For all that I am in A transparent lockbox

I’m unsure why, but repeatedly I put myself in situations that invoke nothing but boredom. I find myself chronically dissatisfied with the things that should be guilty pleasures, but from them I take nothing. Not the guilt nor the pleasure. I wonder if I’m void when it comes to the front of romance and sensuality. Sometimes I crave to go for late-night drives, drink coffee, and makeout sessions. But if they do happen, all I can think is “is it natural to feel so little in this?” and to be frank it doesn’t bother me much. I am at peace with my solitary life, I’m just not at peace with the boredom I put myself through each time I step out of my comfort zone. I am selfish in that way. It is rare I will do things because I get so bored of trying when I’m happiest with books, movies, and my family. For others, I try, and I try to convince myself I can enjoy those things, but I simply cannot. For all that I am, I am not a lover.