Milena Moser on how being alone is not the same as being lonely: Time for singles

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My neighbor Georg takes his dog, whose name I keep forgetting, for a walk, an adorable bulldog mix with a slightly aggressive, always protruding lower jaw. Georg adopted him from an animal shelter after the unexpected death of his wife, “without thinking twice,” as he said when we accidentally met him on the street.

We admired the dog, we had no idea what had happened, it all happened so quickly. I still remember kneeling down to pet the dog and also to hide my shock. As often happens, I couldn’t think of anything smart to say.

Since then, Georg has changed, you see him much more often in the neighborhood, always with a dog. He has grown his hair long, wears earrings, skinny sunglasses and bleached denim jackets with teddy bears on them. As usual these days, we discuss our plans, although Victor and I don’t have any. We could cook something delicious for ourselves or visit friends. Georg will be invited to the home of his daughter, who lives with her family on the east coast. She’ll even pay for his flight. But Georg remains here: “I don’t want to be separated from Charlie even for a few days.” The dog’s name is Charlie, now I know it again. I ask him if he’d like to come over on Christmas Eve instead, but he shakes his head. “I’m not alone,” he says. – Strictly speaking, I’m not even alone.

Being alone is not the same as being lonely. You can be one thing and not another. But you can also be both at the same time. We just recently talked about this. “You don’t know what it’s like to be alone,” my friend told me, not accusingly, but rather casually. It’s like this: I know loneliness, deep, deep loneliness. But especially among people. However, I believe that being alone is a privilege. As something voluntary and temporary. Besides, my characters are always with me.

“Imaginary friends don’t count,” my friend said. “You are alone when no one cares whether you come home or not. When no one asks how you are doing. When you can’t call anyone, when you fall down the stairs at night, or when the water supply freezes.” I wanted to object to her: “You have me,” I wanted to say. But I kept my mouth shut. She knew it, and that wasn’t the point. It was about her. About your feelings.

And now I wonder if I offended Georg with my well-intentioned proposal. No matter how cynical it sounds to him: come to us! Look how happy we are, how well we are doing. Ask yourself why Victor is still alive even though doctors declared him dead twenty years ago, while your strong, cheerful Amy disappeared within three months. I’m ashamed. “Sorry,” I mutter. “I did not want …”

George shakes his head. He seems to understand what I mean. “Nothing. You don’t have to worry about me. It’s better to worry about those you don’t see on the street anymore.” Charlie pulls on the leash, he’s heard enough. Georg raises his hand in greeting and moves on. I watch him leave and try to see shadows on the sidewalk, the outlines of those we no longer see.

Source: Blick