Lonely Hearts.

It’s 10:45 PM and I’m sitting in my apartment in stockings and heels because I’m waiting for my phone to ring.

This all started last Tuesday, when the choir I’m singing with had our first dress rehearsal with the orchestra. I noticed an attractive male in the horn section and pointed him out to the woman who sits to my left. Over the next few days we joked more and more about him – we’re doing this concert for two weeks so it’s nice to have something pretty to look at. Yesterday afternoon the woman to my left ran into him and another man from his section in the elevator. She asked him his name and told him that “the girl next to me has the hots for you.” So we go out on stage (where the chorus sits in a horseshoe behind and one level up from the orchestra) and I see his fellow horn-buddies goading him and looking up at the choir and we’re all joking and laughing and both me and guy are bright red with our faces buried in our hands. It was a lot of fun, actually. We all use separate floors to prepare for the shows and come and go through separate entrances so there’s not much opportunity for us to run into each other, so I figured what the hell — “seize the day.” I wrote a note that said “Sorry about my friends! Would you like to meet me for coffee after the show?” and signed it with my name and telephone number. I went down to his level during intermission and the only person there was a man from a nearby section. I asked him to give the note to this guy and he agreed to do it. And . . . that’s where the story leaves off. I don’t know if he ever got my note because he gave no indication when we got on stage that he’d read it. He might have had it given to him after the show, but I stuck around for a few minutes and he was nowhere to be found. And he hasn’t called yet either.

I don’t even know why I care so much. I’ve never even spoken to him before. All I know is his first name and the fact that he plays classical music. Plus, who knows? Maybe he had plans for tonight, or thought it was too late to call. Maybe he’ll call tomorrow or the next day. It shouldn’t be important.

I know that I’m unhappy when I start lying to people. I guess I figure that if other people believe the things that I want to be true, it’ll help them come true. That’s why I sit there laughing with the girls around me and telling them how I really don’t need another boyfriend when I already have so many guys throwing themselves at me. It’s not true at all.

Okay, so there is one guy who seems have a slight attachment to me, but I can’t bring myself to feel anything for him besides friendship, and it’s that same friendship which keeps me from telling him that I don’t like him like that anymore. And then there’s the other guy with whom I’ve been trying so, so hard to not fall in love for the past year-and-a-half. I can’t help myself though, and I think that he knows it. At least he does now. And then there’s the third slot. The third slot has been filled by many, many people over the past year. I meet someone, we go out once or twice, and then we never see each other again. Sometimes it’s because there’s no chemistry, but sometimes it’s because there’s too much chemistry and it scares me.

I guess I’m afraid that no matter how great the early stage of a relationship are, anybody who gets to really know me is going to run away. Because from my eyes, that’s the way it’s always happened. Nobody’s ever been in love with me. Not really, truly, madly in love. The ex-who-shall-not-be-named claimed to be, but when it came time to actually show it he flaked, over and over again. He used me and treated me like shit last year and made it very clear that I was nothing more than a distraction – a seven-year distraction – to him. No, no one’s ever been in love with me before. But I’m 23 years old and I’m starting to wonder — will anyone ever be? I just want to hear that there’s somebody who absolutely can’t live without me. I’m not asking that he’ll be willing to give up everything for me, or even anything. But . . . how about something? Just a small sacrifice for me, that’s all I want, because I know that there’s so much I’m willing to sacrifice in return. I want to be loved. I want to not be alone anymore. I want to stop throwing myself at anything that moves just in case he’ll turn out to be the one who can’t get enough of me.

This isn’t about a horn player. This isn’t about any particular person. This is about me and my never-ending search for someone who will rescue me from my loneliness. This is about the dull ache that lives inside my chest and the tears that fall at night when I lay in my bed and hold my pillows as if they were people. This is about the jealousy I feel whenever I see anybody who’s happy and the question of why I can’t be that way too that always lingers afterwards.

It’s well past midnight now. The phone never rang, I’m still in my fancy clothes, and the only thing left for me to do tonight is cry.