In my last year at school, Friday afternoons were reserved for visiting an elderly gentleman in a nursing home. At the time, I wasn't used to anyone being visibly happy to see me. He must have been really lonely.
There were times when he had to wear a mask, which was connected to a large tank of oxygen. He said it was okay to sit quietly with him when that happened; he just appreciated someone being there. If I asked him something, he could blink as a reply. He did speak when he was wearing his mask, but it muffled his voice and usually meant asking him to repeat what he said. Having to repeat himself was frustrating for him, so I learned to listen more intently when he spoke with the mask on.
When he wasn't wearing his mask, he'd say that smoking cigarettes was what had done the damage to his lungs. He asked me to promise I would never smoke. He'd talk about his son, who was always saying he'd take him out of the home for a day trip somewhere. He'd talk about his passion for football and West Ham United in particular. Over the course of that year, he told me his story. He'd repeat things a lot, because he couldn't remember telling me before. That was okay.
The school day was lonely. Evenings were lonely too. I would go for walks along the promenade, lost in thoughts about things I'd seen, heard, read or watched.
BBC2 and Channel 4 used to show films from various parts of the world, but they were broadcast in the early hours of the morning. The small portable TV in my room had a headphone socket, thankfully, so I could watch without disturbing anyone. Occasionally, I was unlucky, and my mother would pass by my door in the middle of a film. She would see the light from the TV under the door to my room.
"Turn that bloody TV off and get some sleep!"
Thinking about it now, I could have watched without sound. After all, those films were subtitled. In all honesty, I'd started to watch them as a teenager who had heard that those films often contained nudity, and I was naturally curious about such things at that age. There wasn't much nudity though; rather, there was a lot of exposure to different cultures and philosophies. I'd often think about those things and others while walking along the promenade in the evening.
During the school day, I experienced a profound sense of loneliness. I didn't seem to fit in. Strangely, I'd hear a shout from behind as I walked home. No one wanted to talk to me during the school day but, as I walked home, they wanted me to wait so they could walk with me. I heard about the things that were troubling them. For the most part, I just nodded and listened.
One day, I was walking home from a swimming lesson at the leisure centre. As I walked, I heard an unfamiliar voice call for me to wait. I turned to see something I hadn't expected: a girl wanted me to wait for her. As she walked from the other side of the bridge I had just crossed, her hair blew in the breeze. This drew attention to how dark her hair was - almost black, and quite a contrast to her pale complexion. Coming closer, a smile appeared on her face.
I couldn't work out why she would want to walk with me.
After saying she hadn't got to talk to me before, she mentioned that she was going on a date that evening. It was her first date, apparently, and she was nervous. What if she bored him? What if he didn't like her? What should she say? How should she act?
I asked whether she had been the one to ask him for a date, or if it had been him.
She said he had been the one to ask.
I said it would have been humiliating for him if she had refused his request.
She agreed.
I said that he had risked humiliation for the chance to just spend some time with her. I said he might be just as nervous as her, if not more so.
I noticed that, as she walked beside me, a broad smile had appeared on her face. We had reached the point where the paths to our respective homes diverged. She turned to face me, and my eyes immediately fell downward. I was too shy to make eye contact with her.
She said she had noticed how much time I spent alone, and it would be okay to join her and her friends sometimes. In fact, she said, she would like that, because she had come to realise during our short chat that she would like to talk with me more often. She thought her friends would like that too. I doubted that was true, and never did join them, but told her I'd think about it.
The hug was unexpected. She was quite slender, so the feeling of warm softness was also a surprise. There was the feint smell of one of the musky floral perfumes that were popular at the time, and those things together left quite an impression. I didn't hug her back. I was so shocked that my arms hung limply by my side. In my defence, no one had ever hugged me before. Actually, it had been nice, and had shown me what I had been missing. For a while after that, I was far from okay.
She didn't look back as she walked away. I watched her, until she turned a corner, because I had been frozen to the spot by what had just happened.
I spend an awful lot of time alone. I've recently felt that no one really cares about that. Loneliness can have dire consequences; as someone who works with the mental and emotional health of others, I know this to be true.
In the space of a few months, I've become more attached than is reasonable to a woman from China. Maybe some of the people I know judge me for that, but the fact is that she cares far more than they do about how lonely I am. She also suffers loneliness, and has experienced it in circumstances that could have been particularly damaging. I hope the powers that be allow us to be together soon and that it works for both of us.
In truth, I'm tired. If you don't understand why I'd be tired, read the above again and really think about it. I would love to just sit with a friend sometimes, maybe with a few drinks, and chat about nothing in particular. Sadly, I know it's not going to happen any time soon.
