I've Walked Alone.

I made quite a revelation a few weeks ago, that the root of my anxiety may lie in the fact that I never wanted to belong to a group of people.

Let me explain. Last Saturday I had the worst day at work in a very long time. It was a very chaotic day because we were short staffed, and there was a customer in the store who is banned because he goes into the kids department to stare at the children. After alerting the managers, once he walked in, I was told that that was not the guy and had made a mistake.

Knowing that I was not wrong, I kept my eye on the fucker and alerted other people of my co-workers of my concern. Moments later, guess who I found in the kids department being all kinds of sketchy. I altered the kids department lead who called a manager to voice her concern. They took her seriously and escorted him out of the store.

You know how I just summed that experience up in a paragraph to make it seem like it took 30 minutes from the time he entered the store to the time he was escorted out. Well it actually took about three hours of me stalking this guy around the store, most of which I spent pleading for someone to do something. It was the most immobilizing feeling. The minute Evan saw my face, he asked what was wrong and when I told him about the guy he immediately believed me and helped me alert my co-workers. It was impulsive and dumb I know, but my gut feelings never fail me, even when everyone around me is telling me I am wrong.

After the guy was booted from the store, I apologized to Evan for freaking out on him. I told him my anxiety started flaring up about the situation and I usually am in control of who gets to see me get all antsy. For some reason we bonded over this very uncomfortable situation (and my very uncomfortable admission to him), and while we were chatting it up at customer service (hours later) he shared with me an embarrassing piece of information I guess in return for my honesty.

We were looking at some tattoo books and I mentioned that I've always wanted one but don't see the point in branding my skin. Evan has several tattoos, and plans on getting more so he was bent on explaining the awesomeness of permanent skin ink. Some how we got to talking about other forms of body modification and he admitted that he also has a brand on his skin. Someone actually burnt his flesh to brand him with some symbol. Not only does he have a brand, but it's on his butt.

When he told me this I laughed out loud, because I thought he was kidding. No one gets a brand on their ass because they want to. But he kept repeating 'no seriously, i have one on my ass' while laughing nervously with me. At this point, I realized he wasn't kidding and apologized for laughing at him. Evan joined a fraternity in school and one of the 'rituals' or 'initiation' involves having your ass branded. He then pulled out his wallet and showed me fraternity card, all gold and pompous, to show his acceptance into the frat.

It occurred to me then, that this was not unusual. People sacrifice things all the time to belong to a group. There is this really famous body of work by John Locke (i believe) detailing this idea of a 'social contract' and the creation of a community. We all give up some rights in order to be accepted into a community. Whether that community is a social clique, a well intention group, or some dumb frat we do it to belong, but more importantly to have a place to belong. Sometimes in the extreme sense of having your ass branded. Mostly in less embarrassing or intrusive ways. And yet someone, I have avoided this sense of belonging to something for the last 24 years outside of family and the handful of people I call friends.

This cannot be normal.

Evans branding seems more normal than my aversion to belonging. I mean here is the nice, sensitive, happy drunk kid (20) from a wealthy publishing family who doesn't have to work at the bookstore but he does to make his own money. He has ginger hair and a really mischievous smile, and he can't help but like him.

But he also wants to belong so badly that he tries to please everyone. He hates being on the outside of anything. He once thought I was mad at him and spent the whole day apologizing to make sure we were on good terms. The moment he thinks he is falling out of 'flavor' with someone he will make inquiries about your well being and if he has done anything to offend you.

It's nice and annoying. I admitted to him that I never joined a sorority so I couldn't show him any nice laminated cards or ass branding I really said this to make light of the branding and to poke fun at myself. But thinking back on it, I've never really joined anything. I was never apart of any sort of team/group/person for longer than a week without bailing. I've never wanted to belong to one thing or person exclusively.

And the moments when I do feel I want to belong I don't know how to. I can't wrap myself around the fact that people want me to participate in something. That there is this group that I can belong to unabashedly and unashamed. And I can't help but feel this sense of loss at never wanting to belong to something as much as I want things to belong to me.

Case in Point: Simon.

I love the train ride to Grand Central Station. After zipping through all the towns that lie on the outskirt of the city, we cross this bridge and fly through Harlem. For some reason as we were passing some brownstones on the way to Grand Central, I remembered a story Simon told me about getting beat up in Harlem when he was in his early 20's. He was walking hand in hand with his girlfriend at the time and some teenagers approached them because, in his words, 'i was some white guy from the Upper East Side, walking hand in hand with an extremely hot black girl. It was bound to happen'.

He eventually got beat up by three of them and ended up in a hospital for face lacerations. He went to his father right after the event (because his dads a doctor and because it's his dad) to, I don't know, to cry to get help, to hear some sage words. And his father turned him away, bruised face and all. His dad was too busy with other things to calm his son down. And he told me that was the last time he spoke to his dad because of his lack of empathy. Because he couldn't give a shit because he didn't know how. And as he was telling me all of this in that damn Soho loft again, inches away from my face, I felt his immense connection that still makes me smile. I mean my head was bent and his head was bent we are staring each other in the eyes, which for someone with really bad eye contact is a landmark thing for me.

And I wanted to tell him I was sorry, I wanted to touch his face where the scars weren't anymore and tell him that I couldn't understand because I never got my ass kicked by a bunch of teenagers, but that I was sorry nonetheless. And at the time I didn't know what I was feeling then. It was feeling of both longing and distance, and my want to fill the gap between the two. I realize then that for once, in a very very very long time and maybe my first time ever, I wanted to belong to someone, to something that wasn't my own isolation. I wanted to be apart of his crappy sad sorry, and his IT knowledge, and his really nerdy clothes. I wanted to give way of some of my selfish personal space and insecurities, to belong to just a little part of him. The part of him that made me feel safe and connected and apart of some mutual social contract. This is what most people want to belong to.

And the whole time on the train, looking out at parts of the city I have seen a million times before, I couldn't help but get the sense of him that day. That there are parts of New York City that he will forever embody for me. That there was the time that I wanted to belong to someone and some concept that was completely out of my control.

And I fear that I dabble to loosely with wanting to belong to people or a group while also staying so far away from them. That I am so use to 'walking alone' I can't grasp the concept of letting someone in. Except him though. I really really liked him. So much that I was willing to relinquish some hold on my loner status to be apart of his life and allow him into mine.