Loving living alone

Okay, I am. I love living alone. I have for just over a year now and I can't even begin to express the feeling of freedom.

I lived in such a controlling house for so long with a man who told me when to go to bed, wouldn't let me open the blinds to let the light in and made me turn music off so he could watch endless news commentary TV blasting so loud the neighbors across the street could probably hear. He even made me turn lights off even if I was doing something that needed light. And if I didn't, he would bitch at me like I was a kid. I was stubborn, selfish and wasteful according to him.

Now things are different. The first thing I do when I wake up is open the blinds. I love sunlight and sky and the outside. I listen to music almost constantly and get my news anywhere but from TV. I've turned on cable news no more than a dozen times in the last year. And I come and go as I please and go to sleep and wake up - or not - whenever I'm ready.

Taking things a step further, it's absolutely liberating to eat what, when and where I want. Sometimes I'll take a nap straight through dinner or go shopping or hang out at the pub or work if I'm on a deadline. And no one's bitching because there's no dinner. Dinner's in when I'm in the mood to cook or out when I'm not and there's nobody complaining that they don't want to spend the money to eat out.

My Sunday afternoons are mine again. I don't have to have the obligatory sex date with him those days. It made me dread the weekends and drink wine all afternoon to get through it. Don't get me wrong, I adore sex, just not with him.

I can take my clothes off and leave them in a pile in the living room. Or drop a load of laundry in a chair to fold whenever I get to it. And as long as I don't mind Lucy taking a nap on top of them, I can leave them there for as long as I want. And it's all good.

I can do whatever I want, when and where I please, and it's all good.

Love to the single girls,
Addison