Ever since Secret Single Behavior became a thing, thanks to the gang from Sex and the City, ladies who live alone have not been shy about sharing what goes on behind closed doors.
“I lie in the bath for hours, eating chocolate and drinking beer.”
“I wrap myself in a hideous orange snuggy and stand in the kitchen eating Gherkins from a jar.”
“I vacuum in high heels, dancing around the house to Spice Girls hits.”
“I stole my neighbour’s chihuahua and used it’s liver in a Satanic ritual in lieu of dragon testicles. I don’t live near a pet store.”
If these “confessions” sound familiar, it’s because they are a grab bag of all the “real life single girl stories” I’ve picked up from magazines and blogs over the years.
(Well, maybe not that last one. Maybe.)
But can you spy the fairy flossed thread of familiarity that twines them all together?
It’s that they’re all safe, slightly decadent, quirky vignettes of the wildly fun times women who live alone must experience on a daily basis. It’s all endless glasses of wine, late night dance parties and a bounty of chocolate treats.
It’s Pretty Woman meets Carrie Bradshaw, with just a touch of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? thrown in for good measure.
At least, that’s what it looks like to the untrained eyes of the civilians who lurk on the sidelines. Those who live in crowded homes with pets and children toppling onto their heads at all moments of the day as they try to co-exist in communal homes.
These are the kind of people who look at these lucky fools living alone and, having studied this exotic species only through the highly regarded, anthropological endeavor known as the “Rom Com” can only see the silver lining.
But us veterans who have managed to stake out a tiny corner of the world for ourselves know better. The truth is, it’s a jungle out there, and when you live alone it is every woman for herself.