The Solo Event Planner: Embracing My Own Company

Ticket sales are for the faggots 

Have you ever felt like you’re planning an event just to hear the echoing silence in response? I sure have. You see, I’ve come to a profound realization: I will never have attendees at my events. And might I add, I’m completely fine with that.

Every time I venture into the world of online ticketing platforms, I’m greeted not by the thrill of ticket sales, but by emptiness—often, it’s as if my events are whispering to a void. You’d think hosting events would mean gathering people, right? Well, not for me. Even if I offer tickets for free, it’s like people are drawn more to their gay incestuous peers than to my carefully curated experiences. 

And honestly? I don’t care. I’ve reached a point where I’ve decided I don’t want to be surrounded by a crowd of gay eager faces and lame bullies with ill intentions hiding behind fake smiles. The truth is, I have a bit of a disdain for crowds. People can be extremely messy, both in personality and personal hygiene. Let’s not even mention the unpredictability of other individuals; some just seem bent on ruining the vibe, even to the point of shooting up an event.

I remember this 4th of July, a day when festive gatherings are the norm. I threw a private listening party, meticulously planning every detail to share some of my new exclusive music. I was buzzing with excitement, but as the evening wore on, it became glaringly obvious: no one purchased a free ticket. Not a single soul. The disappointment was palpable, but as I sat in the silence, I realized it was just me and the music. 

This wasn’t the first time, either. Last year, I organized several meet & greet events, each time hoping that the next one would have a better turnout. Unfortunately, history repeated itself—I found myself alone, pondering why I even make the effort. 

AI Image of an empty venue 

Maybe these experiences are meant to push me in another direction. Perhaps the universe has a different plan for me. I don't like gays and women anyway, so why would I host an event? Instead of being in the presence of a musty, weird crowd, I should continuously embrace solitude as my craft. I’ve come to appreciate the beauty in the silence of my own company, without the chaos of unpredictable personalities.

So, to anyone planning an event solo (if there are any! There's no one like me!), I say this: it’s okay if no one shows up. While it might feel disheartening, it allows you to focus on what truly matters to you without the distractions of others. Who needs the noise when you can create your own rhythm? After all, it’s not about the crowd—it’s about the connection with the art I wish to share.

###