So am I the only who one who listens to music from the 40’s, 50’s and even 60’s and feels like I’m in some sort of dark thriller where the director intends the tune in question, no matter how cheerful, to convey an ironic sense of dread? That’s how I felt when I queued up this Frank Sinatra ditty that also serves as the title of this late night post. Like an assassin was on his way up to my apartment. Or nuclear missiles were streaking through the night sky towards Los Angeles as I tapped my foot in time to the beat. I went hunting for the song on You Tube because I thought I’d put together a few thoughts on solitude, the good kind and the bad kind, (I guess the bad kind is what we call loneliness…?) and lo and behold, I was reminded once again that my only frames of reference for just about anything are movies, T.V. shows and novels.
At any rate, I like being alone. I’m not talking about my relationship status. I’m talking about the act itself. The act of being by yourself. The act of communicating with your friends entirely through text messages you can chose to ignore for ten to fifteen minutes with excuses like, “Sorry. Was driving”, “Sorry. Was walking.”, “Sorry. Was jerking off,” when the truth is you were eating by yourself at California Pizza Kitchen and you got lost in a chapter of a romance novel written by this talented woman. Recently I took a business call while sitting alone at the bar in a crowded restaurant. When I told the person on the other end of the line that we were free to talk because I was eating by myself, she let out a small, plaintive cry, as if eating alone were a punishment on par with house arrest or having a breathalyzer installed in your car. I didn’t get it. We were both readers, so I explained that solitary dining was when I did some of my best reading. But that only made it sound worse. I mean the questions just hung there in the silence between us.
Questions like, why didn’t I read at home alone like normal people? Was my public reading merely a ruse meant to distract everyone in the restaurant from the fact that I’d be sentenced to dine alone? And if so, who had meted out this sentence exactly? Had I been abandoned at the threshold to the restaurant in question by an irate lover who just couldn’t listen to me agonize over whether or not to order the salmon or the steak one more bloody time? Had a friend just stormed out on me after a terrible fight over whether or not Bernie Sanders has a shot in hell at the presidency and had I swiftly responded by popping open my Kindle as if I’d been reading a gay cowboy romance all along?
The answer to all of these questions is no, but just the fact that they would be asked in the first place* is evidence of the extent to which our society pathologizes being alone. (I love that word, ‘pathologize’. I’m not actually sure it is a word, but the way I define it, it means to make give the illusory appearence of disorder and disease to an inherently harmless act. People do it all the time to stuff other people do that they don’t like. Stuff like having a strong opinion that differs from their own, or getting naked and sweaty with someone of the same gender. Or expressing public affection for Madonna’s last album. ) Maybe this tendency to exalt always going everywhere with a loud group of drunk people you sort of know baffles me because I’m an only child. An imaginative only child. A dangerous combination when it comes time to develop actual social skills. I have cravings for human contact, but only to the extent that it inspires me to imagine a better version of you.
If that sounds superior or cruel, rest assured, I’m constantly trying to imagine a better version of me too. And I do it while I’m – you guessed it! – alone.
Granted, this personality trait is not without its consequences. Intimate relationships can be hard. As Eric Shaw Quinn once said to me, “Christopher, you’re looking for a boyfriend who will turn into an end table right after you have sex so you can set your drink on him.” (We’re starting an all new season of our Internet radio show next Sunday, September 13th, by the way, during which I’m sure Eric will say similarly cutting things on a wide variety of topics.) While I’ve gotten better in this regard, I’ve also run out of patience with the idea that I should fill my time with meaningless social interactions with people I don’t know or like very well just because I’m afraid of what other people will think of me when they find out I spent Saturday night – gasp! – alone. And if this rambling post has a point this is it.
If you’re one of those people who considers themselves a bubbly extrovert, take a minute to ask yourself if you’re really just a disingenuous psychopath whose terrified of being alone with your own thoughts and desperate to trick society into believing you’re well adjusted.
OK. Maybe that’s too harsh. Let me work on the phrasing.
If you’re one of those people who must be around people all the time, ask yourself if you actually like any of those people, or if you just don’t like the *idea* of being alone. And by *idea* of being alone, I mean ask yourself if you’re afraid of what other people will think of you if you do what you really enjoy doing, which is sitting alone at the bar at California Pizza Kitchen reading a gay romance novel.
I’m trying to globalize this post here. I really am.
Here’s another try. I like being alone. If you don’t, ask yourself if you truly enjoy being always in the company of others, or if a certain, pervasive social stigma around solitude sends you running straight into the arms of people you don’t know well, about whom you don’t really care.
How’s that?
Whatever you do, do NOT ask yourself why I’m writing this just a day after posting that I was in the home stretch on my latest Dark Nights novella. I’m allowed to take breaks. And you get more writing done when you’re.………………….!
Also, HOW DID I NOT KNOW THIS HAPPENED?
(*Granted, no one actually asked me any of these questions in the moment. But I’ve been asked versions of them before so I think it’s reasonably fair to insert them here even though I run the risk of making my concerned associate seem like a jerk when she wasn’t.)
When I was in my twenties, I hated being alone. Now I’m forty seven and I cherish it. I enjoy spending time with friends and family but a little bit goes a long way. Sometimes I do worry that I’m destined to become a shut in but blow it off quickly. By the way I love your writing a great deal and enjoy your hysterically funny tweets. Here’s to a nice quiet Saturday night.
Thank you, Will. And I agree with you, the older you get, a little bit of socializing goes a long way.
An only child who is now 54. Scares me sometimes how much being alone is natural and preferred. Rarely self-conscious eating alone anymore. The smartphone replaces the book these days. Great piece. Thanks for sharing.
I like alone time, I spend quite a bit of time just me, my patio, and my Kindle. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy the company of my husband, but I’m okay being alone and so is he. I think when people are in a relationship they think they “have” to spend every waking minute together and to be honest that’s not healthy. While I am a pretty social person and I enjoy my friend’s company there are times when I don’t want to talk, don’t want to listen, I just want to be alone with my own thoughts. So in this Christoper, you are not alone and there isn’t anything wrong with it because let’s face it if you can’t want to be by yourself, do other people really want to be around you? Hugs friend and well said, as usual.
I never thought about it that way, but you’re right. If you can’t enjoy your own company, why would anyone else?
I don’t think lonliness has much to do with actually being by ones self in a physical sense. I can be by myself and not feel lonely at all. And I can be out to dinner with a group of people or at a conference surrounded by hundreds of people and feel so lonely it becomes oppressive. I’m an only child (and a writer) so I’ve often craved being around others—but, for me, when I get that craving, what I want is intimacy, or the hope of future intimacy. I like being with people who I actively want to get to know better or who already know me and accept me, quirks and all. Being “on” all the time with people I don’t really know or who I know well enough to know they’re judging me or waiting for me to do something ridiculous is exhausting. As much as I do like/need interaction with others (for me, not becaue society dictates it) there are lots of things I love doing alone. Going to the movies alone gets you equal stares to dining alone—but I adore it. I get to sit in the row I want, I don’t have to share my candy, I don’t need to pretend I’m not crying at a sad scene because I don’t want whoever I’m with to feel uncomfotable or give me the eye roll and I can sit and watch every last damned credit if I feel like it without feeling guilty for “holding up” the group. I guess that makes me a people person who needs alone time for recharging and self-preservation. I like being alone as long as it’s not the lonely kind. But I hate feeling lonely in a group most of all. When you’re lonely by yourself you can fix it—watch a movie, read a book, write a book—you’re in control (unless a dreaded anxiety spiral hits, in which case you’re doomed, DOOMED, until it passes). When you’re lonely in a group it’s much harder to snap out of it or get away without looking like you’re rude/damaged/high maintenance/shy/unfriendly/bad. Regardless, a book and a nice dinner by yourself sounds like a good thing to me. I hope you enjoyed it.
Exactly. I’m glad you pointed out the difference between simply being in the company of others and experiencing true intimacy with another person. I also enjoy going to the movies by myself. On a weekday afternoon, when there’s no one else in the theatre.
I truly understand what you mean. I enjoy being alone more often than not, but I do have a good handful of really great close friends I enjoy spending time with. I will admit though that the thoughts of others when they see me dining alone in a restaurant, or alone in a crowded movie theater, keep me from doing those things without at least one other human being.
I’m a huge fan of solitude myself, and indeed I crave it despite living alone and working from home. Whenever I tell someone this, they usually say something along the lines of, “How do you deal with that? I couldn’t do it.” But it’s remarkably easy for me–though sometimes I wonder if I, perhaps, am the psychopath. 😉 One of my neighbors is in a long-term relationship where he and his boyfriend live apart except for weekends, and when I first found out about this, I was like, “How do I find someone wonderful who’d agree to this sort of arrangement?” One of the things I worry about most as a writer is how I could manage my writing if I ever got married. Might be the reason I have resisted commitment for so long. Or it might just be the fact that my characters are better company than most of my acquaintances.
Like Slick said above, I don’t think the key to a successful relationship is being lassoed to the other person at all hours. Eric Shaw Quinn always says he wants to marry a man who loves fishing because he hates fishing and that means the guy will have something to do on the weekends that gets him out of Eric’s way. If you’re truly going to be in for the long haul with someone, do you have to rush to spend every waking moment with them? I mean, there will be plenty of time to fight over the remote in the years to come, right?
Well, I spent my Saturday night working on my computer science homework. I’m an online student at Arizona State. Once I finished that, I suppose I could have gone out. To the same sh*t in the bars that is still going on here in Raleigh 23 years later. Here’s the thing…I’ll be 50 in February. And when I go out I still get approached by guys. Some much younger guys. And, oddly, that’s sort of enough for me. The one night stand thing is something I left behind in my twenties. And honestly, I really wasn’t that much into it back then.
So my Saturday night ended with me listening to the Original Cast recording of “Hair”. In German. I don’t know why. It just happened!
I agree with your post. Being alone doesn’t necessarily equate to being lonely. I feel that I’ve gotten to the point where I actually like myself. I enjoy my own company. Would I like to meet a nice guy? Of course! But if I don’t that’s okay too. I know who I am and am fortunate enough all these years later to be comfortable in my own skin.
As a very proud introvert, I agree with every part of this post. I don’t understand most people’s need to always have someone to go out to eat with, or to the movies with, or to a show with. What is the big deal about being in the company of yourself? I have no problem going to a restaurant with a good book and just enjoying eating and reading.
Plus, I tend to hate small talk. I’m not that good at it. It feels completely meaningless. And if I talk with someone, I want to get to know them. Let’s talk about something important. Or something frivolous, but delve deeply into the frivolous. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had great discussions on TV or plays or movies that many might call meaningless, but I found them completely satisfying.
If, on the off chance, I end up socializing with people in a group setting, and I don’t already know them, I tend to be the one on the side, gauging the situation first, being quiet until I know I can trust these people. Maybe that makes me the psychopath. Or possibly just a sociopath…
This is all to say, like you, I also don’t necessarily *not* want to find someone, but I do want them to be able to respect my need for alone time, or at the very least quiet time. Sometimes I feel most comfortable with people just being in the same room but not necessarily talking. Why society feels the need to have endless chatter is beyond me.
Of course, some people may be surprised that I do a lot of theatre, given that I love being alone. But that is a different type of social interaction, and I love it. But I also do need my down time after that social interaction.
This is getting long-winded. Not a surprise by any means. I can discuss being introverted for hours. To finish, I must say that I love some of the turns of phrases in this post. Specifically the ones about ignoring text messages. I may have to use the last excuse sometime.
Right on Christopher! I’m with you!
Despite the fact that I’m married and have a permanent attachment to my hip in the form of a 10 year old daughter, I really like being alone and always have. People that know me from my high school days are honestly surprised that I managed to stay in a relationship long enough to get married because I’m so solitary. I prefer going to eat by myself so I can read a book and enjoy my dinner slowly. I like the house totally quiet (no TV in the background) either on my computer or with my iPad in my hand, trusty Kindle app open. Don’t get me wrong, I like people. Sometimes. Friends are fun to have around. But I’ve always been rather quiet and solitary. Glad to see I’m not the only one who’s comfortable on their own.