Hiding In My Cave

No, really.
I live in a room of about 212 square foot room (the door's at a funny angle) in a boarding house. I've got a hand-modified loft-bed that's something of a family heirloom; when it arrived from the factory, it was suitable for use with a twin-size mattress, but my dad has modified it so that it now supports a queen-size. As I'm more than 6 feet tall, it's now much more comfortable. Underneath it, where the "lower bunk" might go, is where I keep my "writing space": computer desk, one bookshelf, computer/monitor/printer rig, desk lamp and photos.
Well, not really photos, more like printouts of CG images with at least a little personal significance.
It's a nice, cozy little setup, perfect for an introvert like my humble self.
The only drawback is that it's a little too comfy. As long as the Internet stays active (and I've got my own little dialup connection, on the off-chance that the boarding house's wi-fi goes down) I hardly ever have to leave, except for my part time job. In fact, I make a decent bit of extra cash writing web content, and I'm looking around for additional jobs of that nature. Who knows, maybe I'll become a free-lance writer and become even more introverted...
... but I'm also really, really lonely.
My last girlfriend was with me as the result of what amounts to the most courageous thing I've done in my life. I kissed her, at a point where we would probably have gone our separate ways and never seen each other again if I hadn't.
I'll leave the sorry details of our breakup for another time, or you can e-mail me if you're really interested. For now, she's living her life with her new boyfriend (or not, as the case may be) and I'm trying to live mine. I've still got a few friends in RealSpace, and a few other friends online. It's kind of weird, knowing that I genuinely care about the opinions and lives of people with whom I'm in contact but whom I may never actually see face-to-face, but apparently that's how Phil Lovecraft carried on most of his relationships.
But I lie there, up in my little loft bed, and wish that I had a reason to work around the boarding-house rules about "no overnight guests".
What I want is not for a girl to be delivered to me wearing a nice little bow and a smile.
What I want is the courage to go out into the world and make connections with someone. I want the strength to weather rejections, and the wit to figure out better ways to meet someone special.
Most of all, I want the qualities of spirit necessary to live alone, so I don't exude desperation.