real life

I talk to myself, maybe it's because I live alone

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Have you ever thought about which Sex and The City character you are most like? I’ve always felt more like Carrie. I’m definitely not as sexually confident as Samantha nor am I the kind of girl who would agree to marry a guy after two weeks like Charlotte. I’m a little bit needy like Carrie. I over think things too much, I fall for the wrong men – just like Carrie. But as I watch yet another re-run of my favourite girl sitcom I realise I’m not Carrie at all. Maybe I used to be but I’m not anymore.

I’m Miranda. And I’m a bit scared because one thing I learnt through watching the series was that she was scared of falling in love. She never let men get too close. She’s cynical, judgemental, stubborn – all the qualities I wish I could shake.

Living on my own I’ve become used to my own company. I like my towels folded a certain way. If there’s no soap in the bathroom I panic. I have a fear of running out of toilet paper so I stock up for the next millennium. Weird? Maybe. But this is all part of my quirky secret single behaviour. It’s part of my identity and living alone has perhaps made me a bit loopy. I’m reluctant to share my space with anyone. I’m a creature of habit and I like routine even if that does make me a total and utter bore. That’s me.

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There’s a lot of perks to living alone like having “just a row” of Whittakers hazelnut chocolate but really eating the whole block. No witness. No crime. Getting tipsy alone is also quite amusing, a couple of glasses of sauvignon blanc with dinner can make you believe you can sing every note in tune. Great for your ego, not so great for your neighbours. While living on your own can make you at ease in your own company it can be hard.

I’ve lived on my own for over three years. It can be lonely and it can be isolating. I don’t like to admit that it can be rough but it’s the truth. I worry sometimes that I’m too set in my ways that I won’t know how to live with someone again. I joke about this often and use Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter as my idea of the “perfect couple” living next door to each other with adjoining doors. Together when they want to be and alone when they want to be. I understand the want for this sort of ‘separate-togetherness’ that some couples need in order to survive. But do separate bedrooms and separate houses really become separate lives? What if you love each other but don’t want to live together? Is that normal?

Sometimes when I walk through the door after a long day at work the last thing I want to do is make mindless chitchat with a roommate. But other days I could easily chew the ear off anybody who will listen to me. I often say to my closet friends that if any of them ever lived with me they’d realise I can only cook about five dishes – which are edible, I might add. So living on my own at least avoids the whiny “are we having chicken schnitzel AGAIN?!” Why yes, yes we are!

After living on my own for a long time I’ve realised I talk to myself a lot more than is considered sane. I have found myself sneezing and saying, “bless you”. I also talk a lot inside my head to try and sort my own shit out. And I lose my shit often but thank god Nina from Offspring is on our TV screens or I’d really think I was bonkers. She lives alone. I rest my case.

Do you live alone? Have you ever lived on your own? Do you believe it affects your relationships?

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