ee cummings and stalking the people across the street

I've been thinking a lot about this ee cummings poem lately, mostly because I've been lonely. I'm lonely pretty much all the time, but I'm not lonely in the sitting around feeling sorry for myself sort of way. It's more of an I wish things were different sort of way, or an I wish I was different type of loneliness.
Today's bout was kicked off at work, when I heard a few people talking about going to eat lunch together, since we had a half day. Nobody stopped by my room to see if I wanted to go to lunch. I worked solidly through lunchtime, then ate during the faculty meeting. I admit I felt pretty sorry for myself this afternoon, but I'm kind of over it now. I'm more just wondering what exactly is so toxic about my personality that I can't seem to make or retain friends. I'm not wondering this in a feeling sorry for myself sort of way; I'm wondering it in a more objective way. It's like I'm trying to look at myself from an outsider's point of view and picking apart my personality once again. I'm also trying not to be overly sensitive, because I do have that tendency. But I spent a good chunk of the afternoon wondering what it was about me that made it so that no one wanted to eat lunch with me. No one. I feel like I make lots of efforts to be funny or friendly or listen to others, in an attempt to get to know other people. I know I'm socially awkward to the point where it's often painful to be in a conversation, but I do try; I really do try. I'm dorky to the point that it's almost unbelievable, and I never know what to say, so I usually end up saying something so incredibly dumb that I beat myself up for days (years) over it. I'm also HORRIBLE about keeping in touch, but again, I do try. I really do try. This afternoon, all I wanted to do was quit my job, go back to school, and hang out with people with other people who are going to school who'd be just as dorky as I am, because why else would they be going to school to get a PhD in history or archaeology?
A few weeks ago I hatched a brilliant plan. I decided that Husband and I should walk around the neighborhood, on Halloween, with Baby dressed up in his penguin costume. I figured this way we'd meet people in the neighborhood, and an adorable baby is always a good conversation starter. I thought there'd be lots of people pushing their not quite as adorable babies around, and we could have a few awkward moments of making small talk and staring at the ground before moving on. The doors would then be open for the next time we bumped into each other, this time with our babies sans costumes.
My brilliant plan failed. Husband and I walked around the neighborhood for 30 minutes. The only people we passed were people walking their dogs. We also saw a hayride full of smiling people wearing costumes and a few children. They waved at us and smiled and continued their Halloween adventure.
Then a car drove by. The driver turned his head and looked at us as he slowed to the stop sign. I noticed a baby seat in the back.
"Husband!" I yelled.
"What? Stop yelling!" he replied.
"That car has a baby seat in the back."
"Um, okay."
"A BABYSEAT," I reiterated.
"Yeah, okay, it's probably the people across the street who have a baby," he said patronizingly.
"Yeah, but he looked at us. You know, he was checking us out." I tried to emphasize how great this was to Husband. "Do you think it would be too much to just sprint down the street with the stroller and try to catch up with him?"
"Um, yeah, that would be pathetic."
"Yeah, I guess you're right." My heart felt sad.
When we got home, Husband told me I should go introduce myself. He told me that this is the one night a year that it's socially acceptable to randomly ring a stranger's doorbell. I said there's no way in hell I was going to ring a stranger's doorbell, and besides, we've got no proof that they have a baby. He pointed out the evidence: the "IT'S A GIRL" sign in the front yard, the baby seat in the car, the streams of people who have been showing up with gifts over the last month or two, and the stroller on the front porch. I wasn't convinced, and as a side note, we don't spend our time peering out the front windows spying on our neighbors. We've just noticed these things over the last month or two. I finally agreed to go across the street on two conditions. The first condition was that Husband had to come with me. The second condition was that he do all of the initial talking. Husband chickened out.
I'm not being too hard on myself. My suspicion is that most people go through this at some point or another, and most people often have bouts of extreme self doubt. I just have to keep telling myself that meeting people takes time, and the people I become friends with might not be people I work with, and that's okay. It just gets hard sometimes in the day to day, when I only really see Husband, my mother, and Baby. Sometimes I'd just like to hang out with someone else my age or someone else with a baby or someone else that's someone else. I think it would be good for me.