At risk of over-generalizing, I think that's exactly what many single women lack: PERSONAL STRENGTH. Me included, obviously. Otherwise I wouldn't be in this self-induced, self-help bubble. Lesson learned because, without personal strength, we tend to pick partners and/or relationships that painfully illustrate just how personally weak we are. And not to make excuses for us single ladies, but we are struggling against this culturally instilled preoccupation with finding "the one" without any emphasis on finding ourselves first.
I had come to terms with the fact that I was damaged goods and carrying far too much emotional baggage to even begin contemplating a healthy new relationship that wouldn't turn into repeat episodes of relationships past. If I really wanted to be happy and if I ever wanted to experience lasting love, I'd have to rebuild myself from the ground up. I needed to fix the cracks in my foundation, gut and re-build my interior while maintaining the basic structure of who I was.
This newfound realization that I was, perhaps, better off without my EX gave me brain space to fantasize about my potentially exciting new life as a single girl. I could start fresh. Create a world where work would be fulfilling, life would be social and love would be an adventurous thrill ride of hot men. In fact, I was gonna be the "Samantha" for the first time in my life! Why the hell not? After eight loyal years to the same dude, I owed it to myself to flex my sexual prowess all over New York City.
So I was making emotional progress. But I wasn't as perfect or well-adjusted as one might think. Let's face it, my EX and I were most definitely soul mates but that didn't necessarily mean we should've jumped the broom. But we did. And we did promise one another the respect of fidelity along with open and honest communication at all times. Nevertheless, he betrayed me with a drunken one-night-stand and kept it a secret.
But I was good at this whole duality thing. Why? Well, #1 I'm a Gemini. And #2, I made an art-form out of living a double life during my emotionally conflicted teens when I was torn between the worlds of a.) pleasing my religious mother and b.) living authentically. My high school experience was a mash-up of school followed by ballet class, weekend rehearsals, and homework. Plus, home Bible study, 5 meetings/week at the Kingdom Hall, and preaching the "good news of the Kingdom" from door-to-door.
Simply sitting with my emotions, feeling them and processing them was unavoidable as a solo dweller; even with five magazine subscriptions, Netflix and a constant supply of red wine. But, according to my therapist, sitting with my emotions was exactly what I needed to do in order to heal. This was a complicated task to wrap my brain around because I was certainly feeling stuff but I didn't feel as if I was any closer to healing.
What didn’t feel good about living alone was the chronic loneliness. I didn’t realize how pitiful “me, myself and I” could feel; especially without any diversion from my own negativity. What was wrong with me? Why did life still feel so bleak? I had made so much progress since the startling realization that I was 38, single, homeless and without a plan.
The great thing about living alone was that I could sit in my own funk and stew in it unapologetically. I had the space to wallow in my misery without ruining someone else’s day. I could drink too much and too early without fear of judgement. I could Facebook stalk my EX without fear of being caught. I could put Keyshia Cole’s “I Remember” on repeat and sing emotively at the top of my lungs without shame or inhibition.
My lack of sex was a complete non-issue to me. I had more serious concerns to worry about, like, finding another way to greet my day without saying “I hate my fucking life!”. Everyday I tried talking myself into believing I was happy when really I was scared, lonely and uncertain about my future. I didn’t even have the energy to search for happiness.
SEX! I think I left my vagina in Los Angeles. At the very least, my “horny hormones” stopped functioning the instant I found out my EX had cheated on me and decided to keep it his little secret until my BFF caught wind of his dalliances and spilled the beans. I guess I could’ve chosen the slut route; somehow convincing myself that one-night stands and meaningless sex would feel empowering and that emotional connection and intimacy weren’t pre-requisites for getting off or feeling fulfilled.
