The negative thinking takes over, swirls around, and reminds me that mutual love, admiration and respect happens so rarely, and can be so fleeting, that it's no wonder we reel in shock and terror when we feel "it" - the momentary zap of connection, attraction - whether it be physical or intellectual. Oh, what a feeling of vulnerability! The hovering possibility of rejection surrounding the unshakeable inkling of hope.

I've spent so long in safety, I forget what risk looks like.

xo-PS

On a side note - the light burnt out on my rotating ocean picture lamp. I forget how to fall aslepp without it.