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All By Myself (dont want to be)…

Alone in Mexico. All alone. Sadly, tragically and temporarily alone. Except for all the people and the 5 dogs I am hopelessly, existentially, maudlinly alone. Except for this beer swilling American on my left and that little guy reading The Bali Post to my right I am shipwrecked, abandoned, solo and sad. I used to love alone. I longed for alone. As soon as my parents/roommates/Malcolm left the house I turned on the turntable/CD player/MP3 player and broke out a bottle of something to dance the night away and sing out to any angelic order who would listen.

I lived alone in Washington Heights for 2 months one summer. It was serial killer hot and a saxman lived across the alley from my 5th floor walkup window. I lived on my Saturday night credit card and spent Sundays reading in The Park and walking through shabby chic fairs of the Upper West Side, frequently attending a Unitarian service or the Museum of Natural History. It was exquisite. Except for the attack cat and the roaches and the one time that one cab driver got a little too handy it was very safe and sound.

Being apart from Malcolm is about 99.9% crappy. One night for watching indie/foreign/classic films and working on my novel is divine but any longer than that and I am lonely. No one to laugh at my jokes, no one to cook for, no one with whom to look at the ocean. Turns out I am not the Steppenwolf; I am no longer the hero of my adolescent poem celebrating solitude and pretend self-reliance. I not only love spending every day of this life with Malcolm I also thoroughly love being married to him. It´s the thing for me. I can even do my dance when he´s around.

There Are 3 Responses So Far. »

  1. Loneliness isn’t all that bad. Look at the great writing it is engendering and all the important things you (and we) are learning about your life. And think about poor Malcolm and how much he misses you and how great he feels after reading your post.

    Remembering this moment is going to be really important sometime in the future. Hold tight.

  2. Oh no! I totally feel your pain. Once a thoroughly functioning, self-sufficient, personal-space-protecting lady of the world, now I forget how to BE whenever A goes away for long stretches. I devolve and start eating like a bachelor and moping around the house. All those “girls’ nights” I always think I want sound like torture so when the phone rings I recoil in horror.

    On a totally unrelated topic, here is something that’s been cheering me up lately: the knowledge that soon we will have our very own kitchen! And in it I will become magically transformed into this woman: , who, quite inconceivably, makes health-food porn. Here’s to hoping I can find even half of the ingredients in Mexico. Oh, there will be dinners. And brunches. And cocktails…

  3. Great writing ! .. Crikey ! .. I miss Malcolm almost as much as YOU do .. and I’ve never even set eyes on the man ! .. Like I say, great writing ! 🙂

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