traveling with friends whose lovers swore they will love them forever

I do not mind solitude at all. I dance around my apartment alone, welcoming the uninvited thin winds as I awkwardly sway to the masculine resonance owned by Frank Sinatra. I sometimes talk to myself about what will I say to my future lover who I will live in a horse ranch with and things I will say to my flabby aunt next reunion who thought I will never make it pass college and get knocked up somewhere along junior high. I have dealt with the art of eating alone. I’m used to the stares as the girl who eats alone in fancy restaurants, eating a $70 dollar salad all by herself; accompanied by a pen and a notebook. I hum to the sound of jazz music in the background while finishing a poem concerning tired, tired lovers eating together in their backyard with cold lemonade. Even when I was considered in the age gap where the word puberty is not known to kids, I preferred to be left without a companion. I carried the trait too well. Some people might think it’s sad, but I consider isolation as beauty when throughly given understanding. I’m a sleeper, a hazer, a cryer. I do not lie when my mother and great uncles ask about a man, and I will deny it with pride because I’m perfectly fine. I’m fine opening and closing secondhand books, reading the first chapter of every good book I find alone in a bookstore. I consider it even as happiness. The way I don’t bicker with someone over groceries. I don’t have a person scolding me about my prescribed pills or needing colour gravely because I wear too much black. The feeling of solitude hits me not in the midst of the night, nor witnessing the rising run alone. It’s when I travel. With friends whose lovers swear they will love them forever. 

If you’re single, and a friend inviting you over Spain or Sitka has a lover, reject the offer. Or if you can, accept and get a separate room. Your friend would have someone to text them when they arrive, not just their mom or dad. Try not to hear their late night conversations. The lover will ask about how you’re doing too. While you’re talking he will politely ask about your itinerary and joke around. I swear to God, you will cry yourself to sleep instead of enjoying trip. Your friend will have something to buy things for and irritate you with comments like, “oh, he would like this” or “don’t you think he will love it?”. The part you will hate the most is that your brain immediately releases a chemical that endangers you to be desperate for love. You’ll begin to look at men wherever you stroll, fixing your hair constantly and applying at least four layers of make-up. Then if you’re friend truly loves the man or woman she has left at home, when both of you inhale the wondrous scenery; you sense there is something wrong from what you perceive in her eyes and so as her body language. She looks like she’s having a good time. Though you’re quite certain that she would give up a lot of things for you, her friend, to be replaced by her lover who was far away. 

You would find yourself mentally taking note of how you wanted love too. 

Reviews

[Bluemerlin]

Have you garnered any sort of cynicism? Have you ever alternatively stayed up at night, and rather than cry, counted the days until the relationship dissolved? Just trying to be conversational.

I would almost call this a poem. It's touching in a sickly, realistic way, and it is appreciated.

[Addie Santos]

1. I've never been in a relationship. 2. I'm cynical as it gets. 3. I feed on the craving for affection. 4. Thank you, you being conversational and showing friendly interest to me is appreciated.