Blog Series Guest Post: Depression and The Single Guy

Author: Philip Kaplan

Bio:  I am a 37 year old resident of Towson, Maryland, although I originally hail from Jersey. I spent over seven years as a lawyer for parents in custody cases initiated by Child Protective Services. I struggle with severe depression and am in treatment for it. In the past, I have served as a judge and scorer in regional high school mock trial competitions, as well as an appellate moot court judge in law school practice exercises. I am a huge fan of random acts of kindness/generosity and was fortunate enough to have gotten the chance to be one of the Kmart "layaway angels" making the rounds in recent years. More currently, I am a proud member of and volunteer for NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness). In my spare time, I enjoy power walks, pop music, twisted humor, and deep conversations.
 
It is shortly after 12am on a weekend night in early 2015, and one of the main local bars, a favorite among the nearby college crowd, is packed. People are drinking, dancing, talking, or some combination of the three. The energy level is palpable as Taylor Swift's "Shake It Off" plays loudly in the background. The bartender rushes to serve the customers who are either ordering drinks, waiting for their drinks, or trying to get his attention. Groups of girls begin entering the room for the first time, crossing the dance floor area and heading to the bar while talking to each other or texting on their phones.

One such group of three girls is on the outskirts of the bar area, waiting to order.

A good-looking, 30 something guy wearing a gold leather jacket strolls confidently up to the three girls, taps one on the shoulder, and says, "This looks like a group that's doing shots!" He flashes them a broad smile.

They smile back.

Within minutes, he is handing each of them a cinnamon flavored "fireball" shot and doing one himself. They all raise a toast to the night and cheer. A short time later, he is making small talk with one of them, easily balancing out her wide-eyed responsiveness with seemingly effortless displays of wit and charm. She's a junior at the university. He asks her what her major is. Communications. She asks about him. He tells her he's a lawyer.

"A lawyer?" She replies, visibly impressed.

They continue to talk for a few more minutes. He gets her number, promising to call. At some point, he makes his departure, flashing her one more warm smile upon leaving.

A few days later, the man in the gold leather jacket parks his car in the lot behind the office building. A few minutes later, a door opens in a waiting room, and he is greeted by a man in his early 50s. He enters the man's nicely decorated office, and they sit across from each other.

"How did it go?" His therapist asks him.

"I went out Saturday night. I guess I had a decent enough time, chatting up some girls, buying them a few shots. I did get one girl's number, and I texted her the next day about getting together, but I still haven't heard back. Whatever. I guess I'm proud of myself for having made the effort, right?"

His therapist reaffirms that he should be proud of himself, particularly for venturing outside of his comfort zone.

However, the man in the gold leather jacket does not appear happy.

"Look, it's not like I'm not proud of myself. I know I'm trying. Fine. But that's not good enough. I'm so lonely. I'll never understand why this has to be so difficult. Sometimes I really just want to die. I don't want it to end like that. But I don't know. Sometimes suicide seems to make perfect sense. My life feels like a nightmare from which I can't wake up."

 I know the man in the gold leather jacket. I see him every time I look in the mirror.

For three years now, I have battled severe depression, a recurrence of an illness that affected me throughout my adolescence. As a teenager, I was psychiatrically hospitalized three times and came close to killing myself on several occasions. My teenage depression ended at age 19, and with a newfound confidence and optimism, I became very focused on outward achievement, putting all my energies into academic/career goals. I graduated from college with honors, went to law school, and ultimately became a well-respected trial attorney.

Yet my dating/relationship life remained troubled. I was a late bloomer and did not begin dating until my early 20s. I've only had one girlfriend-- from age 25 to 32-- and looking back, I question whether we were ever right for each other. I am now 37 and have been single for over five years. I have struggled just to get dates, and I average maybe 3 to 5 actual, in person dates a year.

The college bar scene was one experiment among many. I've obviously tried online dating. I've tried asking women out in other contexts.

How do I explain that I am depressed, in large part, because I am single and lonely? That my dating frustrations frequently make me want to die? Men know how it is. If we dare to open up about our dating problems, we get told that we must be doing something wrong. Then we drive ourselves crazy looking inward, trying to identify some hidden flaw that we imagine might be the cause.

How does a guy begin to say what he really feels, which is that the 21st century dating culture is a bewildering, incomprehensible maze of catch-22s, double binds, and no-win situations? That so many men are completely baffled as to how, when, and where to approach women for dates? That more men than you'd ever imagine-- otherwise successful, socially functional, good-looking men-- are nonetheless having trouble simply getting dates, and that many of us have been painfully alone for years?

When will people realize there are no easy answers to any of this?

Song lyrics begin playing in my head.

"I'm dancing on my own.... I make the moves up as I go... and that's what they don't know..."

Tomorrow I will have another therapy session.