Normal people have very little difficulty establishing their love life. They see a person of the opposite sex, they get nervous for a few minutes, but they get over it. If it's a man, he asks the girl out, and she either agrees to it or doesn't. When a normal man suffers rejection, it rolls off his back like water on a duck. It may sting a little, he may need to change some area on his life, but he does not go through the rest of his life like a cripple.
Eventually, he finds a girl who is "good enough". Not perfect, but one he spends his life with, and they have a passable relationship together.
Description of the problem: God made me this way
1. Courtin' too slow. As mentioned above, the man gets nervous for a few minutes before getting the nerve to ask the girl out. When you have social anxiety disorder, it takes hours, maybe days. Even in the unlikely event of a normal man needing to take more than a few mintues to get enough courage to ask her out, a normal man wouldn't take nearly as long as someone with anxiety disorder. A person with anxiety disorder is so unbalanced in the fear centers of the brain that it may take them an entire year, and by that time the girl has found another man. Dreadful sorry, Clementine. But it's no big loss. After all, who wants to pass on horrible genetics like that?
2. Uncanny knack for bad choices. I can't blame social anxiety disorder for this, but I am certain that some disorder or another causes me to have the worst possible choice in women to ask out. Nothing other than defective brain chemicals can be to blame for making a beeline straight for the woman who already has a boyfriend, is twice my age, is underage, or has five other boyfriends and is not in the least bit interested in me. With a track record like that, it is best to just throw in the towel.
I have experimented with the drug Paxil, which allegedly cures social anxiety disorder. It does not. What Paxil does is make you sleep. A lot. At the college, I would sleep on cafeteria tables, and in classes, even if I slept fairly well the night before.
It makes you disoriented.
In art class, we use something called "foam core" to hang up our artwork. It is an expensive sort of framing material, and, under the drug, I was hacking the stuff to pieces, with the dull side of the cutting blade. I ruined several sheets this way, before the teacher noticed I was not cutting with the right side of the knife. The moral: Paxil makes you stupid.
Maybe being stupid helps you not be afraid of romantic rejection, I don't know, but it certainly ruined my grades. I had to plea bargain with the instructors to even be able to graduate.
History of failure
I will never find romance, because God didn't make me that way. I always ruin it.
You may question my opinion on this subject, but even if you are right, and, for some implausible reason I actually did find a person of the opposite sex to spend my life with, I wouldn't want to bring any child through this kind of hell.
No one deserves to live a life under this kind of paralyzing fear. Some people fear public speaking more than death. Due to my disorder, I fear the quest of romance more than public speaking or death. And this is not something I can control.
All throughout middle and high school, I have had chances to date the opposite sex. Instead of taking the opportunity, I got nervous, due to my social anxiety disorder. I hesitated, and never again got another chance with that girl.
Due to my disorder, I was afraid to approach girls who sat at lunch tables surrounded by friends. I lived in constant fear of their ridicule, their boyfriends attacking me, and other imaginary scenarios. They were very real possibilities, but they were not verifiable facts. Regardless, my brain chemicals overwhelmed me, and I suffered from an ever present paralyzing fear of their rejection. One girl in drama class sang a bit of a song to me, from Snow White or something, implying that I could have encountered her "once upon a dream". When she asked me out, I nervously laughed and was soon lost in thought and worry. I guess I wasn't that "dreamy" after all.
My high school experience, then, was spent in hesitance.
In college, I helped a few foreign students with their class notes and stuff. I tried to become close friends with them, but they weren't interested. I joined a bible study group, and got this one girl's e-mail address. Some other guys in the group embarrassed me about it, and I tried to pretend I didn't do anything, but it was all for nothing. She didn't want to e-mail me more than a couple times.
I worked at a grocery store. I tried to ask one girl out, and I found out she was ten years older than me.
I somehow got the nerve to ask another girl out, but she was a year or two younger than me, and her mother didn't want me dating her. We only went out a couple times.
This girl gave me the number of her best friend.
I hung out with this girl for awhile. We dated a little, but mostly I visited her dumpy house. She really wasn't enthused about me being there.
When she moved out of her mom's house, I soon discovered why. Suddenly, there's about five guys helping her move, and one of them is the guy who runs the college newspaper. The same one I sent my crappy cartoons to.
When I saw her new apartment, she's got a male roommate.
Sure, I made some mistakes, but I think the main one was making such a poor decision as to date the friend of a girlfriend.
I tried a Christian dating service. The dating service connected me with people who practically lived in another state, and looked like prize winning corn fed swine. Not only that, but their profiles reflected the personality of someone with all oxygen cut off from their brain. I want my hundred dollars back.
On a related subject, at one of the call centers I worked at, someone played matchmaker. They set me up with a chubby Christian girl who talked too much, causing me to make a clumsy exit.
At this point, I pretty much gave up on ever finding a girlfriend. I decided that desire is nothing but the gateway to suffering.
Recently, a guy at my church tried to set me up with an art student who is also single. Although she was cute, she reminded me of my brother's girlfriend, and she was probably ten years younger than me. I didn't outright turn her down, but I could tell she really wasn't into me, and tended to flee from my presence.
And so this concludes my romantic life. Although there are a few females at work that seem interested in me, I know workplace relationships are bad news.
In summary, I have stopped looking for love. If a woman hits me over the head with a brick and takes me, I won't mind, but that's probably what it will take for me to bother with them.
Resolution: The Failure Ends Here
As said above, I have given up on romance. It is too much trouble for too little benefit. To clarify the benefits:
1. Freedom from perfectionism. Women don't love you as you are, except for your mom, and even that's iffy. You have to dress nice, buy them things you can't afford, have a surgical operation so you don't have flatulence, and that's only if they accept your career and other things that make you you. By not seeking them, you don't have to deal with that nonsense. You can be yourself without receiving hurtful rejection. You shouldn't have to work hard to make someone like you. If you have to work that damn hard, they really don't like you at all, no matter what your mother and other people say.
2. Saving money and time. Why waste time and money dining with someone who doesn't like you and is afraid to say so? Why spend good money taking them to a movie or whatever it is, when you have to actually work hard to gain their approval? You can be left out in the cold, and broke, or you can be half as broke in the comfort of your own home.
3. Jesus never married. It's funny that so many Christian dating sites exist, when the founder of their faith never had a wife or children. I guess the people who came up with Christian Mingle were all reading The DaVinci Code or something.
In the case of people with social anxiety disorder, being an old maid is preordained.
4. Wait for the genetically perfect. The best solution to the problem admittedly is the most unattainable. In theory, the only type of person a sufferer of social anxiety disorder should date is someone who has a set of genes that lack this particular disorder. As desirable as this may be to people like myself, it is unlikely that any normal woman would seek out a relationship for this specific purpose.