Alone Again… Happily?
There’s a sad beauty to being on your own — but solitude can mess with your head.
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My husband is leaving me. Don’t worry; our marriage is fine. But in two days, we’ll be separated for the first time since our wedding day three years ago. He’s heading to Australia, where he is from, on Tuesday. It will be his first trip back “home” since moving with me to New York City in 2019. Work will keep me here until I can join him in Melbourne three weeks later.
I miss him already, to be honest, but at the same time, I’m looking forward to some quiet time to reflect on what the last three years have meant to me. I’ll also get to enjoy the freedom to be as moody as I want to be without worrying about the affect my annoying mood swings might be having on the man I love, and the option to sleep in the middle of the bed if I want to.
Since we’ve been married, we’ve only slept apart once. We spent all of lockdown practically joined at the hips, eating, drinking, sleeping, and gaining weight together. We talked about all the people on Facebook who were desperate for human interaction, and we were thankful we had each other. Then when the world opened up again, the most incredible thing happened: I still wanted to be around him.
They say the true test of compatibility is whether two people can travel together. I’d amend that: The true test of compatibility is whether two people can’t travel together. When you are stuck in an apartment together for nearly two years due to a global pandemic, eating, drinking, sleeping, and gaining weight together, and you still want to hang out with each other, you are truly meant to be.
For a loner like me, this is definitely not the normal state of things. Nobody who’s known me for a long time saw this coming. It’s common knowledge among all of my good friends that I’m happiest when nobody is around. I wouldn’t quite call myself reclusive, but you don’t spend as many years as I have traveling the world solo if you aren’t comfortable being by yourself.