Erikka and the Infinite Solitude

People who live alone have my respect. I’ll go one step further to say people who live alone and still manage to have a social life deserve major props or street cred or whatever. Being alone is…lonely. I’ve often imagined I could live alone. No one to clean up after. No one to whom I’d have to explain my eccentricities. And lots of naked time. Now that I’m two days into a quasi-living alone experience, I’m not so sure.

Jason has been at a conference in D.C. since Saturday. Fortunately for me, my girl friends week-end fell on the same week-end, so that cut the alone time down. But I was excited at the thought of having the apartment to myself, the whole BED to myself, and to some quiet evenings. Before this relationship I relished me time and actively sought it out. (To some extent I still do, but interestingly, my alone time now can also include Jason sitting nearby or working in another room and it’s the same to me) Having three days and four nights for myself sounded good.

Concepts of space change, sleep is affected, and ideas of living change when you have shared them so closely with one other individual. This may sound so cheesy, but with Jason gone these few days, it’s like a piece of me is on hold. Everything is the same. I cook. I clean up. I watch a movie. I go to sleep. I get up and do it again and maybe hang out with some friends just to spice up life. I’m happy and hungry and excited, sad, mad, etc…but there is still this place in my mind on pause, waiting to push play again. This week-end my friend Christine shared a story with me that resonates truth to me in this experience.

There was a moment when she was off doing something spectacular when she suddenly realized how fun it would be to have Jon there too. And how most of the time she wanted Jon to be there doing whatever spectacular thing she was doing too. She stressed to me this was not when she rushed off to get married immediately. This was just when she realized she wanted him in her life…indefinitely. I’m not saying Jason and I are indefinite…but he has made himself so endeared to me that I want him around to share the adventures I encounter.

Before I knew this experience, living alone to me was freedom. To do what I want when I want to. From my two days of solitude, I realize having my freedom is actually…oppressive! I am an old lady! I don’t like to go out much. My ideal night is a friend over for a movie or scrabble and wine. Or to stay in and do some crafty project. Maybe I’d go take in a free concert or book reading here and there, but really, who am I kidding? If I lived alone, I’d turn into a wrinkled, grey haired, shriveled up crone faster than you could say support hose.

To all you solo living people out there who get themselves out on the town, pat yourselves on the back. It is a struggle every day to overcome the need to just give in to the…comfort, easy, stay-at-home-forever mentality.