I'm lonely.
It seems so much worse to
admit being lonely than it is to actually
be lonely.
My friend Fanny -- huh, it sounds like that should be the title of one of those Eisenhower-era young adult novels about a kid and a horse, doesn't it? Anyway, my friend Fanny called and asked if I wanted to go out tonight. I'll say here that I think she has ulterior motives. She always has ulterior motives. One of the reasons we aren't better friends is that I don't think she values my friendship, per se, just whatever means I can help her reach.
That's not fair. She has tried to be a friend, to be my friend. I never made it easy. I could never get over the fact that we don't really have much in common. At any rate, I shouldn't be surprised that I'm not on the 'active' friend list. Now I guess I'm more on the networking list, the list of contacts.
Anyway, one of the things we don't share is man trouble, at least not the same kind. She was looking to avoid her latest guy because he'd pissed her off and she didn't want to deal with him. Basically she needed an excuse to be 'busy' tonight and my name came up. She wanted to go see The Notebook, and there is no way in hell I was going to see that bucket of crap on opening night and pay full price (yet another thing we don't have in common, taste in movies). We decided we'd go out to dinner instead. I was going to eat cheaply so I could pay cash (cash -- it's the new credit!).
Much to my surprise, I was looking forward to it. Usually any get together with Fanny is not 100 percent fun. We ususlly spend all the time talking about her assorted man troubles, job troubles, and life troubles. Not to sound selfish, but I like to talk about
my man, job and life troubles sometimes, too. Anyway, I wasn't feeling any of the usual dread I associate with a 'date' with Fanny and was glad to have an excuse to enjoy non-companion pet company.
God, this has turned into an opus, hasn't it? That's the story of my life, long, drawn out and interesting to no one but me.
She calls later, and, lo and behold, she's found someone to see The Notebook with, so can we make it lunch on Sunday? Sure, no problem. That just leaves me date-less on a Friday night.
Now, I'm normally dateless on Friday night. Hell, on every night, for that matter. If I weren't married (to a man whose perpetually elsewhere, unfortunately) I could go days without talking to another human being (outside of work, that is, but that doesn't count. Everyone is paid to be there.) But, now that I was primed to go out, it dawned on me that I have no one to go out with. No one. No one I even feel comfortable asking, much less spending an evening with.
I have got to make friends. I didn't think being grown up would be so isolating. I didn't think the height of my social life would occur when I was 8. God, life is a drag.