Grey’s Anatomy (yes, I still watch Grey’s Anatomy. Shut up. You should too.) last night had this great scene where Meredith and Bailey and Amelia and the new sister of Meredith’s whose name I don’t even know yet were sitting around talking about being alone.
And mostly everyone said they didn’t like being alone or sleeping alone or going through life alone. And then the new sister said that she couldn’t sleep if someone else was in bed with her and told this whole story about how her great boyfriend proposed but when she came clean about needing to sleep alone, he broke up with her and married someone else. “Maybe,” she concluded, “I’m too good at being alone.”
I’m probably too good at being alone too. Sometimes I think I should get out and see the world more. But only so I’ll have interesting things to think about and write about and learn about.
It’s possible those aren’t the reasons I should consider leaving the house.
(And sure, I just spent six months traveling the United States in an RV, so it’s not like I haven’t left the house at all. But even then, I didn’t really go out of my way to talk to anyone.)
Sometimes, when I’m alone and it’s quiet, I think: I can’t imagine disruption from this.
But then other times, but only very select times with very select people, I think, maybe not being alone isn’t so bad either.