Recently I’ve been suffering from an overwhelming crisis of confidence. I feel I have totally lost any small ability I ever had to talk to the opposite sex. Coupled with this, every time I have some kind of success speaking to an attractive girl, I’m shoulder charged off the ball by someone taller, better looking, better built, with darker skin and a 6 pack. Except for tonight. Tonight I plumb new depths of low self esteem.
I did have plans to visit the canal today. I don’t really know what happens, but I think they fall through in favour of chilling at the hostel. Myself and a few friends have been spending time attempting to organise a sail boat to Colombia. There is never the right boat, going at the right time, sailing from the right port, to the right port, for the right price. It’s all very confusing, and exceptionally frustrating. At this rate I’m going to flip a coin between either this or taking a flight. My fear of flying esures I don’t follow through with this stupid idea.
It’s interesting when you look at a map of Panama, with Colombia neighbouring. There is no direct road or land crossing. the Pan-Am highway just seems to finish (or begin) in the jungle. This area is called the Darién Gap, a dangerous expanse of swampland and forest. Apart from the expense of building roads in this area, and the environmental impact thereof, political heavyweights on many sides have said connecting the two countries by road would intensify an already significant drug problem. The options are therefore limited to air or sea. It should make for a interesting adventure.
Night turns to day and I confide to my ‘friend’ about such aforementioned self esteem insecurities over a quiet beer. We’re joined by a number of hostel dwellers, including the impossibly beautiful Laura, a bubbly girl from California. After putting in an evening of spadework, with some heavy hints on both sides, my ‘friend’, a small, dread locked, not particularly attractive German steals her away. “Do you want to drink these somewhere else?” He say’s, and they vanish. The two beers I’ve just bought for them. The two beers I’VE just bought for them…
Usually I can hold my hands up and say; “I can’t compete with Rafael Nadal over there, but this takes the biscuit. At one point, the ratio was one girl to one guy on the table. Except for one extra guy. Me. The extra guy. The guy drinking a vodka 7up alone on a bench once populated with potential. The only guy not spending the rest of the evening with someone. I’m left to stare into space and wonder what exactly went wrong.
Crisis of confidence
Recently I’ve been suffering from an overwhelming crisis of confidence. I feel I have totally lost any small ability I ever had to talk to the opposite sex. Coupled with this, every time I have some kind of success speaking to an attractive girl, I’m shoulder charged off the ball by someone taller, better looking, better built, with darker skin and a 6 pack. Except for tonight. Tonight I plumb new depths of low self esteem.
I did have plans to visit the canal today. I don’t really know what happens, but I think they fall through in favour of chilling at the hostel. Myself and a few friends have been spending time attempting to organise a sail boat to Colombia. There is never the right boat, going at the right time, sailing from the right port, to the right port, for the right price. It’s all very confusing, and exceptionally frustrating. At this rate I’m going to flip a coin between either this or taking a flight. My fear of flying esures I don’t follow through with this stupid idea.
It’s interesting when you look at a map of Panama, with Colombia neighbouring. There is no direct road or land crossing. the Pan-Am highway just seems to finish (or begin) in the jungle. This area is called the Darién Gap, a dangerous expanse of swampland and forest. Apart from the expense of building roads in this area, and the environmental impact thereof, political heavyweights on many sides have said connecting the two countries by road would intensify an already significant drug problem. The options are therefore limited to air or sea. It should make for a interesting adventure.
Night turns to day and I confide to my ‘friend’ about such aforementioned self esteem insecurities over a quiet beer. We’re joined by a number of hostel dwellers, including the impossibly beautiful Laura, a bubbly girl from California. After putting in an evening of spadework, with some heavy hints on both sides, my ‘friend’, a small, dread locked, not particularly attractive German steals her away. “Do you want to drink these somewhere else?” He say’s, and they vanish. The two beers I’ve just bought for them. The two beers I’VE just bought for them…
Usually I can hold my hands up and say; “I can’t compete with Rafael Nadal over there, but this takes the biscuit. At one point, the ratio was one girl to one guy on the table. Except for one extra guy. Me. The extra guy. The guy drinking a vodka 7up alone on a bench once populated with potential. The only guy not spending the rest of the evening with someone. I’m left to stare into space and wonder what exactly went wrong.