Mr. Saturday Night Special

Saturday nights are tricky business. There's an unwritten but socially ingrained feeling in the minds of all single twenty-somethings that Saturday night should be a time of celebration, debauchery, and the picking up of nubile young ladies at the local pub. But tonight I sit alone in my apartment with my laptop, a bottle of cheap wine, and box of Sweet Tarts. I just finished watching the new Star Trek movie on DVD (which I saw twice in theaters), and I'm now seriously considering watching it again with the commentary on. As if that's not sad enough, I'm currently blogging about the wayward misfortunes of my life for my huge readership to enjoy.

Of course, not every Saturday night is like this. Most weekends I can find a few people to hang around with, or I'll head home to spend time with the family if all else fails. But tonight, everyone I know is either busy or too far away to hang out with me. Even my roommate has gone north to see some sort of musical that his sister is in. Hence my current evening of solitude.

Strange as it may seem, I'm not having a terrible time. Sometimes spending a bit of time with myself (in every sense of the phrase) can be relaxing and rejuvenating. It certainly beats going to watch a musical up in West Middlesex. I did consider heading out by myself for awhile, but that's not as exciting as it may seem at first. Sure I could possibly meet up with some hot women and wind up having an awesome time filled with witty banter, flirtatious glances, and saucy nighttime activities. But the bar is a tricky habitat to navigate alone when in the city. In reality, very few people go to bars by themselves, so they're already in their zones of comfort with their friends, and the last thing they want to add is some strange tall man who talks a lot about starships and candy. This holds doubly true for single women. In bars, they travel in herds. Approaching a single woman is hard enough without having to reassure her buddies that you're a nice guy who won't take advantage of their friend while still flirting with the desired woman. In all likelihood, if I went to the bar alone, I'd be spending my evening alone anyway. The only difference is that I'd spend it watching a whole bunch of other people having fun with their friends. My tears would make my beer taste terrible.

Before you think me a complete loser (I know it's probably way too late for that), let me just say that I do go out and about with some regularity. In fact, just last night a friend and I went to a high school football game over in West Mifflin. Granted, this was not exactly an epic evening out, but it beat doing nothing. Over Thanksgiving break, I'll have plenty to do back in the hometown. But right now, I don't really know my Pittsburgh peeps well enough to call them up to spend time on a Saturday night. Most of them are women with boyfriends anyway (English education programs attract a certain niche crowd), which creates a whole new level of awkwardness. I have a lot of friends, actually, but they're spread all over creation: Morgantown, Washington D.C., Baltimore, Kittanning, and even New Delhi. It's hard to round up a posse these days, sheriff!

Let you think this is total pity party, I think this is actually a happy occasion. With no pressure to go out and have fun, I can do whatever I please and damn the consequences. A persistent attitude like that would be cause for concern, but every once in awhile, it's a nice break from the regimen of socializing. Most people suck, and it's hard to accommodate them.

So screw you, world! I'm taking some "me" time, and any fellow antisocial hermits with a penchant for isolationism are welcome to join in.

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"Are you lonely?"
"Yeah."
"Have you spent half your life in bars pursuing sins of the flesh?"
"This guy's good!"
"Are you sitting in a bean bag chair, naked, eating Cheetos?"