Posted on: Tuesday, October 17, 2006
He looked at me like I had a social disease.
"You mean you've always lived alone?"
Yeah. Since college, when the choice wasn't financially feasible. Once it was, man, I was all over it.
My. Own. Place.
But my date was earnestly taken aback that I didn't have roommates. I guess to him it just seemed like the pre-marriage-or-other-adult-type-coupling thing to do.
Saves money. Offers regular human interaction. Friendships.
And isn't being alone ... well, lonely?
Are you nuts?
I honestly hope one day I can enjoy the splendid chaos of having my own family. And I'll make that happen eventually. But even so, I get edgy wondering how I'm going to maintain something that would be My Own Place.
Because I can't give it up. Don't ask me to.
Why is a place all your own so wonderful? Let me illustrate the splendiferous ways:
Your distractions are no distraction. There's no worrying about the TV being too loud if someone's napping. Or ruining someone's sleep because you're watching a movie at 3 a.m. due to insomnia. Or keeping the light on all night to read because you've got a fantastic book you can't put down.
You share nothing. Your snacks and beer don't disappear from the fridge. You get to choose what's on the TV and the stereo. The bathroom is yours, 24/7. And Sunday morning, I got to the nearest doorjamb to ride out the earthquake without crashing into anyone else. This all may seem very selfish, but having this level of control in your life allows us single-dwellers to have a more can-do spirit, I believe. And that helps at work when what you say doesn't go.
The place is clean. For you single slobs, the opposite is true, but for me, I like a clean apartment. Just imagine it — no picking up after people leaving dishes in the sink, socks on the floor and smears of unusual origins on the countertops! Is it utopia, you ask? No, it's my home! It's fabulous! I love it!
The glorious freedom of Secret Single Behavior. To borrow the phrase from "Sex and the City," there's stuff we all need to do without the prying eyes and ears of others. Sarah Jessica Parker's character piled Saltines, dolloped them with grape jelly and read fashion magazines while standing in the kitchen. Mine? Sometimes when I get home, I gotta dance. I strap on that mp3 player and start shaking booty like those shadowy figures in the iPod commercials. I don't have to worry about this inconveniencing anyone except my cat, and he doesn't have a vote.
I'm sure some of you enlightened cohabitants do these sorts of things together because you're perfectly synched, and if you are, marry him/her right away.
The only person who can irritate you is you. And how often does that happen? Nothing you do is going to send you screaming out the door looking for "personal space." Smile, you're home.
Reach Christine Strobel at cstrobel@honoluluadvertiser.com.
