I’ve lived alone for over two years now. And it has its ups and downs, total freedom to do whatever you want and nobody to complain or nag you about what you’re doing, at what time, and with WHOM? Well that is great, but it’s also countered by there being nobody else to ‘delegate’ taking out the bins to, nobody to bribe to wash your car, and nobody to bore you senseless with sports you don’t give a toss about like tennis, fishing and rugby. Oh wait, that’s another plus!
You can watch whatever you want on TV or in my case hours of Pewdiepie on YouTube without anyone asking why I am watching someone else play video games when I don’t even own so much as a Nintendo DS, and you don’t have to deal with wet towels EVERYTHING left randomly on the floor.
There are, however a few misconceptions and/or disadvantages to living alone that I want to address:
One
Why do people think you wander round the house naked like Rachel from Friends? That is not what I do! Perhaps just knowing I ‘could’ if I wanted to is enough. But you could wander round naked with your partner surely if you lived with them couldn’t you? If your own partner isn’t up for seeing you naked I would be a bit worried! No naked antics from me, I wold get way too cold doing that, and then you’d have to sit on a towel in case you got cat hair on your bum. It’s just too much effort.
I do however feel perfectly happy wearing wildly inappropriate outfit choices, a crop top and joggers which I wouldn’t in a million years wear outside, now perfectly fine! Things with stains on, hey who cares, I’m saving washing, I’m saving water, I am practically saving the planet single handed! Prancing about for hours in brand new heels just because duh they are pretty, it’s all totally normal…ish, I mean I was breaking them in, to err stop blisters, not to have a dance party in my pants, that would just be ludicrous…!
Two
Exploding bin bags are always a problem. You try and ram as much as you can in the bin to extend the
time from having to carry them down to the apartment bin room until they are rapidly overflowing and resemble Kim Kardashian’s butt in a bodycon pencil skirt. Inevitably somewhere between the kitchen and the bin room, the bag bursts and explodes, leaving you with the worst scenario ever…do I run away and pretend it wasn’t me, or do I stay and pick up all of this ming without any gloves….it’s just too much to handle alone!! Tip 1 – check for CCTV cameras before running.
Three
Where is the fuse box, and what on earth does it do? Why are there 500 switches, all I want to press is the right one, I just want the lights on! Damn that cheapo Tesco toaster, why did it have to blow everything up! What are you supposed to do when you’re sat on Friday night in the pitch black because you don’t even know how to work your own flat? YouTube…that’s the answer. You literally YouTube how to fix your fuse box, well I did. Sad but true. Let’s be honest at least it worked or I’d still be in the dark a year later.
Four
Who the hell left all of this washing up in the sink? Oh wait, it was me. Dammit! Nobody to moan at and force to do the washing up, as it was you. Leaving it until tomorrow always sounds like the best plan, until tomorrow comes and there are people coming over. You can’t admit you live like this! Clean woman, clean like the wind!
Five
What if I die and am found four weeks later? Sometimes I do stop and think, while prodding the fuse box, attempting to open the bonnet of my car or standing on a chair precariously trying to change a lightbulb – what if I fall off here and die? What if this explodes and sets my hair extensions on fire? What if I choke on this chocolate and people find my weeks later with my cat eating the remains of me, while I’m decomposing holding a half-eaten snickers? The shame.
Six
If there is a noise in the night it’s up to ME to investigate. I have no training, I am not big or burly,
I could probably punch someone square in the eye and they would barely feel it. Every noise, every bang or stomp or shout from someone on the street. Instant ghost/burglar. You find yourself wandering your rooms with a torch and a stiletto to go and protect yourself from imminent danger, knowing full well if there was anything you would simply throw both at them and run away.
Seven
Changing the duvet cover is now like a military operation that always starts with me attempting to neatly turn the duvet cover inside out, find the corners and then unfold the cover over the duvet in an easy and quick motion. It basically becomes a fight to the death with me ending up inside the duvet cover, effing and blinding and attempting to find the corners whilst looking like a cut price Casper the ghost inside a sheet. This either ends with me getting so annoyed I crawl out of the cover and give up for a few hours or just haphazardly bunching it up and throwing it on the bed and pretending that was how I wanted it.
Eight
I talk to my cat. And inanimate objects. I laugh along with the TV and yes, when they ask a question, sometimes I even reply. When watching comedy central I often crack up laughing and say aloud ‘oh my god, that is hilarious’, I often tell Chloe from TOWIE, aloud, that she needs to just marry Elliot and stop moaning because nobody else is going to put up with her whining. I could simply talk to myself in my head, but yeah, I don’t. I also like conversations with the cat, no arguing just some unfortunate meowing (which in hindsight probably means shut up you freak) but sometimes you just need a second opinion, you know? It’s probably not normal to admit this but you’re never going to argue with yourself and you generally just agree, so it’s always a nice peaceful conversation. Well that’s my perfectly logical reasoning anyway.
Nine
Why do people think the fun part of living alone is doing whatever you want? It’s doing whatever you want without judgement or comment.You can do whatever you want, well within reason, if you live with anyone, murder or terrorist, probably not going to be your flatmates idea of suitable passing of time. Really it’s just the moaning or nagging that is the problem about living with other people, they don’t think it’s acceptable you wearing a onesie for a week straight, that there are crumbs in the bed or that catfish is your favourite, for six hours, on a Saturday night. Judgmental bastards.
Ten
Killing bugs is a nightmare. From the time you construct a whole plan to ‘act casual’ as you jauntily saunter up to said spider and smash it to bits with your shoe, only to find out that you’ve spent the last half an hour freaking out about a bit of fluff from the tumble drier casually masquerading as a spider to the time last Summer a fly got in, laid eggs in the carpet underneath a massive rug and unbeknown to me set up a whole eco system of maggots and eggs in my front room. The aftermath of this was a tantrum, tears and a virtual tsunami of bug killing sprays, liquids and steam cleaning equipment that damn near killed me and the cat, let alone the bugs, at least the fumes got me high enough to calm down slightly, see there’s always a silver lining.
In conclusion, living alone is a great thing to do at some point in your life, but really the ultimate goal is to find someone to live with that doesn’t care that your are a bit of a freak. But then again while you can sometimes get lonely you also have sooooo many moments, like when you’re passing out drunk in the hallway fully clothed after falling over the doormat after a night clubbing, wearing the sombrero that came from…somewhere… when you just think THANK GOD NOBODY ELSE SAW THAT!