In Time

Jul 27, 2015 by

          Yesterday, after I got home from a weekend of team bonding in Niagara with my coworkers, I was supposed to meet a friend who invited me out with a bunch of her friends. I said yes because that’s what I do, but I really wasn’t up for it. I was forcing myself out despite feeling like emotional crap because – I don’t know. Maybe it would make me feel better. Maybe I’d meet some cool people. Maybe I’d meet a guy. I was forcing myself out despite feeling like emotional crap, because what if I hadn’t said yes to that night in Niagara that made me believe in happiness? (When I really need to talk myself in to something, I bring it back to Niagara in a desperate attempt to motivate myself.)

          I did my hair and I mapped directions and I was minutes from leaving when I felt a lump in my throat. I just didn’t feel like being social. I didn’t feel like being around a lot of people only to be alone inside my head. Feeling alone when you’re not alone has got to be the loneliest feeling in the world. I’d much rather actually be alone. That way, I’m free to be as I feel. Really, the only reason I was still entertaining the idea of going out to party was that I felt guilty bailing. I don’t bail, and I pride myself on that.

          “Hey! Do you have a few minutes? I need someone to talk me in to/maybe help me give myself permission out of something. Lol,” I texted Christal.

          “Shoot!” she answered.

          I called her and apologized in advance that I was about to unload my whole life on her. Within minutes, my voice was cracking on the phone, which answered my own question: I was in no position to be around a big group of people.

          “Theresa, just cry!” she said. “You don’t have to pause to stop yourself. Just cry!”

          I burst.

          I cried because I’m lonely and I miss my person and I’m single as fuck.

          “It’s not about him,” I noted. “I don’t care about him. It’s frustration toward my entire dating history.”

          “That’s my favourite part of this conversation,” she said.

          I laughed.

          “I used to think in six months, in a year, in time you wouldn’t care about him anymore, and now you’re here,” she said with pride I could hear through the phone.

          “Yeah, finally. That took a really fucking long time,” I continued to laugh through sniffles. “Ugh, I have to start dating now, don’t I?”

          She giggled in response to my lack of enthusiasm.

          Of course I have to start dating. That’s how you end up in a relationship. But I wasn’t about to start yesterday. Yesterday, I just needed some time to myself.

          “You have permission to bail,” Christal said.

          I drove downtown. I felt like being by the lake. I brought my laptop, but I didn’t write. I didn’t even pull it out of its bag. I needed some legitimate me time. Unintentionally, I ended up at the part of the water that I passed the night I went to see Arctic Monkeys live on my own, also known as one of the best nights of my life. I sat on a bench and stared at the docked boats until the sun began to set, emptying my head of its contents. I can’t even remember what I though about as I took in the water’s calmness. I do, however, remember promising myself that even when I one day do have that boyfriend I want so badly, I will still have my solo nights out. They help me catch my breath.

 
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