How to Be Alone

(The Opposite of My Last Post)

One of my last articles was a guide on how to be and especially how to stay in love. As I pressed the “post” button, I thought: I must immediately write a counter article. Turns out, this angle of the topic is a lot harder to write about.

Being in love is, as writing my last piece (which you should also really check out) showed, not easy, but still a lot easier than being alone — if you don’t know how to.

Loneliness seems to have snuck into my apartment. It is the day after my boyfriend’s departure and I am home alone. I have written, I have sung, I have eaten. The Christmas lights are on. Yet, a rather disturbing feeling is gnawing at me: I am alone. I do like me-time, but only when it’s not forced and only for a couple of hours, not for days and days.

I live with my boyfriend and naturally, we spend every evening together, just as we go to bed together and wake up in the same bed. Now, it’s just me. Last night, I spent some time with friends sharing Christmas cookies and good conversations, and today I met up with another friend to grab a burger in a part of town that I rarely visit. All day, I was fine, good even. Then came the evening. I can be independent all day long, but by sunset I want to snuggle up with my man and he is not here.

I do not like missing him. I get the feeling that some people think it is a cute emotion to feel but to me, it is just strange. I do not want to be burdened by a heavy reminder that somebody that I love is not there, even though the feeling itself is proof for said love — because the love never needed proof in the first place. Further, I can tell I am alone. My cozy apartment suddenly feels cold and hostile. ‘Am I a bad feminist for needing a man like this?’, I wonder.

He is back but he has a big project coming up. I’m eating my dinner alone – my table feels so empty. My apartment is so quiet. I’m putting on Sex and the City to drown out the loud silence in the room. As the project gets closer, I stop cooking warm meals alltogether. It’s only fun together with somebody else, anyway.

I might actually be a bad feminist.