It’s funny isn’t it? How different environments attract different people. I’ve always thought so anyway, especially on nights out with the lads. They’re all carefree and energetic whereas me, well, I like to take things a bit more slowly. “Slow and steady wins the race” isn’t that what they say? I certainly hope so after all this time. “Come on Johnny, it’s time to become a real man!” they cheer with slaps to my back and roaring laughter.
But when the flashing lights and thundering music distorts all semblance of the real me from the girl I am dancing with I cannot help but wonder what sort of man they expect me to be. One without personality or identity beyond the brief glimpse of my face and body in the dark. Is that truly what the girls you meet in these places want? Just a body to use for their own enjoyment and to be thrown away when spent without a second glance. Surely that can’t be the case, surely if the tidal waves of music were to be calmed and the lights brightened they would want to look underneath my physical shell. Or are they so content in their carnal pleasures that they would pass me by if I tried to simply talk to them.
Maybe the loud, dark rooms my friends drag me into are so tribal and uncultured that I must look elsewhere for the connection I seek. Somewhere where opinions and thoughts are exchanged readily with the encouragement of a welcoming atmosphere and certain intoxicants. It might be a bit scarier knowing that they asses me further than just my looks, but the connection between personalities is far stronger and deeper than a physical one. Even their eyes look warmer when they look at me now, replacing the cold emptiness that I had seen in them before.
How can there be such a striking contrast between these two species of women as a result of different lighting and music? Part of me wonders what would happen if they were to swap habitats for a period of time. Would the primeval mask suddenly be lifted to reveal the civility I had thought was lost to them, and if so why would they allow, or even want, this guise to shroud who they really are? And in the reverse scenario would the more refined women use the dark veil to allow their more base desires to overwhelm them?
I cannot and will not accept that this would be the case, I have to believe that the goodness I have witnessed would not be thrown aside at the first opportunity for something more degenerate. If I can find these places unpleasant, there has to be others who share my beliefs. Or am I alone in my disgust and contempt at such depravity, destined to despise all others in my paranoia that whatever integrity they have would be torn asunder by the smallest of temptations. Fate is a cruel mistress indeed if this is the case.
However, I am not yet defeated. I still believe that I will find someone that has the purity that I long for, the incorruptibility that can never be tainted no matter where they socialise and who they meet. It is what keeps me sane, it is what has kept me waiting for so many years regardless of the mockery I receive from my friends. For if I am waiting for them, they must be waiting for me. And when we meet, we will recognise each other as common souls resisting the vulgarity that the populace of the modern world has succumbed to and know that we are not alone.
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