People say living alone might get lonely. Honestly? I’ve been too busy not picking up someone else’s dirty socks from the bedroom floor to notice. There’s a certain kind of peace that comes from not tripping over last night’s tennis kit or discovering a rogue pair of underpants curled up behind the sofa like a sleeping cat.
Let’s break it down, shall we?
🧦 What I definitely don’t miss:
- Collecting sweaty laundry from the floor like it’s some kind of sport.
- Dirty kitchen scenes that looked like a documentary on modern chaos – all created after he made himself a sandwich.
- Flushing the toilet like I was on bathroom duty in a youth hostel.
- Washing up his “just two” items that magically turned into an entire sinkful.
- Shopping for all his favourite foods while forgetting what I actually like to eat (Wait… do I even like Wagon Wheels? Or was that him?).
- The smelly bed. Yes, I said it. I had the mattress cleaned and treated myself to fresh duvets. The air quality in the bedroom has improved dramatically.
- Paperwork on every surface like it was breeding overnight.
- The thrilling reminders that we needed printer ink – because obviously, I was the Ink Fairy.
- “Can you transfer money to the joint account?” – my least favourite question of all time.
- Booking the car like it was a corporate timeshare. “I’ll just pencil myself in for Tuesday if that’s okay…”
- “We’re not staying long” every time we saw my friends. (Guess what? Now I stay as long as I like.)
- Being instructed to tell my friends what he did or didn’t eat. I wasn’t dating a grown man – I was managing dietary PR.
- Eating out? Only if the restaurant passed the “His Palate Approval Test,” which left about three options in total, all beige.
- Getting told off for having more than two glasses. I wasn’t drunk – I was just finally relaxed. There’s a difference.
- The cold war with my friends and family because he didn’t “take to them.” They only loved me, how shocking.
- Cooking for his ungrateful family like I was applying for MasterChef: The Martyr Edition.
- Cooking for him and hearing absolutely zero appreciation. Not even a “that’ll do.”
- The sheer laziness. The Olympic-standard kind. The “I’ll-do-it-later-which-means-never” variety.
Honestly, the list could go on, but even I’m getting bored and I lived it.
What I do miss?
…Still thinking. Watch this space. (Don’t hold your breath though.)
Living on your own might mean occasionally talking to yourself while choosing which side of the bed you want tonight (left or right? Oh, the freedom!). But at least you’re not sharing your home, your peace, or your snack cupboard with someone who never even said thank you.
Here’s to clean sheets, an empty laundry basket, and only buying printer ink when you need it.
#SoloAndSanityIntact
#FreedomSmellsLikeFabricSoftener
#WhatDidHeEvenDoAllDay
