We all strive to find means to validate our existence. As to the exact nature of what those means are, largely depends on whatever abilities we happen to excel in, or in the worse cases, whatever we have left.
I came to this conclusion after someone asked me the proverbial question for the gazillionth time: “Bakit ka lagi mag-isa? (Why are you always alone?)” .
You see, I frequent a certain bar that’s frequented by P.L..U. (or P.L.M., depending on your “orientational” predisposition 
). People who go there usually come in droves, whereas I always go there alone. The bar is like a category C or D kind of place, and in keeping with my alma mater’s mentality, I love to go there.
I’m quite known there as the guy who is always alone, and a lot of people there often ask me why, possibly out of curiosity, or concern, or pity, or for the lack of a catchier pick-up line.
Then it was just recently that I asked myself, “Why are you indeed alone Carrie Bradshaw?”
At first, I had no idea on what to answer, then I tried to do some introspection.
One, I am the kind of guy who doesn’t really give a damn about anyone unless they, either directly or indirectly, affect my state of affairs.
Two, I am a guy whose attention span exceeds nothing but the length of a catterpillar. I can’t be in place, doing the same thing, for extended periods of time.
Three, my interests are way different than most people of my kind. Non-straight guys love talking about the latest tech stuff, their “karirs” , their sex lives… the mundane. I fall asleep everytime.
Now, given that and a number of other things, I realised that I am content with just being by myself. Not to imply that I hate company, but just to say that I don’t need to be around people, or be recognised by people, to feel alive.
Now figure out the rest.
