Alone time

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Alone time

Recognizing that I am the emotional equivalent of an appliance crash and dent sale has set me free to spend some time on my own. Much like Pee Wee Herman, I am a self-proclaimed “loner and a rebel”. Perhaps exactly like Pee Wee Herman, minus the uber bike. But it’s an unusual station for me, I’ve always been in pursuit of coupling, looking at every available man as the opportunity to fulfill my destiny and uncover my soul mate. I could hardly breathe at local bars playing out relationships from meeting, through the fabulous vacation to Aruba, to the romantic top of the Eiffel Tower proposal, to the horrible gut wrenching break up that sent me seeking refuge in the arms of a my new friend Jimmy Fallon, who I’d met in a chance collision in a local subway restaurant while he was passing through to visit family in Florida.
To be sure, being a single mom of three (nearly all) teenage daughters limits my free time. Coupled with my introverted side ( yes I am a 50/50 balance of introvert and extrovert, which means I love the idea of going out but am typically panicking inside when faced with a one on one conversation) and the fact that I grew up an only child, I’m fairly comfortable with alone time. Sometimes I actually get a little itchy without alone time. I’ve also adapted to living alone so well that I’m not certain I could ever co-habitate again. Every one of my closets is full and I might have mentioned in the past that I like to sleep frozen in the jumping jack position and I require 4 pillows, two on each side so as I roll around in the night I can lay on any of them. There’s not much room for a partner unless they have a California king-sized bed, or a mother in law suite.
Maybe all of this is really just a way to justify my current situation, including an appalling lack of emotional empathy and a self-centered ness that I haven’t embraced so completely since I was 2 years old. Besides, dating is an awkward sport, best suited for pretty people who are great at small talk. I’m more of a “hello, here’s your awkward hug, do you mind if I randomly speak in a British accent while telling you about my vast knowledge of Wizard of oz trivia”. I’m probably going to end up being an old cat lady with really great abs, a penchant for a decent Pinot Noir and a vast knowledge of Netflix shows. That’s fine, I’m not ready to share my closets yet anyway.

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