Solitary Confinement

I am a person who doesn’t mind spending time alone. One might even say that I enjoy it. I hesitate to put this out there, for fear of being branded a “loner,” a word loaded with all sorts of negative connotations (camo-sporting nutjobs who live alone in cabins in the woods fretting over the UN’s plans for world domination). I enjoy being with people too and I would say that I am pretty social, but I find my own company pleasant and I have no problem with solitude. On a recent business trip, I was really looking forward to some alone time. I brought a bunch of books and hoped to order a lot of room service and catch up on my reading. I ended up having dinner engagements the whole time. When acquaintances asked me to dinner, I really felt like I couldn’t say no. It wasn’t like I had anyone else to eat with, and for some reason, I felt uncomfortable telling them that I really just wanted to sit alone in my room and eat room service.

Lord Kissington and I spend a great deal of time together. For someone who enjoys their own company, I think the mark of a successful relationship is that even though you like being alone, you would rather be with the other person most of the time. But every now and then, I need some time for myself. Yesterday, Lord Kissington wanted to see a movie, so I suggested he go by himself and I would spend the afternoon alone. He readily agreed (movies being one of those activities that I never feel bad about someone doing alone, since it’s not exactly an interactive experience*).

But once I had the afternoon to myself, I found that I didn’t quite know what to do. It was a beautiful day, so I took a book and sat in the park for a while. Sadly, the ground was still a bit wet from Saturday’s rain, so sitting for a long time wasn’t possible. I considered moving to one of the benches, but it’s been my experience that every time I sit on those benches, I get accosted by someone (I must give off some sort of crazydar, because they always find me). Once the ground became uncomfortable, I picked my damp ass up and pondered what to do. I really wanted to stay outside, and I wished that I had a backyard, because that would have been perfect. I considered sitting outside at one of my local haunts and having a drink, but there was something about drinking alone in the afternoon, even if I were outside, that sounded so, I don’t know, sad drunk**. So, I ended up going back to the apartment and reading in the bedroom. Have I lost my talent for solitude?

*Or at least it shouldn’t be. I always end up next to the people who feel the need to do a running commentary on the movie or use the time to time to catch up with their companion. You people are bastard people.
**Whereas if you are with someone, it becomes a convivial experience. You may still be drunks, but at least you have each other.