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Everything I Love About Myself, I Learned by Being Alone
It Didn’t Take Two for This Tango
In my late teens and early twenties, I thought — no, truly believed — that the path to happiness was walked hand in hand with a partner. It seemed that all the happiest people I knew were part of a duo. The least happy people in my orbit were single people, specifically single women because there seemed always to be looking for their ‘other person.’
So I was happy when I met a guy who was witty and fun, good looking and interested in me. He was a good friend, too. He was reliable and dedicated. All of the things that seem to make up good spouse material. He and I were together, dating together, when my father died suddenly. This guy was all the things a partner is supposed to be during a tragic time. So a year later, I married him. Less than a year after that, we divorced. Anyone with half a brain could see what I was doing, but we were all so shocked by the loss of my father that none of us had half a brain.
I still had no idea how to be alone, so I had dates and dates and dates. Then, if I gloss over the weird details no one cares about, I met another man who seemed worth settling down with, and so we did. More than twenty years of self-esteem diminishing and emotional devaluing later, not to mention raising kids and maintaining a house and a life — I was…
