God's Lonely Men, Part 2

There's this guy I see most mornings while waiting for the bus. Late 40s, early 50s, unshaven, disheveled-looking, beat-up car. He arrives across the street to await the opening of the uptown storefront branch of the public library. He doesn't have any books with him, so I assume he's there to use one of the computers. His regular routine also suggests he doesn't have a steady job. Or does he? I mean, he is there just about every morning, so in a sense whatever he's up to has become his job. But what is he up to? He's often there before the librarian, waiting on her when she's late. I don't get a sense the two are very friendly. I think she probably thinks he's a bit of a pest. Some weirdo loser too cheap to buy his own computer. One morning, he started to park on the side of the street where I wait for the bus. He didn't see the parking police rolling up behind him to clear for street cleaning, so I warned him to move or else he would get a ticket (he was climbing out of the passenger side door because the driver's side must have been damaged). He made some sort of joke as he got back into his car to move. His jovial manner suggested that he recognized me as a fellow traveler and I can't say he was wrong. For some reason, the idea of me a few years down the line, lurking in a library with a just-rolled-out-bed-and-I-don't-give-a-fuck look doesn't seem that far-fetched. Is this guy giving me a glimpse of my future?

There are others like us, I've noticed, moving about our routines in the neighborhood, always alone, some barely keeping it together. A guy I noticed from the laundromat (did Hopper ever do a painting of a laundromat? He should have) almost lost it one day while waiting for a bus that was late. When I had seen him previously with his pork pie hat, vest, and beard, I thought he looked like some avant-garde jazz musician. When I saw him pitching a fit in the street while waiting for the bus, cursing and carrying on and making a general spectacle of himself, I realized he was probably nuts. When he finally boarded the bus, it appeared he had other health issues as well. One ankle and foot was very swollen (gout?) causing him to limp badly. It was so swollen he was forced to wear a slipper on that foot. The guy was a mess, an angry mess, which is the worst kind.

Another guy I see regularly shares my enthusiasm for nearby Chinese and Italian restaurants, but I've also seen him in the laundromat. This guy is a complete mess, too. Tall, gaunt, with Coke bottle Buddy Holly glasses perched on a hawk-like nose, he's the dorkiest kid you knew from school super-sized. I don't think he's on the ball mentally either. Unlike me, he doesn't mind taking his meals alone, sitting at a table in front of the restaurant, looking out on the street. Christ, it would break your heart to see him. And yet, I strongly identify with this guy. I probably have more in common with this guy than I do with a lot of my friends.

Why do I notice all these loners? Am I trying to reassure myself by comparing my situation to theirs? Why do I do this? Also, where are the women in similar situations? Are they holed up in their apartments with the TV and their cats or are they just more practical in avoiding the solitary life?