At night, I am the drunk woman at the party. Gesticulating with her wine glass, and pointing at things with poking disapproval. And another thing…
Oh no, she’s dancing now. Just don’t look.
This is one of my fears.
When Seb was here there was always a safe place to put that woman. Now she is an echo in the dark. She hasn’t happened and yet she feels so embarrassing there are already a series of cringey anecdotes built up in my mind. None of them have taken place. They are not a story I need to tell.
I wonder if it is part of being female and how we can judge our worth on how much company we have. What is it that shows us that we are okay and we’ve got life right- someone to come home to and a safe place where the Super Noodles will be pried out of our hands and replaced with a glass of water and a nice lie down. Perhaps it is absolutely nothing to do with gender; I have never been a lonely man.
One of the problems with being able to type all these thoughts, is that I have no way of getting them bounced back, or debated. Not in a sense where the conversation will just flex itself through the day. The general callbacks that happen when you live with someone else. The things that don’t require too much context. Having someone to be vulnerable alongside is what I miss. We are both not sure, but more sure together- so let’s give the world that.
I am 39 next week. This may be responsible for all the introspection. Here are 39 women to help me out.