All Alone in a Crowded Room

I really didn’t think I was going to write about this. I figured it was a bad night and had no long-lasting effect on me. I thought I was fine. I guess I was wrong.

I feel like I should put a disclaimer up first…the last thing I want is to be accused of not realizing what I have.

I have an amazing partner, lover, friend, and Dominant in John Brownstone. He is there for me in ways I never thought possible.

I have wonderful little boys and a loving family. I have two close vanilla friends (neither of which live anywhere near me anymore) and good online/blogging/social media friends.

I am not alone in the world. I am not forgotten during the holidays. I am loved by those that matter. 

And I’m aware that not everyone has as much as I do.

I went to our local BDSM coffee time/social thing last week, the third one for me. I didn’t want to go – and I used all my babygirl cuteness and silliness to convince Daddy there were better things to do. None of it worked, which I knew it wouldn’t, and so I went. I didn’t want to go because socializing in large groups is like work for me. It’s mentally and emotionally exhausting. But I’m also the type to make the best of a situation.

I arrived, found people I recognized (the same great girls from my very first event), and they moved over to let me sit at their table. This was significant to me because I offered to sit at an adjacent table so they wouldn’t have to do that. But they wouldn’t hear of it. I felt warm and fuzzy.

Soon, though, the group dispersed, turning this way and that, away from the main table to talk to other people they knew. Not knowing anyone but them, I sat there, people-watching. If not for a Daddy Dom who took pity on me, I wouldn’t have had anyone to talk to. I was alone in a crowded room.

For those extroverts out there, I know what you’re thinking. Why didn’t I just start talking to someone? You might as well ask me to pick up live snakes and wrap them around my body. Neither will ever happen.

For the introverts out, there, I know that too. Why didn’t I just leave?

I wanted to leave. But I’m eternally optimistic. I thought it might get better.

It didn’t.

I sat and listened to the kind Dom who chatted with me. Being a listener has it’s perks. I learned more about him in the 10 minute conversation we had then I thought possible. I barely said a word (it didn’t seem necessary), and for a few minutes, I didn’t feel quite so alone.

By the time I made it to the car (as soon as I felt like it was okay to leave), I was in tears. That probably sounds silly, right?

The nice Dom talked to me, and I left when I wanted to, so what’s there to be upset about? Now I come to the heart of it all…

I am desperately lonely. Not for love – I am surrounded by that. Not even for kindness – I have that both in my home and in my online life.

One of the consequences (challenges?) of being an introvert who doesn’t “collect” friends is that when you only have one or two close friends (which is my preference), you may be without those people more often than you’d like. I want someone here, in my area, that I can talk to, have coffee with, hug, and laugh with.

I realize it takes time. I realize that if I never leave my house, I will never make friends (okay, a friend). I know that. And the fact that I’m going to these weekly events is my way of trying.

But in the meantime, I find myself alone in a crowded room – both in the physical world and in the online world – more often than not. Most of the time, I don’t notice and pretend I don’t care. But sometimes, and maybe it’s because of the holidays, I’m very aware of how lonely I am.

I’m not sure why I’m sharing this with the world at large. It’s not sexy. It doesn’t teach anyone anything. There’s certainly no kinky fuckery involved…not even that night when I came home and fell into Daddy’s arms. I sobbed and told him that I would go back a few more times but if it kept happening, I wasn’t doing it anymore. I don’t have to pay to be alone in a crowded room, and I won’t.

But I’ll keep trying. And I’ll get over this momentary feeling of sadness (hell, by the time most people read it, I’ll be better again). Why? Because hope springs eternal, and I will tell myself to suck it up and keep moving forward. This too shall pass.

I guess I share this so that the introverts in the room will know they’re not alone. I understand and get you. And so that the extroverts, the socializers, the people who mix and mingle so easily (I am envious of you all) will maybe see a quiet person sitting by themselves and realize that might be someone like me – unable to make themselves join in but desperately wishing for a connection.