Me, Myself, & I

Earlier today I posted on Facebook asking others what things they do alone that are typically done in pairs or groups. Initially, I was going to start by listing the things that I do alone: eat at diners / restaurants / bars, go to the movies, get tattoos, hang out at the park, go for rides, take day trips, etc., but surprisingly I didn’t. I was immediately satisfied with the decision because it gave some of the people I know the chance to be proud of their solo accomplishments. And of course it added to the confidence I had already built up to help give me the push I needed to do more things on my own. You see, Steven Wright is doing stand-up nearby next month and I bought two tickets, but I haven’t really thought of anyone I’d want to go with…well, except one person, but I would want it to be as friends and I’m pretty sure he would see it as a date. Therefore I may not even ask. So when I found out that the (remaining) Monkees were going to do a 50th Anniversary tour and would be in Boston in May, I originally went for the two tickets. When my cart’s balance was upwards of $200, I thought again. Could I do this thing by myself? Would I have a better time if someone were accompanying me? It took me three days to finally answer the question, but the truth is: this is a personal thing for me. The Monkees were the first concert I’d ever been to. Davy Jones was my imaginary (boy/best)friend when I was 8 years old. I learned how to play Monkees songs on my guitar when I was younger. I couldn’t watch Idiocracy without thinking of Peter Tork and his failed job interview with the machine that replaced a human. I had to get a picture of myself with the Monkeemobile when it was at the NJ Balloon Festival the day my last relationship ended. So this event is for me. Now The Monkees will be my first concert ever (Jones Beach in 1987 when I was five), but it will also be my first solo concert (2016 at age 34). I know it may not even be what is typically considered a “concert,” but that’s probably better– a transitional event, if you will. I have to say, I’m excited. I’m my favorite date and I’ve yet to let myself down on any of my solo adventures. I’m forever grateful that I don’t have another person. My friends and my roommate and my acquaintances around Worcester are all great to have when I get lonely and then magically disappear when I’m done with them. It’s the exact same reason I’m perfectly happy working with children all day and coming home to a cat (which, ideally will be a dog one day). I’m going to be 34 years old and I haven’t yet been bitten by the “OMG I NEED A BABY GIVE ME ONE RIGHT NOW I AM RUNNING OUT OF TIIIIIIME!” bug, so fingers crossed things don’t change. Because I love me. I love going out with me. I love planning extended weekend trips with my favorite people, I love choosing to book a visit to Ice Castles on a Thursday for that Sunday (tomorrow, can’t wait!), I love not having to clear anyone else’s schedule unless I want to, I love that I could go to the movies with a chill person (Nunez, today, so great!), or by myself (Star Wars–twice!).  And I love that I have friends who also do these things and are clearly happy with their choices and encourage me to think about why I choose not to do things at times and to push myself.

I truly have the greatest support system ever. And yes, some of them are through the internet, but they’re all people I have or do or will spend time with in real life, so my father’s previous claim that I am a sad, lonely person whose only friends were on the Internet can echo in his awful, shitty-person ears. I have never been happier with my “people,” and I think I’m only becoming better so I know the people around me will too.


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