Of course, being alone is not always a lofty affair. Sometimes you are unshowered and cleaning the toilet. But I still like it. I like that you can do those things that you don’t do in front of other people. I don’t mean masturbating, farting or peeing with the bathroom door open. That goes without saying. I mean those things that you do that only you know that you do and would likely kick a puppy to keep it that way.
On a Sex and the City episode, the girls called it single behaviour. Carrie’s thing was eating crackers and peanut butter in a stack while reading fashion magazines by the stove. Charlotte’s thing was staring at her pores for hours. It’s just weird shit that you do that you don’t want other people to know that you do.
Here are a few of mine:
Eat a whole box of Cheese Nips. But not in one sitting. I like to eat a bunch. Put them away. Eat a bunch. Put them away. And towards the end of the box, I like to tell myself it’s not worth putting them away, so I finish the box. Most trips to and from the cupboard are spent chewing. In other words, there is very little time between putting the box away and grabbing the box again. And I eat them by the three-to-fives.
Watch bad rom-coms. Even if I’ve seen the movie before. Even if I’ve seen the movie before and didn’t like it. I have a gift for sitting through horrible rom-coms. If Julia Roberts is in them, all the better. However, I also think they are ridiculously bad for our collective psyches, especially in regards to romantic relationships. I watch them thinking I am above it all. I’m not.
Do aerobic workouts. You might think this is a good thing, a healthy thing. But my lack of coordination does not lend itself to elegance. I cannot follow even the simplest of choreography. I did a ballet-style workout recently and felt rather graceful while doing it. So much so, I thought I’d check myself out in the mirror to see my sophistication first hand. Big mistake. Not elegant. I looked more like a fat man on moving day navigating a spiral staircase while grappling with three heavy, oddly-shaped boxes.
Pretend to read. You know what I mean. Pretending to read is when you grab a book, curl up on the couch and read maybe half a page before placing it on your chest and falling promptly asleep. I have no intention of getting past one page in these cases, and I know I’m going to wake myself up with a big ladylike snort because I’m sleeping on my back with my head raised. Just darling.
Listen to embarrassing music. I like Journey, but not in front of people. And I can sing Blue Rodeo’s Try better than Jim Cuddy. But not in front of people. These are guilty pleasures and self-deceptions best kept secret. (Unless you have a blog. If you have a blog, apparently you have to tell everyone your secrets. Sigh.)
Mine! Because I really do pig out on Cheese Nips. : )