Alone, (Not Lonely) & Why I’m Not Worried About My Husband Being Social


Personally, I love to be alone. 

People keep asking me: What’ve you been up to? What are you doing? Who are you with? What are they doing? Are you writing a new book? What the F* is up? Where the F* have you been?

Nothing. Nobody. Not an F*ing thing.

I’ve just been chillin’ at my place, alone. It’s been great, actually. Since the beginning of time, I have enjoyed spending time alone. Sure, if it’s after 6:00PM, I’m open to watching The Netflix, but mostly in the days, I read, work-out, and think about stuff. My husband goes to work, and I spend time alone. It’s wonderful. It’s usually pretty quiet and I can really explore different interests, and do my quiet research, and basically not get bogged down with all the white noise of the world. 

That’s why I moved back to Jamaica. To be alone.

In New York, even though I lived alone, and spent the majority of my day alone, I never really felt alone. I always had these possibilities hanging around, like obnoxious sounds, constantly interrupting my thoughts. How about a drink? Want to take a walk? Maybe we can go dancing? Kareoke? Don’t you feel like a loser sitting home on a beautiful Friday night like this? I’m picking you up, don’t make me deal with your doorman! The noise just went on and on and on, until it finally ended in a dollar apple pie, a ripped pair of pants or a sprained ankle. On a good night, all three.

Then, the next morning, I’d wake up on the living room couch, fully clothed (coat and all), with mascara smeared across my lips and I’d think: Man, this city is a lonely-ass place. Then there’d be the inevitable self-doubt talking to me. You’ll never finish a novel, and if you do, nobody will publish it. What do you have to say, anyway? Who do you think you are? Maeve Binchy?

When I’m alone in Jamaica, I truly am blissfully, silently, alone. I hear myself think, and the thoughts are so clear. There’s no voices pulling me in a hundred directions. I’m more alone than ever, and I’ve never felt less lonely.

So what have I been up to?


And that’s okay. I need this time away from stuff. It’s part of my process, and I don’t owe you an explanation. I’m content, so leave me be.

Now, you may say, how come you always stay home, alone, when I see your husband out all the time? 

Thing is, my husband is a social person. He likes going out and talking to people about subjects that I find tedious and droll. Small talk is my nemesis. On the occasions when he decides to stay home, when he really wants to go out, he is immensely annoying to me. I would much rather he unleash that social energy on other people, and leave me in peace. I’ve always known that he likes to be social, and he has always known that I prefer to avoid a crowd. My maximum tolerance is twenty people, and if it goes over, I start to feel exceedingly awkward, and/or anxious. Then I go all Woody Allen, and start begging him to drop me home early. (So, I’m glad for him not to take me in the first place). 

And, no, I don’t worry about him cheating on me.

What control do I have over such a thing? If he is going to cheat on me, he will find a way to do it. It won’t happen as a result of me not “watching” him like some puppy, in public. Relationships are about trust. And honestly, I’m kind of a hippie when it comes to monogamy. I don’t believe the way you feel about one person has any affect on how you feel about another person. Anyhow, I can’t worry about stupid stuff like that. I have my own life to look after, my husband will have to look after himself. He’s a grown man without a prenup. God Bless Him!




2 responses to this post.

  1. This was a good read. Sweet!


  2. […] the Christmas season draws near, so do the parties. Naturally, my husband plans to be social (as he is a social creature), and I plan to read a stack of novels and binge on Netflix. As a former bartender, I am well aware […]


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