Toasting to Us
A few weeks ago, while shopping, I spotted a middle-aged woman selecting the items she wanted to buy with an unusual care. She was particularly meticulous with wines. It wasn’t difficult for me to conclude that she lived alone. In fact, she was mimicking my own gestures. That’s how I found out she was alone.
Lonely women are terribly careful when they shop. They have to get, from the things they buy, more than what they represent. The product they buy must deliver some comfort and self-reassurance.
God knows why, they seem to like wine. I don’t know if it’s the memory of past happy moments, the anesthesia of present or the promise of future happiness. Lonely women do tend to enjoy the company of wine.
I wish all the lonely women out there were alone by option, as I currently am. Being a difficult option, it must be even harder by fate or imposition.
The next day I worked from 7am to 5pm. I decided I should go out, watch the (timid) sunset and toast with a glass of wine to us, lonely women. May our loneliness be light and short-lived. We all deserve to feel good, be it alone or with someone.