… I hate when you are going about your day, minding your own business and being perfectly content, when suddenly you’re overwhelmed by some completely out-of-the-blue and irrational emotion.
Tonight I am being visited by that nagging old bitty, Loneliness. If Loneliness actually had a corporeal body I imagine she’d be wearing a tattered and wrinkled wedding dress with whiskey stains and cigarette burns in the veil. She also would sound like Kathleen Turner. Oh my.
No doubt, being single is difficult but it doesn’t necessarily mean you are resigned to a constant state of loneliness. More often than not I am completely happy and thankful for my life and blessings. I have a wonderful son and supportive group of family and friends.
So why is she here tonight, nagging at me and clutching my throat?
I find that idleness brings about these bouts, but that can lead to a manic determination to stay occupied. It’s a coping mechanism; if I stay busy and distracted my whirling mind can’t rest on the thought. “Be gone, Loneliness, I have no time for you. My calendar is full of important things to do and important people to see. I am far too busy to indulge in your games.”
Sometimes that approach works, sometimes not. Sometimes she follows you along to that important event and takes great care to point out the sweet elderly couple holding hands on a park bench or those young lovers stealing a kiss under the bridge. Loneliness has even been known to show her ugly smug face in church, moseying up right next to me in the pew, tapping me on the shoulder and drawing my attention to all the married couples and happy families worshiping together.
Then I noticed it. The shiny wedding ring predominately displayed on his ring figure and practically glowing under the fluorescent super market lights. Ugh. I was actually flirting. How embarrassing. After the encounter, I sat in my car in the parking lot and cried like a ridiculous little girl while that bitch, Loneliness, sat in the backseat cackling.
I can laugh about it to myself now, but I really need to do something about her. I know she’s going to try and get in bed with me later and ask me why I even bothered purchasing a queen sized bed and cleverly remind me they call these mattress sizes matrimoniale in Italy. I think I will save her the trouble and trade it in for a twin mattress set this weekend.
In the meantime, here’s a sad depressing song.