Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about myself and my life. And I must admit, I don’t like the results of this analysis. Yes, I have achieved a lot. But I don’t have the main thing — family.
I never thought that I would suffer from loneliness. Yes, actually, until today I did not admit it to myself. I have always considered myself an emancipated woman. A feminist. But for some time now, when I look closely, it seems to me that only young families with young children live around me. Stop! Am I jealous? And come on, girlfriend, let’s analyze our life once and for all. I am 30 years old, and there is no question of any passions. At this age, you realize that the idyll of love, the invulnerability of feelings are impossible. But… I still want them so much! I still want to. Once I was 15, and it seemed that no one understood me, that the whole world had abandoned me. That was the first time I knew loneliness. I cried because I was alone. And I thought I had the right to love.
Once, I remember, a friend, a classmate, brought me out of this state, who just came in during my moping and took me for a walk, She then seemed like a kind fairy. But who will now dry my tears of loneliness?
I’m over 30 now, and I don’t believe in good fairies anymore. And I don’t believe in love to the grave either. At this age, love is prudent, reasonable. I want to take mostly, but it’s a pity to give. And cynicism is not surprising. Let’s say she slept with her best friend’s husband, I tell him: “You look, keep quiet like a fish.” And he, the fool, collapsed and, stretching himself contentedly, dreamily says: “M-yes… Why don’t people fly?” And I look at him condescendingly, and I just want to say: “Born to crawl can’t fly.” You idiot! And a friend lives with him and praises him! And he looks down at me: mine, still no husband, no children… But I’ve always had plenty of fans!
How many people I underestimated, did not understand, did not hear, did not see! Perhaps, young, proud and unapproachable, I passed by my true love. And there would not be this painful shameful loneliness now. Where are they, the burning eyes, the hot hands of those boys who loved me?
Cynicism in my soul is side by side with sentimentality. I am touched when I see young couples with strollers, but I also gloat when I watch spouses quarreling. Jealous? No, no and no! I’ve never suffered from it. Getting old? Yes, it seems early yet. Are there fewer fans? Yes. Because my beauty has faded? No.
I just became wiser about life, about love, about men. She became more selective in communication: this one is uninteresting in conversation, this one is bad in bed, and that one is a womanizer. There is no desire to exchange money.
I still want tender kisses, fervent hugs and confessions, but relationships that are not supported by spiritual, spiritual closeness with a person are impossible for me. But where to get this person?
Who do I have in my arsenal now? An eternal boy of 40, vegetating in a rundown research institute and loving to repeat: “Landau, like me, was a theoretical physicist.” An artist who steals leftovers and unopened bottles of wine at the opening days during a buffet. A silverless photographer with a bad character, but at the same time a polyglot. Reluctance. There is no desire to share a marriage bed with any of them, to raise children, to swear over trifles, so that they can be violently reconciled later. Well, was it for the sake of one of them that I was always an excellent student, graduated from university with a red diploma, opened my own company?
“I love you!” These words are worn out by humanity. Now I want a person who speaks sincerely, from the heart, and not from an adventurer who, accompanied by these cherished words, feverishly pulls off your clothes, leaves slobbery kisses on your body and beats in pseudo-convulsions at the sight of my body.
I am fed up with all this and now I look directly into the face of everyone who tried to claim my heart, hoping to get lost with one of them in a single flame of great feeling. But, alas, nothing like that happens.
The phone rang. This is my old friend, old maid Vika — a whiner still. He is in an endless search for eternal love. The Turgenev woman (she can no longer be called a girl) still lives by the principle that was deducted from the classics at the time. — “die, but don’t kiss without love” and “you are responsible for those you tamed.” However, she did not manage to tame anyone. The appearance leaves much to be desired. A vegetable garden, one might say, appearance: a potato nose, thin legs, and breasts resemble zucchini. But very smart. I’m interested in her sometimes.
— Verka, hello! So boring! Let’s move out somewhere.
— Vika, not today! I want to lie on the couch with a book all day.
— Well, that’s it. You’re always like that. And I wanted to tell you so… This one is calling me again!
— Oh, Vika, don’t start. I’ll call you back later.
Relieved, she hung up. Now she would have spent half an hour talking about a stupid affair with an elderly writer who tried to seduce her with poetry. Supposedly their own. Vika trustfully went to visit him, dreaming of candles and champagne. And he sat her down in a dirty kitchen at a table covered with newspaper and took out a bottle of vodka.
— Here, Vika, listen to what I just made, — he says. – “Never forget how the water will rush into the pier, and how the air is elastic, like a lifeline!”
— Yeah, I ran into the wrong one — Vika, after listening, jumped up from her seat. — How dare you! These are the poems of I. Brodsky! — I shouted at him.
— Tell me, please! You still know poetry, chick! — he said and tried to touch Vika.
She resolutely broke away and spent the rest of the evening sobbing in my kitchen. Nevertheless, Vika did not dismiss the candidacy of this nonentity.
The prospect of washing the bones of some nonentity did not smile at me. No, you need to be friends with successful, family people. Here’s Lena, a fellow student. Married to a successful businessman. Everything is fine with them. She likes to teach me: they say, you will catch up. Time is running out. Soon no one will ask you to get married. I’ll call her now. Maybe he’ll come and have a cup of coffee.
I dialed her number:
— Lenka, hello! How are you?
— Oh, imagine, Sasha’s appendicitis was removed yesterday. And we are sending Irka to the camp. And Vova and Sasha and I, when he is discharged from the hospital, want to go to Turkey for 10 days!
—Good for you,” I mumbled. — Don’t you want to come to me? I’m all alone here. Melancholy is green.
Oh, I’d love to, but there’s a lot to do.
Yes, that’s always the Husband, children, Turkey… I can also afford to go to Turkey. But what’s the use? Alone? Not interesting. With Vika? She always has no money. Fall on Lenka’s tail? I don’t think she’ll like it. Why do they need me? They have a family.
I started thinking about my loneliness again. And such a longing took me! I remembered how for several years in a row I mocked my friends who, one by one, jumped out to get married.
— Come on, come on! — ironically — In a year you will turn into a klush, you will wallow in diapers, among pots. No, no, no, it’s not for me! I’ll make a career for myself calmly, I’ll walk enough. I’ll take a closer look… And I’ll choose a better groom.
And what happens now? And he learns, as in Krylov’s fable: “The dragonfly-hopper sang the red summer, she didn’t have time to look back, as winter came again.” No, that’s it. Point. I won’t think about it anymore. In the end, I went through life with a sense of dignity. I’ve had a great career. Mel has a gorgeous apartment, a car, money. Finally, I have wonderful parents who have lived together for 45 years, and still coo with each other like lovebirds.
Yes, of course, they feel good, they have each other. I imagined my lonely old age. It became sad. “Darling,” she ordered herself. – Let’s make a deal. Set yourself up for the fact that true love will happen in your life. And if it doesn’t happen, we’ll assume that you’re just a romantic nature. Don’t think about your female share anymore.”
I resolutely got up from the sofa and headed to the kitchen. Brewed strong tea. I cut off a large piece of honey cake that I bought yesterday at a nearby deli. “Talia! Oh, her! I won’t take care of her anymore. Let them love me for who I am!” Yes, a delicious honey cake. By the way, I could bake it myself. I remember, at the dawn of my youth, at the time of my first love for a fellow student, I wanted to show off in front of him and baked the same delicious honey cake Oho-ho! Ow, my former classmate! Where are you? We loved each other so much! We could make a beautiful couple. How he called me to marry! And I laughed frivolously at him and his face. “Well, where should we get married? We haven’t had enough yet. And in general, first love can rarely be crowned with marriage.” I was only thinking about my career. At that time it seemed to me: well, what kind of husband is he? He will spend his whole life vegetating in some factory as an engineer. He’s impenetrable. And now I understand: I’ve really loved him the only one in my whole life. Meanwhile, he became very successful, got married, and had a son. And then his tracks were lost. They say he lived in America for several years, then returned.
At that moment, my mobile phone rang. An unfamiliar number appeared — Hello, hello! – said a painfully familiar voice. — Listen, are you, by any chance, Sinitsyna?
— Oh, you’re my classmate, Kolya! I yelled happily. “I was just thinking about you. No, dear, I’m not Sinitsyna, you know perfectly well. Where are you now?
— I’m home. Yes, you see, I was looking for an excuse to call you. And then my secretary told me from work that a certain Sinitsyna called. I thought maybe it was you? Can. got married, changed her last name… I often think of you. I miss. I’m divorced. And I want to ask: if you are not married, will you marry me?
— Kolya, dear, beloved, come immediately! I’m really looking forward to. I’m free for you…
0 Comment