on the low

After a short getaway to Sag Harbor, Lana and I (Lana is short for Svetlana and she is my long road racing 325is) tuned in to one of my regular programs, the Diane Rehm Show. Of all the topics her guest host could have been discussing, the conversation focused on a new book about loneliness. I say "of all the topics" because for the past 9 months, and as recently as hours before hitting the road, I have become keenly aware of this lonely creep on my tail.

In winters past, I brushed it off as seasonal affective disorder; and, it was okay because we’re all allowed to be a little SAD sometimes. I grew up where the sun shines 300+ days a year and the longer I am away the more I long for those sunrays. But, this year something was different. My cozy Brooklyn pad was the backdrop for a still life. My enthusiasm for my latest fashion finds was fleeting; plush winter coats and sleek hats and bad-ass boots held it together out the door, but back inside....

Back inside, it was the single girl blues. I don't want to give the impression that my love life is the definitive me, but for the sake of this story, let's say it is.

So, the question I ask myself is "how did I get here?" The simple and complicated answer will unfold in these Datin' Ms. Behavin' pages. For today, it is he loves me knot No. 50 as in five-0, aka Peter Pan.

Peter Pan and I have been datin' for about a year. We met first with our eyes in a random street encounter. I smiled; he smiled. We passed each other. We both looked back. The conversation was light, playful, flirty. He got my number and called me as we parted. And that's how we started.

No. 50 keeps in regular contact even when I don't want to bother, but Peter Pan refuses to show up. No. 50 is HOT and that is hard to resist; ditto for Peter Pan. No. 50 has a plan; Peter Pan has too much going on. I had and sometimes still have high hopes for No. 50, but Peter Pan has no hopes for me and he knows in his heart of hearts that he'll never give up his reign on the Lost Boys where there is no room for a clever girl. A clever, lonely girl...

It's probably obvious by now that Peter Pan got the invite to come out to Sag Harbor; and, of course, he didn't show up. The accumulation of lazy afternoons, sunny mornings, and movie nights that have been mine alone continues to take its toll.

I think about getting to the end game with No. 50/Peter Pan and how it might play out. I keep coming back to the basics; peanut butter is a cupboard staple and it can't hurt to have five-o in your pocket....

A caller is on the program with a question about the long-term effects of loneliness. My eyes begin to burn. Sometimes it's sad songs or a cup of tea; today I let the tears fall and I don't feel so alone.