On the frying pan

door Vulpius

Man. Stephen Fry — een enorm respect voor de mens — weet het toch maar weer eens (*) enorm knap te verwoorden.

Niet alles klakkeloos overnemen, dat zou van weinig respect betuigen, dus allen daarheen en de hele handel daar lezen. Maar sommige dingen “really hit home”, zoals de Engelsen dat dan zeggen (ook: “paraphrased” en “emphasis mine”):

But I can be sad for personal reasons because I am often forlorn, unhappy and lonely.

Lonely? I get invitation cards through the post almost every day.

In the end loneliness is the most terrible and contradictory of my problems. I hate having only myself to come home to.

It’s not that I want a sexual partner, a long-term partner, someone to share a bed and a snuggle on the sofa with – although perhaps I do and in the past I have had and it has been joyful. But the fact is I value my privacy too. It’s a lose-lose matter. I don’t want to be alone, but I want to be left alone. Perhaps this is just a form of narcissism, vanity, overdemanding entitlement – give it whatever derogatory term you think it deserves. I don’t know the answer.

I suppose I just don’t like my own company very much. Which is odd, given how many times people very kindly tell me that they’d put me on their ideal dinner party guestlist. I do think I can usually be relied upon to be good company when I’m out and about and sitting round a table chatting, being silly, sharing jokes and stories and bringing shy people out of their shells.

But then I get home and I’m all alone again.

The strange thing is, if you see me in the street and engage in contemplation I will probably freeze into polite fear and smile inanely until I can get away to be on my lonely ownsome. Make of that what you will.

Zucht. De nagel op de spreekwoordelijke kop, heet dat dan. Nogmaals, volledig lezen maar.

*: Over verwoorden gesproken, ik merk dat ik me de laatste tijd toch zo vaak op dezelfde manieren mis typ. Ofwel woorden laten vallen, ofwel letters omwisselen, ofwel letters verkeerd — willekeurig haast — ofwel woorden samenvoegen. Zo werd “weer eens” bijna even “weens”. Het klinkt wel niet slecht, eigenlijk. Mijn vingers kunnen de zinnen van mijn brein soms niet volgen, vrees ik.