I’ve been applauding my singleness for a while now. I’ve declared how awesome it feels to be alone. How much more I like myself, how much stronger I feel, how satisfying it is to make choices and reap the benefits of self-sufficiency. I still agree with all of that.
When Rooferman ended our relationship, my situation improved dramatically. It was a breath of fresh air to be able to feed and clothe my daughter without asking him for money. It felt good to look in the mirror and admire myself instead of wondering if I should even get dressed. I felt useful again. I felt proud of my abilities as a mother instead of shaming myself for not being able to keep up with housecleaning and cooking the way I “should” have.
So it feels great to be alone, but does it only feel great in comparison to the awful place I came from? Does singleness feel so good because my previous couplehood was so painful? Am I going to the extreme, trying to get as far away from my life as I knew it? I herald my ability to be alone, and I haughtily look down on the people who bounce from relationship to relationship, sneering at their inability to cope with being alone. I think I’ve developed a superiority complex. It doesn’t help that Rooferman hooked up with Blondie only days after he ended it with me, so I know some of that degradation is coming from personal betrayal. It’s obvious I pride myself in any way that I’m NOT LIKE THEM.
I can’t help but notice, the closer I get to Chivman and HS Sweetheart, the more I like having them around. The longer I go between seeing them, the harder it gets. I don’t think my desire for singleness is ALL in my head. I do like being alone, but I don’t like being lonely. While I’m basking in the afterglow of male company, I’m definitely lonely. A few days later I get back to my normal, uppity, empowered self, but until then, I’m hugging my pillow at night, pretending it has a pulse.
I still agree that being alone is good for me. My tendencies to turn into a doormat when a tall, dark mysterious man enters my life haven’t been fully vanquished. But I’ve discovered that being alone is much easier once you’re used to it. When you’ve been without the touch of a man for years, you start to forget what its like. That makes your singleness MUCH easier. Now that I’ve been reintroduced to the elements of masculinity, I’m savoring them like the last rays of summer.
Or maybe I’m just playing with fire.