BUT I'M THINKING OF BECOMING A GORILLA

The truly great thing about the computer age is that those of us who are not social butterflies need never notice that we aren't perfectly people-adept. Between scanning informative articles, clicking "like" underneath status updates, and contributing occasional comments to obscure sites, it is possible to avoid facing the brutal fact of our singularity.

When Savage Kitten and I broke up nearly seven years ago, there was no split between our friends. She's so anti-social most of mine were barely even aware of her existence, and because of that, for a similar reason based on her lack of social tendencies, I never met any of hers after she stopped doing aikido. And in any case, neither of us had very many.

In the first few years after that I gradually stopped associating with fellow travellers in a grass-roots organization. When all you have in common is a political cause (which was attracting far too many wart-covered dimwits at that point), the pleasure of that company diminishes.

Then my employ changed, which also upset certain patterns.

I really don't have many real-world friends.

I sort of miss a social life.


Savage Kitten found another boyfriend, and because of well-meaning and totally insane advice from several of the people in my circle, I avoided dating entirely. I am still aghast at the sincere suggestion that I should have a series of affairs with Filipinas to get over the break-up, or join a church to cruise for attractive single women. Being told that I should lurk in laundromats and the vegetable aisle of Safeway sounded quite repulsive, as did the idea that the best thing after the toy company closed down would be to go overseas and come back with someone sweet and charming who didn't speak English. There were other recommendations even more absurd.

You neurotypicals are kind of clueless.

Fortunately the berserk and meddlesome passive-aggressive nonsense from people who only have my best interests at heart has ceased.

Seeing as they no longer invite me to various holiday celebrations or family events anyway, I do not have to pretend to be overjoyed to meet their crazy single relatives either -- not that that happened often, or ever -- and the only feasts I attend now are a totally secular Christmas among atheists with cioppino, and a birthday party.

That's two things.

Everything else I watch from the outside.


Amazingly, my customers think I am a friendly and witty fellow, as do a number of patrons at a particular cigar club. They are often keen to talk to me. They don't see the bah-humbuggetiness underneath the surface.
As you should understand, none of them are "suitable".


I am sometimes jealous of my ex. She found somebody in almost no time, and he too is reasonably people-unfriendly. They have separate friend-sets of about half a dozen or less each. They talk to each other on the phone every day. And eat together two or three times a week.
Despite their immense differences.

I'm not a phone person.



Today I didn't speak to a single live human till teatime, and that was only to greet them properly, place my order, and ask for the bill. During the few hours spent in the vicinity of others I mostly smoked my pipe while observing people at a distance.

I think that was enough. Possibly it was.



TER VERANTWOORDING

By the way, the title of this bit is taken from the last line (spoken by Marty Feldman) of 'Let's Speak English, Part Two' in 'At Last The 1948 Show' with Graham Chapman, Marty Feldman, Tim Brooke-Taylor and John Cleese, in which the fourth chartered accountant, on the right, acts disruptively; he is "cross with the Wop producer, because the gorilla is underpaid".
There are a few anarchic moments, but it all ends well.
The tea trolley is a loss, I'm afraid.
We learned something.


Sugar. Greenhouse. Surgical trusses.




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