The Things I Would Tell the Woman Who Lives Alone
If you live alone, there are things nobody tells you.
Not the scary things.
The little things.
Like how you eventually stop remembering what time anyone else eats dinner.
How you can stand in your kitchen at 9:17 on a Tuesday night eating cold watermelon over the sink and realize nobody is going to ask you what you’re doing.
And somehow, that feels wonderful.
I didn’t always understand living alone
I didn’t always understand the appeal of living alone.
I thought a home was supposed to be filled with people.
Noise.
Shoes by the door.
There is always someone asking where something was.
Doing someone else’s laundry is unrewarding.
Someone saying, “What’s for dinner?”
And then, one day, you realize there is something rather magical about nobody asking.
You get to make all the decisions
You can put the lamp wherever you want.
You can watch the same movie three nights in a row.
You can have breakfast for dinner.
You can rearrange the furniture at midnight because suddenly you have an idea.
You can leave a book open on the coffee table for three weeks.
You can buy things just because you like them.
You can make your bed beautifully every morning—or not make it at all.
There is no committee.
There is no vote.
There is just you.
And I think women underestimate how luxurious that can feel.
You also become very good at entertaining yourself
This one surprised me.
You learn that you don’t actually need someone else to make an evening feel like an occasion.
You can put on lipstick to go nowhere.
You can make yourself a ridiculously good dinner.
You can pour something into a pretty glass.
You can take a bath.
You can put clean sheets on the bed and crawl into them at 6:30 because you are an adult and nobody can stop you.
You can order the dessert.
You can take yourself shopping.
You can go to the movies alone.
You can sit at a restaurant with a book.
And eventually, something happens.
Being alone stops feeling like something that happened to you.
It becomes something you know how to do.
But here’s the part nobody tells you
Sometimes you’ll still wish someone were there.
Of course you will.
You’ll have a funny story and wish there were somebody sitting across from you.
You’ll get home from a trip and wish someone would say, “I’m glad you’re home.”
You’ll have a terrible day and wish you could crawl into bed next to someone without having to explain anything.
Living alone doesn’t mean you never get lonely.
It means you learn that loneliness and being alone are two completely different things.
And knowing the difference is a gift.
You start to hear yourself
Maybe that’s the biggest thing.
When there isn’t another person’s voice filling the room, you start hearing your own.
What do I want?
What do I like?
Where do I want to go?
What would make me happy?
At first, those questions can feel strangely difficult.
Women are so accustomed to considering everyone else.
Children.
Partners.
Parents.
Friends.
Jobs.
Everybody.
And then suddenly there’s this quiet little space where the only person you have to consider is yourself.
It can feel selfish.
It isn’t.
It’s intimate.
You finally get to know the woman who has been with you the whole time.
So if you live alone…
Don’t apologize for it.
Make your home beautiful for yourself.
Buy the good towels.
Use the pretty dishes.
Light the candle.
Make the recipe that serves four and eat leftovers for three days.
Put music on while you’re cooking.
Sit on your balcony.
Call someone you love.
Go somewhere you’ve never been.
Come home early if you want to.
Stay out late if you want to.
And if you ever find yourself standing in your kitchen at 9:17 on a Tuesday night eating watermelon over the sink…
enjoy it.
Nobody is going to ask you what you’re doing.
And that, my friend, might just be the point.
