Icewire: writing : cruft : A Another Night Out

Greetings from the late night restaurant of the soul.
So, you've spent another uneventful night alone in a crowd. Was actually introduced to a couple of women close to your age. They were cordial, but disinterested at best. Go figure. You never thought yourself one of beautiful people and nights like this it shows. They were cute enough. They might have even been interesting enough, but they weren't going to give you a chance to find out. You think you could give a rat's ass. But how else can you be but jaded from this routine.
It doesn't matter that this was a different town on an island where you don't speak the language. Language was really not a barrier. It didn't matter that tonight was a festival of art night, so society was out and beautiful people were coming out from their rocks. The crowds and numbers just drove home th point that you were alone more. Something was missing. Actually, someone. You kind of half heartedly thought that the change in scenery would increase your odds. Not bloody likely. Might as well have been at one of your old haunts. At least the familiarity would have been comforting. From the Art Institute, there were some displays being opened. Starting your night off hanging around with the upper crust of the local art worlds. A discovery- Goth is alive, even on a tropical island. That was comical. Some very short shirts, some very high heels, some really tight pants, some pleasantly low tops. At least the visuals were good. Can't say the same for most of the art. Briefly considered becoming a professional critic. You are surely jaded and cynical enough. That idea quickly runs away as the realization hits that you'd end up dealing with these puddles of humanity far too much. No need to wallow in the wading pool of self appointed intelligencia and afficionados. Maybe this would have been more fun inebriated. How many nights had that thought permeated your mind. Countless, to be sure. Frequent enough that if a third of those considerations had been taken to heart, tonight would have been an AA meeting instead for sure.
Still, you are convinced on being optimistic. New locale is the mantra for the night as you travel from small artshop to artshoppe. Skipping all the bars on the way as being far too dangerous. No need to be a fool quite yet. At least not publicly. Privately the feeling was pre-existing.
Stop and watch. Change locations. Look around. Stop and watch.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
The cycle continued and soon faces and groups became familiar. Most are nice to see, occasionally there is an eyeful. You've made eye contact and even smiled on a numerous occasions. Possibly this was what kept them away. Never would know, most likely unless one of them came up to you. And there was the painful flaw.
They must come to you. Society had perennially dictated that the aggressor be male. Going against societal norms was excruciatingly difficult. Especially when the other parties involved weren't playing along. Might as well have been playing solitaire baseball for all the success this method of attack had achieved.
Slowly the night passes and once the sight of certain couples had become too painful you return home. Alone again. The difference now being that there is no crowd to make you notice so much. Maybe you would try again tomorrow, or maybe you'd take the night off. But when you returned again, the game would be the same. And so would the results as you continued your searching, searching, searching. Searching for another soul in the night.
--3 March 1998