There was an old episode of Sex and The City where Carrie talked about her secret single behavior– she liked to stack up Saltines on the counter, put grape jelly on them and eat them while reading fashion magazines. Not exactly scandalous if you ask me, but I think the point was that she enjoyed her privacy and doing something alone. No explanations. No excuses. And without an audience in a safe, judgement free zone.
I’m coming up on a big anniversary with my significant other and things are just great. We still maintain two separate residences, and we have no plans to change that anytime soon. I absolutely love when he comes to visit, and we spend a good chunk of time together. And I’m just as thrilled kissing him goodbye, knowing I will have some much-needed alone time where I can do my own thing before I see him again. I don’t keep Saltines in the house, and I was never a fan of grape jelly, but I do like to blog for long stretches and not look up from the keyboard. I enjoy chatting with friends, sometimes for hours at a time but I try to have these conversations on days when Michael is not here. Although that is occasionally unavoidable, he seems pretty understanding when the phone rings. Most times after I hang up from an hour plus call, he says something like, “Wow. Long call.” And I always think, “Really? Not so much. We could have talked all night!”
Other than the typical grooming rituals that not only do I not want my SigOth to see, but no living human ever, I keep no real secrets of how I spent my time. But the truth is that I absolutely treasure the quiet of my own company, or the loud singing of my not ready for primetime voice! I don’t know if that’s because I’ve been living alone for so many years or that hey, I just think I’m pretty cool, but I love having time for self-care, personal reflection, manic errands or just to rest. I can stare out the window, clean a closet, make another grocery list of things I think I want but probably I don’t, strategize meetings for the work week ahead, create snappy titles for future blog posts, analyze my eyebrows, attempt different updo hairstyles, research the perfect white t-shirt, drool over gorgeous fantasy kitchens on Instagram or take inventory of my salt collection.
When I was young, I had an 8-track player in my bedroom. One tape I played daily was the music from the Broadway show, A Chorus Line. “One singular sensation, every little step she takes. One thrilling combination, every move that she makes. One smile and suddenly nobody else will do.” The lyrics were just magical. As an adult I interpret these words to be about us as individuals– the healthy selfishness of “it’s all about me!” So although I’m officially off the dating scene and completely happy with Michael, for now I will remain a singular sensation, with generous visitation rights granted. (But please hold the applause.)
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