loners' manifesto

I read a great article in Salon by author Anneli Rufus, actually an excerpt from her latest book, The Farewell Chronicles, about the way people really feel when faced with the death of others. She's a hell of a writer. Then I followed a two-year-old link to her previous book, Party of One. I was kind of surprised I hadn't noticed this before, since I've been reading Salon fairly religiously for at least 6 or 7 years. Party of One speaks so directly to me and it's wonderful to discover her. She writes of the loner:

We do not require company. The opposite: in varying degrees, it bores us, drains us, makes our eyes glaze over. Overcomes us like a steamroller. Of course the rest of the world doesn't understand.

Except in my case, it's me who has been having trouble understanding. Well, accepting, actually. I've been wondering how I can be an emotionally healthy person without a requisite number of friends. Is there something wrong with me? The thing is, I really just prefer most of the time to be alone.

Someone says to you, "Let's have lunch." You clench. Your sinews leap within you, angling for escape. What others thrive on, what they take for granted, the contact and confraternity and sharing that gives them strength leaves us empty. After what others would call a fun day out together, we feel as if we have been at the Red Cross, donating blood.

Oh my God, that is so true! I love her! Rufus has turned the loner state into a kind of cause celebre, a lobby even. On her website, she has a section called "Loners in the News," where she quotes newspaper reports that refer to all kinds of criminals as loners, as if to say it is the loner aspect that proves guilt. She's fighting the pejorative use of "the l-word" with the passion of an ADLer battling antisemitism.

As she says, the Internet is manna from heaven for the loner:

The Internet is, for loners, an absolute and total miracle. It is, for us, the best invention of the last millennium. It educates. It entertains. It
transforms. It facilitates a kind of dialogue in which we need not be seen, so it suits us perfectly. It validates. It makes being alone seem normal. It makes being alone fun for everyone.

A way to connect without leaving the house, without, in fact really connecting. Virtual is truly the loner's dream-come-true.