One reader tackles Jen’s question: Should I live alone?

I don’t need to tell readers of The Single Diaries about the merits of living ensemble. The promise of spontaneous dance parties, someone to turn off the curling/flat/clothes iron when you forget, a shoulder to cry on after a bad day, a partner-in-crime when you want to take down a bottle of Shiraz and watch bad (ok, really bad) reality TV. All that and more make the decision of living with friends, family or fellas an alluring and easy choice.
And yet, even with all those in the plus column, I’m sure a few of you have thought, even briefly, about what it would be like to live alone. After a couple experiences, how long before you start yearning to live without an all-night Real Housewives marathon when you have to get up early in the morning? Crusty spaghetti sauce all over the stove after a roommate’s attempt to “make it like Giada does”? Waking up to a strange person in your kitchen, drinking out of your favorite coffee mug? A ghost finishing the last of the hummus… again?
For me, the realization that I was ready to graduate from living with my roommate (and best friend!) came pretty quickly. A large part of it was that she was working from home, so when I got back to our apartment, she was (understandably) craving real interaction and ready to play. After spending all day in a corporate office, I was not. Couple that with my compulsive cleaning ethos and her lackadaisical it’s-just-going-to-get-dirty-again-so-why-bother approach, and soon my passive aggressive attempts to not be bothered by the living situation were becoming detrimental to our friendship. So, as much fun as it was for us to live together, I was ready for my own space—to be the queen of my own castle. And two years later, it’s one of my favorite things about this time in my life.
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