Dear Miss Lonely Hearts

Tonight I was just thinking about how I missed talking to people.

Tonight I was thinking about the culmination of 3 years, and how fast that goes. I seem to not know when to say no.

It’s okay though, because when it comes to the terms of moonlight nothing matters.

A million songs are passing through my head,

I remember a Dr. Pepper night through the streets of downtown that ended in a dilapidated building with a projector

Purple Rain playing and the pain of my father’s absence only a faint memory against the strength of cheap whiskey

Now 5 years later, my father’s passing a strong impact on how strong purple rain resonates in the inner core of my mind

I want to be outside in the heat again, spilling a midday drink on my pants with my best friend,

I want to lay in the van screaming the same song I always listen to again and watch a familiar face laugh at me with love

But instead I’m here,

I’m on the couch with the decisions I chose

I have a regular who is always lonely. He seems to bide his free time drinking at night. I don’t blame him, I’d do the same thing. He has the same repetitive sayings. I don’t know…sometimes you just feel alone, you know? I try to comfort him, do my best to let him know that this is a normal feeling. Loneliness is the human condition, I think someone said that once. We talk about a lot of things, he and I. Only on a very vague level. Sometimes he lets me into some of his past, updates on big events that happen to him so we can revel in his achievements. My acquaintance-friendship with him makes me think of how important this role I play is in some people’s lives. Maybe I am not so important on a large scale. But I remember names, drinks, I try to provide a sense of homeliness. I want people to know that they can show up, I hold their secrets, I can provide a sense of friendship and accommodation. Sometimes I feel like a low-budget therapist, to be honest.

But back to my regular. I often wonder what it’s like to be him, traversing the path he has chosen. We all go down different roads in life and none of them are particularly bad, maybe some. I don’t think his life is bad, but he is often extremely sad. The kind of sad that’s expressed in gestures, shy wording that you have to listen through in order to get to the bottom of. He wants so badly to rid himself of the loneliness that grips him, yet he finds himself in situations where the solution is never a long-term release.

He frequently asks me if I remember what it was like to first fall in love. I tell him yes. He often says he wants to feel that feeling again. The warm, bubbly feeling when you first start talking to someone. Does the ability to find this sensation fade with age? I’d like to think that at any point in time you can feel this with someone new. I mean it’s been proven. People are constantly falling in and out of love. I watch as people come and go, relationships fade and fall apart. New people come in, re-ignite the flame the last relationship was missing.

I don’t think a person or a relationship is a solvent to loneliness. In this particular case, thinking too hard about fixing your sadness with the company of someone else is not the answer. Maybe short-term, but long term it’s a terrible idea. But I want so badly to help. I’d like to say, “Hey, it’s okay. You’re gonna find someone who’s really great. Maybe this lady you’ve been talking to is the one that’s gonna work.” and when I do say this, it feels like a lie. Maybe relationships aren’t meant to last. Maybe all of us will one day end up at a bar, at 12 AM on a weekday, talking to the same bartender we always talk to, wondering what’s next.

Anyways, I can’t help much. I’m just here to listen.

Bartending is always a very strange profession. I see my fair share of office men, lawyers, old people, young kids who don’t know how to drink yet. You know, the works. You get to a point where you can spot them after a while.
This day however, I was bartending a private party. I didn’t have any information about whose party it was other than “the mustang group”, which didn’t make me very happy. The day before Halloween and I gotta bartend to these jerkoffs? A group of guys who all drive tricked out Mustangs. Not that I care that much about holidays or Halloween to begin with. It’s just that I thought these guys were assholes and I knew it was going to be a themed party. That combination seems annoying to even a regular person, hopefully.
I get everything ready behind the bar – cut the limes, carry the ice up the stairs, stock the mich ultra, put out the mats. I put on a solid playlist I think anyone would enjoy. I wait.
They come in slowly, some dressed up, some in work uniforms, some in casual clothes. The main guy’s wife keeps coming up and asking me for things like I know who her husband is.
I sit in the corner for like 5 hours. The only reason anyone stayed is for the raffle they had.
They asked me if I would go up and pick the ticket out of the jar, so I did. I was excited. This was the most action I had all night.
On stage in front of 15 people, I shook the jar with the raffle tickets and did my best Vanna White. And the winner is…….
Nobody in the room. I looked around at their faces, full of disillusion and obligation. Then I went back behind the bar to sit at my post and try to not stare at them. But I did. I watched them and wondered if any of them were as bored as I was. There was an old guy with a big pin on his shirt with trump’s face on it. It read, “Make liberals cry again”. 2020. I thought it was really funny. He asked me if I knew how to make a kamikaze and I was like yeah I can do that. He replied, “I judge people based on their kamikazes.” Which was a very strange thing to say. It’s such a simple shot and such a shitty thing to judge a bartender on. I have my own opinions on judging bartenders though – I mean I hate it. I asked him if he had ever bartended before.
“No, I haven’t, but I’ve poured plenty of these down people’s throats so I know.” It was just such a vaguely creepy thing to say. The wording was so vile. Pour down the throat evokes images that bother me.
They all sat at individual tables, obviously in their own designated groups. They were awkward. Most stayed for the raffle and left. I wondered how that made the main guy feel. I felt bad for him. He put this party together for only a few people to show up, barely get excited, stay for a raffle for like $1500 worth of parts and then leave. I guess they expected an open bar and got pissed when they had to pay for their own drinks. The most boring Halloween party ever.