Today was a long day. I was on my (high-heeled clad) feet for most of the sun-filled hours of the day. This has left my temples pumping, my eyes itching and my feet hurting like a b#@ch.
Hours before coming home I was envisioning the comforting safety of my heavenly bed and a warm cup of tea with honey. So here I am right now, by myself, tea in hand, browsing the news and some hilarious blogs when a thought strikes me out of the blue:
I am alone. Huh? Right away, my subconscious responds in an attempt to straighten out this hideous “idea”: YOU frigging chose to be ALONE, you moron!!!
(Yes I talk to myself. Creepy? Nah uh. We all do it, admit it already!)
So then something else weird happens. There is a sense that I would LIKE to have someone with me right now, sharing my privacy, even if that meant he would see me in my hideous pj-ensemble. I know, it doesn’t seem to be such an abnormal feeling for most women – but for me – it’s like finding out my mother is in fact f@#*ing my ex-boyfriend (which unluckily actually did happen in the past).
A revelation like that is a huge shocker for an independent-and-loving-it kinda girl like me.
I would love to give up my favourite soapy for the evening if that meant I had someone rub my shoulders, run a bath or wash the dishes for me on days like these when coming home to an empty apartment seems a heartless experience…
Single Strife to Happiness 