He wanted a friend.
He tried to make friends with the people he knew. They already had friends. They weren't looking for new friends.
He went to where friendly people congregate. He stood there forlorn, as he didn't have anything interesting to say. People stopped by and said hello. He tried, really tried, but they moved on to people they found more enjoyable to talk with.
He checked the classifieds. He came across an ad, "Wanted: friend with benefits." He sent a short email expressing his interest. He was asked to send a photo and a description of what kind of stuff he was into. He told the man he enjoyed playing the piano and reading a good novel. He asked the man what benefits he might receive. He found a nice picture of himself, attached it to the message, and closed by telling the man that he was very interested in having a friend and looked forward to hearing back. He never did.
He reached out to people he knew years before, even socialized with on occasion. They were excited to hear from him, they said. They'll have him over for dinner sometime, they said. He said he'd like that, that he'd even bring dessert. He was happy until weeks and months went by with no dinner invitations. They were busy, he knew, so he tried not to take it personally. Besides, he was sure he scared them off somehow.
He was old. He had long given up on making friends. He sat next to another old man on a park bench. He glanced over and saw his own face. "Will you be my friend?" he asked himself. "I don't know," he replied, "what's in it for me?" He thought it over. He had nothing to offer.