The Single Man

I fancy myself a bit of a romantic. I used to write poetry. I didn’t write a lot of poems, but enough to give the medium a shot. They were simple because that’s how I chose to write. I still do.

I stopped writing poetry after I got married. It’s not that I didn’t have the desire. Ruth just expressed little interest in what I wrote, so I stopped. Simple.

I wrote most of it following our breakup in the summer of 1971. We’d been dating for two years, and she wanted to get married. I didn’t, so she found someone who did. During our separation I wrote several poems and listened to a guy named Rod McKuen. McKuen was a softie like me. His, The Single Man, became a staple on my turntable.

The Single Man by Rod McKuen with lyrics STORY VID

The truth of the matter is I wasn’t truly a single man until Ruth died. I always lived with someone until then. I had someone to talk with throughout my life: my parents, sisters, college roommates, early professional colleagues who shared my apartment and, finally, Ruth. I lived with others so there was someone to lend an ear until she died. I didn’t always do what others suggested, but they helped me explore my options.

There are advantages to living alone. You can do what you want whenever you want. There’s no discussion of what to do next, where to go, what to eat, how to spend your time, what to buy, what to give away, what to keep, what to wear, and on and on. Your choices are endless. The trouble is you don’t have someone to exchange ideas, so almost every one seems solid. After all, you’re not looking for trouble, just a good way to pass the time.

The disadvantage to always being right is it’s harder to see a different point of view. That’s what having a meaningful conversation does. It opens up options. You consider alternatives. You may decide to keep on the same path but sharing things with someone sometimes opens a different one.

Not all such conversations are serious. Sometimes it’s just idle banter. A way to pass the time. But having the option of sharing your thoughts is key. I like to look into people’s eyes when we speak about the serious side of life. Eyes don’t lie. Words may.

Don’t get me wrong. I have no desire to remarry or live with someone, but like McKuen, “Sometimes at night, the walls talk back to me.” That’s the part of living alone that I don’t care for. I can’t just ask a question across the table or turn to my left while lying in bed. Those spaces are empty.

I have some people that I trust with my thoughts, but they’re not always close at hand. I have to wait. Some things can’t, and sometimes I just don’t want to. Like all things in life, you get what you get. I need to find a way stock up on patience.