Look at all the Lonely People

Last night I decided to wash my clothes at the Washateria instead of my brother's apartment to save time. I used to go there all the time, but I haven't gone there in months. I had forgotten about how depressing the laundromat can be.

Laundry tends to be a very couple-oriented activity, at least at the laundromat. Upon arrival, I noticed first how many couples were there together, carrying in their clothes, getting change, sorting their dried clothes, folding, watching the Simpsons on 10-inch screens. There was even one small family there-Mom, Dad, and Son. Dad and Son were playing pinball together. It was cute.

I am normally totally fine with my singleness, but for some reason the vision of togetherness at the laundromat rubbed an exposed spot in my heart. Maybe it's because I wasn't expecting it; I had forgotten to brace myself against the potential for loneliness. Maybe it's because I had already spent most of the day alone, and I just wanted someone to talk to. Probably, though, scenes like this make me feel the most lonely, because I am an everyday kind of woman. Romance is good, but I really desire the feeling of someone who will be there, who will want to come along to the laundromat, just because.

Just as I had worked myself into a good melancholy reflecting on the above, I began to notice that I was in fact not the only single at the laundromat. There were several of us! Oddly enough we all ended up in the same area by the dryers. We formed an awkward sort of camaraderie, as we silently glanced at each other, laughing at the same jokes on TV, but too uncomfortable to speak.

Or maybe I was simply projecting all of my melancholy onto those around me. It wouldn't be the first time. Regardless, in addition to being a spot to meet lonely women, the Washateria is a good place for reflection. Where do we all belong?