As I write to you, it’s Saturday night and I live in the best city in the world. I could be doing absolutely anything – fine dining, crazy golf, dancing, watching a play, doing an escape room, ice skating, going to a sex club, playing chess, or a midnight movie showing – but instead, I’m at home, alone, and lonely.
I’m not lonely in an aching, cry-myself-to-sleep way, but rather a loneliness has blanketed itself over my life so completely that everything feels smaller. As if my life has shrunk. I don’t see my friends as much. I don’t go out as much. The responsibilities and errands of adulthood have taken a frivolity from me. My ‘yeah fuck it’ has disappeared. The ‘let’s just get ready and run out the door,’ is nowhere to be found. Random invitations and ‘why don’t you just come along’ seem like a ludicrous idea, yet I am lonely. I long for a full house but at the same time I do not have the energy to host one.
When I realised I had a free Saturday night I considered calling my friends to see if they wanted to do something, but then I also realised I was too tired to do anything at all so I made some noodles and googled how to panel a wall and where I could get a laser spirit level from.