Before 2016, I had never lived by myself. It felt like something I could have really done, but never really had the chance (or balls) to.
So on the first of May, I moved out…
Don’t get me wrong, I love my mum – and if you knew our history, you’d know we were air tight close. Having her nearby was comforting, living with her with comfortable. I would get home ready to unload my frustrations, my accomplishments and my stories but equally eager to hear hers. But, as much as home was a safe haven for me, it also felt like I wasn’t really growing up. I was still a teenager, hanging out at home, drinking and gaming.
So when a friend of mine was looking for a new tenant in her flat, how could I turn a blind eye?
Look at their tired faces… my gorgeous little movers
The flat was small and in the roof of an old house, only big enough for one person. From the “hallway” (really it was a meter by meter) square with four doors leading from it) it had a reasonable sized bedroom that I managed to fit in my bed, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. The living room was bigger with a large window looking at the top of a gorgeous tree; off from the living room, there was a small bathroom with a toilet, a shower cubicle and a sink. The third doorway was the kitchen which was only big enough for a fridge, a washing machine and a hob.
I loved living by myself; have my own little set up, knowing that the mess I was cleaning up was made by me… walking round completely naked and sleeping / eating / watching / doing what I want was empowering. Once (and I’m pretty proud of this) I even ate a whole cheesecake by myself in one sitting. No guilt. No shame.
But it also got pretty lonely. In leaving the family home, I left behind my dog Chaz. A flat is no home for a dog who wasn’t bought up in one, especially when I wasn’t always in – and I traveled a lot with work. I missed him terribly, and would head home three times a week at least to see him. He was my guy after all.
But soon the loneliness kicked in. The memories of my past started to linger a little too long to be comfortable and I sought relief from other places. But I realised, this wasn’t an exercise of leisure, this was me growing into my skin. I would never find myself relying on someone else to provide for me, because I did it for myself. If I was to live with anyone again it would be by choice… no convenience.
I only needed a year alone to meet the guy I would be the most happiest with.