My husband is traveling.
And while I miss him, I look forward to having time to myself. Deep down (okay, not really all that deep), I’m a loner. I need to be by myself sometimes. Otherwise I go into overload. When he’s gone, I like to watch what I want, when I want; sit in bed and eat chips and dip and apples for dinner without hearing any shit about it; I like to give myself facials and apply face masks, check out my pores in the mirror; and once in a while, I’ll pee with the bathroom door open so I can see the TV.
Do you remember that episode of Sex and the City where the girls talk about Secret Single Behavior? It’s like that. Basically, I like to do all those things you do when you live alone—the things you probably wouldn’t do in front of your spouse or roommate.
But it’s not meant to be, apparently. There’s a conspiracy to make sure that I don’t have more than 5 uninterrupted minutes to myself. Because even though I’m 40 years old, I am not to be trusted to be alone in my own house.
My parents invited me come out over the weekend, so I spent a couple of days with them. On the drive home I must have gotten 373 phone calls from them to make sure I was getting home safely. Apparently, when my husband is gone I lose all ability to drive rationally and safely. (And, you know, answering the phone every two minutes while I’m driving isn’t dangerous—at all.)
I pull up to my house Sunday afternoon, unload the dog and my bag, walk into the house, close the garage door and in the time it takes me to walk from the garage to the bedroom, there’s someone at my front door. I knew immediately who it was.
I’ve affectionately dubbed the neighbors across the street The Kravitz’. They are very sweet but it’s like having my parents live across the street. They know everything that goes on at our house. I’m usually greeted with “Wow, you guys got home late last night.” Or “So I saw all those shopping bags you brought home.” Or my favorite: “It took you so long to bring your trash cans in that I just did it for you.”
They mean well, but after all these years, they don’t understand that loner part of me.
So…back to the door.
The doorbell rings,. My instinct is to pretend I didn’t hear it, that I was in the bathroom. But Mr. Kravitz is too experienced (and patient) for that. So I went to the door. He very nicely invited me over for dinner that night. I begged off because I was tired (and really, because I just spent the entire weekend with my real parents).
“Are you sure? It’s going to be good.”
“I know it is, and I really appreciate it, but I’ve been gone all weekend and I’m tired and have a few things to take care of to get ready for the week.” [Translation: I want to put my sweats on, paint my toes, catch up on Grey's Anatomy and take a hot bath.]
“Yes, but you have to eat dinner.”
“I’m fine, but I appreciate it.”
“SIGH. Okay, let me know if you change your mind.”
About 15 minutes later Mrs. Kravitz calls.
“I know Mr. Kravitz already invited you but I just wanted to make sure you knew we haven’t eaten yet and you’re still welcome to come over. I know Bill is gone so we want to make sure you’re okay.”
I told her what I told Mr. K and thanked her.
For the rest of the night the phone rang off the hook. If it wasn’t Mr. and Mrs. Kravitz (“Everything okay over there?”) it was my parents (“Are you okay? Are you afraid?)
Monday morning, I was running a little late for work and when I finally opened the garage door to leave (10 minutes late) Mr. Kravitz was walking across the street to make sure I was…what? Awake? Not dead?
Last night, I settled into a hot bath and the phone rang. Obviously, I didn’t answer it.
It rang again.
I couldn’t quite hear the voice mail.
Until it rang again.
“MAUREEN!!!! THIS IS YOUR MOTHER! ARE YOU THERE? WHERE ARE YOU?? PICK UP THE PHONE!”
Holy fucking shit. My mother was having a meltdown because she couldn’t get me on the phone right then. It was like 9:00 p.m. so where the hell would I be? Um, in the tub?
So I hauled my wet ass up the hallway to get the phone, while simultaneously trying not to electrocute myself and slip and fall.
“Where were you? Why didn’t you pick up the phone?” The terror was palpable.
“Jesus, Mom. I was in the tub.”
“Well, why didn’t you take the phone with you?”
“Shit, I don’t know. Because I was trying to relax???”
“How did I know you weren’t dead? Or hurt. Answer the damn phone when I call.”
“Mom, you can’t freak out if I don’t pick up the phone right way. Don’t assume I’m dead. Or hurt. Or anything. I can’t do this every freaking day.”
“So you’re fine.” [imagine ice cold tone, hurt voice]
“Yes. I’m fine. I’m soaking wet. Can I go back to the tub now?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “Take the phone with you. I don’t mind.”
“But I do.”
Seriously, she got pissy with me and hung up all hurt and dejected.
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When did I become an invalid? When did getting married mean that I could no longer function as an individual? I used to live alone. I came and went without having to answer to anyone. I could have my lights on late without getting a phone call asking me if I was okay and why was I still up? I didn’t have to report to anyone when I came or went.
I appreciate everyone looking out for me. I really do. But I just want to have my time to myself. Just me and the dog. And my face masks. And the open bathroom door.
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PS Bill: If you’re reading this, thanks a fucking lot. I know this is your doing!
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PSS Eve: If YOU’RE reading this, I know you know the Kravitz’. PLEASE don’t EVER tell them about this blog.
Hi there – I came to you by way of Dad Gone Mad, and I wanted to tell you after reading your comment that your bravery will come when the time is right for you. On *your* time table. Not ours. I have been in a crappy marriage and I left it. And I am now in a happy marriage that is challenging and the challenging is okay because at the core we are both on the same page.
For me my work began when I got sick and tired of being sick and tired. And yours will to. I like your blog I want to continue to read if you are okay with that.
About that comment over there, my issue is that I just shut down instead of engaging. That’s totally my fault. It’s easier to disengage than do the brave thing and do the work.
Thank you for coming by! I’m glad to have you!
My mom does the same thing! Of course, she acts like that even if my husband is home. And she’ll do the ‘I’ve been trying to call you for hours’ and then when I check my call log, she called twice. But I guess her version is better for the guilt trip. It’s kind of funny, but really just totally annoying when you want to relax and not talk to anyone. Or take a long bath or a nap in the middle of the day or watch a movie.
I sooooo understand this! I am such a loner – I prefer watching tv by myself to watching the exact same show with someone else. And spending all day with three little kids means I get almost no alone time -naptime and bedtime are sacred! I get pissed when my husband calls me on his way home from work when the kids are napping and then wants to chat the whole time. You’re going to be home in ten mintues, we can talk then!! You’re ruining my last little bit of solitude, GAH!!
Best thing that ever happened to me was that my husband started snoring so he sleeps in the guest room, and he works at 6am so he goes to bed by 9:30pm. Now I get my evenings and bed all to myself!
I think everyone needs some time to themselves. It’s good to shut your head off and just be. Maybe “Be-ing” in front of The Real Housewives of Orange County/New Jersey/New York/Beverly Hills doesn’t seem like quiet time to everyone, but to each his own, right?! *wink*
realized the last part didn’t post (and it took me this long dealing with children to get back to fix it)
I had just wanted to add that reading this made me so mad! You are clearly a better person than I because after that drive home the Kravitz’ would have gotten an earful about leaving me alone, and most likely so would have my mother for interrupting me in teh tub and acting like I was at fault. Congrats on your patience!
I know the Kravitz couple? Hmmmm. You should’ve married Fire instead of Police. The shift is so confusing to people that they never know. That an a company car – tell Bill to get one – so his own car stays in the driveway even when he’s gone.
Hahahaha! Nothing so simple as switching cars would deter the Kravitz’. They are a force of nature not to be trifled with. (LOVE the name Maureen and am similiarly sworn to secrecy.)
I’m officially outing myself as feeling exactly the same way you do about needing time alone. (Sometimes I think it’s why I get sick. Because, when I’m sick, my room-mate – aka ‘wife’ – leaves me alone to putter around as I like. Thanks to YK I have TV in the bedroom and it’s heaven on earth. Sometimes I just ‘VANT TO BE ALONE.’)
So – next time tell everyone that you are having a meditative ‘isolation’ while Bill is out of town. Let the Kravitz know you are on a fast and vow of silence? And tell your parents you are going to a spa retreat with no phones?
Or – tell everyone your dirty, little secret. for 24-78 hours you don’t care if there’s another human being onn earth and that you feel you’ve earned the right to be entirely selfish. (whether you have or not;>)
I love that you know who I’m talking about. I forgot that you’ve been stalked by The Mrs. so you totally understand.
I’ve come to realize that the Socialites don’t understand the Loners and the need to be alone, so telling them that I need my space doesn’t register. So I hide and duck and hope no one is in the kitchen watching me leave! Or come home!
But I like the “meditative isolation.” I’m going to use that.
Maybe one of these days we can both emerge from isolation and get together for tacos and beer. Bike riding optional.
LOVE this post!!
don’t remember how i came upon your blog, but i’ve been enjoying it…silently. but i HAD to agree w/ you on this one. my husband’s retired, but i’m not. when i go to work he’s home. when i get home he’s home. grrrrrrr i would ADORE a lil me-time.
keep up the good blog!
Just came across your blog and I’ve really enjoyed reading your posts.
My mother is the same way — and I just had to laugh out loud about your phone conversation.
If I’m not available to my mother, sister or husband at all times, they picture me dead. If I don’t return a phone call within a few minutes, it’s like, “where are you? are you okay? Do you need me to come over?”
It’s nice to be loved, but sometimes it can be suffocating.