I very recently caught myself in a state of reverie--I think it was during one of those hellish commute nights when the storm was at its worst, when I couldn't hail a cab (or finally get one but would eventually get said no to because my freaking destination was flooded knee-high) and just decided to take a jeepney and walk the rest of the way home. I was in that state of mind when I realized how so many people are literally dying to get hitched. Committed with someone. "Coupled". And I find myself asking me this question: "What's the rush?"
In my very distant past, I had been very reckless and foolhardy. For the most part of my--ahem--youth--I had been, to borrow my caster friend Enrique's terminology for his ex, a serial monogamist, i.e. someone who would be seriously involved in a monogamous relationship, then split up, only to get himself into yet another monogamous relationship almost instantaneously after the break-up. Yes. I had been like that. I remember being with someone, eventually breaking up with them, and barely a week later, be with someone new...on a "committed", "supposedly long-term" relationship. I say that in quotes for obvious reasons involving tongue-in-cheek, unfortunate and lamentable retrospection. In hindsight, I think the longest I've ever been single (in-between almost proximate relationships, that is) was 26 days...and the shortest? 2 days.
You might be thinking, What is he thinking??? If you've asked me that years ago, I probably would have replied, Because the time's right; I need someone to help me forget XXX and move on, If I don't seize the opportunity now with so-and-so, it might be too late; or worse, Because nobody else might take me in 'cuz I'm damaged good already, and so-and-so seems to be quote-unquote The One.
Pathetic, right? Right. But you must know this fact: some people--and I'm sure you would agree with me here--actually eat these lines for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Some people just can't live with the thought that doing things him/herself could actually be, for lack of a better, more simplistic Kindergartenish term, FUN.
For a while...for a very long while, I'd been in deep consternation about the probability that I would (or could) end up alone. The very simple acts of buying clothes and apparel, watching a movie, having dinner, traveling, hearing mass, and doing the groceries were all requisitely done with a companion--preferably a mate or romantic partner. It was almost taboo to be actually doing these things alone, as if being caught dead doing these solo was a shameful, unacceptable acts somewhere in-between a venial and mortal sin. I was needy; I needed constant affirmation, companionship, and both emotional and egoistical nurturance...and in the process was getting involved with individuals of the same species. Consequently, throughout the aggregate of all these relationships, I had ceased growing individually, stopped pursuing self-awareness, and arrested any liberal enjoyment of my lone self.
It was like that until almost two years ago when I woke up, stepping out of yet another failed relationship, and realized that I wasn't getting any younger and should most definitely start acting my age--less insecure, more in control, and definitely abundant in self-respect.
From that point on, I have discovered--slowly, day after day--that one is actually a good number; that a solo flight could actually make one take wings and reach greater heights of discovery; and that alone doesn't always have to be equated with lonely.
Without completely detaching myself from the outer circle, I have enjoyed being single. I would find pleasure in putting on my iPod, listening to an audiobook, munching my onion rings and burger, and getting lost in my own world amidst a clamorous food court. I'd literally look forward to coming home to a quiet, empty, dark, and nonjudgmental bedroom, pour myself a few swigs of last night's left over wine, and sit alone in the terrace overlooking the busy city, with a feeling of contentment and a slight smile on my lips. I could just stop-and-go and make decisions freely without having to worry about how anyone would feel about such matter, by asking myself first what I would feel about it. Alone, I could go places where my worn-out pair of shoes would take me and not be concerned about where others would want to go. I could spend quiet to loud to deafening moments alone or in the company of some nice friends and stay up all night and wake up insanely late the following morning without having to worry about who was waiting for me to come home or get up the next day.
Never have I enjoyed being single, carefree, at ease, and composed as I have in my last year and a half. And I can't seem to will myself into plucking myself out of this newfound comfort zone. A wee bit part of me shudders at the idea that I might forever and a day be completely immersed in that territory, that I'd refuse to leave. Maybe...or not.
Solo. Single. Alone. One. Singular. I see all these words in a different, more positive, and welcoming light. Can you actually see them this way?
