A million reasons not to do it, but never a reason to do it

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Hi all,

I'm on my extended "holiday" of the Southern Realms of NSW, my former stomping grounds in my roaring twenties before moving up near the border of Queensland and becoming a cranky old crazy hermit.

I was actually wanting to take a holiday to Mackay, and take photos of the Queensland heavy electric locos and sugar cane trains. Alas, duty called, and South to Sydney, the Hunter and the Blue Mountains I went.

As a short summary, in the years since I started my second trade as an consumer electronics repair technician in 2005, I've noticed around 230 women "try for me," most being of a non-verbal attempt to woo me, my meticulous figures giving me a value of approximately 5% that actually have talked to me, usually with disastrous results for them. Since I'm technically (but not legally) diagnosed a high functioning savant, I work in patterns all the time, the major patterns I've noticed are:

* women attempt to woo me when I'm feeling very low about myself, or when I'm having massive panic attacks/ autistic meltdowns, or the threat of such
* most attempts were on Sydney Basin public transport, usually when I was going to or from work, or seeing family and friends (and evidently meditating by blasting my mind with some relaxing music - aka, "Do Not Disturb")
* the women who spoke whom I did not approach in my role as a customer tried either the tackiest pickup lines, or an extremely flimsy pretense to open conversation with me

I'm now actually aware that women have been desiring me since my high school days, when my mind was bound tight in my first explorations in sentient artificial intelligence and cryogenically supercooled supercomputers. These days, I'm still partly in sentient AI, but I give far, far less of a crap about this work.

Extra disclosure: I was made homeless by the woman I almost proposed to, an old friend and I later found out when living with her after my family left me for dead in the wake of a shattering Family Court case that destroyed us that my ex is a sociopath and an off the scale autistic, far worse than I am, my friends who have retired from the Health Department have said that I'm actually quite good with people under normal circumstances. A late diagnosis and plenty of physical beatings could do all that, I guess? The key factors to my being homeless by my ex, despite gaining a late but secured entry to an electrical engineering undergrad, a scholarship and a freshman research grant, as well as organising a hardware startup with view to KickStart, was that I couldn't become a father, and the ex had her eyes on the (former) family riches. She also knew my obsessive hatred of the injustice of the Family Court, these days, my response has been to Go My Own Way, I'm quite active in the MGTOW community, but not because I hate women, I hate the social order and the Nanny State that allows them to destroy families like my own. I lost pretty much everyone I love to this crap, and most of them are dead.

I'm almost what they'd call a Level 4 Ghost, but I just say the Surgeon-General recommends my dosage of People (TM) in quantities of 1mg or less. I am a hermit, and I've lived alone for three years, but I've been a loner all my life since the death of my father almost three decades ago, and the subsequent abandonment by my narcissist mother, while keeping me around for a "single parent pension paycheque."

I won't go into the horror of the childhood abuses I've faced, or the treason I've witnessed from the highest levels of the Government of the country my family helped build, and that I once worked for, for nothing more than a thank you, I'll just say, my life has been really awfully s**t.

The summation of all of this festering cesspool of boiling goat faeces I'm forced to call "a life" is that most people don't even get to know who I really am, even if they beg me to let them in. I'd rather hold them as far away as possible, and if they try to get in, my mind moves against without even a thought of my own, and their pain is intense, I see it. I don't do that, they do it to themselves.

I'm a real basket case, yah?

I gotta say, Angels Fall First.

So, here I am, wondering, where in the bloody Hell would I even begin to start neutralising all of this crap that works without me being totally aware of it. It so seems that the other night in Western Sydney, a slightly sleepy me, dreading the two hour train ride up The Slot into the Western Blue Mountains, was hit on by a cute little Asian sales assistant at the Gametraders there, after I posed a number of questions concerning a DS Lite charging cable (its $20. Might see if I can get the original E-i1010 mobile phone prototype running again), and if the shop had any Neon Genesis posters. It was on this second question, the young lass offered to show me the poster rack, but mentioned there were two of them.

"I'm autistic sweetie, you'll confuse me easily," I lilted, and she gaped at me. "Tell ya what, how do you confuse an Irishman?"
"I'm not sure."
"You put him in a round room, and tell him to piss in the corner. I'm Irish, by the way."

Yah, ok, I broke the gales out. I'm told I'm a funny guy, but really, who wants to pay $30 at the door to hear a bloke joke about him dying in the gallows? No, me either.

Anyway, longest stories shortened, I had to leave (like five minutes beforehand) and old love, the cute lassie kept stalling me, until the conversation became ultra-awkward. We all know what that means, don't we? I simply split the scene, the old SAS tactics coming into effect. Ok, joking about the SAS, I'm better ^.^

Problem is, old love has become like the rock in my shoe I can't get out, just this rock is wedged in my brainpan. I actually despise being alone, but its the safest option I've observed so far, considering the women I've dated were carbon copies of my narcissist mother - and bonus points, I accidentally called the ex I was going to propose to by my estranged mothers name, then realising she despises my so-called mother more than I do! Dog House for a week after that boys, would've got herded into the sin bin I reckon.

I should get a dog... oh, wait, I rent a postage stamp in a caravan park with a beat up circa-1970s ex-touring caravan I brought for far too much I'm putting back together on it. Dogs are not an option, but I'm going to try a bird, a cockateil was suggested to me, can't have too much noise. Old love, the Asian girl is well aware I live 1,200km North most of the time, although it seems my skills are once again needed in the Southern Realms.

The topic is a million reasons not to do it, but never a reason to do it. With every other woman, I've always found a small fault, something so minor and insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and used it as a total dealbreaker to ice the whole thing, and walk away with a clear conscience. Evidently I haven't, but with this lassie, there was no dealbreaker. She just made me awkward a minute before I articulated the thought "Ask for the number to her dog and bone..." and I split the scene instead.

I'm thinking about heading down again this week coming. I want that freaking Trainspotting monologue poster for my (future) study. =P

I am not sure if I understood your post correctly, but I think I can relate in some regards. I also grew up with lots of abuse and a narcissistic mother. I never show my true self to women. I know once things go wrong, anything I've shared about myself will be used against me, so I keep up a facade. I sometimes fantazise about the thought of finding someone again, being with someone who genuinely cares about me, but then I remember why I am scared of love, and scared of sharing myself. Love is not nearly as unconditional as we make it out to be. And the pain that comes when things go downhill, is far far greater than the joy I experienced initially. When my previous relationship ended, I was completely depressed for over a year.

And thus I stay with myself, because I am the only person I am able to trust.

Hiya,

Yah, my autism drives NTs mad, when they hurt me it pisses me off. Of course, I get blamed for both ends. If htey have a boss, the boss usually gets a few choice legal statements, and someone is usually fired if they don't apologise. Screw 'em.

I'm kind of used to copping the blame for everything. I've not spoken to most of my estranged extended family in four years, still they blame me for every little mishap and setback they encounter, just like the old days. Meh.

Kara, my autistic ex, I knew things weren't working with her, but its only very recently I've come to the realisation, despite calling her by my narcissist estranged mothers name accidentally, that she was the literal carbon copy of Janette, my so-called mother. I'm sure I'd have gotten over Kara in time, I'm not that much of an a***hole, but the words "You can't prove you love me..." and "You're useless to every woman on Earth because you can't become a father..." My grandmother, bless her black soul sometimes, said it might be better that I not have kids. Never mind said grandmother raised me to believe a family would make me the most happy.

Its been three years since I left Kara. I'm pretty certain no shrink is gunna get in there, and fix things. Its scarred but healed over, the festering is inside now. To open it back up would likely kill me this time, it almost did last time. Its no longer depression, its just resignation, I am useless, because of the very thing I wanted the most, I can't accomplish it.

The worst part is these women that try for me, their faces so expectant, so full of hope, they want nothing more than to make me happy... but thats the part that hurts. I can't give them anything except broken dreams, and endless regrets. Its safer to just walk away, and try to forget, knowing you can't.

What a freaking mess.

And we wonder how hermits are made, do we? Heres a great story! Yikes. Excuse my constant gallows humour.

I feel for you mate, buggered if I know what the solution is, except risk more pain, and try to cheat at Russian Roulette. Past that really unsuitable suggestion, I got nothing, except to remain alone. Sucks, it'll kill me slowly, but it ain't gunna change till I'm dead.

Most delicious piece of irony, I've been told so many times I'd make a wonderful father (even if a step-father) and a very loving and devoted husband. Looks like I'll never find out either, yah?

Meh. Life is peachy, said Korn, in 1996.