It is a tough position to find yourself lonely in the city you’ve lived in practically your whole life. Considering that aside from my first four years on the planet, and my four years of college, I have always called Charlotte home, it is embarrassing to admit that I recently find myself a stranger in my hometown.
The largest contributing factor is the recent journey of my closest friends to opposite ends of the Earth. One will be returning in September, but the other is gone for like a large part of the next 5 or 10 years. I had two months in Mexico to distract me from their leaving, but now after a few weeks back stateside I can’t shake the feeling that a part of my heart is missing.
At first I thought perhaps biology was kicking in and telling me it’s time I start thinking about the whole settling down bit, but today as I strolled through the park in my neighborhood and saw the children running joyfully through the fountains and splashing in the overly-chlorinated city water, there was no tug on my heartstrings or yearning for pitter patter. What I wanted most in the world was a girlfriend. Someone I could go and grab a glass of wine with and bemoan our latest frustrations with the opposite sex.
I want someone to go shopping for six-inch heels with, not housewares. I want someone to lounge around with me and watch sappy movies eating an entire batch of brownies, not someone to make sandwiches for while being manipulated into watching some type of sport if I want any quality time.
I miss my girls, a lot. And I want them to come home. Now.