When the tube is all loved-up

As I sit on the tube, my super-sensitive, single senses are acutely aware of the couple across from me as their hands brush gently together. The two in the corner snatch kisses from each other with a rather un-British display of PDA, not too surprising in London where the Brits seem to be the minority. A man lifts a buggy into the train and his wife climbs in, their baby on her hip. My breath is momentarily stolen. It’s not that I would take anything from her… but I want what she has…the love of a man and a growing family…small hands clinging to me, needing me.
Unwanted tears begin to gather as my aloneness is brought home to me once again. I long for the comfort of the friends who know me best, who ride the same path as I and with whom I feel the loneliness a little less. 
I wonder why no guy shows interest in me. Do I need to change something or do I just keep waiting and hoping?
Am I locked inside a false idea of how things should be or am I pursuing an ideal worth fighting for…? Who knows.
Finally my stop arrives. I stumble out, glad of the fresh air on my face and the brisk walk back to the house I currently call home, although it does not hold my heart.
It all sounds rather tragic but as Mr Knightley told Emma “Time will heal the wound” and in the meantime I’ll get me a bottle of red and cheer myself up with a glass or two.