Loneliness in failure

Company organized a few games for the summer. I lost a few. I was sad. I keep losing.

Typeracing, lost by the deathmatch format. Poker, busted early on one all in, meanwhile people trying to stay alive as long as possible. Badminton, out in a single set, being banned from playing because I’m decent at it. But a knockout doesn’t care about that. One bad set and you’re destined to lose and nothing you can do in the match. My skill didn’t even get the chance to show up.

So there I was. Out of everything. And here’s the thing I noticed sitting on that bench: the worst part wasn’t losing. It was watching everyone else still playing.

Everyone at the table, still in it. And me, on the side. I thought random things “no one would care for someone who lost early.”, “maybe I’m not good enough or something.”, “I missed sth, again, that I could have strategize better”. Just, everyone is still inside the thing, and I’m outside of it now. I sadly sit on the bench, alone, too.

And then she sat down, next to me. She asked the score of the match I was asked to be the referee which I don’t even have the mood to count the score, just faking to not look like I’m an annoying guy. And then she asked about my result. I sad I disqualified, and a bit sad. The disappointment appeared clearly.

And she said, oh, I’m out too. And then, weirdly, she said she was kind of happy about it. Because now we’re similar.

I laughed. Wait, what. How is that a good thing.

But it worked. That’s weird, but it actually worked.

Her presence was lovely, bring me liveliness back.

Afterward I realized that the most scary thing is not the failure itself, but the loneliness it carries. The loss is just a fact. It’s the being out alone that hurts. And she didn’t fix the loss. She just removed the loneliness with that illogical sentence.

Being out alone is exile. Being out together is just two people on a bench who didn’t make it. The disqualification was the exact thing that made me feel cut off, and she picked it up and turned it into the thing we had in common. The wound became the bridge. I didn’t know you could do that with a single sentence.

For a long time, I’ve always been the one trying to reach out, for people, for relationships. At the moment, I was just sitting there at my lowest, and she came. I didn’t earn it or plan it, and somehow I got to be on the receiving end for once. I don’t think I realized how rarely that happens to me until it did. It felt almost impossible, like, why would she. But she just did. That’s lovely how life is.