I went to a wedding in Kansas City last month. Lucky me, I snagged a room at this cute boutique hotel called No Vacancy where the rest of the wedding party was staying. I was rushing to get unpacked in my room when an old high school friend showed up in my doorway. We hugged and laughed and caught up in a rudimentary way. “So you’re in Denver now. You drove from Denver?” she asked. “Yeah,” I said. “How was the drive?” She asked. “Not bad,” I said. “You drove alone?” She asked.
This question gave me pause. I mean it just seemed like a weird question. Because who would I have driven with? Who would I have come with but myself?
“Uh… yeah?” I said, complete with valley-girl intonation.
And she smiled. And I realized, how would she know? We hadn’t really talked in years. How would she know that ever since I went stag to prom on the high school newspaper’s dime I’m still my own date to everything. But I liked her smile. It said it all. That she saw all my confusion in her question. And that she too had come alone.
That moment was not lonely.