I don't think this is because of the truth or falseness of the question of whether anybody loves me or not. It's not as if these feelings we find ourselves descending into hold up to the light of day in general, anyway. I just think we have a tendency to focus on particular things. And not on others.
So why, among my many random and probably baseless insecurities, is the feeling of being unloved so absent that I never would have thought about it one way or the other if I hadn't read my friend's journal entry? That's certainly a self-indulgent navel-gazing question. But it leads to a story, a small anecdote from Mayday, which I might not have given much significance to if I hadn't been thinking about this notion.
On Mayday evening, after the final dancing of the day, many of the Morris dancers went off for some food and drink at a local Pub style restaurant. We had our own room, a long low skinny room which wasn't good for dancing but at least it was ours. There was a brief period of singing, during which I stood up and sang the Music Hall song "Henery the Eighth". This is often a good song for such a setting because everybody knows the chorus, which Herman's Hermit's sang back in the 60s (many of us in the US were surprised to discover, later in life, that this was from an old music hall standard). I was having just a grand old time, and my friends from my team, Bob and Michael, were standing to either side of me acting like a call-and-response chorus -- shouting out responses here and there, singing along at the end of a line or two, mostly just playing improv with me (getting down on their knees in worship when I sang kingly lyrics, that sort of thing). Of course there was also a roomful of people singing out the chorus, as I led the song. It was a great moment.
And you know, how could anybody possibly feel unloved after being in the middle of such a thing?
I don't think this is the sort of thing people have in mind when they speak of their feeling that nobody loves them. But maybe that's the problem.
You don't know who you're looking at, so take a look at me;
I'm a bit of a nob, you know, I belong to royalty!
I'll tell you how it came about: I married Widow Burch,
And I was King of England when I trundled out of church.
Outside the neighbors they were shouting, "Hip-Hooray!" [Hip-Hooray, shout Bob and Michael]
Said I, "Get down upon your knees. It's coronation day!" [Bob and Michael get down on their knees and join in singing out "It's coronation day!".]
[All join in with:]I'm Henery the Eighth I am...