The pain of loneliness in a forest of people

A Different View with Dave O’Connell

Lonely people in Tokyo can rent a cuddle; Japan’s ‘affection for hire’ industry boasts cuddle cafés and even places you can rent a cat for a little while to ease the pain of isolation.

This isn’t funny – if anything, it’s pathetic, and at best it’s tragic – but it does emphasize how you can live in the midst of millions and still feel so utterly all alone.

These Tokyo facilities, according to the Guardian newspaper, attract widowers and shy single types. The largest of the rent-a-friend agencies, Client Partners, has eight branches in Tokyo alone.

And it’s a global phenomenon – New York may be the city that never sleeps but many of those who walk its streets never meet anyone they can talk to.

One in five Americans admit they had just one close friend – and across the US more than a quarter of the population live alone, up from just five per cent in 1920.

In New York City it’s roughly one third.

The same trend is evident in Canada, and even more pronounced in Europe – 58 per cent of people in Stockholm live alone, the highest in Europe.

Of course you don’t have to stray to the other side of the world to find loneliness – it’s on our own doorstep.

And it’s not synonymous with older people either – those who move to cities for work often go home to empty flats or houses, because once five o’clock comes, everyone just heads off to get on with their own lives.

The Irish Times took up the issue in a series on loneliness last year, asking readers for their own views – and the response was shockingly sad.

“I lie about the weekend,” wrote one reader.

“At work on a Monday morning, colleagues ask about the weekend. I make up a short lie on the lines of “quiet really, just dinner with friends on Friday”. In reality, my friends were Netflix and a bottle of wine. There are odd weekends when my only social interactions take place in shops.”

“I get so jealous when I hear others say they are meeting up for drinks,” wrote another.

“I once took the initiative and asked could I go as well. I arrived in great form, bought a round and was left to myself for the rest of the night as everyone else got into little cliques. I was so embarrassed and humiliated I can’t even put into words. I cried for days afterwards.”

“I live on my own and my friends tell me how lucky I am: I don’t have to report to anyone, compromise with anyone, I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. But that can be hard too,” admitted a person in their thirties.

“Sometimes I want to do things and I have nobody to do them with – cinema trips, holidays, walks along the pier, trying the latest restaurant, a drink in the local. The reassurance that there is someone standing up for me, in my corner, and the loneliness and anxiety that hits when you realise you have to do it all yourself.”

Rural isolation is a growing problem and one acknowledged now more than ever – but you can be all alone in a big city too.

Not everyone of course – but more than you might think.

For more, read this week’s Connacht Tribune.