“Me” Not “We”*

I haven’t been single for a long time. Or in a long time. Honestly,** I never really enjoyed it, so I decided not to do it, and since I’m decent looking in the right light and tolerable most of the time it wasn’t ever hard to be dating “a person.”

That’s not the most attractive way to describe it, but it’s probably the most concise. And accurate.

Plus, I’m not aiming to be attractive right now. I’m trying to defer my student loans using an online customer service robot, and you know what? It worked. And I did it three weeks before the due date, which means no late fees or awkward phone calls. This is radically different behavior for me.

Current Hannah has her shit together, and it’s new and exciting. I went to the dentist the other day.  I’ve been doing yoga and eating kale, and also binge-watching Bob’s burgers and eating ice cream. My yoga instructor calls this “balance,” but my yoga instructor is also a YouTube channel so do what you want with that.

But whatever. The point is that I feel good about what’s going on in my life (mostly) and I think the root of my togetherness is that I’m not emotionally responsible for another person at the moment so I can do whatever I want – whether it’s rigorous yoga or gluttonous mouth-breathing – whenever I want. And, sleeping starfished across a nest of pillows on a queen-size bed is pretty neat, too.

However, the best part of being “‘me’ not ‘we'”*** is that I can calm the fuck down. I have a really hard time feeling safe when I’m around other people; it’s exactly as terrible as it sounds, but it’s a part of social anxiety, and there’s not anything I can do about it. This is usually okay because most of the time it’s not debilitating and I can ignore it or forget about it, which makes it fine.

But when it’s not fine, the only thing that makes it fine is turning into a goblin and hiding in my house for some hours (or days, but usually just hours). Then, I just take a shower and brush my teeth and everything goes back to normal.

Being with someone else means I can’t do that, at least without feeling like I’m upsetting or pushing away the other person. Or, without inviting them into my goblin dungeon which is absolutely not interesting to me. Goblin time is a one-person endeavor.

And no, I’m not about to start complaining about how difficult it is to find Good Men These Days because I’m sure they’re out there and I’m sure I’ll find one but I’m not too rushed on that at the moment. I’m actually just focused on celebrating the fact that I’ve had the same $700 in my savings account for over a month. Small victories are the best victories.

See, other people don’t stress me out because I have trust issues, or have experienced one-too-many bad breakups. They stress me out because I feel like I have to take care of them, and I can’t take care of more than one person at once. I can’t even take care of more than once cat at once; do you have any idea how frequently I clean the litter box or refill their water dispenser? Because the answer is not frequently in either case, which sort of works out because less water means less peeing and less peeing means less litterbox scooping for me. #lifehack

Anyhow, coming around on two months as a party of one, I can feel that dynamic changing. This is the part of the blog post where the ’90s sitcom theme music plays while I recount all the things I’ve done and am doing to improve my life: I’m going to bed early, reading books every day, turning my phone off when I get home, doing yoga while my coffee brews in the morning. And eating ice cream every day, usually while watching something humiliating on Netflix.

It’s not that I can’t do these things with another person. I’m sure there are people who like yoga and humiliating Netflix shows and run-on sentences just as much as I do, and I’m sure there’s also a person who can hang with my goblin times, and whose presence won’t bring out my inner goblin.

I’m also sure I’ll end up with one of those people eventually. But not today, because today I’ve got a doctor’s appointment and family dinner.

*Currently seeking volunteers to put me out of my misery.

**Initially typed “hoestly” which is contextually hilaaaaarious.

***I hoestly couldn’t think of a less terrible title which is a nightmare because titles are the face of my blog and if my blog has a bad face no one will read it because you’re all judgmental, shallow, dickholes but also please forgive the cheesesauce title because, again, best I could do.

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