Have you ever gotten into bed at the end of the day and realized that you haven’t spoken out loud to anyone since the day before? Or simply found yourself feeling completely and utterly alone?…
— from “Feel lonely? There are 4 types of loneliness. Here’s how to beat them”, by Sarah Biddlecombe, published in Stylist, March 2020.
No, actually, I have never gotten into bed at the end of the day and realized that I haven’t spoken out loud to anyone since the day before.
I talk to my cat, Roscoe, every day. Out loud. I probably don’t have to talk out loud, because I think he’s telepathic. But I like hearing the sound of my own voice.
That said, I still occasionally feel lonely. Is that a crime? I hope not, because there would be a lot of criminals running around lately.
In 1962, Richard Yates wrote a book entitled “Eleven Kinds of Loneliness”. But it was fiction.
More recently, Sarah Biddlecombe, an award-winning journalist at ‘Stylist’, explained that there are four distinct types of loneliness identified by psychologists: emotional, social, situational, and chronic.
But I wasn’t sure if I should believe her, just because she won some journalist awards. I mean, I’m also a journalist, and I wouldn’t believe anything I wrote.
So I did a Google search, and I found a whole bunch of psychologists who think there are five types of loneliness. A few psychologists will tell you there are seven types of loneliness, and quite a few have written about three types of loneliness.
Whom should we believe?
I mean, four is a perfectly good number. The four seasons, for example. And the four directions. And four-wheel drive.
But most beer comes in a six-pack. Now and then, you find some exotic beer than comes in a four-pack, but I have never seen beer in a three-pack or a five-pack. But then there’s that old expression, “The third time is the charm”. I’ve honestly never heard anyone say, “The fourth time is the charm.”
And most people have five fingers. On each hand. (So, ten, total.)
I had a good friend who accidentally cut off two fingers on his left hand, but could still play a ukulele.
Ukuleles aside, what I really wanted to discuss are the Four Types of Loneliness. Obviously (if you believe Google) the psychologists can’t agree on how many types of loneliness there are, and I easily could have decided to write about ‘three types’ of loneliness, or ‘five types’, or even ‘seven types’. But three types doesn’t seem like enough. I would barely get started, and suddenly I’m out of types. Meanwhile, five or seven seems like too many. Especially seven seems like a lot… even though there are seven days in a week, which is never enough, in my experience.
So here we go, with the four types of loneliness. WARNING: I am not a professional psychologist. I’m a journalist with unprofessional opinions. Please keep that in mind.
Loneliness Type One: Cancelled Show Loneliness
Like most people, I become attached to the characters in my favorite TV shows. I’m talking in particular about ‘Friends’ and ‘Seinfeld’. I had sort of a crush on Monica, for example. I’m attracted to domineering women who know how to cook. And Elaine. Although I also liked hanging out with the guys in those shows. Not ‘in spite of’ their quirky personalities, but ‘because of’.
Why the TV networks allow us to develop these close relationships, and then cancel the shows, is beyond me. But it’s a powerful source of loneliness, once these friends are no longer part of my life.
Okay, yes, I can watch the re-runs. But that’s like watching a video of your wedding after you’ve gotten a divorce.
Loneliness Type Two: Leftover Loneliness
I still have turkey in my freezer, leftover from Thanksgiving, and every time I open the freezer and see the plastic bags full of turkey, I am compelled to remember that no one shared Thanksgiving with me. (Except my cat Roscoe, but he prefers salmon.)
I’ve not come across any advice from psychologists, explaining how to deal with the emotions surrounding leftovers. My ex-wife Darlene used to simply throw them in the trash, if they were more than one day old. That wasn’t the main reason for the divorce, but it certainly didn’t help matters.
A simple solution would probably be to invite a nice girl to come over and share the leftover turkey with me. But how would that sound? “Would you like to come over to my place for dinner, and eat leftovers?” Not exactly romantic. I’m especially concerned about appearing romantic because I know, deep down, that I’m truly a romantic person. The fact that no one around me recognizes this, is part of the reason I have leftovers in the freezer.
Loneliness Type Three: Existential Loneliness
If you are a professional psychologist, you’re allowed to refer to Existential Loneliness as ‘EL’. I’m simply going the use the full name ‘Existential Loneliness’ — not because I hate acronyms (which I do) but because I’m not a professional psychologist (as I’ve already stated.)
This type of loneliness is tricky, because it really has nothing to do with how much time you spend around your family, friends and colleagues. (Or, in my case, my cat.) Existential Loneliness arises from the realization that, no matter how wonderful and numerous your social relationships may be, you’re eventually going to ride off into the sunset alone, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
That’s not a perfect metaphor, of course, because ‘riding off into the sunset’ implies that you will have the company of your horse. Which you actually will not have. ‘Walking off into the sunset, naked and alone,’ is a more accurate metaphor. But as I said, I’m a romantic person, so I’m going to stick with ‘riding’, and allow you come to your own conclusion about what happens to the horse.
Imaginary Loneliness
Although psychologists make a lot of money writing about loneliness, and providing therapy to people who claim to be lonely, everyone knows that loneliness is all in your head. If loneliness were a real thing, we would all be wearing KN95 masks, and isolating, and doing everything possible to keep from catching it.
There would be pharmaceutical companies, rushing to develop a vaccine.
In fact, we just went through two years of doing pretty much exactly that. We were all wearing KN95 masks and isolating, and what good did it do us? We all felt even more lonely than before.
And generally, we were rather proud of feeling lonely. It became a contest of sorts. Who could claim the most serious case of loneliness?
This put certain people at a disadvantage, right from the start. People who owned cats, for example.
Underrated writer Louis Cannon grew up in the vast American West, although his ex-wife, given the slightest opportunity, will deny that he ever grew up at all.