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.

What I Do When I’m Lonely

I have been so busy with my move, learning my new job, enrolling the kids in school, making new friends, trying out yoga studios, dating and being a tourist in my new city of Boston that I haven’t had a single moment to myself to think or write.  Yesterday was my first day of alone time in which I really didn’t have any major projects to accomplish.  Damn, was it scary.  I felt completely lost, and, frankly, very lonely and homesick for Northampton.  However, as all difficult moments are for me, it ended up being a good opportunity to reflect upon how I handle the occasional pang of loneliness and sadness.
Many divorcees write to me about how hard the transition into part-time custody is for them.  Not only do we miss our kids, but we also don’t always know how to have time off for ourselves.  It’s a foreign concept for most working parents who go at break neck speed all day (and night) long.  It can be very disorienting to have unstructured time to yourself.

When I was living in Northampton, most of my free time was taken by yoga classes followed by nights out with friends.  Even if I didn’t have a social engagement, I always knew the cafes and bars that I could go to when I wanted to see people, and usually I would end up running into a friend and having a good time.  I don’t have places like that yet in Boston so here are the following activities that I did to fill my time and feel better.  Maybe some of them will resonate with you.

1)   Pamper yourself. I decided to give myself a much-needed pedicure, and I also bought a new hair dryer.  Sometimes we are too busy to really even focus on our looks, and it feels good to primp and preen a little bit.

2)   Catch up on house projects. I mowed the lawn yesterday when I was feeling restless.  It was something that I needed to get done, and the activity and the fresh air lifted my spirits.

3)    Go grocery shopping. I have noticed in the past that there are often attractive men in the Whole Foods market.  Last night I went shopping around 7 pm, and the store was teeming with eligible bachelors (because who else shops on a Saturday evening?).  Several guys gave me smiles and prolonged eye contact.  It totally boosted my mood.  If I had been really brave, I might have struck up a conversation with one of them in the produce aisle or something.

4)   Call a friend who will make you laugh. I have so many people that I love to talk to on the phone and often don’t have enough time to really catch up with them.  Last night I called my sister, and she told me a story that had me in hysterics (as my sister often does).  The endorphin rush from the laughter really helped.  And that happened right before the guys smiled at me in Whole Foods.  Maybe I was glowing from that.

5)    Read a good book. I tried to watch a movie on television but it just depressed me even more.  I probably picked a bad one (it was called “A Single Man”).  So I picked up my book instead, The Bastard on the Couch.  It is a fascinating and often funny collection of essays by men reflecting on the difficulties of relationships and fatherhood.  It made me chuckle, and it also gave me some great food for thought.

So yes, I do get blue sometimes.  Maybe these tips will come in handy if you find yourself alone and at a loss for what to do.  And if you have any of your own, I’d love to hear them.

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.

Date Night

I am currently curled up in my cozy bed after a wonderful date.  No, I am not engaged in post-coital blogging.  The only afterglow that I am basking in is that of the delicious meal that I cooked.  Roasted butternut squash, tiny red potatoes, poblano peppers and leeks are seriously orgasmic.  Tonight’s date was with myself.

I looked forward to this date all day.  I thought about what I would wear, the food I would cook, the TV shows I would watch, the blogs that I would catch up on.  My platonic boyfriend Tobey tried to tempt me to have a drink with him tonight after yoga, but I told him of my plans.  He said, watch out because, like me, you might find that you are really good at single life.

Before any of my friends start calling for an intervention, I have to say a few words in my defense.  First of all, I just started back at school, where I interact with people all day, and I could use some alone time.  Second, this is really the first time in the three years since my divorce that I have chosen to spend blocks of time alone.

Right after my breakup I reveled in all the male attention I was getting and went on lots of dates.  Then I started making new friends and taking on new activities that engaged my attention.  I have to admit, though, that while this was great fun, I also dreaded having a night home alone, so I would make sure to schedule social engagements for all of my kid-free moments.  I was a little bit scared to spend time alone for fear that I would feel lonely.

Yet, lately, I just love my solo nights.  I get to cook what I want.  While my kids are pretty good eaters, they hate some of my favorites such as butternut squash (it’s so sweet that it’s like candy- what’s not to love?).  Tonight I got to cook and eat in peace and quiet.  No one was here to interrupt me.  No one spilled their food on the floor.  No one asked to watch TV.

Now I am blissfully alone in my incredibly comfy bed waiting for my Showtime lineup.  Tonight, with “Weeds” I get to fantasize that Andy Botwin/Randy Newman sous chef extraordinaire is my boy toy, not Nancy’s.  And I also get to live vicariously through Cathy while she spends her retirement money on a fancy sports car and floats in a stranger’s swimming pool without actually having cancer myself.

At last Thursday’s yoga group, my friend Jackson dropped the bomb that he had broken up with his girlfriend.  This week I think I will announce that I have broken up with Tobey.  It’s not him, it’s me.  I am having too much fun by myself.  I am like Cathy who, in tonight’s episode of “The Big C,” gets a Brazilian wax for no one other than herself, except, well…I don’t really have a Brazilian…right now.

I Can be Alone, Yeah

Today’s lyric is “I can be alone, yeah.  I can watch a sunset on my own” (name that tune).  Being alone is a tricky issue.  When my ex left, I was bit scared to be alone, not because I felt unsafe, but because I thought I’d be lonely.  I am a very social person and one of the things I had most liked about marriage was always having a companion to do things with, even if that meant staying home.

However, what I discovered was that alone time is a wonderful thing.  With our custody arrangement, I have three free nights a week: Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.  Thursdays are dedicated to my yoga friends.  That is set in stone for me.  Saturdays usually end up being a social night because that is when people tend to be free.  So Mondays have become my alone night.

Read the rest of this entry »