Most of my life I've wanted to be liked. Nae, I've craved the feeling of being liked.
I think a lot of us do, problem was it became a pressing part of my life and a depressing part of my almost tattooed in depression.
Interaction with other people is based upon two things, what you want from them and how much you think they like (or will like) you.
So over and over again we step down the slippery path of not speaking our minds, not saying how we feel and generally being falsely reserved and full of suppression ulcers due to putting being everybody's pal over what we really want to be.
At Uni, I became very obnoxious. Actually that doesn't quite cover it. I was a late blooming punk with purple hair, a biker's jacket and ripped jeans. I belched, farted and made witty quips about sex, beer and bodily functions. This is a distortion of the "WTBL" gene as it is "you hate me, you do don't you, well let me beat you to it" gene.
End of the day instead of being "normal", chilling out and just having a good time with my pals and people I met, I would always have to try and be something more. The problem with human society is that most of us simply crave the approval or our peers.
I mean, come on! How often have you floated on a genuinely expressed compliment from a colleague, friend or even a complete stranger? Through all our lives we wish to be the pal of everyone, the enemy of no one and to have everyone love us.
I was lonely growing up and retreated into my own head as a result. This meant I was the greatest lover, the most gusset distressing man you would ever meet. I was also a great fighter (just hadn't got round to refining my technique yet...or having a fight) and a fine cook (but usually stuck to making curries and Italian, just to be lazy). I was literate (but couldn't be arsed to read), well versed in foreign languages (but hadn't quite finished learning Spanish or Italian or French) and could drink without getting drunk (until I hit a wall and woke up with no memory of the previous night post 9pm and a hangover from Hades).
This pretence about who I really was and the attributes I actually possessed were simply by products of the WTBL gene. I am a normal bloke, I've shagged a fair few women (and one guy). My Italian is pretty good, but I can't speak Spanish beyond greetings and have more or less forgotten French. I can cook when I can be bothered but don't usually bother. I can also enjoy a book but lack the discipline needed to sit down and finish one.
Overall I'm just a regular person who has some unusual attributes (enhanced emotional memory, youthful appearance for a man of 42, stamina, tenacity) but at the end of the day I'm someone, like many others who kept fucking things up as I put being everybody's number one, above being myself.
A quote I put in my first book STAB PROOF SCARECROWS, kind of sums this up.
"When I compromised my ethics or swallowed my pride it was never through fear or cowardice. Merely a desire to be accepted."
Now, where's that copy of The Winds of Dune gone?