A life alone

When I first started this blog, I thought it would be a lot of venting and crying and moaning about singlehood.  Instead, while I talk about it now and then, there are also other things I want to share like stories or photos with friends or of places I've been, and I think it's because in some ways, I have been used to the idea of being "single" for a long time already.

It's been long enough after the breakup now that I have mixed feelings.  Sometimes I miss what I thought we had and what I thought it was going to be.  Other times though, I really appreciate my alone time.  More than anything, I've been trying to imagine how all this would translate to living alone in the long term, a thought that used to scare me.  

When I first got dumped, some kindly friends told me that I had to get used to the idea of being by myself, that I had to be comfortable with the person that I was in order to move on.  "Eating alone isn't so bad," one said sympathetically.  The thing is though, they didn't get my despair.  I've long been cool with all those things. 

If you enjoy writing at all, a part of you is naturally introverted.  And for the last two years, being in long distance relationships meant that I spend a great deal of time alone anyway.  When I was dating people who lived continents away, we would sometimes only have a few minutes of contact a day and it never bothered me as long as I felt our hearts were true.  

I have never come home in the quiet of the night and felt empty or lacking because of my solitude.  After all, I'm the girl who loves eating alone in restaurants, who leaves for work an hour early to spend time people watching in a cafe.  I've always gone to movies or concerts alone, travelled solo and I frequently go wandering by myself. 

The thing is, I've always enjoyed doing these things.  I like being in my head and I've never felt the need for a partner or for extra attention.  I've never been one of those people who feels awkward with or by myself.  

The pinch I was feeling, I realised, stemmed from a greater, much further away fear.  

I've always worried about dying unloved.   

My real desire for a special someone lies in the hope that someone will love me enough to want to undertake special adventures with me so that at the end of the day, when it is time to lay down my things, I can say that in soul, in spirit, I had a partner-in-crime.  

Maybe it is vanity.  Maybe it is ego.  Maybe I want this because I don't believe in the afterlife and so I want to grab all that I can in this one. 

Whatever it is, as much as I enjoy doing things by myself and want to continue doing so, I also want to be with someone so that we can be each other's rock when all other life has faded, when my mother is long gone, when my brothers have grown up and have their own priorities.  

At least, that's what I thought until most recently.  Now that some time has passed and I've had a chance to get some perspective, I've been asking myself if an entire life alone would really be so galling.  

Look at the bigger picture: if one enjoys spending days on one's own, then months, why not years?  Ultimately, what is the worst that could happen?  

I can still achieve all my dreams of owning my own house, travelling and learning lots of things.  No matter what I do, my parents and my family will still love me.  And I know I won't have a problem with time, or peace or quiet. 

Even my one big fear, that I will lie dead in an apartment for weeks, slowly being devoured by my dogs (or cats) has become almost comical with the realisation that while it is horrible, I won't be around to be horrified in hindsight.  

Suddenly, things don't look so bad.  I'm starting to think that I can imagine a life of solitude, not with defeat but with great optimism.  I'm even looking at the idea of moving away for a bit because of the tranquility that it promises.  

Long story short, I'm finally reaching that point that all broken-hearted people yearn to reach one day.  If I meet someone suitable, great.  Sound the trumpets!  I'm sure it'll be every bit as fulfilling as I imagine it to be.

But if I don't, cool.  I think I can totes handle it.  I'll be spending most of my time as I do now anyway, and that's absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.  

In the meantime, I'll just keep all my pets well fed.