I had been in Mooi River in KwaZulu-Natal for two months when I moved into a cottage on Adam’s farm. My social life was completely non-existent. Apart from the odd lunch on a weekend with Adam and family, I spent all my time either at work or looking for somewhere to live or reading at Adam’s mansion where I was staying.
For a long time I felt as though I had been deserted. I had never previously experienced proper loneliness. But I was lonely now. Achingly so. One day my daughter, who was in London phoned me and asked how it was going.
“Horrible. I’m lonely,” I said.
“Well,” she said, “get out and meet some Mooi-Riverians.”
After the call I thought about her throwaway remark. “Why not?” I took a shower, put on some clean clothes as I was a bit grubby from dealing with the despatching of a number of trucks. I combed my rapidly disappearing hair and took myself down to the Argyle Hotel in the middle of the metropolis that was Mooi River, to meet some Mooi Riverians.
I’m not normally shy, but my depression seemed to have eroded all my natural confidence. I parked and then crossed the road towards the Argyle’s pub. Strangely, I suddenly didn’t want to go in. “Who is going to be there? And who will I talk to? This is not such a good Idea…” I wittered on to myself, (inside my head). Then I ordered myself to, “Stop being pathetic – just go inside”.
The bar wasn’t particularly full. A few groups of guys talking to each other with one or two women in the mix. I ordered a beer and turned to have a decent look at my surroundings.
“Hello Dave, is this your first time at the Argyle?” A chap I‘d met earlier in the afternoon, who worked for our business, came across and stuck his hand out.
“Oh, hello Justin.” How I remembered his name even impressed me.
We had a few beers together and he brought me up to speed on the people in the company. He was a cyclist and given I had done a bit in my life we talked cycling for a while. Then he said, “Next time you go out for a drink – don’t come here?”
“Why not?”
“You want to go to Notties hotel in Nottingham Road. That is where you will meet women.”
The thought of meeting some women seemed like a great idea, even though I wasn’t feeling enthusiastic about anything.
From that moment my life changed. At Notties I met people to play squash with; I joined a book club and I was invited to a braai. Then some people wanted to know if I would give them writing lessons…all because I went to meet some Mooi Riverians. From having the worst of times, by dint of getting up and doing something i.e. going to the Argyle against my will, life changed. Without being too clever about it, I had inadvertently discovered a cure for loneliness. It involved nothing more than getting out and meeting other people instead of staying in my cottage and being lonely.
Now if we go back in time and look at man’s earliest ancestors, it was much safer to be in a group with others than to be in the wild, (everywhere) on your own, because of the dangers implicit in the surroundings. So man grew up with others always around. It was considered irrational, (by those who thought about life) to want to be on your own. So being on you own and by extension, being exposed to loneliness, is not natural.
Ok fast forward back to today – social isolation according to statistics – gives a 50% increased risk of dementia, a 29% increased risk of heart disease, and a 32% increased risk of stroke. Not great news.
So how do you know you are (officially) lonely? You may glibly answer, “When you are always on your own.” Yet I have often felt more alone in crowds than when I have been absolutely on my own. So it is not really a numbers game. It’s not who you are with or how many you are with, it is the quality or lack thereof, of the ‘withness’.
The male loneliness epidemic is a self-pitying problem and there’s an easy solution.
I’m a man in my early 30s. I don’t have anything particularly special going for me—no insane social skills, no high-status career, no crazy hobbies that make me a magnet for conversation. The only thing I can say I do differently than a lot of lonely men is engage with people out of curiosity rather than desire.
The issue with male loneliness isn’t some massive cultural shift that has made people averse to men in public. It’s not that society has abandoned men—it’s that many men have abandoned society by narrowing their social focus to only one goal: romantic validation.
I see this all the time. Guys claim that no one wants to talk to them, but what they really mean is: “Attractive women aren’t engaging with me.”
These same men often ignore entire categories of social opportunities—talking to older people, engaging with other men platonically, striking up casual conversations with strangers just to connect. If the only people you try to talk to are women you find attractive, of course you’re going to feel isolated. That’s not loneliness; that’s self-inflicted social starvation.
Men who constantly claim that “no one wants to talk to them,” ask yourself: When was the last time you made conversation with someone without an ulterior motive? Do you engage with people who don’t directly serve your personal interests? Have you made any effort to contribute to a community rather than expecting one to embrace you?
The men who actually go out into the world with an open mind and a willingness to engage—rather than just seeking validation—don’t seem to be the ones complaining about loneliness.
If your entire social strategy revolves around being “wanted” rather than wanting to engage with the world, you’ll always feel lonely. And that’s not a societal problem. That’s a you problem. If you are lonely—truly lonely, not just horny and starved for romantic affection—go outside and talk to people. It’s really that simple.Anonymous
David Gemmell 
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