1 Bed, 1 Bath, 1 Lonely Heart

What sort of demented notions lead one to believe that watching the top-ten romantic comedies of the decade will somehow ease the loneliness inside? And what insanity drives me to look forward to crying at the happy ending? Do I have a subconscious need to cry? Why?

Maybe to feel something other than the hollow despair that I feel when I look around my small apartment, during yet another weekend spent utterly alone.

I'm not pining for a girlfriend, necessarily. Just having friends would be nice. Having both would seem like winning the lottery at this point. And, I suppose I have friends - but how great are friendships that are solely dependent upon playing the same online game? I don't even like games much anymore. Is a real social life too much to ask? You know, the kind that involves actual people doing actual things in the actual world?

I'm not saying every night needs to be city-roving party, but once in a while it'd be nice to get out. I used to have friends. It used to not be a problem.

Then I got married. I don't blame my ex for my lack of social life, but the marriage played a role. Married, kids, moving around, trying to keep the bills paid.

Now there's been the divorce, and I have tons of free time. And no one to spend it with. I've always been a kind of a loner, but I always had friends if I wanted to be social. Now, there is no choice. I have no real, honest-to-God friends anymore. I feel awkward going out to bars or whatever alone to try to make friends because, well, isn't that the sort of thing people do with friends they already have? And who wants some lonely jack-ass intruding on their night out in a vain attempt to expand their social network?

So here I sit again. Alone. Watching movies to try to take my mind off the gaping emptiness in my chest. Inspired to write a depressing blog that no one will ever read. And for what? I don't know. I really don't.

Just me and the apartment that doesn't even have washer / dryer hook-ups. One bed. One bath. One lonely heart.