The benefit of living of living alone was a popular topic on the web and TV this week, so I thought we could continue the trend here in our weekend open thread. In my single life, I had a total of five glorious years that I lived alone — the first time from ages 22 – 24 until I moved in with a boyfriend, and then again from 27 – 30 until I moved in with Drew. I loved almost everything about living alone: having full control of the TV, music, and temperature; eating whatever I wanted whenever I wanted; having only my own mess to deal with (which has always been pretty minimal — I’m a neat freak); inviting whomever I wanted over to my home at any time of the day or night and not having to check in with anyone else first; painting the walls whatever color I wanted (my last solo apartment — pictured above with Miles and Simone — was painted gold, mocha, purple, green, and a little bit hot pink. It was prettier than it sounds, trust.); no one around to see me in zit cream or unflattering tattered yoga pants; going to sleep at 9 PM without anyone teasing me; the Ben & Jerry’s was ALL MINE; spontaneous living room dance marathons to embarrassing music (Ace of Base, anyone?).
Don’t get me wrong, I love my life and living situation now (well, I could do without the 5 AM baby alarm…), but those years I lived alone were special times. I got to know myself really well and be shamelessly selfish in a way one can’t when she becomes a wife and mother. There were some tears shed when I worried I’d be alone forever, but mostly I enjoyed those years for what they were and realized I probably wasn’t always going to live alone — that eventually I’d find a guy who was worth giving up a bit of my independence for — and I should enjoy my own space while I could, so I did.
What about you? Those of you who currently live alone, what do you love about it? And those who once lived alone and no longer do, what do you miss most?