Hugs, kisses and holding hands

My cousin and his wife who came to visit two weeks ago returned from Paris this weekend. They had a great time, but were exhausted. As expected, they loved that Parisian atmosphere of grandeur, broad avenues brimming with life and culture, the rich history and past that seem to be etched in every cobble-stoned road. And I’ve not yet mentioned the obvious attractions like Versailles, Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomph. If you’ve been to Paris, you’ll understand what I mean.

We went to the beach on Saturday evening, and watched the sunset together. ‘We’, included the cousin, his wife, my brother and his girlfriend. It’s been years since I last went to the beach with so many people…and I realised perhaps it was a ‘mistake’. Not that it wasn’t fun…just, they were both couples, and I was the ‘odd one out’, literally the fifth wheel which made the group a little awkward.

What made me awkward were the hugs, kisses, hand-holding. Sure, the sunset was romantic, the weather was warm, and the beach was empty, except for other couples hugging, kissing and holding hands…but I couldn’t do any of that, since, alas, I have no one. I tried not to look and not to be affected when the two couples were ‘intimate’, but it’s hard. Somehow I wanted to look, because I wanted to know what it was to be in a relationship, wanted to remind myself what I’m missing and have missed for the past couple of years since my last. But a part of me hurt when I looked, because that part kept on saying to me that it’s pointless to just want to have someone, and that chances are I’ll probably be alone for a long, long time to come.

A day earlier I went to the beach alone for the firework display. There were plenty of people around, and never have I seen the beach so full at night. I walked past the crowd, and felt a little awkward as I did. Everyone seemed to be with someone, and I was there all alone, walking, walking, while everyone either stood still or sat on the sand. I felt like people were watching me, judging me, and perhaps thinking why I was alone. A loner with no one to talk to, no one to share the miraculous display of fireworks, to share in the few moments of beauty, awe and mind-tantalising show of flashes and sparks. There were plenty of young people like me, probably around my age. I heard them laugh, joke and talk…I couldn’t hear what they were saying exactly, but their laughs sounded like they were laughing at me. They seemed to be talking about me. And I felt really uncomfortable. More and more so the longer I stayed there.

As I boarded an over-full tram home, I stood with my back turned to a bunch of cute guys. In the window I could see the reflection of their beautiful faces, tanned and built-up bodies. I never turned around to look at them directly, just peeped and stole glances at them in the reflection of the window. Perhaps it was the way they looked, or the way they were looking at me, but I felt so out of place, ugly and stupid, while everybody else looked gorgeous, confident and outgoing. It was a short trip, probably not more than ten minutes, but it seemed like hours as I stood there, hearing them laugh and joke with one another. It was busy, and there was a lot of chattering, so I couldn’t really hear what they were saying…but again, like on the beach, their laughter and chattering seemed to be directed at me… like I, and my loneliness, my ugliness, was the object of ridicule…

How can I be like this? So insecure, so self-loathing, and so anti-social? I so much long for human contact, for someone I could talk to, and listen to, and share deep moments and experiences with. But I go from day to day, place to place, still looking, still searching, and always lost.