Alone

"[P]eople are rarely at their best when they are alone. They usually put their masks of politeness, good order, and good breeding aside. What's beneath? Some warty monster? Some disgusting thing that would make people run away, screaming? Sometimes, perhaps, but usually it's nothing bad at all. Usually people would just laugh if they saw us with our masks off -- laugh, make a revolted face, or do both at the same time."
-from Eyes of the Dragon by Stephen King

For the last four years, I have lived alone. While I never much minded sharing space and was lucky enough never to have an intolerable roommate, the day I got my own apartment was a liberating one. I got to arrange all the furniture! I got to choose what to hang on the walls! I got to decide if and when I ever needed to wash the dishes or pick my pajamas up from the bathroom floor! I got to decide! JUST ME!

Looking back, I think I was justified in being excited about those things. These were the things that finally made me feel like I really lived somewhere. Not just rented one room and shared the space with someone else. Really lived there. That was exciting.

However, there was one other thought that has, since then, occasionally led me into trouble:

I can sit and do nothing all day, and no one will judge me!

Having suffered from both mild and extreme forms of social anxiety in the past, the idea of no one knowing what I was doing was very appealing to me. And on some level, living alone has been good for me that way. I spend much less time worrying about what other people will think about how I spend my time.

Unfortunately, there have been occasions when I take this "No one can see me! I can do whatever!" thing a little too far.

For example, on Saturday I was at home for a little while between errands. I decided to have a snack. I pulled the end of a cucumber, half a tomato, and an almost-empty bottle of ranch dressing out of the refrigerator. I decided that I didn't feel like cutting up the vegetables, nor could I be bothered to get a plate. I settled for squeezing the ranch dressing directly from the bottle onto the veggies, and biting pieces off as I would bite an apple. I sat on my couch (not at the table I was so excited to get, mind you) and made a lame attempt to catch the drippings in the plastic container the tomatoes had come in. I didn't have a napkin, either. When the dripping got bad enough, I did grab a tissue from the box next to me -- but not soon enough to stop if from getting on my shirt.

And how did I attempt to get the tomato juice and dressing off my shirt? Did I change my shirt so I could rinse it out? Did I at least get up and get a real napkin? Oh, no. I tried to lick the food off.

That was the moment, when I found myself licking my shirt, where I thought, "Wow. Really, Katie? If I were watching someone else do this, I would be really disgusted." I never, ever would have done something like that if someone was around to see me.

That is a particularly ridiculous example, but there are plenty of other times when I have similar thoughts. There was one Sunday a couple of years ago when I spent the entire day -- the entire day -- playing ridiculous, pointless online computer games. I never left my apartment. I never even showered or changed out of my pajamas. And again, I can remember thinking, "Really, Katie? This is what you are doing with your life today?" The thought alone was not enough to get me up off the couch -- but the shame of having a roommate know I was wasting a day probably would have been enough.

I am a different person when I am alone. I'm definitely not at my best. I'm lazy, sloppy, and apathetic. And at the moments when I realize just how lazy, sloppy, and apathetic I am being, one thought usually follows. I should see it coming, but I never do.

"No wonder you are single."

I hate myself every time I think that. It's an attitude I try to avoid. I don't think the world should view coupledom as some sort of status attained through hard work and discipline. (Maintaining a relationship, yes. Starting one, no.) I don't think couple status is something granted to the worthy. I don't believe that I am single because I do ridiculous, embarrassing things when I am alone.

On the other hand, there might be a lesson to be learned here. What I do or do not do while I am alone in my apartment probably has little effect on my personal life. However, the fact that I spend a substantial time alone in my apartment doesn't improve my chances of meeting anyone, either.

The goal shouldn't be to completely block out the lazy, sloppy, apathetic version of myself. She probably needs to show herself once and a while.

But the fewer opportunities I give her to show up, the better. If I don't want to be alone... I probably should not spend as much time alone.