I’m average, unremarkable and I’ve spent my lifespan to date wallowing unnoticed in a mud lake of mediocrity.
Before I continue and before you make a desperate bid to press the ‘back’ button on your browser, I should point out that this is not written in self-pity, because as the years have passed me idly by, I have started to relish being over-looked.
In my formative years I willed myself to excel at something but I always managed to fall spectacularly short. In school I was never the brightest or the best in classroom despite the amount I studied (which led me to believe that studying was a futile and pointless waste of my time – this in turn led to my ‘amazing’ degree grade), although I wasn’t exactly the child who sat at the back chewing on his tie and setting fire to the curtains either. My sporting prowess was also lacking, as I seemed to be missing the basic motor functions and co-ordination to do anything other than cower and duck any approaching foot/cricket/basket/tennis balls.
As I grew older I began to realise that I was never going to be the best looking boy in the room. I’m not particularly tall, my skin is pale and slightly spotty on its best day, my hair is kept short and styles and I have a body that can make even the most fashionable of clothes seem shapeless and drab. I stick to dark colours and plain outfits, anything that camouflages me from attention. On a social level, I’m what can be deemed ‘space filler’. I’m someone that is perfectly nice to have around but hardly essential to the party, as I rarely have any exciting stories and my attempts at humour often leave those around me feeling nervous and uncomfortable. I’m just an extra inoffensive body in the room and I could set myself alight and run around bellowing the complete works of Matt Cardle at the top of my voice and people would barely bat an eyelid.
I guess you are wondering whether this deluge of depressing ramblings has a point? Well it does, although I did have to stop half way through writing it to cry (more on my propensity for eye water can be found in my previous post: http://musingsofapessimist.wordpress.com/2011/07/25/the-crying-game/– some in-blog advertising there). I’ve come to realise that my ability to go unnoticed is a gift. Firstly, I have absolutely no pressure to look good like many of my fashion-forward friends, which allows me to save huge amounts of cash. I can buy the cheapest clothes and invest in a haircut that is under £10. I can also repeat outfits (I have been known to wear the same T-shirt on four consecutive Saturdays – washed of course, I’m not an animal), which means dressing for a night out is relatively hassle-free. Another perk of my inconspicuous nature is that I don’t feel the need to entertain in any way. Those that are regularly bathed in the spotlight must feel exhausted at the thought of the constant comedy skits and one-person performances they have to perform, whereas I can switch off my higher brain function and stand in the corner gurning, dribbling and laughing at the show.
My amazing ‘wall-flower’ power also makes me privy to deep, dark secrets. People either forget I’m standing there and I overhear them spilling their whiny guts to someone else or they see me as a ‘safe pair of hands’ to unload their indiscretions and clandestine activities. I’m the friendship equivalent of a church confessional. There is a lot of power in secrets, much more than in popularity (I’m egomaniacally cackling and rubbing my hands together as I type this). I also have no pressure when it comes to my abilities as a writer, as I know only about five people read this blog and one of them is my mum.
So if any of the five of you reading this are feeling over-looked and upset about the lack of attention or praise that you receive, I say embrace it. Kick back, relax and think of the perks that anonymity grants you.
Here’s to you no-one!
