He sat quietly in a corner of the bar. He enjoyed this sort of thing. Liked watching the singles play the field. Even though he was one of the singles now that he was divorced, he didn’t involve himself in the game. He preferred to be a spectator. Most of the people who frequented this bar came as singles, but left as couples, and most of them were regulars, so he guessed that they must enjoy the game. Otherwise, why play it over and over and over?
But even though he didn’t play the game, he craved companionship, because he had known it when he was married, and once you know the warmth of another, it is difficult to again feel the stark chill of aloneness. And often, but secretly, he would look enviously toward the singles, and wish he could participate, so that he might leave one night with one of the women who came to this place, even though he knew they would have nothing in common, and there would really be nothing between them. Still, he wanted to again have the chance to feel like a man. It had been so long, so very long, since he had known a woman’s touch, or felt the closeness of one.
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