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Being alone takes adjustments

April E. Clark
Glenwood Springs CO Colorado

I’m the type of person who prefers having people around me. Being alone is not exactly how I picture spending my weekends.

Unless naked pole vaulting is involved.

But lately I’ve been trying to do more by myself, whether it’s shopping, skiing or just sitting around the house watching TV.



And it’s been a test, to say the least.

My friends advise that spending time alone is good for me, especially for my love life. Guys seem to have no problem doing it. A lot of men I know have told me they enjoy their alone time.



I bet they do.

To my surprise, I’m coming around to the idea.

In Flagstaff, I lived alone. No roommates. The whole place all to myself. That living arrangement had its perks. There was the freedom to walk around naked. Burp like my brother. Or sleep at odd hours of the day without feeling guilty or lazy.

Some days were great.

Others were as lonely as Eleanor Rigby.

When I came darn near close to darning socks in the night, my friend Deja saved the day by joining me for Trashy Reality TV Night. This involved indulging in such television programming atrocities as “A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila” and “I Love New York 2.” We would pass the time making up adjectives using the word trashy, i.e. trashtastic, trasherrific, trashmendous.

Way better than feeling lonely.

Or darning socks in the night.

Now that I’m back in Glenwood, I’ve had to spend some time alone as well. I’ve gone skiing a couple times by myself. And shopping. That can have its perks.

Known for my slow pace, I can take my time browsing the deodorant section (so many choices!) when I’m alone. And I can move at April speed when making it down the stairs to Sunlight’s bottom parking lot without rushing and falling head first. That’s one embarrassing feat I’ve accomplished in a desperate attempt to keep up with an ex-boyfriend.

Talk about not bringing sexy back.

Hanging out by myself provides all that freedom to do anything I want, whenever I want. My married friends in Indy find this enviable. Independence can definitely equate to a good time. I have plenty of hours to sit around and think about what I want to do in life, my perfect mate and what I would wear to the Oscars if I were invited.

A girl needs her dreams.

All this contemplation has been good for me. Even when I’m driving down the road, I find myself smiling more. There’s no one to bring me down, right? After all, having fun is pretty much a priority in my life.

That really helps my mom not worry.

But freedom from accountability can have its disadvantages. Being alone is no fun when I’m watching a comedy. Laughing alone for me is like playing tennis without a partner, volleying against one of those wood boards screwed to a chain link fence.

Kind of takes all the fun out of an ace.

I’d like to think hanging out alone is easier on my budget. Hardly. Since moving back to Glenwood, my pocketbook’s had more action that Paris Hilton during a night out in Vegas. Too bad I don’t have her bank account.

I’ll pass on her reputation, though.

Unfortunately spending money seems to be a lot easier when I don’t have someone there to say, “Are you sure you need to buy another Def Leppard CD?” or “You need another tutu like you need a hole in your head.”

Hey, a girl can never have too many tutus. Especially when she has the apartment to herself and she can dance like no one is watching.

My new alone-time initiative even has people taking notice. Sunday I was skiing at Sunlight and my friend Kelly was surprised to see my going stag.

“Who are you here with?” she asked.

“No one,” I confidently replied. “I came by myself.”

“You never do anything by yourself,” she said, surprised.

“Well now I do, ” I said with my signature grin.

That felt nice, declaring my independence without feeling bad that I couldn’t find any friends to accompany me. It didn’t matter in the end really. I ran into plenty of people I knew ” like my friend Elam, who came there alone, too.

No one has friends on a powder day anyway.

And when it was time to leave we left in our own cars. Moving at our own pace. Singing loudly like no one was listening.

Maybe even wearing a tutu.

OK, maybe that was just me.

April E. Clark hopes she’s at least not alone on Valentine’s Day, one of her favorite holidays. She can be reached at aprilelizabethclark@yahoo.com.


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