Living Together?

An article came out in today’s New York Times from a woman, Dominique Browning, who said that she loved living alone but noticed that men didn’t, and she postulated her own theories as to why (women like to nest, men are more concerned with danger and want someone to watch their backs).  I’m never fond of gender generalizations, but the article did intrigue me because Jon and I have been discussing the idea of moving in together, and I am wondering how I will like cohabitation again.

Now before you all start saying that it is too soon for us to be considering this idea, I will agree that it is.  That is the simple answer.  Yet blog pieces are not born from simple answers.  Furthermore, judging by the conversation that is taking place on my Facebook wall, this is an issue that impacts many of us middle-aged women and men, single or divorced.

Just a year or so ago, I was proclaiming the joys of living alone, and cheekily said that any man who wanted to live with me had better bring his own Airstream to park out back.  Yet my circumstances have changed.  Now I am living in a more expensive town, the Boston area, where living alone takes a much larger financial toll.  In fact, I noticed at a party the other night that most single people here have roommates, and one young man told me stories of how his parents took in boarders as soon as his brother went to college.  It got me thinking about whether or not I should consider this option.

I discussed this with a recent divorcee who took in renters to help him make his house payments.  He proclaimed that living with a roommate is a lot easier than living with a romantic partner.  However, my own history doesn’t necessarily prove that.  In my twenties, I had a series of crazy roommates.  One of them, in San Francisco, was a white woman who had recently been initiated into the Afro-Caribbean practice of santería.  She asked us to leave the house periodically so that she could do her rituals, and even threatened the wrath of the gods (the orishas, for those in the know) on us because my roommate’s boyfriend drank some rum from one of her many altars.  Another turned out to be a cocaine addict and was understandably erratic and failed to pay the rent on time.  My ex was a wonderful respite from my rental trials and tribulations, and in the early years, I said that he was the best roommate that I ever had.  Unfortunately, as things got tense between us in the later years, that was no longer the case.

My best non-romantic roommate experience was a sweet activist named Karen, with whom I shared a house in Berkeley.  My only complaint was that her boyfriend woke me up in the mornings with the tap, tap, tap of his razor on the sink as he shaved in the bathroom right next to my bedroom.  I worked from home at the time, and she worked afternoons and evenings and often spent the night elsewhere, so I was the main person in the house.  Perhaps that is the key to cohabitation for me?  Jon spends very little time in his own apartment, and it would seem that he might be same if he lived here with me.  He works about an hour away, travels a lot for work, often stays late at his office, and likes to take his son on weekend trips when he has him.  In a lot of ways, my current routine with my kids would be untouched.

When I told one of my married friends about our nightly ritual of climbing into my bed and reading aloud, followed by cuddling and falling asleep together, she said that she would be loath to allow a man to interfere with that.

Of course, this weekend is the first weekend that I have been alone in weeks.  Fittingly, it is the first time I have had to even consider how I feel about living alone.  Jon invited me to join him on his ski weekend in Vermont, but I opted to stay in Boston and spend some needed time in my apartment.  Like Browning, I enjoyed spreading out on my bed with my books and stuff without a care for accommodating another body.  I blissfully ate dinner in bed, played Words With Friends online, read my novel that I haven’t cracked open since my last solo weekend, and watched a movie ‘til midnight.  It was wonderfully relaxing, yet I couldn’t help but notice a pang of solitude when I woke up this morning and contemplated my day.  I found myself ticking off the number of days since I had seen Jon (six, after spending four straight days together with my family in California) and wishing he weren’t so busy (he heads out on a business trip tomorrow).

So I imagine that my conflicting needs for space and companionship, for time alone and time together, will continue.  It’s a delicate balance, and there will probably be many days like today when the scales tip too far in one direction.  My parting thoughts come from the novel that I was reading last night, called Falling Together about a single mom who lives with her adult brother and young daughter: “You like your little pockets of solitude, but you’re not made for being alone for long.  There were people who could live on their own and be happy, and then there were people who needed the falling together, the daily work of giving and taking and talk and touch.”  I think I like the talking and the touch too much to live alone forever.

The Pace Quickens

Write about your pace, she requests

Oh. My. God. It. Is. Fast.

Kids. Five days instead of four

School. More homework with complicated math

Work. More classes, students and responsibilities

Bike. In the face of traffic

Bus. When I can catch it

Drive. To meet their dad weekly

Date. I’ve got to do that!

Yoga. I can’t live without it

Friends. I already have one, yay!

Exploration. Cafés, restaurants, Charles River tour,

Bowling, thrift shops, Mt. Auburn cemetery,

Newbury Street, Quincy Market, Copley Square,

Fenway Park, Davis Square, Central Square,

Aquarium, libraries, museums, it is never-ending.

When I come up for air,

You’ll be the first to know.

* * * * * * * *

This is my first Six Word Friday post in a while.  I miss writing them and being part of the weekly community.

Alone and (Not Always) Loving It

There is no denying it.  Divorce makes you feel lonely sometimes.  It can acutely underscore the realization that you are all alone in the world.  This is how I have been feeling lately, brought on by the fact that my ex and I are considering applying to jobs in places where I have no friends or family (Boston, DC, Philadelphia, Upstate New York, etc).

I know it’s a little crazy.  How can I feel alone when I will be making this move with four other people (my two kids, my ex and his girlfriend)?  Because my ex has his girlfriend for support, and I…Well, I will have to start out from scratch, from nothing, unless I win the jackpot and end up in California with my family.  I know I shouldn’t jump ahead and worry about these things, but this whole process has me feeling like I wish I had someone in my corner, someone’s strong chest to rest my head against.

On Saturday night, with no plans in sight, I went home from yoga feeling sorry for myself, and frankly I hate self-pity.  So I called my sister.  My sis and I have a pact.  We always pick each other up.  We know each other so well that we can usually choose the right words to have an almost instant impact.  I was therefore surprised when she said, Aren’t we all alone really?  I asked her who took my sister and would they kindly return her to me.  Then she tried a spiritual argument, but spending a Saturday night with Baby Jesus just wasn’t doing it for me.  Yet at least that had me rolling on the floor with laughter.  She was getting closer.

Then she brought out the big guns.  She reminded me that no matter what, I had three very special people in my life who were on my team and would always take care of me: my father, my mother and her.  Mind you, these are no ordinary people either.  These are the warmest, kindest, most upbeat, most energetic, funniest people that I have ever met.  There is a long line of people who want to join our family.  Together we are blessed in ways that we sometimes take for granted.  But when the chips are down, these three people will come through for me.  I really needed to hear that.  She reminded me that I had a lifeline; that they wouldn’t let me drown.

I guess that’s what I always thought my spouse was for, but luckily now that my spouse is unable to perform that function, I have come to realize that my family is there instead.  In fact, now that I think about it, my ex never played that role for me.  He hated it when I was down because it made him feel down too.  When I felt like I was drowning, he was usually going under too.

We’d all like to think that we have that one special person in our lives who is our biggest champion.  Yet all along, my champions have been my family, and they still are.  I was very grateful to my sister for reminding me of that.

After our chat, I went upstairs and climbed into my bed: my comfy, wrought-iron bed with a memory foam mattress that I so adore.  I turned on the TV and found the perfect comfort movie “Sex and the City 2.”  The ironic thing, though, is that this movie is all about marriage.  In fact, when I saw it in the theaters last year, I remember thinking, Yep, marriage is a bore, Carrie and Big have lost their spark, just like so many long-term relationships do.

However, given my current state of existential crisis (yes, I am being a drama queen and laughing about it), I found myself envying their relationship this time.  It actually looked comforting to come home to the same person night after night.  Maybe I’ve progressed and am ready for another life partner.  Or maybe I’m just feeling a little frightened by my impending change.  I mean, is there really a man who would want to watch Sex and the City 2 in bed with me on a Saturday night?  Maybe being single still has its privileges.

A Change of Heart

When he left, he said he wanted time alone

To play the field, to date around

Like he never did in his youth.

Me? I was happy being married

Knowing who my Saturday night date was

He craved excitement and change

I was content with the comfort of familiar love

That was almost four years ago

Now, after a few months alone

And some brief relationship drama

He has settled down

They spend all of their time together

With and without the kids

Yet I am living a life that I had never dreamed of

Yoga five times a week

Special time with my kids

Monday nights to myself

A Thursday ritual with friends

A new date every Saturday

(Well, maybe not, but they are still up for grabs)

When I look at the disparity between our current lifestyles

I sometimes wonder

Did he lie to me?

Did I lie to myself?

I don’t believe it was deception

Perhaps your life needs shaking up

To realize what you want

And to truly know yourself

I don’t begrudge his change of heart

Because it has allowed mine to expand

* * * * *

Jingle Poetry kindly invited me to join her Monday poetry potluck, where the topic this week is lies, deception and misrepresentation.  Who could resist that topic?  Thanks, Jingle!

Single Awareness Day

Valentines Day is so controversial.  One of my students, who recently broke up with her boyfriend and whose parents are going through a divorce, aptly termed it “Single Awareness Day.”  She does make a good point.  Even if you’re happy being single, this day has the ability to make you feel like a girl that hasn’t been asked to the prom (I so didn’t want to go anyway).

People must have a heightened sense of loneliness today because I received a bunch of e-mails on OKCupid (my new online dating service- Match was too boring).  I also received some Valentine’s wishes through text.  While the sentiment is lovely, I really found myself wanting to forgo the reminders.

According to the Huffington Post Divorce section, divorce filings increase around Valentine’s Day as unhappy spouses see romantic couples and sweet TV commercials reminding us of the importance of love, and they realize that their relationship is over.  So while some may see it as the most romantic day of the year, others feel bitter and resentful about the lack of passion and partner appreciation.  Aren’t we giving this day too much power? Read the rest of this entry »