You would think that I am the absolute saddest thing out there.
I just have to mention the fact that I live alone, without a husband or boyfriend, no prospects in sight, during a simple conversation and the looks I get are hilarious! The comments are an interesting study of how folks feel about single people in their later (?) years.
“You’re 57, do you want to die alone? ” Because, obviously, I’m going to.
“What if you fall? ” and I can’t get up?
“Oh, you poor thing, and you’re such a nice lady! ” Ummm, well, yes, I am.
“What about sex? Do you NEVER have sex?” I always laugh at that one. #1: It’s none of your business and #2: Ok, what about it? I’m single and might have more sex than you do, married. Think about it for a second, do I?
The thing is this; I honestly love being alone.
I have nothing against having a relationship and I suppose I just may consider it, if and when the opportunity arises.
It will have to seem VERY attractive to me though.
Because right now, I’m perfectly content to be by myself. That’s the God-honest truth.
I get up when I want to, clean up my own mess, do my own laundry. I can go to the movies alone or spend time with girlfriends.
I often walk into a restaurant and enjoy a peaceful dinner, seated by the window.
I can travel on a plane, or a train and get to where I’m going without ‘needing’ someone to come with me.
People don’t get it, but, I’m comfortable going solo.
I’m not anti-social, or anti-dating. I love photography, writing, reading, long walks on the beach, evenings in Paris, flowers on my kitchen table. I can talk on the phone for hours, love meeting new people, expanding my circle of friends.
I visit museums, art galleries, historic forts and take long hikes. Believe me, no one could say I’m a wallflower, couch potato, or in the least bit boring.
So, why do people feel the need to worry, that at 57, it’s a sad case of affairs if I don’t have a date for the weekend?
I don’t WANT a date for the weekend. I’m my own date. My calendar is already full.
I like it that way.