This morning, I awoke, made a more involved version of my morning breakfast frittata and pot of tea, and plugged my machine into the stereo to listen to some jazz standards.
About 10 minutes in, I realized I was getting a little lonely. I missed BP, just in general, thinking of how nice it would be to have him here, to be making breakfast with him, which is something we’ve never ever done. I missed A who used to make a ridiculous feast every Sunday while we drank mimosas. Heck, I even thought wistfully of the special Sunday mornings of my home life — getting up, having fresh bagels from the local shop, then driving over to the marina to go sailing. We would listen to music my father loved at home (folkish rockish stuff) and music my mother loved on the boat (motown).
I treasure having alone time, and I never feel lonely . . . except this morning when I keep thinking how nice it would be to have a boyfriend or a family. Thoughts I almost never have!
I am not alone by any stretch of the imagination: I am dating BP. I am meeting my friends for a party tonight and a party tomorrow. I spent a couple of hours with W yesterday and saw my friends, including A, on Friday night. Yesterday, I spoke to my mother and to my brother who is vacationing with his girl and hipster buddies in the Catskills of all places.
This morning, though, I feel a tug of loneliness. I am enjoying my morning routine, but I know I would love it more sharing it with someone special.
