I think that I have always been a loner. On the outside, I was always the perfect social butterfly. I would flit about easily from one conversation to the next, always the source of entertainment and amusement. On the inside, though, it was quite a different story. On the inside I was standing alone at a podium with no audience. I had so much to say in a room with no crowd. There were plenty of seats, just nobody to fill them. I have never really felt as though I fit in within the confines of the “normal” world. I am a square peg in a world of round holes. Square pegs can’t fit in round holes without sanding down their corners and rounding out their edges. I never wanted to do that, so I chose loneliness instead.
Have you ever been in a crowded room and felt complete alone? Loneliness is not about being alone; it is about feeling alone. It is a strange feeling that can only be described by those who have felt it. I have tried to describe it to people before, but they just don’t “get” it. They ask me if I am depressed. The answer is always “no”. I’m not sad. Sadness would be a welcome friend because it would mean that I have lost something that once made me happy. I never carried that cargo. I’m just indifferent, numb if you will, like the lead zombie in the movie of my life.
I’m not unemotional either. Being an empath, it is actually the opposite really. I FEEL everything that everyone else around me feels. I am a conduit for other people’s emotions. If they cry, I cry. If they laugh, I laugh. The same goes for the reverse. If I am having a bad day, then despite my quiet disposition at the moment, everyone around me is also having a bad day. It’s a powerful energy source that needs to be channeled and diverted to a controlled environment. It’s difficult being an emotional person with no internal well of self-created emotions. It’s like being a fire that is only fed by other people’s logs.
I think that is why growing up I always had such a love for books. I fell in love with the characters on the pages. I immersed myself in their story. I was a silent voyeur in the life that the author breathed into each unique character. I was always sad when the books ended. I felt like a part of me died each time I reached the end of a story. I wanted to know where their story went. How did the rest of their lives transpire? Were they happy? Did they find love? Did they share their story with others? When the book ended, then my part in their story also ended. Loneliness set in. I felt alone without my literary “friends”. They allowed me to just silently be in the moment. The same went for movies, TV shows, etc. The characters were my soul mates. I was invested in them. (I still want to know if Ross and Rachel are married and living happily.)
For us square pegs, books, TV shows, and movies are all a form of accepted escapism from the round holes in the world. We are exposed to characters that are uniquely flawed and excitingly different, just like us. They are our square pegged soul mates. We don’t have to round our edges for them. They quietly embrace us with their dialogue and scene changes. They understand us. Maybe that is why a part of me (not so secretly) has always wanted to run off to California and become an actress. I felt “at home” with the characters. I wanted to inhale their dialogue and breathe life into their beings, with my being in tandem.
It’s hard to find people like them in real life without subtitles. So, loneliness was my newly found friend who helped me to pass the time and kept me out of trouble. I thought loneliness would be my only “real life” love for many years. That was, until I met him.
I had pretty much given up hope of finding my “real life” soul mate. I was pretty sure that he just did not exist. I had been fine with the “seat fillers” that came in and out of my life over the years. They served their purpose at the time to watch my one woman show. I was mildly amused by some of them. They were fine. They were vanilla in my rocky road world. I was okay with that. I didn’t know better. I really didn’t expect much better either. That was until he walked into my life. Mr. Kosher Bada-Bing Cherry Gelato. I wasn’t looking to sample any other flavors, he just kinda set up shop in my virtual ice cream store.
It was an odd twist of fate that brought us together. Being a 6’4” Jewish JFK Jr “knock off”, he was not my normal “type”. I was not his either. But, somehow it just worked. Neither of us was looking for love at the time, but cupid is a sneaky little bitch that way. Mr. KBBCG was at a low point in his life, and I was his muse. I could always make him smile. The two of us could sit on the couch for hours watching sports, silent and holding hands. Did I mention how much I dislike watching sports? With him, I did not care. I just loved being around him. We had such a comfort level together, so that even the moments of silence were screaming with dialogue. He “got” me, and I “got” him. We just clicked. When I was with him, it was like the puzzle of my life was finally complete. I could see the whole picture. His broken pieces filled the spaces where my broken pieces ended. I felt “complete”. He made me feel “whole”. I did the same for him. I secretly smile as I type this because I can hear our “theme music” playing in the background of our own little personal sitcom. We were “perfect” when we were together, like the ebb and flow of the ocean, meeting each other in the middle of the wave. Together, we just “worked”. He was the first man that I could imagine myself marrying and having kids with. He was not a “seat filler” like the men before him. He was on stage with me. We were 2 square pegs, and together our foundation was solid. When he looked at me with those big beautiful brown eyes, my heart smiled. Time would stand still. When he kissed me, I felt him from the top of my head to the bottom of my toes. I felt safe in his arms, with my head resting on his chest. He embodied everything that I imagined love to be. He was the definition of love.
When I think of our story together, I imagine that Shakespeare would have penned our romantic tale. He is the author of the best love stories after all. He was also a fan of a beautifully written tragedy, which is where my story with Mr. KBBCG ends. He died 2 years ago this month. It was not expected, and it sure as hell was not welcomed, but it still happened. Like all tragic love stories, that is where our plot in life took us. If I close my eyes, I can still see his smile. God, I loved that “shit grin” of his. I can still smell him on the light breeze of a summer night. I can still feel his arms holding me close. He was my prince, my knight in shining armor, and my supporting lead character. He had the mind of a philosopher, the playful innocence of a child, the heart of the purest soul, and the strength of a leader. He was my unicorn, my muse, my twin flame, and my cure for loneliness. He taught me to love. He taught me to live. He reminded me to take chances. He embraced my uniqueness. In fact, he loved me for being different. He was my truest love. I am not angry that he is gone. I am grateful that I found him in the first place. I treasure the short time that we had together. I am better for having spent time with him. He was my gift, wrapped with a beautiful bow of bushy brown hair. He is the reason that I now know that it is loneliness that is a “fair weather” friend. Because of him, I don’t need to embrace loneliness anymore. I choose love instead.
XOXO Love and Dating Coach Lisa Maria
Photo Credit: Lisa M Wilke