The local celeb haunt is not as classy as I think it is.

 

There’s a club I go to where you can occasionally spot the odd footballer or popstar.
I went with a guy mate on Thursday. One of the girls who works there is gorgeous, but I typically can’t talk to her.
He approached her for me (a new low) and she claimed she had a boyfriend. I doubt that.
I took a female friend there with a group over the weekend. AMN hadn’t been before but wasn’t bowled over- the prices were too high (agreed) and it was too pretentious (pretentious yes, too pretentious no).
She noticed (again) that I hesitate to approach women. This is a surprise to her still. I mentioned I was on a waitlist for a second time for issues with esteem and women. She was surprised as she thought I’d get by on looks. I probably should. I’m throwing my young life away because I don’t think I’m good enough.
Here’s the weird thing- the celeb haunt is that- there are the odd very rich person in there, and some of them are celebrities. However AMN pointed out that the vast majority are wannabes. Most of the young girls in there are drunk wannabes spending loads of Daddy’s cash, insecure young girls flaunting their bodies wearing next to nothing as they feel they have to to get attention.
I think every girl in there is trying to bag a celeb, or a rich guy, and I always feel like an office slave like myself wouldn’t stand a chance. Bollocks. First off, it’s possible to pull in there because my mate FA did it. He’s about as good looking as I am. Which is not too bad. Second, most of the guys in there are similarly poor blowing what money they have in an overpriced club. Third, and contradicting the second point, I actually have lots of money because I keep thinking I’m poor, and hence don’t spend it. Fourth, the girls can’t all have the rich guys.
But I did try. I talked to quite a few girls and had a series of clumsy, awkward situations. It probably sounded like somebody else’s voice was coming out of my body: some geek has inhabited the tissue of a player and made him suck with women. As it always does. This is my life.
I told AM about this trial in which people cured phobias with MDMA. She’s dead against drugs (despite setting up a group for people who want to go out and drink alcohol, you know, the drug that kills more than all the illegal drugs combined) so she wasn’t too happy about this. I, on the other hand, am becoming increasingly desperate and I’ll try anything to get over this. I’m in my early 30s and I’m scared that in the next ten years I might kill myself because I can’t overcome my problems. I’m scared that one day the idea of another 30 years of rejection and not being good enough will be too much to bear. I’ve wasted so much of my life already on hating myself- I don’t know how I’m going to change that, but the club is the place where people see these problems so evidently.

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