I keep most tickets. Gigs. Some film screenings. Occasional theatre performances. It’s not compulsive. I just like the thought of occasionally going back through them because I never remember where I’ve been or what I’ve seen. And I point blank refuse to take photos at gigs! God do I hate people who take photos and videos at gigs. They’re rarely quality captures, and surely it distracts you from the music, no? You’re there to be in the moment. Anyway. I had a little laugh at my own expense today having realised quite how often I’ve bought two tickets to something that I’d ended up going to on my own. Sometimes I fully expect the person I’m buying for to still be around when the date comes around. Sometimes I imagine I’ll find someone to go with me. I don’t know what that says. Optimism, I’ll go with optimism.
I’m usually not sad when going it alone, though. Sometimes, when seeing a band you love, it’s easier not to have someone else’s expectations to hinder your own enjoyment. Still, when sharing music with someone you know gets it too, I can’t help but love the moment more. Music is important. Sharing moments is important too.
But. But. I want to let go of this idea that my life would be better with a partner. I want to stop hoping for that and start reminding myself how to keep up the ante unilaterally. I feel like I miss out on some social things because I’m single, but I also feel like I’ve deliberately not done things that I could or should have done purely because I was afraid of doing them alone. Moreover, I know I’ve hated, again and again, being the single one in a couple-y context — when I could have just enjoyed it for the people who were there. Don’t get me wrong, if G (3) was to text me tomorrow, I’d be happy. But, I don’t expect him to, and I increasingly don’t expect to join my peers in this regard. So I just need to get on with it and be as happy as I can be.
Graham's blog: politics, poetry, and introspection