On Loneliness

By Dr. Lowell Howard Roby, Professor of Solitarianism Studies and Alcohology at Oxfordshire Community College in Oxfordshire, Indiana, North Campus.

Solitarianism Studies 100: Loneliness - MWF 12:00-12:51
Office Hours - MWF 8:00-11:50, 1:00-6:00; TR 8:00-6:00

Good morning, class. Or afternoon, that is, at the present moment. Time, as in days and hours, has meant little to me over the past several years, or perhaps more than several, as years hold little meaning as well. I realize you are all in the prime of your respective lives, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as it were. Nothing can stop you. Nothing can hold you down. The upcoming years for you all mean everything to you, as they are the years that you assume will bear the most fruit. And I wish you those most fruitful of years. Anywho, let us begin. Loneliness. It is a feeling, obviously. A feeling of intense pain, a pain that far exceeds any of the physical variety. The lonely feel isolated, as if they are inhabiting an uninhabitable ice planet, Hoth, perhaps, without even a loyal Tawn-Tawn with which to snuggle up. Everyday is a struggle to simply exist. Fellow human beings seem like alien creatures - like Jawas, if you will. Forging relationships is an exercise in futility - a hopeless, awkward dance. Conversations are circular rigmaroles. The lonely get nothing done. It is all they can do to wake up in the morning and shower, shave, brew coffee, get the damn paper with its multitudes of inane, depressing world news, repeating itself day in and day out like history. But we all feel it sometimes. We all get lonely. It is a universal feeling. Which is a bit paradoxical, innit? How can one feel lonely if he knows that there are thousands, millions of others who feel as he does? Chew on that one while I take roll.

Aardvark? Is Mr. Aardvark here? Ah, there you be... Abbadabba? Ms. Abbadabba? Oh, Mrs.? Mrs. Abbadabba hyphen Dabbababba? I wasn't invited? Congrats, anyway... Ace? Ms. Ace? Got you. Raise those hands high, children... Mr. Adler? Adler? No Adler?... Aeon? Mr. Aeon? Uh huh... Mr. Afterwitz? Afterwitz? Indeed... Ms. Aggee? Got it... Ms. Ah? Su Pak Ah? Nice haircut... Mr. Aingh? Aingh? No Aingh?... Ajoo? Ms. Ajoo? Perfect... Akira? Lee Akira? Okay... Allen? Noelle Allen? I see you, dear... Ms. Amway? Got it... Anatole? Where is young Anatole? Anyone know? He's yet to show... Mr. Aok. Yes... And... Oh, I saw Ms. Applebee. I'd know you from those tanned, shiny gams alone, deary. Good to see you, Ms. Applebee.

Now, loneliness. Who here is lonely? Nobody? Well, children, you just proved my next point: the social stigma carried by the lonely. It is taboo. Nobody wants to admit to their loneliness, yet we know that everyone feels it at least once in a while. Another paradox. But aren't all taboos paradoxical? Inherent in the definition of a taboo is the fact of its existence. How can something that exists be taboo?! Don't you see? It exists for a reason, yet we choose to deny its existence! It's like if I were to say: "Ms. Applebee isn't post-adolescent sexiness incarnate. She isn't the epitome of all that is simultaneously good, raw and unholy in this unforgiving world. She isn't currently occupying the caverns of my heart and the filthiest recesses of my middle-aged mind." We all know that those statements are false, yet we choose to believe them for the sake of propriety.

Now, how does loneliness come about? The easy answer is a lack of meaningful relationships. But how does one achieve a lack of meaningful relationships? This is the crux of Solitarianism Studies. To learn how it is achieved is to learn how to avoid it. Essentially, it comes down to interests. The more interests one has, the lonelier he is. For example, uh, Mr. Akira: what are your interests? Hm? You don't know? Okay. This young man, ladies and gents, is a veritable Party God. He has sex with multiple partners every night, sucks down/on immense quantities of alcohol/titties, respectively, whenever he so chooses, all the while never feeling lonely. Is this fair to say, Mr. Akira? See? And, conversely... hm... Ms. Ah. What are your interests? Uh huh. I see. Piano, violin, and cello? And reading and butterfly collecting? Wow. Behold, my students, your old-fashioned American prude. A lonely virgin I presume, Ms. Ah? Of course. And how do I know all of this? Simply due to Mr. Akira's complete lack and Ms. Ah's wealth of interests. A lack of interests is inversely proportional to a lack of meaningful relationships. The more interests you have, the less meaningful relationships you have. The less interests you have, the more meaningful relationships you have. It's called the Loneliness Curve. A man and a woman, empty-souled, devoid of thoughts and unburdened by the information related to interests are free to get down to nuts and tits; to fuck, if you will. Whereas Ms. Ah needs a partner who shares her specialized interests, a person whom it is difficult to find. You may be thinking, "But Professor Roby, can you really count sex partners and titty-suckees as meaningful relationships?" To which I would respond: "Kid, once you get to my age, those relationships are the only ones that matter."

Now, why does a lack of interests translate to more abundant meaningful relationships? It's all related to time. Time spent accruing and harvesting interests is time spent not talking up a leggy redhead in the back booth of O'Shenanigan's. Time spent jogging is time spent not fucking. It's as simple as that. Like to write, Afterwitz? So did I, once upon a time. But I wised up. It's a lonely endeavor, a deeply personal activity. My wife, Beatrice, God rest her soul, used to say to me every night: "Lowell, sweetie, stop writing that multi-volume magnum opus of yours that will never be published and come to bed so that we can have intercourse." I should've listened to her, Afterwitz. Now she's dead, I'm alone, and I've got thousands of pages of unpublishable horseshit on my hands (the bulk of which, by the by, class, is the textbook for this course and is available at the Kinko's on Buckingham Ave., across from the Quizno's).

Are we out of time? Okay. On Friday we'll talk about self-medication. Read the first several dozen pages or so of my book by then. And I don't want any of you pointing out my typos. Ms. Applebee, could I see you for a moment?