28.03.2024
Yesterday, I felt pretty low. I talked to her for five seconds in the whole day. And in that five seconds she attacked me. The genuine moment of happiness was when I was going home and picking up a free treat on my loyalty card at Marks and Spencers. I was thinking about who to give it to. First I thought of my work family. Then, as I was walking past the homeless guy in front of the train station, I suddenly decided to give it to him. The smile that lit up his face was the genuine moment of happiness in the whole day. Here was someone that didn’t have anything and they were happy with just an inexpensive bag of sweets that a stranger had given them. He smiled like it had made his whole day. When I am feeling low, giving something to someone makes me feel good. Because you share something with them and you feel like you are making someone happy. Even when you are not happy yourself.
I gave my tour which I wrote on request to an Indian man with a white woman and their child. They were so pleased with my tour that they kept on thanking me afterwards and they wrote some really lovely words on the feedback form. But what I think made them the happiest, although they wouldn’t say it, was that I told them that I was Indian as well and I talked about one of the posters which features Indian women.
I went to a friend’s birthday drinks. I told him yesterday that I would go but because I was upset yesterday I felt tired today. So I had to make myself go. Life is passing me by. I can feel it. Nothing is happening. No one loves me. I can’t meet someone that I like that likes me back.
But you know what, these people are my friends. I get on with them so well, especially the one whose birthday it was and another person there. I forgot about how tired I was around them. We learnt more about each other and we had a good time. I left the earliest though because there is a certain point in any of that kind of social gathering that I start missing the woman that is not there with me. You feel the ache of emptiness. You are going to have to walk home alone. You are going to have to sleep in your bed alone. There is no one there that you can call your special own. So I got up and left. And I rushed off so fast to get away from everyone that I left some stuff there.
The Tiger hunts alone. The world has denied Tiger the one thing that he wanted the most in his life. Love. So, Tiger is hungry and wounded. But without hunger, there is no Tiger. Without the wound, there is no aspiration to a cure. This is the fate of Tiger.
It was my friend’s birthday. It was an occasion. One of my best friends in museums and art galleries. So I treated myself with burgers at Burger King for a change after the drinks. They are the best. They are the ones that I have enjoyed the most since I was a kid. And, since it has been so long since I have eaten them, they were breathtakingly good. I really enjoyed myself. When you are sad and you don’t have a woman in your life, food is a substitute for a lot. You can’t hold her hand. But you can eat food. You can’t kiss her. But you can eat food. You can’t talk to her in your bed. But you can eat food. You can’t learn about her in an intimate setting with candlelight and music. But you can eat food. You can’t stroke her hair. But you can eat food. You can’t run your fingers down her arm and tickle her. But you can eat food. Food is something you will always have in this country, unless there is a major disaster. And it comforts you. Thank mother nature for chocolate and junk food.
Today’s highlight was the birthday party obviously. But also sharing some of my fancy chocolate biscuits I keep in my cupboard with some of the other friends I have in the museum. Even better than eating it yourself is to make someone happy with it for a moment. Sharing things. Sharing happiness.
In the night, I think of Helen. She is the one I have pillow talk with in this diary. Like a couple that talks about their day in the night in the bedroom. It was a busy day. Sometimes, you don’t think of her much the whole day. You feel like you are finally beginning to escape from her hold on you. But when the night comes and you are alone, that is when you miss her the most. Just looking at her once in the day makes your whole day, even if you think about how she has disappointed you. And when you don’t see her, your day isn’t really complete. But then, at night, you keep on remembering how she looked while she was talking to you. You replay the conversations in your head. The first one where I actually noticed her, when she was talking about the potential outbreak of a war in her country. Asking her about the watch that she wore which made me think that she was so stylish. Her reaction when I asked her how busy she was when she didn’t even have a boyfriend and didn’t live with her family. When she told me about an issue she was having with a sibling, which was the first time I thought that she trusts me with her personal stuff. The beautiful scene with the notebook when she jumped up and down for joy and clasped that book to her chest. When she ambushed me and her eyes burned with brown fire. When she was angry at me. When she talked to me in a different place and what she was wearing, those beautiful clothes. What is your life without your memories? Even if you think of them sadly?
I have forgiven my frenemy for how she treated me. I always forgive her. It is not her fault. She is sensitive and she is also young. She doesn’t know the problems I have had and I can’t write it here. She doesn’t know what she is doing. I’m just going to leave it and not say anything. Whatever she does, I think of her as my friend and I like her. Even more than a friend. As everyone says to me, I am soft when it comes to women. Too soft.
diary of a lone man 