On this road trip, I realized just how much of a solitary person I am. I don’t like to describe it as “alone” which implies a sadness and a longing to be around people. I like being by myself. I can keep myself occupied with things that don’t involve another person. In the six days I was on the road, not one moment did I feel sad or lonely or bored. It was actually probably the best time I spent in 2016.
One of the things that peeves me is when people think being solitary is horrible. One of the co-owners of the company I work hates seeing me eat by myself during lunch. Usually I have a book or a crossword with me, so I’m fully entertained. She always asks me why I’m sitting by all alone. I tell her that no, I have the puzzle or the book, so I’m perfectly fine.
I’m guessing this all goes back to my childhood. At New Year’s my aunt asked me about going back to my old neighborhood in Zachary, LA. She asked if I went to see my old friends. I realized that I didn’t have any friends there growing up until I was 8. Well, there was Brandon who lived several houses away, but we didn’t become friends until we ended up going to the same school in first and second grades. What I remember most was playing by myself in the backyard, imagining games, kicking off the tops of ant hills and running without getting bit, pretending I was Chi Chi Rodriguez with the putter.
So yes. The solitary life is the one for me. At least right now.