Next to downsized, alone has to be the most frightening word in the language. People flee from it and everything it connotes.
Consider the sharing of certain information. Examples: “I went to blank club last Saturday.” Or: “I vacationed at blank island.” Or: “I had dinner at blank restaurant”; “I went to blank museum.” If the other person asks if you went (gasp) alone, what do you reply? Do you tell the truth or fabricate a distant relative or recent friend who accompanied you? I’ve found the older you get, the less anyone, including oneself, really cares. But younger people simply cannot be seen alone anywhere, especially on weekends.
Try to convince people you value solitude, enjoy being alone with your thoughts, appreciate your own company. Dress it up anyway you want, it’s still a pig. May as well tattoo “Loser” on your cheek.
Well, this past Easter I was alone. First time in my life. The circumstances are not important. I had an idea this would happen and prepared myself as best I could. I went to church, greeted a few people afterward, and drove into Hoboken. After a quick stop to pick up my Sunday Times, I easily found a space downtown, and took the PATH into the city.
Every year I attend the Easter Parade as it meanders along Fifth Avenue. Like hundreds of others, I’ll be clicking away at the bonnets, costumes, outlandish characters and their equally attired pets. This year the weather was superb and as usual, everyone was remarkably polite and civilized. The transvestites were out in force. One in particular was dressed in skin tight black skirt, with a wide brimmed black bonnet and fishnet stockings that accentuated legs Charlize Theron would envy.
Around 2:30 I had lunch – not at some fancy place – but at a crowded McDonald’s on Seventh Avenue. I then spent several hours sitting near the new viewing platform in Times Square, people watching and reading my book. Around 5:30 I went to Bryant Park and watched some ping pong, something new this year.
I was home by seven, called my brother, received a call from my niece, did my laundry, watched the Yankees season opener and wrote this piece. I made it through a major holiday alone. My spirit was not crushed; I did not wallow in self pity. Monday was coming on fast, with a meeting of my playwriting group, a gym session, a garage clean up, all sorts of activities.
I am strong and confident. Spending quality time with me was beneficial on so many levels. I know I’ll be fine for July Fourth, with or without a barbecue invitation. I just need to spend less time thinking about that trannie’s legs.—Joe Del Priore