@bjk3 It wasn't until I came across a comment on this site that I gave more than a shrug to this topic. When anyone mentioned my aloneness I just thought, that's the way I like it. When I started seriously thinking about the topic, I realized that "that's the way I like it" was a cover for how I was really feeling. Most human beings need some sort of outlet to share ideas, vent, or simply have a conversation with someone that you can relate to. I can't abide chit-chat, aha! I just caught myself. I have to be careful when setting expectations. I don't want to sabotage the idea of stepping outside my solitude by setting my expectations so high that I don't meet anyone of interest. Which I recognize as an avoidance tactic . Why on earth would I do something like that. What am I so afraid of. So, after pondering my situation I need to stop slacking and living in this bubble I have created around me and..............to be determined.

Good afternoon, Barb

You have said this so beautifully! Among your many observations, one struck me really hard: “Maybe they are looking for a caring friend themselves, or would love to be welcomed into a conversation where they can share something of themselves, and all they ask of me is that I listen.”

When I was in high school, more than a half-century ago, I shunned a boy named Thomas, who, for a reason I couldn’t explain, seemed to have chosen me as the one boy he wanted for a friend. He and I were in an all-boys class, studying the fundamentals of drafting, a precursor to becoming architects (a pursuit I eventually gave up). We were a bunch of rugged ‘dudes,’ patched jeans and off-color jokes. Thomas was the one exception. Not only did his mother dress him fashionably, Thomas was decidedly effeminate, the brunt of endless teasing. The more Thomas tried to be my friend, the more I avoided him. Eventually, we all graduated, and that was the last I saw of Thomas –– 62 years ago!

Forget the passage of time –– I have never been able to shake the memory of how awfully I treated him. Only last year, our high school alumni association forwarded a roster of the current whereabouts of our graduating class to anyone interested. Thomas’s address was on the roster. I wrote, surprising him, and a few weeks later, he replied, surprising me. That began a correspondence, first by paper letters, then by once-a-month phone calls. Our conversations were the typical: ‘I wondered what happened to so-and-so,’ ‘I hear so-and-so has done very well for himself.’ I swore one day I’d find the gumption to apologize for how shoddily I’d treated Thomas when we were in high school, but letter after letter, call after call, I’d pass up my chance …

… until one day, I received a phone call: ‘Hello. My name is Catherine. I am sorry to have to give you bad news, but my Uncle Thomas died last Tuesday.’

I had missed my chance to apologize. That’s why your saying, “Maybe they were only looking for a caring friend … ” hit me so hard.

Thanks again, Barb, for your beautiful post!

Best wishes,
Ray (@ray666)