the other kind of loneliness

A new experience tonight.  Just a short while ago.

This kind of loneliness - you're home early from work and you still have the evening free to rest, catch up on some reading, long shower, slow emails and a leisurely prepared dinner, the solitary kind as usual.   You're in a good mood - always enjoy the quiet evening in at home with lights set as dim and low as it allows for slowing down the day.

The late dinner is good, you're too lazy to do the washing and chopping up for a stir fry so you made a sandwich - sourdough, salted butter, basil & garlic cheddar, organic tomatoes, local cucumber, and a fried egg - it's oily and juicy and full of flavours.

It's so good, you chow down the last bite of the sandwich and get up to wash the plate...just then, when the tap water hits the plate with your hands covered in dish soap you think, "If someone's here with me now and he is hungry too, I would have offered to make him this sandwich too and I'd be curious to see if he thinks it is as delicious as I did."


"I would gladly feed someone right now."

Except there is nobody hungry here, next to you.  It's just you, and the toaster oven next to the sink, still warm from the toast 10 minutes ago.

You're a bit lonely tonight, you realise.

It isn't entirely unpleasant, just a bit lonesome.  You know you haven't anything to complain about...you like the solitary life; walking around naked, making wonderful and silly meals for one, sleeping at whatever hour you fancy and playing music at whatever volume you like, and doing laundry for one.

Yet, sometimes, you just realise, that you would like to cook the second portion for another person - watch a man eat the meal you'd put together and take in the satisfaction from the corner of his mouth that work into a smile, "This is so good, thank you."

Conversations not needed, just the tenderness of chasing one's hunger away with some gift of love in the form of a meal made by you.