My boyfriend is returning today after working in San Francisco since Friday. And I miss him. Honestly, much more than I thought I would…

See, I used to live alone. For seven years and to be frank, I loved it. I enjoy my alone time and relish in it so living with others has always been a bit difficult for me. I tend to hurt other people’s feelings simply by wanting to spend time alone so needless to say, I was looking forward to a three-day weekend flying solo.

Or so I thought.

After about twenty-four hours of all me time, which included cooking shrimp (something my boyfriend hates!), I began to notice a few things…

First off. Sleeping sucked. I woke up every three hours for some reason. And sleeping diagonal with one knee out just wasn’t what it used to be.

Also… I noticed he wasn’t there to show that I washed the floors and it made it not as satisfying. And arriving home after a long walk wasn’t the same without him being there to give me a big hug and ask about it, genuinely wanting to hear about the heart-shaped leaf I found or the funny saying on the corner church (“Soul Food Inside”). Cooking, even if it was shrimp, wasn’t as much fun without seeing my boyfriend clean his second helping. And I would have bet against it if someone told me I preferred to watch films with him rather than alone but it’s true. After watching both Indie films “Afternoon Delight” and “C.O.G.”, I wanted to hear his thoughts on them and wished he was beside me.

I began to think back on living alone all those years and suddenly, they weren’t as sunny as I remembered them. Lonely nights. Over indulging in vices. Days without human contact. Going in circles in my head with no one to pull me out…

I started out on Friday thinking I was getting a piece of my freedom back, living alone and answering to no one. But I ended up learning a valuable lesson.

I will always like my alone time but I like being around my boyfriend so much more.


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