Well it’s Friday, I’m by myself at work, and once again I have no plans for tonight other than twiddling my thumbs and watching WWE Smackdown. Guess it beats getting drunk at bars and waking up in stranges places the next morning, but maybe not if you like that kind of thing.

Back in the days when I had friends, on Fridays I would sometimes gather up my computer rig and stop by my best friend’s house, where me and a few other buds would set up a local network and game until 4 in the morning. Sometimes we went out to the movies or rented DVDs, but either way, someone (usually me) always made sure we stocked up on enough junk food to kill a healthy elephant. It was a nerdy way to spend a weekend, but still, we had us a time.

But then somewhere along the way, my best bud started juggling relationships with several different women, and because I was too much of a freak to manage getting a girl of my own, I found myself spending more and more Friday nights hanging out with my friend… and whatever stupid bitch he happened to be dating at the moment. Quite obviously, said stupid bitch would not be keen on some of the geeky things we liked to do, unless it involved renting a DVD from the romantic comedy section at Blockbuster.

Suddenly, Fridays were no longer as much fun as they used to be.

Nowadays, my idea of an ideal Friday night has become more romanticized since then, and ironically enough, it involves the very thing that started ruining my Fridays to begin with: women. Yet I liked the idea of renting a DVD from Blockbuster, and then cuddling up with a sweetheart on the couch as enjoyed whatever flick we decided to rent. Or maybe hanging out at my place or hers so we can spend a quiet evening discussing love and life over a homemade candlelit dinner. Companionship was what I really wanted.

But as one decade rolled into another, I realized the sad truth that it would never happen to me. Years of disappointment and unrequitted love had coagulated together to create a poisonous bitterness in me that I can’t seem to shake no matter how hard I try. Whenever I dwell on my loneliness and how I got to this point, I truly want nothing better than to just lay down and die. It’s as if my whole existence had been a mistake, but somehow fate had screwed up and I managed to be born, rather than become just another number in the miscarriage statistics.

Instead I’m stuck in the vicious cycle where my bitterness has deeply affected my personality, knowing full well no girl worth half her weight in salt would think to approach me in my current state, yet that very fact also perpetuates my bitterness. What came first, the chicken or the egg?

Hmm, maybe I WILL have that speedball after all.