Every now and then I find myself bothered by the fact that I can’t connect with individuals from among the vast sea of humanity. I’m not talking about a particular kind of connection, rather about anything beyond the most fleeting and superficial minute or two of small talk in passing. My lack of common ground with almost everyone I meet forms the basis of the problem, undoubtedly. Allow me to collate, if not elucidate, via this incomplete yet extensive list:

I am not (in no particular order) a drinker, smoker, taker of drugs, religious believer, fan of sitcoms or reality television or the evening news or sports, dedicated follower of fashion, fitness nut, vegetarian, vegan, organic foodie, artist, musician, home owner, licensed driver, owner of a vehicle, golfer, tattooed person, early adopter, member of a political party, activist, punk, rocker, goth, businessman, hippie, gun enthusiast, iPod owner, hacker, student, teacher, scholar, devotee of the classics in literature or music or film, indie snob, dom, sub, fetishist, or financial investor.

That’s not to say I have anything against most of those categories (with some notable exceptions), merely that these are things I simply cannot relate to. Those people and I have nothing to talk about.

Let’s be clear: I am some pretty damned cool things. I’m a father, for instance, which is among the best things in my life. I’m a boyfriend twice over, and I’d have to be a lunatic to gripe about that. I’m a skeptical free-thinking computer-techie grammar-geek animation-fan dilettante, and I like it that way. The problem lies in the fact that the masses see me as boring… and more often than not, the feeling is mutual.

So be it, I suppose.