As soon as I heard the lyrics, don’t be scared to walk alone; don’t be scared to like it, from John Mayer’s Age of Worry, I knew a post was in order. But I sit here, 2 days later not really knowing what to write. In a way I still don’t know, but I’m going to attempt this anyway. Heaven, help me.
If you didn’t (have the pleasure) to know me 2 1/2 years ago, then I’ll let you in on a little secret: I was terrified to move to Chicago. I was afraid of leaving my friends and moving further away from my family. I was worried about moving to a new place where I (really) knew less than a handful of people. I was shaken with fear of living on my own, something I personally vowed that I could never do. But fortunately those days are a thing from the past. Well…for the most part.
I woke up this morning and had this overwhelming feeling that I was in the wrong place. After seeing a few texts from friends and a message in my Inbox from another, I couldn’t shake the notion that I wanted to be anywhere but here. It pained me to rationalize that I couldn’t be in Cleveland and Cincinnati all at the same time. Life just isn’t fair. But, I thought, if I was living back in Columbus again then I’d only be a short two-hour drive to either place. Heck, I could even visit both places in one day if I really wanted to. (Note: Don’t prompt me because you know I’ll pull it off. After all, I am my father’s daughter.)
Now Kristin, before you start celebrating with wine in a leopard glass and dancing around with joy that your plan worked 😉 …know that while I hope it will one day, today is unfortunately not the day.
After responding to the texts and writing an email to another love of my life, I rolled over swearing that I could stay in bed all day. Okay, and maybe, just maybe, I wished that there was a boy laying next to me. Seriously, is there anything better in life than waking up next to someone…well…someone you really like? I guess that’s what happens when you fall asleep watching the Aidan episodes of Sex and the City. Back to my Aidan-less reality and the fact there, of course, wasn’t a guy next to me. Sadly just a laptop and an alarm clock playing some over-played pop song. So I pulled myself out of bed to make it to Kelly’s Spin Class in time.
During class my mind wandered to this thought: What if I wasn’t single? What would that really be like? Honestly, I have no idea. Minus a few whatever-relationships in my day, I think it’s fair to say that I’ve always been single. In fact, some of my very best friends are taken back (with shock first, then excitement) when I say, “I met someone”. (Note: This rarely happens, which you probably know from reading this open book blog of mine.)
I promise you that you’ll never hear me complain about being single. I’ll never whine about not having a boyfriend. I just don’t do it. Part of the reason why is because, truthfully, I’m ok with being single. Now there are several reasons why I say this, but one reason is my freedom. I mean how many people in relationships can travel to three different cities in Ohio for three straight weekends? How many single people can move-in with her friends for a week to help care for her children?
Now the dreamer that I tend to be wants to believe that Mr. Right with allow me these freedoms because 1) he loves me dearly and 2) wants me to do what makes me happy. However, in reality, I know this most likely isn’t the case. But isn’t impossible…right? Trust me, I hear the advice every day from my co-workers and other older friends, “Enjoy your freedom while I can. I wish I did more when I was your age.” While I value their advice, I tend to use my own perspective in seeing what faults lie in the single life.
For starters, it would be really nice to wake up next to someone and maybe/possibly/hopefully have them make/buy you coffee while you stay under the covers. Do you even know how many times I’ve daydreamed about that happening? And maybe I’ve also imagined the whole proposal scene from The Time Traveler’s Wife happening to me. But only once…or twice. (Take notes, potential suitors.)
In all honesty, for me, there’s just one thing that I constantly fight about being single. It’s so silly and probably the main reason why others in relationships desire to have their single man’s freedom back. So…sometimes…every now and then…I wish that someone would tell me where I’m going or what I’m doing. See, that’s the single girl in me. Let me rephrase it by saying that I wish someone would tell me where we are going or what we are doing. Yes, if I’m still blogging when I’m forty and finally in somewhat of a relationship, you can use this post against me. Actually, please do. But really this is how I feel. Call me crazy. Say, “Girl, I wish I didn’t have someone decided what ‘we’ are doing all the time.” And all I can say is, to each his own.
Two and a half years ago when I was getting ready to move to Chicago, for the first time since my childhood days I wished that I had a boyfriend. I wanted someone to be by my side as I veered far out of my comfort zone in the world of the unknown. But it was only me that moved in Apt 807. And it’s still only me, but with a whole lot of people by my side as I continue on this journey of mine. I mostly walk these Chicago streets alone as I head towards the train station, to volunteer or back home after a long day. But it doesn’t scare me anymore to be alone in this city, and in fact, some days it’s what I enjoy the most. Those rejuvenating walks when it’s just the city and me. Isn’t it funny how the one thing that used to scare you can one day become the thing you enjoy the most?