Single Girl

So, of course I’m disgustingly happy in my marriage, but even the most contented of wives occasionally longs for her Carrie Bradshaw days. Or in my case, what my Carrie Bradshaw days might have been like had I not been a child bride (okay, twenty-two isn't exactly a child, but you get my point!). Occasionally I have visions of my alternate single-girl universe, and in my life as a single girl, I never watch TV. I’m a vegetarian. I read the paper (not sure why this detail is included in my single-girl life other than Roger turns on SKY news every morning so why would I read what I’ve already watched?). In my single-girl life, I volunteer for charitable causes. I have weekly dinners with my girlfriends. I belong to a book club. I take long bubble baths and sip champagne to celebrate my singleness. True, I could quite easily incorporate most if not all of these things into my married-girl life, but for one reason or another (a few of them even legitimate), I don’t.

But this week…this week I have been single. Roger and his dad went to Zambia for the week on a business trip. At first I was disappointed that I couldn’t tag along, but then I began to think it might be kinda fun to be single for the week. Of course, the excitement was quickly followed by fear that I would be forced to spend my evenings with the M-I-L, but it is with great relief (and a slightly bruised ego) that I tell you – my mother-in-law has not wanted to hang out with me at all. I’ve been totally on my own. Free to go out with the girls, read the paper, take a bubble bath…

But as you might suspect, my week as a single girl did not exactly play out the way I thought it would.

Day One: I decide to enjoy this time to myself with a quiet night in. I intend to read a good book, maybe take a bath, and have a big healthy salad for my dinner. But I don’t. Instead, I make myself a cheesy three-egg omelet which I consume with a bottle of red wine while watching a bad Drew Barrymore movie. I follow up the bottle of wine with an embarrassing amount of chocolate. (Healthy eating not so much a part of my single-girl life.)

Day Two: Okay, so I’ve had my drunken Bridget-Jones-All-by-Myself evening, but today will be different. I get up and go running. I eat a healthy breakfast. I go to work. I go to the grocery store. I buy healthy food. I make healthy soup. I eat healthy soup. But then I talk to my sister, and talking to my sister makes me want to drink wine with my sister and sadly, I can’t drink wine with my sister because she is ten thousand miles away, but I can drink wine while on the phone with my sister. Oops. I’m Bridget Jones all over again. Clearly, I would be an alcoholic if I were single.

Day Three: It’s six a.m. and I convince myself that I should take advantage of not having anyone to rush home to by going to the gym after work instead of going running before. So, I sleep late. Too late. I don’t shower. I go to work with messy hair. (Who am I kidding? It’s messy whether I shower or not.) After work I go to the gym, then home to eat a bowl of leftover soup while I peruse bumperstickers on facebook. I consider using this time to try and write something meaningful, but writing feels pointless. From here I spiral into dark thoughts about my purpose on the planet and the meaning of life in general. I eat a bowl of ice cream and go to bed.

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly a week. Four nights (and since Roger’s BFF, Greg, got into town on Thursday, I had a surrogate husband sleeping on my couch for Day Four). Still, three days on my own were enough to remind me how much I need my impossibly laid-back husband. He's the perfect antidote to my overly obsessive nature. Without Roger around to keep me laughing, my world looks pretty dark.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m confident that I could take care of myself if necessary. After all, I am a strong independent woman. (Can you hear me roar?) As a child of divorce, I learned early that a woman should not depend on a man to take care of her, financially anyway. But what about emotionally? I mean, aren’t husbands and wives supposed to depend on each other? But can you need someone too much? Wow. Didn’t mean to get so deep. And here again, I’ve probably crossed the line between refreshing honesty and too much information, but there you have it – the deep dark secrets of my alternate-universe single-girl life.

It just reinforces how much I love Roger, and how happy I am that I found him when I did.
AWWWW....