By way of introduction, here is the world's shortest fairy tale:
Once upon a time, a girl asked a guy "Will you marry me?"
The guy said, "NO!"
And the girl lived happily ever after and went shopping, dancing,camping, drank martinis, always had a clean house, never had to cook and farted whenever she wanted.
Like the girl in the fairy story, I live alone and can do what I please. I like alone. What I don't like is lonely, which is the sense of loss that you are not sharing a particular moment with someone else. Not "anyone else" because the worst loneliness is when you are not actually alone. It has to be the right someone else. And herein lies the problem. Another story to illustrate the point:
A man inherited pots of money and went round the world in a quest to find the perfect woman. After many false starts he finally found what he thought might be the one and, at a suitable moment, told her about his quest. Her response was immediate: "How interesting! I am looking for the perfect man. One day I will find him".
I am not gumple-foisted, I promise you. But there are days when thoughts like this come unbidden. No matter: once the rain stops, I will go out and kill weeds in my garden. At moments like this, herbicide does it for me. How's that for dreeing your weird?
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