Duane Murray
May 29th, 2006

THE LONELIEST PLACE ON THE PLANET

Now, I know what you are thinking.  Actually, that’s not true.  If I knew what you were thinking, I would mean that I had some sort of strange telepathic “gift” that, without proper guidance on how to use it from the Xavier school of the gifted, I would go slowly mad from all of the unwanted thoughts of all the people around the world rushing into my fragile mind.  So, I take it back.  I don’t know what you are thinking, but I have a hunch.

When I mention the loneliest place on the planet, many of you probably sent you imagination off to some recently unlocked childhood memory of some place far, far away.  The truly realized of you out there, probably thought, “Oh, I know where the loneliest place in the world is, it’s within’ ourselves.”  Well, you’d be wrong.  Both of you.  For the loneliest  place in the world just happens to be, The Dominion on on Bloor street, just west of Spadina.

And now you realize what it is I’m saying.  For it may not be that exact location for you, but you all have a Dominion at Bloor and Spadina.  And it is a place of great, great loneliness.  Wide aisles of food lay before you, that you will be cooking for yourself, and only for yourself.  Troubled souls wander around with their individual handbaskets, checking out what the other people have in their handbaskets, for some reason, thinking that if you and another person have some sort of strange match with what is in your handbasket, you might be able to get together sometime.  It should at least give you an “in”, right?

Even when you are in a good healthy relationship, you’ll see that person, perhaps in the dairy section, whom you imagine it would be just a little bit better with.  Just a little, but enough.  Even if the person you are with is right beside you, you catch glimpses of patrons catching glimpses of you, probably thinking the exact same thing as they listen to your partner nag at you about getting the no name brand, because it is “The exact same thing…”.

Or perhaps you find yourself in the frozen food section, seeing a “cake for two” and listening to some horribly instrumentalized version of some song you danced to in high school, and it gets you thinking, “You know what?  She wasn’t so bad.  I wonder what she is up to?” and so you go home, and you “google” her name, with the hopes that perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

I would love to go on about this, and perhaps at another time, I will.  I was joking with Shane the other day about how we like to write about versions of us that don’t truly exist.  I have just recently got involved with a very wonderful woman, in fact I have been blessed with being able to have some truly wonderful women in my life.  Those who are both very blessed physically, as well as possessing  a great emotional depth and wit.  The kind of women you write about.

But instead, I write about loneliness, as the following little story came to me as I was shopping in the loneliest place in the world.  This moment never happened to me, though for some reason, I like to think it did.

FOR TWO

As I step forward the doors swing open for me, like I am some sort of King, or Supreme Ruler.  And though I am clearly not that, I suppose that in a past life, in another place, perhaps another time, I could have been.  A majestic ruler, where doors open at my very whim because one who carries such importance as I should not have to concern themselves with such a task as opening a door in order to exit one location and enter another.

One such as I would have far more important things to worry about.  Like feeding my people, or defending my lands from evil tyranny, or deciding which lovely woman I shall make my bride ... Or at least my mistress, as one with such supremacy couldn't possibly be expected to be satisfied by one woman.

And please understand.  It's not the woman's fault.  It's simply the fact that a supreme ruler couldn't possibly be very supreme if he were to be so easily satisfied. 

So as I enter the grocery store, I am feeling happy ... Content.   I don't bother getting a cart, because I know what I want.  I'm here for one thing and one thing only.  I turn to my left and a sea of fruits and vegetables lay before me.  A seemingly  endless supply.  Almost enough to make me feel guilty about how much luckier I am than the starving  kids in Africa on the TV.  The ones who are starving but somehow all have big bellies.  My mom used to tell me it's because of the worms ... I still don't know what that means.  So, I almost feel guilty, but not quite.  I am too distracted  by the overload to the senses.  All these colors and scents.  It truly is beautiful.  Almost as beautiful as the instrumental version of "Right here waiting for you" by Richard Marx.

I take a moment to soak it in.  I look to see if she is working.  She is.

"I took for granted ... All the time ... That I thought would last somehow..."

She's beautiful.  Only she could make that uniform look so good.  I don't think I have ever seen her not smile.

"Where ever you go ... Whatever you do ... I'll be right here waiting for you"   

She flirts with the 80 year old men like they were in her english class.  Wow.  I forget for a moment why I am here. 

I snap out of it and walk past the produce, past the deli, past the fish counter and right to the bakery.  The two people behind the counter are discussing why it's bullshit that Don would leave Lisa.  They are talking about it with such conviction that I can't help, but agree with them.  Yes.  Yes, Don is an asshole.

Noticing that I am quite obviously listening in on their conversation, the young girl stops and gives me a look.  It's funny, there was a time when a girl like this would look at me with very different eyes.  Eyes of perhaps interest, but not anymore.  I'm old now and am nothing more than a bother to these people.  I point to what I want and watch the other girl place it in a small white box.  So fancy.  I smile and say thank you as the two young girls wait till I leave, before they start talking again.  I can't make out what they are saying anymore, but I have changed my mind and decided that Lisa was probably a bitch and Don had no choice but to leave if he wanted to save what was left of his already dwindling  soul.

I walk down the bread ailse and towards her line.  There is a man with a cart FULL of apple juice in front of me and the person working the 1-8 item express line is waving me over with her hand which is almost completely covered by a brace for arthritis.  I don't say anything, but make a series of awkward gestures with my face, indicating that it would just be too much of a bother to move over the two lines, so I will just wait here for this guy and his 87 cans of dented apple juice (Hence they are on sale for .99 a can) to be wrung through.

"Ain't nuthin' gonna breaka my stride ... Ain't nuthin' gonna slow me down ... Oh no ... I got to keep on movin'"

The song has changed, and instead of being annoyed by the man who is trying to horde all the juice so the kids in Africa can't have any, she simply makes a cute little joke about having to pee and Doctor's which doesn't make any sense, but I laugh anyway.

I put my box on the conveyor and she picks it up, "Mmmmmm.  I'm jealous."  She places the box in a bag and asks if I have air miles.  I shake my head.  I give her a ten and she gives me my change and tells me to have a nice day.  I say, "you too." and I am gone ... She has already moved on to the next lucky asshole.  I didn't say a word.  I love her and I didn't say a word.  I should have told her the truth.  That I bought this "Cake for 2", but was going home alone to eat it.  And that I wanted nothing more than for her to come with me, and we would share it, and maybe I would make her some tea and afterwards, when she got tired, I would walk her home ... But I wouldn't kiss her ... Don't worry, I'm not that kind of guy ... I would just wish her good night and think of the ways I could have maybe tried to kiss her...

But I didn't ... And it's too late now.  So I take my bag and walk towards the door staring down at my little white box.  My little "Cake for 2", and after I bang my head on the glass, I look up at the sign posted on the door which reads:

OUT OF ORDER, PLEASE PUSH

top