Owner of a Lonely Heart
Breakfast for one. Lunch for one. Dinner for one. No brunch. No dates. No spontaneous days off work to just lay around in bed and snuggle. No road trips. No flowers. It is so difficult being alone sometimes. Too long, in fact. Years. More than I can count or care to count, rather.
I’ve gotten used to solitude. Quiet nights by myself, curled up in my big, cold bed. I’ve gotten used to sitting at the coffee shop, drinking my solitary latte, seeing couples coming in and out. Sometimes laughing, sometimes quiet, sometimes arguing. I’d never argue. I wouldn’t take that risk.
For so long, I’ve just accepted that isolation is my lot in life. That I’m the single person in a booth at a diner on Sunday mornings, choking down scrambled eggs and wet hat. I’ve tried to come to terms with it. It’s a tough pill to swallow, honestly, but you do get it down eventually.
I have a secret, though. Ironically, I can’t keep it to myself. I’ve finally, after all these long years, started seeing someone. Before you think I’m getting all creepy and ‘seeing’ is a literal description of my stalking, no. It’s not that. She’s a living, breathing human being. She pours me coffee in the mornings and makes me lunch to take to work.
She makes me feel like I’m not alone.
I met her by accident. Isn’t that always how these things go? We were at a bar, I made a joke, she laughed, and we got to talking. She said I was funny. That was a new one. It was a strange feeling. Like my chest was wrapped in a blanket.
We’ve been on a few dates now and I can feel myself going head over heels. I know it’s early. Way too early, in fact. But I can’t help it. It’s been so long since I’ve had any kind of affection that even the slightest bit of interest is like walking into an open flame. A flame that I am okay with being burned by, no less. It sounds cheesy, I know, but it’s true.
So, I have a surprise for her. It’s time, I think, that she knows how I truly feel. When she gets home, I have it all planned out. I’m going to make us her favorite dinner – chicken and rice, simple and tasty, just like her – and pour us a bottle of wine and we’re going to sit and talk and laugh and enjoy each other’s company. When the time is right, I’m going to tell her how I feel and I hope she accepts it.
Well, ‘tell’ is not a grand enough word. I’m going to go into the other room and call her in there. When she enters, I’m going to do the only thing I can do to truly show her how much she means to me.
I’m going to literally give her the heart from my chest.
I hope she accepts it.
Here is where I''ll post random stories that aren't, as of yet, in a larger book. Call it a free ride into the mouth of madness, yo.