I know a lot of people hate being alone, but I love it. Being able to look like absolute trash (and eat absolute trash) without anyone watching me makes me feel like the sexiest, most confident person in all the land. I’m pretty much addicted to rolling solo and I’m perfectly OK with that.
Making plans is the most exhausting thing. There’s nothing I hate more than making plans with people—not just because I prefer to spend quality time alone, but because people suck at making plans. They always want to do something fun and “rage all night” but they never want to take the time to create a detailed plan that makes sense. I’m sure as hell not going to do it, so I end up in the most arbitrary group chats where everyone’s talking but no one is really saying anything and that drives me insane.
I don’t really experience FOMO. I’m not the kind of person who wonders what I’m missing if I don’t attend some big event. While others stalk social media looking for parties and get-togethers, I can happily put my phone away and not give a crap if I’m missing out on “the party of the year.” Why would I when I’m so comfortable on my couch?
My favorite clothes are no clothes at all. Pretty much every woman can relate to getting home after work, taking her bra off, and just enjoying the lack of clothes on her body. Maybe I enjoy that feeling more than the average person, but either way, I make no apologies because stripping down and throwing on a baggy t-shirt will ALWAYS sound better than leaving my work clothes on and going out to dinner.
I weirdly enjoy talking to myself. I have full-blown conversations with myself about everything. Sure, some people might find it weird, but I think it shows how close I am to myself. Instead of having to call up my friends whenever there’s a problem, I ask myself instead. I talk it through with the person in my head (AKA me) until I have a firm understanding or solution to my problem. Unfortunately, I can’t go around talking to myself in public—I have to be in private for that.
I’m easily overwhelmed by other people. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m highly sensitive, but I’m always so mentally (physically and spiritually) exhausted after spending time with people. Don’t get me wrong, when I’m out with good people doing cool things, I do enjoy myself. But after it’s over, I’m ready to go to bed and never see a living soul again.
I don’t like anyone enough to see them regularly. I love my friends, but I’m perfectly fine seeing them once every month if that. I’m sorry but the last thing I want to do after a long day at work (even after a short day at work) is go home, get dressed, and meet up with people at happy hour. That sounds absolutely horrible to me and there’s no one (NO ONE) I enjoy enough to make time for such a thing.
My stomach is happier when I eat alone. Eating out with people is such a drag. You constantly have to compromise on what restaurant you want to go to and no one is ever pleased with the final decision. The person who’s not pleased is typically me, seeing as I can’t eat dairy or gluten (yeah, I’m that person), so I usually end up with a salad and I hate salads. All I’m saying is, if I’m going to eat, I’d much rather do that eating alone so I can really enjoy every single bite.
I’d rather wait for my packages. I’ve canceled a number of plans solely because I was waiting for packages to be delivered. Yes, I’m serious. I’ve sat at home lounging and just waiting in anticipation for the doorbell to ring. If that doesn’t prove I’m addicted to alone time, I truly don’t know what would.
When I’m alone, I’m focusing on myself. Some people think being alone is sad, and I guess it is if you’re doing nothing but scrolling through Instagram or Facebook. I’m not doing that. When I’m alone, I’m focusing 100% on myself. I’m doing things I want to do. I’m applying sheet masks (I’m obsessed with those things) and I’m binge-watching The Resident on Hulu. The point is, I’m taking the time to truly decompress and focus on myself and my interests.
The more time I spend alone, the happier I am. When I’m alone, I’m living my best life. I’m not dealing with other people’s noises and opinions. It’s a magical and freeing time, and the more I do it, the more I love it. In fact, the more I crave it. When I’m out with other people, I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want to be home alone.
Nothing puts a smile on my face like canceled plans. Seriously, nothing. I’m my happiest when people are canceling plans, and lucky for me, they tend to do it a lot. Why? Because they’re secretly just like me, addicted to being alone—they’ll just never admit it. Everyone wants to appear young and fun, but really we’re old (and getting older) and boring. Why is that a bad thing?
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