When I lived in Columbus, I lived alone. I lived in a one bedroom apartment on the northside of Columbus, just nestled between the city limits of Upper Arlington and Dublin. The City of Columbus has a penchant for purchasing land owned by other cities and renaming it Columbus. My apartment fell in one of those tiny slivers between the two affluent cities. I loved my location and I loved living alone.
Living alone meant answering to only myself. If a dish sat in the sink too long, it was my fault. If I did not replace the toilet roll and sat down to an empty cardboard cylinder, it was my fault. When I went out alone, it was still my fault. The perceived loneliness in which I lived is a misnomer placed upon me by others’ need to be social. I relished in the singularity of my situation.
I went to movies alone. My favorite theater was in a swank, new district in downtown Columbus. The theater had stadium seating, reserved sections, and beer on tap. Good beer, at that. It was not the normal fare of the bars along High Street. Sitting alone in the theater was liberating when everyone seemed to be coupled up with their popcorn-sharing partner. Not me. I sat alone as the lights faded to darkness.
Dave tells me this is a weird habit. He finds it strange that on a given Wednesday night, I willingly dance alone in a bar where I know no one. I have no friend with which to talk or share a laugh over a beer. But, I almost prefer it this way. The choice allows me to have a slice of independence that lacks in many relationships, but I think makes the love between Dave and I stronger. We love each other, but we do not require the presence of the other in order to be happy or satisfied. We amuse each other, but only to an extent, and then we oblige our own individual wants. I believe, in part, this is why our relationship works so well and has a real chance at longevity.
It is the ability to appreciate the individual person, and not constantly satisfy our own selfish wants, that keeps us close. Infact, I think it only proves to make us closer. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder.