This is exactly why I got a dog. Now I'm always talking to someone, even when I'm talking to myself.

that's why i always split rent with someone. get my own room (if i don't want to see anyone i can just lock the door for the whole day), but still have someone to detect my death before i stink.

This is your call to get out of the house and see what your city has to offer. There's bound to be an author giving a reading at the bookstore or library. If you have a laptop go to a coffee shop and do your web browsing there. Last time I did that I got chatted up by an astonishingly cute member of the opposite sex. Find out what groups are meeting on subjects that interest you. Of course a holiday weekend's not the best time for that. Worst case you can always take a tip from Fight Club and go to support groups for problems you don't have...

I'm nearly exactly the opposite, sass, yet still, the same solution would work great for both of us: the neighborhood pub can be a wonderful thing. Sadly, we don't really have these here, but it was once a major part of my social scene. I loved it because I wasn't "trapped" there as I would be (by expectation and good manners) by more structured social engagements. Go when you want (no need to plan in advance, yay!), leave when you want (doubleyay!).

But of course, it takes cultivation, which means you have to make it a habit to drop in even when you aren't feeling lonely. (And if alcohol is problem at all, probably not such a great idea.) But once you know everyone, and are part of the scene, it's so handy. The benefits are many:

Friends whenever you want to hang out; the bartenders usually end up giving you free drinks/coffee whatever (or a significant discount); once you're known and trusted you can have a tab, which is often handy; an easy place for people to meet up before/after other things; a place that will do you favors (hold your keys for someone to pick up, that kind of thing).

I've turned to my neighborhood hangout when I've been locked out of my house, when my house has been burgled; when I needed money (cash a check or borrow money) and couldn't get it elsewhere; when I needed to bail a friend out of jail (my pub lawyer - yay! He also handled my divorce and attended my marriage to mr. taz). My pub also sort of kept track of my social life (I often got calls there from people, or they would tell me when another friend was looking for me). There was also a time when someone wanted to subpoena me as a witness, which I didn't want to do (it had to do with an article I wrote, and they wanted me to testify about the value of the person's antiques/furnishings), and of course I just told the pubeteers, that if anyone strange called for me, I wasn't there, and if anyone came in looking for me, even if I was there, I wasn't there.

Sweet! I miss my neighborhood pub. :(

Heh. I forgot one (more than one, really - but this is a fun one): The one time a (stupid) neighbor called the police on us (for a party the day before mardi gras - puhleeeze), the responding officer 1) had himself already been to our party earlier in the evening, as a guest, 2) responded to the call formally, later in the evening. Ha! He was, you guessed it - my pub cop! He was also later promoted to head of PR for the department, and so I had quite a bit of work-related interface with him later, which was nice, because it was easy and comfortable.

Here's to your neighbourhood pub indeed.

My pub is a small, old pub full of people from all walks of life, it is across from the city council and smack dab in the centre of town so gets binmen, councillors, bureaucrats, and random folk that have stopped in once and decided they liked it. It does not play crap music, the barmen are in a bunch of good bands and many a gig gets organised from there. It is full of people with whom I can get activist business done, particularly those not in my own immediate circle. Football pilgrimages leave from there, and if I did not drink there I would not have gotten to see the glorious spectacle of Scotland beating France at Hampden recently.

I have the opposite problem: I never lived alone until I was 38, and it turns out I love it. Now I'm afraid I'll never be able to stand living with anyone ever again.