This is going to sound really shallow so try and read it like it’s funny. Otherwise it’s just depressing. In a bid to get back control of my increasingly lonely life, I accepted my friend’s offer to spend time at the Victoria & Albert museum yesterday. Honestly, the whole plan didn’t sound very appealing to me from the start. Reason being – she and I are very different. The problem when you know someone for very long and your relationship with them is just stagnant – you have few, if any, common interests, you’ve heard all their stories before (and they never bother to ask you about yours and when you start to tell them they really don’t want to hear) – is that you will choose to meet out of sheer desperation. Her attempts to reach out to me are always a result of her loneliness and my attempts are for similar reasons. And we just sit there enduring each other. And the more we do this, the more I feel resentful of her. I mean, why do we go through this mindless charade? Isn’t it better to just not meet? Or not to have those vapid phone conversations? I always tell myself at the end of these sessions that I will never go through this again. Why is it that I am always the one willing to accept what she wants to do, why is it that we never do what I want to do, why did I have to get dragged across to Harrods of all places and that too in the international designers section? A place neither of us can afford and even if I could, would I really want to throw away that much money on clothes. Why can’t we ever, ever, ever do what normal mates would do? No. It always has to be something that kills a happy part of me forever. I have nothing against museums, in fact I love them. But still, we can’t enjoy ourselves in each others’ company. I’m not even going into the specifics here but I came away feeling low and used at the end of the day.
Why did I say yes? Well it was because I wanted to be on the other side of the glass for a change. When I pass outside restaurants or pubs or any other social places I envy the happy people inside, sitting there with their buddies, laughing, sharing stories. I know that feeling and I miss it. I miss my friends and I miss my husband, my best buddy. I have nothing against dining by myself. But I just miss companionship. And I was hoping to feel some of it yesterday. I kept hanging on in the hope of things getting better, and my efforts kept getting increasingly diluted.
The shit bits aside, I did manage to get my glorious steed out for a ride. Ok, the Duchess. The unparalleled joy of riding her. Of exploring new back lanes (yes I’m still just exploring the neighbourhood). The thrill of just riding a bike in the autumn. I couldn’t help singing even though I am tone deaf. I didn’t even care when another biker overtook me and could hear me braying. There’s no shame when I’m on my bike. No loneliness, no pain. I even seem to have a better sense of direction. Ok, only just. I did manage to get slightly lost less than 0.5 km from my home.