December 16, 2024
Atlanta, GA
It was a Monday night. Any other Monday night around this time, I’d be glossy eyed under the spell of my couch 5 hours in to a Civilization 6 run while I listened to a podcast about latest pop culture trends and news. However, on this night I find myself in my car in a Christmas sweater that I’ve been dying to wear for a whole year with my heart racing. Nerves? After all these years putting myself in uncomfortable social situations, Im still feeling nervous? How is this possible? The whole reason I even decided to smoke half that blunt before I got here was so that I didn’t have to feel this way, but now it seems like the effect here is actually quite the opposite. It’s becoming more intense. Bright lights from a passing car illuminate my face. I look at my phone in the passenger seat to see the time, a little after 9PM. Another car drives by, this time with the bass booming, followed by a group of people walking down the hill to the end of the street. I drove for 30 minutes worried that my car tire might fly off into to I-75 traffic just to get here so no turning back now. There’s no way to get through this but to get through with this, so let’s do this.
I walked down the long, winding hill, resembling a maze of metal and concrete as the cars lined the road for parking, I could hear the familiar bouncing hum of a gathering of people. The vibrations from what i can tell is the bass line in Huit Octobre by Cortex reverberates all the way outside to where I am. Yep, it was definitely an another night at Controllerise. Hands in pocket and eyes to my feet, I approached the back of the line. It was already stretching out into the parking lot. There were 2 lines, supposedly one for men and one for women; however, on this night at this particular time, people seemed to be co-mingling. Shit! Where do I stand? Without breaking stride, I make a decision and go to the line that I know is typically for guys.
“Get a picture of me with the scenery,” I hear as I see a girl run to take a picture in front of what appears to me as just a bunch of trees.
In my nerve riddled decision, I ended up behind 2 women who seemed like they had just came from an ad of your favorite Old Navy, Plato's Closet type store. One girl, with neck length locs and what looks like a crochet woven sweater, is holding the phone taking a photo of another girl. Now this girl. She made that blunts effects even more intense. These nerves were starting to bubble up again. What should I say? Should I even say anything
Prior to getting here, I had one mission: to get a date..or something. For the past year and half now, I’ve been trying to make more intentional efforts to start dating. In the past, I’ve always been reserved about my romantic feelings towards the women in my life. A more common than comfortable outcome for men in my position in todays world would be turn to some of the platforms that turn the blame outward. A “male loneliness epidemic” has been term thrown around, to some contention, to describe the recent climate of the society. Men for a multitude of reasons have voiced their anecdotes about how it feels to be undervalued or inadequate to the greater society. Instead of pointing their blames at the institutions and systems that created these environments, some men have taken the traditional approach, blame women.
The “man-o-sphere” is a place that I’ve often been terrified of. And not just because the things that they say perpetuate a lot of faulty beliefs and sometimes straight up misogyny and racism, but because I can see how easily I could’ve become one of them. I can think to plenty of moments after heartbreak that it felt like the right thing to do was blame the world. I mean why not? As far as I was concerned, I was doing everything the way all the men in my life should, so why don’t all the women want me? Luckily for me, I went through these feelings in a time before the type of figures that would speak to me came to popularity. Luckily for me, I was able to come to the conclusion that I am in control of my own future and I didn’t like how it felt to hate the world, let alone women. So at every step of the way, I chose to be better.
That leads me to present time. Dating is something that I always wanted to indulge in. I figured that instead of me trying to ask the world to change for me, I can be that change by putting myself out there. Or maybe I wanted to prove to those people on the internet that it is possible to get a date in the real world. Or maybe it was to prove to myself that Im actually worth a damn. On top of that, there’s a running slogan you’ll hear in places with lots of singles (so basically the internet) is that dating in todays world is trash. I called bullshit. I figured that people are just so used to the instant gratification, whether it be having your groceries delivered to your door or posting a video of your vacation to your grandparents in Charleston and immediately getting over 200 likes and comments, that the concept of dating is incompatible with them. Dating, I believe, by function of what it is is trial and error and you will fail much more than you succeeded. So it shouldn’t be too hard to go out and get a date, right? All you gotta do is just do it….right? What exactly do i do? Am I just supposed to tell this person I’m attracted to them? What if they say no? What if they say yes? What if I’m not enough to make her happy? Shit. Maybe it’s not as easy I thought, but for different reasons.
“Come take a look at them,” the girl in the sweated yelled out.
The was no wind in the forecast but I could feel a chill go down my spine as her hair bounced with every step she took as the girl who got her picture taken came over. She was wearing a flannel with blue jeans and Uggs on, very reserved considering the occasion. I watched them huddle around the phone to see the pictures her friend in the sweater had taken. The energy in which they carried themselves told em that they had to be in their early to mid twenties. They didn’t seem to have been afflicted by the mild bouts of despair that riddles your late twenties. I was drawn to her oversized glasses with pointed frames, almost reminiscent of Edna Mode from the Incredibles. Hmm. Maybe I should say something. I think she’s cute. There’s nothing stopping me. But she is out with her friend, maybe she doesn’t want to be bothered, and I haven’t even walked in yet so I should chill. Gosh but she is cute and what if I don’t see her when we get inside. Nah, I’ll just leave her alone…nah, fuck that, this is another moment of separation between me and those people complaining on the internet, let me say something-
“I give it an 8.5!” I blurted from behind them
What initially started as raised eyebrows of confusion quickly tuned into elation as they turned to see me in this jolly Christmas sweater. I was frozen- a deer in headlights. I felt like I had been pushed on stage and the spotlight was on me. My stomach turned and I clenched my fists tighter in my pocket as I returned an awkward smile.
“What makes it an 8.5 and not a 10,” she said with the prototypical Atlanta/ClayCo accent that I absolutely love. Maybe I was just hearing what I wanted but it sounded just like it. I don’t know what is about it maybe because it reminds me of NewNew from Atl or it just sounds right, I love a woman with THAT Atlanta accent. It’s a midway point between a southern drawl and valley girl accent when done right. Her name was Kay, just like the beginning of a kiss, and her friend in the sweater name was Eden, like a garden which seemed applicable because it went with the light and flowery vibe I got from her.
“Well if you want my professional opinion, you can’t really see the scenery behind you because of the lighting. It just looks like you’re in a dark lot.”
Eden looked at the picture in a agreement, “Yea, it’d probably look better if you stood over by some of these lights” as she pointed to the flood lights that illuminated the lot full of would be patrons.
“Hmm. I guess you’re right,” Kay said.
“Now you’ll be getting my invoice in the mail,” I said jokingly in hopes to keep up a front that I’m not losing my mind internally. My typical nervous tick in social situations is to spew a bunch of non-sequiturs in a hopes to seem normal. But why am trying so hard right now? The first girl I happened run into I’m putting this pressure on myself to perform excellently. For fucking what? Is it the voices of all those online pick up artists telling me that if she’s laughing that she might be into me so now I feel I have to close. Let’s just relax and let the interaction play out.
“We need to see if they got that same food thing from last time”
“Is this your first time coming out to Controllerise?”
“No, we come here every now and again. Last time, we were here they were had chef making food outside and we wanted know where he was set up.”
“Ah, ok. Yeah this is only my third time here and the last time I was here there was like a sushi bar here or something.”
I couldn’t even begin to tell you what they were making that night or any night for that matter. It’s not that I don’t respect the chefs who dedicate themselves to selling their work. Impossible as the son of a chef. However, my borderline crippling addiction to weed doesn’t allow me to just eat all willy nilly. As I say this, the smell of weed permeates the area. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who was having problems with nerves.
“Oh I love your sweater,” Eden said.
Maybe it was the shared kinship in the sweater that made her point it out. Or maybe this sweater was just the shit, there’s a reason I bought it. The whole ugly sweater narrative never really connected with me because I always thought that they looked pretty nice. My particular sweater was a sight to behold. It was torso sized depiction of Santa in all his jolliness playing golf, but thats not even the best part. The part that has the golf clubs on it is actually front pocket. It’s actually pretty fucking adorable if you ask me and it’ll be my designated Christmas sweater until I physically cant wear it any more.
“Thanks! I figured I’d fit into the occasion.”
“Nothing wrong with trying to get into the holiday spirit?
Somehow this conversation turned into one about the different ways shopping has changed over the years. It could have been the delirium that derives from standing out in the cold or it could’ve been from unending circuit that the nerves are running through my body, but I was fading in and out of the conversation.
“My mom was hating on my little outfit,” I could vaguely hear Kay referring to outfit she had to put together as she held her phone up to reveal a simple sweater and skirt outfit decorated with candy canes and other Christmas imager. But I was still in a slight panic, constantly looking over the hill, toward the front of the line. Behind the security guards, there was a look to the outside seating area. From there you could see the flames dancing in the wind from to bonfire lit to keep people warm. Further back, I could see a stand for another chef. Hopefully, this time I’ll be able actually try the food. As I faded back into conversation the ladies were having. I was vaguely hearing things about company holiday parties, mother’s hating on their daughter’s outfits, the wonders of stores like TJ Max because thats how Kay put her outfit together, all blended in the with the low hum of the overlapping conversations of people in line. Like a dog’s ears perking up to a high frequency whistle, I snapped back into the conversation after hearing Eden remark about how she loves a good Home Good’s run.
“Do people even go into stores anymore?” I interjected. “I feel like I barely try any clothes on anymore."
“Thats real,” Eden agreed.“Honestly, most of my shopping is done on Amazon or whatever store I’m buying from’s store.”
This the stronghold that late-stage capitalism has brought on to us. What was once a staple of our culture, going to the local malls, shopping squares, and partaking in the national pastime of commerce, has now become a relic. A distant memory of a time before that now seems like ages. The pandemic did more than just take a toll on people careers and home lives, it took a toll on our social mobility. The death of “third spaces” like the local bar, arcade, or even malls has been exacerbated by loss of in store shopping. It’s not all the corporations fault. The same instant gratification society that hates dating is partly to blame for the rise in what I like to call “the loneliness economy.” Anything that contributes to eliminating the human interaction, contributes to this economy, be it Instacart, Tinder, Uber, and the empire that is Amazon. And these men online want to blame women for their problems? They couldn’t be any more lost. Every time you open up your wallet to any of these companies, you’re indirectly contributing to your loneliness. But I get it, you think you’ll be rich just like them so day. Well that the thing about the American Dream, you have to be asleep for it to come true.
“We need men in this line and women in this line,” the security guard at the front of the line said as he came to provide order to the back of the line. I already knew that I was standing in the correct line so it was Kay and Eden who had to move. It must have been officially time to open the place because as soon as we separated, the lines began to move. Kay was in the middle of explaining to me something about her wardrobe for the day. It was something in extreme detail because all I remember saying in response was-
“This all seems very detailed, are you like a Type A person?”
“Oh no,” she exclaimed. “I’m far from that. I’m like a type that like kinda organized here, and a little organized there, and then its craziness and chaos over here. So I don’t know what type you would call that.”
I paused for a second.
“We’ll just say you’re a type Q. Type Q-D.” ;)
“That was cute,” she giggled. “I like that.”
Our gap grew farther and farther as the mens line was moving much faster than the women’s. Probably because most of the women here are traveling in groups and therefore want to wait to go in all together or maybe due to their big bags. However as the gap grew, concurrently so did my intent to ask this girl out. Things were going smoothly, despite the storm going inside of me. I had been at this point plenty of times before and failed miserably, either by hovering around or by being too aloof. How was I gonna play it this time?
“Can you empty you pockets and can I check inside you bag,” the security guard asked. “Alright, wait right here, then you can go in.”
I stood at the top of this hill, in front of this line, overlooking the would be attendees. I could see people of all colors, creeds, and persuasions. I could see the pockets of people who appeared to be regulars, lamenting and rejoicing over events from Controllerise’s of past. I could also see the loners and singles who had faces that looked similar to mine when I attended for the first time. Then, I glance over at Kay. Fuck, I hate social gatherings, but I’m on a mission. I was so focused on putting my future into my hands, but little did I know, my past would pop up in more ways than one.
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