“There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure.”
– Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist
I hadn’t gone out since the middle of March. After developing a disgusting case of folliculitis I decided to stay in on the weekends and get more work done. My skin looked gross, so I figured that there was no point in going out anyway.
Instead of socializing, I sat inside and read books or watched movies on the weekend. This wouldn’t have been a big deal if I had a job where I have to talk to people, but I don’t. I was basically a shut in for more than a month.
Now that my skin is healing up, I’ve decided that it’s time for me to be social again. This was easier said than done. Because I was at home for so long, going out and doing stuff with other people actually made me kind of nervous. As dumb as it sounds, I was scared to go and talk to people at bars and clubs. Having not done it in a while I feared that I’d be awkward and weird. I was worried that people would judge me. The thought of being ridiculed was horrifying.
Rather than wallowing in my fear, I decided to take action. I analyzed my emotions and realized that it would be near impossible to convince my brain that nothing bad would happen. In my mind I made up all kinds of excuses about why I had to stay home. I hadn’t had a haircut in a while, I wanted to finish reading a book, I needed a good night’s rest. The rationalizations were endless.
Finally I had enough. I looked at a map, found a city I had never been to, and got in my car. I drove to the downtown area, locked my phone in the vehicle and went into the most crowded club on the block.
Within 15 minutes I was talking to people and having a good time. I made out with a couple girls, I danced to some dubstep song, and I met cool people. Before closing time some random girl I had briefly talked with came over and gave me her number in case I wanted to “hang out” after she drove her friends home. I took her up on the offer.
I could have let my fear consume me. I could have made up excuses about America being full of “feminazis,” or sat inside to make a meme about having social anxiety. Instead I manned up, walked out my door and confronted what was terrifying me. Complaining is for whiners and losers. Weak men sit at home and shriek about how evil and horrible the world is. They can’t bear to face their fears so they amplify them and let them control every aspect of their lives. Men who prattle on about how awful the world is are cowards. Thy know that they are weak, but don’t have the courage to admit it. Instead they have to fabricate grandiose tales to try and convince the rest of the world that their own pitiful existence is some kind of revolutionary and genius one man war against the system.
Whining and complaining is for losers. Anyone who dares to call himself a man must take on what he fears the most. There’s no honor in sitting at the sidelines and lying about why you can’t participate.