One year ago today, I packed up everything I owned and left the home Brian and I had too quickly built. I finally tired of his lies, his passive cruelties, his tepid indifference, his weakness. I should have left sooner, but it had taken a long time to let go of the memories of the man he once was and to let myself hate the man he became.
Today, I live alone in a small, cheap apartment of three rooms with an elderly cat that still surprises me everyday that she lives. There are times when I feel unspeakably lonely and incredibly bored. In those times, I miss being in love. But most of the time, I like being free of expectations and obligations. I like having my time be really MY TIME, to do with as I will. To cook, write, paint, draw, watch tv shows that interest ME, or to read books in 3-hour long soaks in my pink bathtub. I like not being obligated to go to family gatherings with people I do not like.
I like being single, most of the time. Most of the time, I think I’d really rather not even bother with thoughts of dating and men and flirting and white veils and white picket fences. But sometimes, those thoughts happen.
Today is not one of those days. Today I cooked. Today I spent time with a black ball of fur and bones purring in my lap. I watched chick flicks on tv. I took a book into the bath tub and I ate a piece of chocolate. I wrote a few blog posts. I don’t miss being in love today. Today, I remember what I left–and in looking back, have absolutely no regrets. And in looking forward, I am in no rush for anything more.