Not to be dramatic, but I'm going to die alone.

After a fabulous trip of multiple weddings and a dramatic ending to a relationship, I was left feeling empty. (This was mostly due to the fact that I had a horrible plane experience and nothing to eat all day except the "Tapas" served on the flight. Note: never eat "Tapas" on a plane.)

When fabulous looking man on not so fabulous flight asked me for din, I (of course) said yes. Mainly though, because I no longer wanted to fell like this:

During meal, said man was fascinated with the fact that I sang opera. I was pleased to not get the usual reactions which are:

"Oh, so you're one of those starving artists types who will be forever dependent on their parents..." 

or 

"Wow, what a totally interesting, not at all boring or dead art form to be so involved in..."

The problem is, the bugger kept bugging me to sing. I started out being all coy and acting shy:

"I don't like to sing all the time, and I'm nervous by your manly manliness 

which has stopped by focal folds from vibrating". 

It then went to practical:

 "I insist that our fellow diners don't want (or deserve) 

such an intrusion in such a small space.

 I am a very loud person and make very loud singing-ish noises when I sing".  

Then came downright hostility:

"Listen dude, I don't have to sing for you or for anyone. 

I am a 21st century woman and I will sing when I damn well please!"

I finally gave in and sang three notes, and he reacted as if I'd just done something ghastly. 

This is a cruel and unusual pattern that may just continue forever. So while I'm not trying to be a dramatic person (just a dramatic mezzo) I am convinced that I will die alone, maybe with Maude. Shoot... the way she looks now Maude may just outlive me.