Fuck 'Em

Fiction, self-help gurus and astrologers would have us believe that our lives are changed through sudden revelations, in which we suddenly see where we've been going wrong and now recognise the right path to true happiness. I beg to differ. The most significant changes that occur in our lives, our beliefs or our attitudes are the result of a long series of minor incidents which chip away at our existing certainties, slowly but surely sowing the seeds of doubt. Finally, we find ourselves in a situation, often involving making a choice, where we realise that the things we once thought important to us, we now value less. Indeed, we might suddenly be forced to realise that we are now completely indifferent to them. I had one such moment last night in the pub. I arrived to find a number of people I know and often drink with there already at the bar. Now, maybe I'm being paranoid, but I got the distinct impression I was being cold shouldered for some reason unknown to myself. The fact that I was pretty much excluded from any conversation was one clue, the fact that any of my greetings to various individuals were met with what can only be described as indifference, another.

Anyway, most of them then vanished outside to the garden, which I thought was pretty stupid as it was raining, (I've actually never seen the attraction of pub gardens, even when it isn't raining - for one thing, I spend a lot of my working day outside so, by the evening, I want to be inside). I noticed that no invitation was extended to me. At this point I thought 'Well, fuck them, if that's their attitude', and settled down at an empty table to read the paper, which, actually, had been my original plan. As I was variously ignored by members of this group as they periodically came back into the bar to buy more drinks, it occurred to me that I was glad I wasn't outside with them, being forced to listen to the same boring conversations they always seem to have. The truth, I had to admit to myself, was that as the years have gone by, I've had less and less in common with any of them,that, in reality, we had nothing of significance to say to each other. For years now, it was clear to me, we'd been having the same bloody conversations, telling the same jokes and stories, over and over. Any of my attempts to steer discussions onto other topics were always derailed in favour of the usual bollocks. Indeed, the fact was that it had got to the stage that I dreaded seeing any of them in the pub and being faced with the prospect of another meaningless repeated conversations.

So, where do I go from here? Am I a bad person for thinking that my so-called 'friends' are a bunch of intellectually challenged bores? I daresay they think the same about me. However, I don't think it unreasonable to want to discuss things other than football, rugby or social events I didn't attend. You know, it would be nice to be able to discuss, for instance, the sexual politics of Italian exploitation films, without being regarded as a freak and talked over. Sadly, I don't think I'm likely to get any of this in the bars of Crapchester. Perhaps I need to revisit my idea for the 'World Wide Pub' online.