Though admittedly rarely lonely, one PrimeCrush writer explores the ups and downs (but mostly ups!) of single life.
My sixties were supposed to have a different scenario. In this decade, I was expecting to be in a long and still-happy marriage with a few grown children and fulfilling work. Being solo at this stage of life (solo sounds more adventurous than single) was not part of the plan. Perhaps I was wearing rose-colored glasses, but I always did have an active fantasy life. And I still do.
What I did not have, ninety-eight percent of the time, was a successful romantic life. When I heard David Rose of Schitt’s Creek describing his romantic travails, I roared with laughter, as it is definitely attributable to my own: “It’s just one long string of really bad luck and I don’t know what kind of carnage I inflicted in my past life to deserve it. I must have been Dracula…or a spin instructor...or something.”
While this is not how I anticipated life in my sixties, things are far from grim. Here I am, writing after 2:00 a.m. with the lights on, music playing in the background and sipping a friend’s surprise gift of an excellent bourbon. No one is bothered by this scenario except me, unless I run out of words in the next paragraph. There is no one to make a face at the current disheveled state of my apartment while I write instead of working on my housekeeping project list. Being solo means I can grocery shop for my own taste buds and cook and drink what I choose when I choose to have them. On days I don’t have a set schedule, I am free to improvise at will. In general, unless it involves paid work or anything else I have committed to, I don’t have to give an accounting of my time to anyone. There is something to be said for that.
In general, I am rarely lonely. And, bored only if I am in the company of someone speaking of little that interests me (recalling some past blind dates); if I am away from home without a charger and my iPhone battery is depleted; or filling out an endless online form. (I have literally fallen asleep from boredom trying to complete online forms.) There are numerous evenings where I have arrived home exhausted and not wanting to see or speak to another human for the rest of the day. And, even if not tired, there are some days where I need silence as nourishment.
I am fortunate to have a number of wonderful friends of all ages from various parts of my life, creating different family circles. Some friends I socialize with regularly and others I haven’t seen in ages, yet we always seem to pick up right where we left off. And, there is my beloved New York City outside my door, offering endless ways to spend my time. After all these years, even when I’ve been very low, my city still makes me feel that possibilities can arise around almost any corner.
At this juncture, I sometimes wonder if I would ever get married, even if in a committed relationship. I know a number of couples who are very much in love and devoted to one another, yet maintain their own homes. As their busy professional lives allow, they cherish the time they spend together and make the most of it. We are lucky to live in an era where people can define their own relationships, including romantic ones. And, there is plenty of evidence that the years ahead need not be devoid of excitement. The widowed 86-year old Dame Judi Dench recently opened up about her astonishment in finding love again after several years alone. Eleven years into a long-term committed relationship with a man nine years younger, she enjoys the time with “my chap”, who lives nearby but no need to marry again. That might be an unrealistic benchmark, because she is, after all, Dame Judi Dench. Nonetheless, I am cheered by her example.
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