Sunglasses Always Fit

This month marks my three and a half year anniversary of living on my own (when you don’t have a partner or kids, you have the mental capacity and also the emotional imperative to notice and celebrate such things. More on that later). At the beginning of Covid, my flatmate moved back to the States to be closer to her family, so I had to find somewhere new to live. I responded to probably 40 ads, viewed a ton of places – considering walking the distance to work and how my current load of hand-me-down furniture might fit into the tiny spaces we call apartments in Hong Kong, one of the most densely populated places on the planet. 

Then one night, on a sunset, sea-air-breathing walk along the promenade, a random Facebook ad came across my feed. I answered and was invited to come over immediately. I had gone on my walk with my prescription sunglasses on, and the sun had definitely set before I arrived at the house, but I couldn’t take my huge, old Hollywood-glam specs off to look at the place if I wanted to maintain literal focus. This was made even more awkward because when the door opened, it was a super cute guy answering and . . . I of course, as I always do in the presence of cuteness, got really weird. 

Beard? Check. Tall? Check. Freckles? Check. Accent? Check. Awkward introvert vibes that I feel the need to swoop in and alleviate? Check. 

WAS THIS MY MEET CUTE?! – the thought bubble above my head in the cartoon version of my life. 

He asked if I wanted to buy the random furniture he was too lazy to sell on the internet and I just giggled my way through it while subconsciously calculating how many plants I could fit on the patio times the square root of how old we both are multiplied by we both clearly love tie-dye and crochet plant holders . . . 

Equals – We’d be married in a year!

In the end . . . I took the place and . . . never heard from him again. I saw him once on a dirty staircase talking to another girl (rude). I guess he didn’t go for sweaty post-workout looks with movie star glam sunglasses on at night. Also – a turnoff – he was really disorganized. The apartment was pretty gross when I moved in, and I had to text him about important mail coming and then open! For him! His tax statements! And credit cards! For a year! 

So we were not, in fact, MFEO. Made for each other. An acronym that should be brought round more often. But I got the flat and I’m just so happy in my space. It’s hard to imagine that anyone but me has ever occupied these walls. Said “it’s just me, so . . . clean enough!” to the dishes and stacked them to dry. Peered over the ledge to people-watch. Pooped in this toilet. Whispered to the geckos that creep along the walls, “if you eat spiders and mosquitos, you can totally chill here, I do not mind!” 

I grew up in a busy family in houses where you’d shout “taking a shower, don’t use the water!” down the halls. Then I split many a room with many a roommate in college and beyond, sometimes sleeping on couches and spooning besties and getting creative about how to pay each other and sign checks and park our cars so monster landlords didn’t realize just how many of us were living in one spot. 

Now I’m on my own and. I mean. Wowz.  It took time. Man, I was lonely some days. But now? Living alone has made me the actual realized independent woman I thought I was. My level of “I can take care of myself and I do what I want” has escalated to, like, solar system levels high. 

Today – my ideal night in – the royal We-Me is baking bread and making art projects and brainstorming where to buy a plane ticket to next. We might start loudly Facetiming a relative, start a puzzle in the middle of the floor, brew some kombucha, tie-dye old socks. Might listen to the gold that is my “Yacht Rock” playlist and then fall asleep to my 300th viewing of “Moana.”

I’ve had some incredible, soulmate level roommates (Suz, you can chime in here), but here alone – I can really just me. Me is a verb. Me is an action and a choice and a safe place. Now I can: place the pillows (as many as I want) in the ideal answer for repose. Buy the nice oat milk. Leave the laundry out to dry for a week. (and then determine it’s gross and wash it again and start over but).  I might just “soak” that frying pan for two days or weeks or. Drip whatever essential oil I’m feeling onto the shower plant. Eat hash browns and ketchup for dinner, if my mood calls for it. And then breakfast. And then lunch. 

For an extrovert, this has been a forced but useful experiment about self-reliance. Going through sundry motions I used to just blindly navigate has grown a resilience, strength, that I wouldn’t trade. 

The only reason I would trade in would be if I found someone worthy of sharing all the cool and lame and awful and funny and lovely parts of me with. He’d have to find mouthguards and frizzy hair and stress-baking sexy. I’ve known couples who have found this, so it appears possible. I love hanging out with them and being arguably the best third wheel in the universe (Nick, Corli, Rachael, David, Claire, Michael, Ryann, Peter, Esther, Nathan – I call upon you as my witnesses). 

I’m not saying my current life situation is what I want for the rest of my life – I claim the freedom to change my mind – but am I only saying that because I have never seen an alternative? I don’t know a single single woman to have lived and died still single and childless besides my dear Aunt Barbara, who I remember most for the permeating smell of cigarettes and the absolutely gorgeous way she gave us all $5 checks each year on our birthdays, well into our twenties. 

anyway. I never know who reads these – this one is a kind of introspective wonder into the void about my life – but it never fails that at least one person, every single blog I’ve ever written in almost 15 years, writes to me and connects with what i’ve split my heart open to type on a webpage because that’s how I best process my thoughts and circumstances so SO to the future person who may or may not connect with this and want to chat about it, because you can’t be it if you can’t see it, my final words are this:

learn to love yourself and you’ll never be lonely. be the one you want to be with. I’m finally there now, and it’s good.