Despite the rising statistics of people living alone, by themselves, it seems to be a truth universally acknowledged that humans do not like to live alone, and indeed, actively avoid doing so. Look at all the hoop-la around True-Love, or Friendship, or Clubs. We go out of our way to “meet people”, sacrificing time and money and mental ease to do so. We put up with the slow grinding hatred which generally blossoms between two people living in close quarters, because we are afraid of things that go bump in the night. And then old age, and then more loneliness. The fear of loneliness drives us into the arms of people who drive us crazy, but which is worse?

Have you, Gentle reader, experienced that sort sharp stabby loathing which almost cripples you with its power, towards the person you live with? This person might be your room-mate, or your lover, or your parent, or your child. Almost everyone I know, has done so. Do you know that feeling, when you can’t bear to look at somebody because you hate them so much, and keep your head slightly inclined so you don’t have to catch their eyes, for fear that the mutual loathing will suddenly leap out and burn you all to death? I think you do.

Of course, there are good times too, the True-Love times, those moments frequently celebrated in movies and novels and TV shows. Those times which make you think that it is worth it.

But it is not the good times which make you bear the bad, gentle Reader, and this is where the movies are tricking you. Let me tell you what it is: we are afraid of loneliness. And so we buy the True-Love schlock, and put up with the annoying people in our lives. And the romantic industry gets richer and richer.


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