The title of your thread makes it seem far more ominous than it is.
I've been happily single most of my life. Even when clawing blindly in the dark of a well of sorrows, I never despaired just because I was single (might've despaired for other reasons, but not merely that one). I think society places far more emphasis on being in a relationship than it should—that most people would rather be with
anybody than with a particular
someone. Likewise, some people in a relationship never fully commit just in case someone "better" come along.
All that said, I first saw the film between the breakup and the divorce in a seriously fucked up marriage. I found Oskar and Eli's story to be one of reassurance. An uplifting, hopeful story. Perhaps not the same uplifting as
Princess Bride or
Shawshank Redemption, but uplifting still. Proof that sex is not love. The latest Hollywood starlet or stud is not love. Love is love. (Sex is great, but it is not love, despite the easy confusion many people—myself included—have fallen for.)
In the thread on here,
At what point did you love the movie, the Bedroom Scene is often mentioned. That's a scene of such deep and conflicting emotions (beautifully portrayed), that shows a tender sensuality that is far more noble than any boob-shot humping scene that many movies pass off as "romance." Sex scenes in films are rarely integral to the narrative/plot of a film (I can think of perhaps only two that fit the bill) except to titillate a certain audience demographic. The resonance this scene in particular strikes with so many of us is perhaps an indication that it is that sensuality we long for rather than something more easily defined.
To directly address your question, I don't think you are unusual at all in feeling lonely after seeing a love story. It's very common. But I think perhaps you may want to examine in yourself
why you feel that loneliness at merely being alone. Being with someone else is not ever gong to be genuine happiness. Only we make ourselves happy on an emotional, spiritual, lasting level. The
If only... syndrome is a downward spiral of further misery, just as the regret of
I should have... casts a pallor over everything we do, think, and say. Don't
should've all over yourself. Don't get caught in a fingertrap of
If onlys... There is no Jerry MacGuire "you complete me" perfect relationship. (What? We're all half-people looking for our other half to become whole? Heh. You've got to be whole to be holy. And, no religion involved, Love is a Holy thing.)
Maybe all this sounds like existential crap—and it may well be. But as long as you are miserable, what have you got to lose by attempting to focus your energies on something other than your self-misery? If not, well, after a time, for many people, misery becomes a safe cocoon of comfortable reliability...
I'm so sad and miserable, nobody loves me... And in fact then, you seem like a sad and miserable wretch. Who wants to love someone like that? Another sad and miserable wretch? That's a dysfunction waiting to breed something worse. But then, a lot of people like being miserable with another.
There's no easy answer for loneliness. It's just something you've got to work out on your own. Maybe finding somebody will make you happy. To me, I'd be sad in thinking I cannot be happy without relying on someone/something else. Sounds like addiction. Sounds like some junkies I knew in Seattle.
Take anything you find helpful from this little rant and dispose of the rest...
I still get lonely and depressed. But I recognize those times as part of a whole. I go with it. I write. I listen to music that makes me feel better. Bob Marley, Beethoven. I watch genuinely hopeful films. I take my camera outside and find images waiting for me to commemorate them. So it goes. I keep on living.
It beats the alternative.
"Believe it if you need it, if you don't just pass it on."
(In terms of Eli).