One IS the Loneliest Number

My stupor aside, I have come to one conclusion regarding the human psyche...we are not solitary beings. We, like so many other species, enjoy grouping together. We group, we gripe and we go our separate ways, only to cluster another day. I have spent the last three days completely alone. Not altogether awful, as I have learned to enjoy my own company and the thoughts that most others try to escape from, I have gathered that gatherings are solely based on fear and insecurity. Though I long for the day of instigating my own "get togethers", you people are all full of shit. I anticipated quiet evenings out, making sweet sweet love to my chicken wings and pints of golden glory, but came upon something else indeed: Non-stop chatter of nothing that goes nowhere. Where do the smart people hang? Why is it so difficult to find stimulating and meaningful convo amidst the drunken masses? Therein lies the rub...smart people don't get wasted and speak of little for they have intelligent and stimulating conversations in secluded areas where the dullards aren't likely to tread. Perhaps I am too hard on humanity...or perhaps everyone is not hard enough on themselves. Seriously people, do you have any idea how absurd you sound? I may be all alone at my table scarfing down fried goodness and inhaling hoeegarden like no ever has, but my thoughts about the greatness of my meal are far more interesting to the world than the shit you've come up with. And I'm the single one? Ugh. I am going to get a dog. At least when I speak to him about deeper things his eyes will meet mine and although his understanding may not be all encompassing, he'll get that something more exists than gossip and bitching. Oh, how I long for those puppy eyes of seemingly vacancy yet depth beyond my wildest ramblings. Boys are easy to train in these methods, but they talk back with the nonsense I attempt to abstain from. Perhaps I shall attempt a coup of my brain and just drink it to retardation...then I'll fit in. Do I truly desire acceptance? Or just a partner in crime to ignore the nonsense and exchange knowing looks across a patio table set in the sunshine consumed by beer and chicken wings? Mmmmmm, beer and chicken wings...