“I’m alone. I am not lonely.”
You may recognize that line from Heat, the classic movie with Robert De Niro and Al Pacino—and that harrowing downtown shootout.
When I first heard Neil McCauley (De Niro) say it, I immediately identified with it.
I’m alone.
Well, some of the time. My kids are here regularly, and when they are, the apartment gets a little rowdy. Then they leave, and it gets quiet again.
And in those times? I’m not lonely.
People sometimes hear “I’m alone” and respond as if I’ve just told them I spend every evening staring out a rain-covered window, waiting for someone to call.
I’m usually doing something much less cinematic. Writing. Reading. Going for a run. Throwing around kettlebells. Looking at a map and wondering just how big the Great Salt Lake used to be. Sitting on the couch watching a classic movie a la Heat with a snack I don’t have to share.
I spent years in a relationship. Now I have three jobs, two kids, a website, a wagon, and enough interests to fill whatever time is left. There are places I want to go and things I want to make. Sometimes I just come home, put my keys down, and enjoy hearing absolutely nothing.
Unless my neighbors are wrestling a bear. Apartment life, am I right?
That doesn’t mean I never want company. There are evenings where I think it would be nice to have someone beside me. I’m dipping my toe in dating. Can I find a woman who’s kind, funny, attractive, and willing to listen to me talk about abandoned retail sites?
Still looking. 🤣
But here’s the thing: Wanting someone beside me on a particular evening isn’t the same thing as wanting to share every evening.
Some people come alive sharing a home and building every day together. I get it. I’ve lived it. For now, I feel most like myself when I have room to wander off, get interested in something, and come back whenever I’m done.
Maybe that changes. I’m 38, and I’m human. Nothing lasts forever. Well, except some types of rock—but even those may be toast when the Sun becomes a red giant. That’s neither here nor there.
Right now, I can have a full day with my kids, drop them off, drive home, and enjoy the quiet when I open the door. I can miss them and still enjoy the quiet. Apparently I contain multitudes. Most of them would like a little time alone.
I’m alone.
I am not lonely.