Living All Alone

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“Living All Alone”
by: Sheree Rabon

Living alone, as in a single, divorced woman would appear to the married woman as such a lovely event. Particularly women that are not so happy with the one they’ve chosen to honor for the rest of their lives. Well, since I have had the unique experience of both spectrums, let me elucidate.

I had a husband that I would die before going back to since the kind of misery I endured with him was a near death experience. The lover I had after "dear hubby" was the same with the exceptions his finances allowed us. Same misery though.

After those two long-term bouts of misery, I realized that it was me that kept choosing this type of man and took my sabatical from the school of love. I was hoping to cure myself of the woman within that had a deathwish or a gluttin for punishment. Occassionally I dated to test my new findings about me. I had failed miserbly and went back to search even deeper into the archives of my mind that just had to have this information that would make me do this to me.
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Last night I needed to be held. There were a number of men in my electronic directory that were available to call. Unfortunately, none had strong enough arms or the intellect to relate to what I would have requested of them. Not to say that all or any of the men that were lucky enough to be added were complete idiots. That would make me look like one as well, just by the company I kept.

What I needed was far beyond the reason(s) any of the men I had the choice to call would comprehend. None of them really knew me well enough to know that I am a compassionate, loving woman. All they knew was that I am sensual, sexy, quick witted or hot. That could be, in part, my fault. I do tend to hide the loving me since that seems to be the part of me that has been most frequently used as a rug.

Last night I grabbed my favorite pillow, clenched it between my arms and tried to hold back the tears. I wondered why it was that I had so many men at my fingertip that would come and have sex with me but none had seen beyond the parts of me that would possibly land them in my bed, not in my head.

Well, last night I was not able to hold back those tears. I cried. It was not a cry of self-pity. Just simply one of the greatest lonely hearts. I wanted to scream as it played out because I had to realize why I was alone, yet would never truly understand it. That probably doesn’t make much sense, if any.

I cried so hard that my body shook in agony as I realized that so many of my friends, family and otherwise were lonely with a partner. In my head that meant the likelihood of my continued agony if I were to “get a man” would not stop upon his arrival. I would probably have a load of dung to deal with and ultimately not want to be held by this rotten person that I have foolishly selected to keep from feeling like I was feeling last night.

Last night I fell asleep somewhere lost in those deep thoughts and agonizing loneliness. I woke up with those very same feelings in the “we” hours of this morning, even sadder. I was sadder because now I was faced with yet another problem. I not only wanted to be held, I wanted to be made love to. Again, in that very same electronic device that stores telephone numbers, there was no one to call. Of course there was someone to have sex with, if not all of them for that specific reason only. This time I grabbed yet another pillow but this time I placed it between my knees, clenched and anchored it there where my lover should be.

I cried again when I realized, yet again that there was no one that could make love to me either. No one to accidentally on purpose nudge up against to stir up a little action. No stinky morning breath that would provoke not a missionary position but doggie style one to avoid the stench of early morning stank breath. I closed down on that poor pillow, if it had a life, as hard a possible begging my body to calm down because there would be no extinguishing happening tonight.

It was time to get out of bed now. Before raising my unrested and untouched body out of my king sized bed, I slightly turned my head both ways. It was official. No one was there. It was not some nightmare. It was all too true. There would be no one to make that early morning coffee for or to joke with or share a shower or to just simply say good morning to.

I finally got out of the pity pot and went to the real pot and relieved my bladder. Well, at least the toilet seat was down when my sleepy eyes walked into the dimly lighted bathroom and ploppled down. Funny I would think that. That was the least of my worries. As a matter of fact, the women that I have witnessed complaining about such trivials I wanted to punch. Ha! A toilet seat, huh?

I wanted to say to them, "Try out these issues; No job, no money, no trust, no blanking sense, no real love and respect." Instead, I would mind my business and continue to hide my lowly affairs.

Here it is again. Night time. Time to get back into that big lonely bed. No one would be waiting there with open arms to ask me to pass them the remote or even let out a smelly fart. There would be no one to back my hot butt up next to. No one to kiss it if needed be. I did not even bother to put a sexy nighty on or spray some sweet smells on. Hell, I didnt even bother to change the unused sheets. What for? I had already impressed my self.

What I did do was made sure that my Puffs enriched with moisturizers and aloe vera were near because I could feel that demon called loneliness creeping back into bed with me. At least the Puffs would soothe my snotty nose from the long hard cry of being ALONE.