Some years ago, if I remember correctly, there was a series of
books about a Lone Man, that is, about a young guy who had no girl
friend and who didnt seem likely to get one. The books, I think, sold
pretty well. I want the author to know that long before these books came out I
thought of myself as the Lone Man. Too bad I never wrote any books
about being one.
How did I come to be the Lone Man? It wasnt
hard. I was in my early thirties. I was living in San Francisco, having come
there from New York City five years before. My girl had gone back to the
Midwest to help care for her father, whod suffered a heart attack. When
shed left, I had the feeling she wouldnt be coming back, and she
didnt. The couple who were probably my best friends got divorced. No more
dinners and occasional parties at their place. The couple who were my next best
friends had a baby. That was the end of that. I had no family in San Francisco;
they were all back in New York. If I was still there, one of my numerous aunts
would have fixed me up with a new girl friend, but my aunts were 3,000 miles
away.
There were no girls in the office where I worked; none, at any
rate that I was interested in, or who might be interested in me. On top of
that, Id moved to an apartment in Sausalito, across the Golden Gate
Bridge from San Francisco. This was fine as long as I had a girl friend, who
usually came to spend the weekends with me. Without a girl friend, I had no one
and San Francisco, the City, might as well have been, like New York, 3,000
miles away. Oh, yes, Id always liked the wife of my best-friends couple
and, after their divorce, had taken her to dinner. At the door of her
apartment, Id made my move and had been gently but firmly rejected.
* * *
So, what does a lone man do to fill in the time? After work,
Id drive back to Sausalito and make myself dinner. Ironically, my girl
friend had left me half a dozen or so recipes. I alternated these with the TV
dinners that were then becoming popular. Sausalito at that time didnt
have many restaurants, and, besides, one of the worst things about being a Lone
Man was having to eat by yourself in a restaurant. After cleaning up, Id
read, watch my black-and-white television or, most often, look at the view I
had of Alcatraz, with the City beyond it. On weekends, Id walk from my
apartment along Bridgeway into town, buy whatever I needed, stop into the
little library for books, then walk back and usually do nothing for the rest of
the day. Sometimes, to vary my routine, Id drive back over the Golden
Gate Bridge, although it took an effort to do this, and go to Golden Gate Park.
Once a week, instead of going straight back to Sausalito after work, Id
drive to the JCC (Jewish Community Center) to play handball (Id been a
pretty good player back in New York). After playing, Id go to a bar
across the street to have a beer, then go home.
What about picking up a girl in the bar; thats the way
its always done in the movies. The bar was pretty much a sports bar and
very few women were ever seen there. The one time I did see an attractive girl
drinking by herself I moved over to the seat next to her and was cleverly
saying, Can I buy you a . . . when her boy friend came breezing
past me and they kissed enthusiastically while I slunk back to my previous
spot.
The thing I remember most about this Lone Man period is that
every guy except me seemed to have a girl. When I walked back and forth on
Bridgeway I passed couples holding hands while they admired the view. When I
went into the market everyone else shopping was one of a pair. When I went into
the library guys would be showing the books theyd selected to their
girls. On the rare occasions when I ate out Id be huddled at a table by
myself while at all the other tables couples talked and laughed. When I went to
Golden Gate Park couples would by sitting on benches or lying on the grass with
each other. Even when I was driving in my car all the cars I passed were
occupied by couples sitting close together.
I was reminded of all this recently when my oldest son, who
happens to live in San Francisco, was divorced and, when my wife and I visited
him, was obviously lonely; he was even glad to see us, his parents. Well, I
guess Ive let the cat out of the bag---no, I didnt stay the Lone
Man forever, although at the time it appeared I would. One night after handball
at the JCC another player told me of a restaurant two blocks away that had good
food, cheap prices and a lot of small tables suitable for guys eating alone.
So, after showering and changing I took my gym bag and, instead of going to the
sports bar across the street, I found the new restaurant two blocks away. I was
seated at one of the small tables, against a wall. The menu looked good. My
wife says I deliberately left my gym bag out in the aisle so that she would
trip over it. I deny it but this is what happened and so I met my wife-to-be
and that was the end of my being The Lone Man.