A lonely man who does not think he is lonely is a very dangerous
man. Your heart will break the minute you meet him, because even if he
does nothing to intentionally hurt you, you know that it is only a
matter of time before he forgets all about you and you are left to think
of nothing but him. This is what I have learned from my last
boyfriends, but this story isn’t about them. It’s about another lonely
man named William.
William lives alone, of course, because he prefers a home without
people or pets. He likes to keep his domestic responsibilities to a
minimum, though he keeps several plants, mostly potted, inside and by
the front door. He feels a great amount of satisfaction from watching
his plants grow. He likes how little work they require and how they
only need a little air and light and water and tending. His home is
small and simple. It is a one bedroom, two story guesthouse in the
backyard of a much larger house with a family living in it. He does not
see them very much, mostly when rent is due. He has lived there for nine
years.
William lives in in a small town where nobody knows he is lonely
either. This is because he has quite a bit of charm and a handsome
face, each strong enough on their own to convince anyone that they are
not properties of loneliness. But he is not too handsome, just enough
for someone to look at him longer than the man standing next to him.
I fell for William upon sight several years ago when I thought
love could be caught like an airborne spell. I let my foolish thoughts
take over my head and could not stop thinking about him for days and
days. I became sick from the love. Food no longer fed me, breath no
longer nourished me, and sleep no longer rested me. I had to find him
and tell him I loved him.
Of course, I did not do this. Instead, I found out where William
worked and nonchalantly waltzed into this place everyday. Luckily, it
was a cafe, so he did not become suspicious for a while. I would order a
cup of tea and sit down with a book for hours. I would read the same
paragraph over and over, never absorbing a single word, but memorizing
his every manner of motion instead. If I continued to do this, I
decided, I would be no better than a creepy stalker. So I approached
William for the ultimate question- I was going to ask him out.
“Hi!” I shouted at him at the cafe counter.
“Hello. Darjeeling today again?” He asked like a happy employee should.
“No, I…I LOVE YOU!” And I ran for the door. And I kept running,
for almost five miles, before I realized I didn’t know where I was. I
looked around and tried to find someone to ask for help, but I was
alone. I was alone in a parking lot out of town with exhausted legs. I
sat down and caught my breath and looked up to the sky.
“Why am I so weird?!” I asked. I picked myself up and found a bus station and hopped on to join the rest of the human race.
That night I laid in bed and wondered what he was thinking at
this very moment. He must be laughing his head off. He must think I’m a
nut. I am a nut. I’m the nuttiest nut there is. I’m like a half cashew
with a pecan for a head that tastes like a walnut. Gross.
A week later, I had found another cafe to drink darjeeling in,
one without any good looking baristas. I actually read my book this time
and only stayed for a couple hours. I then meandered home to my content
but quite lonely life. You see, I lived alone too. I lived in a small
apartment that contained a collection of science fiction books and
exotic spices and vintage movie posters, but nobody to enjoy them but
me. And my cat Manfred, but he doesn’t really like me so he doesn’t
count.
It was a Tuesday afternoon and the sun was seeping into the
windows of my new cafe. It was lighting up the walls with orange and red
and warming my outsides as my tea did my insides. I was very much into
my book and didn’t have the attention span to see what was going on
above what I held in my hands. Then, a hand that was not mine reached
over and took the book from me.
“Hey!” I snapped as I looked up. It was William. “I-um…” I stuttered.
“Hi.” He looked at me for a moment, and I looked back at him,
almost peeing my pants. Actually, I think it was a skirt at the time.
“What’s…up?” I asked awkwardly.
“I found you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. I’ve been looking for you for days. I finally figured out you would need a new cafe to go to. So here we are.”
“Here we are.”
Turns out, William was sick of being lonely, just like me, and
had been waiting for someone to wave their arms in his face and say, I
LOVE YOU, for a long time. Sometimes, it pays to be obvious and weird
and awkward and loud. Because now, William and I live together in a
little house filled with his plants and my spices and our books
together. Happily. Not ever after, because who knows about that, but
happily will do it for now.
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