I'm Just too Good to be True

When you first read what I am about to share with you, you are going to think it is sad and pathetic. But after you let it sink in, you will know it is sad and pathetic. Not really. That was like a joke only smaller.

I like being alone. I cherish being alone. I look forward to being alone. Don't go, "aww." I'm not lonely. Some of my best and certainly my most creative times occur when I am alone. I get me. I crack myself up. I never come up with a bit that I don't get. And I come up with a lot of bits. Face it. I've shared all the same experiences with myself, so there's never a reference I don't understand. If I had an audience of mes (wow, what's the plural of me?), we'd leave the theater in tears after giving me a standing ovation.

That's not the only benefit, however. There is never a silver lining to losing your life partner, but it made me appreciate my time alone. I had to. Through no fault of our own, Melissa and I didn't have many close friends. We did the couples hang-out thing from time to time, but not on a regular basis. Add to that that I have no close friends of my own, and you see where I'm headed.

Let's look at the downside. Everyone has those awful experiences or even whole days that they need to share with someone. It's nice to come home and unburden yourself to a spouse, parent, friend or even a dog. I do that on occasion, but think about it. Does it make you feel better? Maybe. But now you may have spread your contagious depression to your loved one. That person/animal probably feels worse now, especially if he or she can't help.

So who knows how to help? Who knows best what you need? Yes, both rhetorical questions. I can't tell you how many times I've cheered myself up. I've become good at it. I have a karaoke system in my basement that cost about $700 bucks, but it has saved me thousands in therapy. Fifteen minutes could save you....I feel like I've heard that before.

I've developed this insatiable ambition lately, because without friends or a partner it's too easy to become a davenport spud. Or futon tuber if you prefer. In the last month I've re-read Treasure Island, The Hunchback of Notre Dame (in original French...yeah, right), Moby Dick, Fahrenheit 451, White Fang and Ivahoe. Right now I am on chapter four of Vingt mille lieues sous les mers. Ok, it's Twenty-thousand Leagues Under the Sea, but doesn't the French title make me sound much smarter?

The best part about this solitary experience is that I feel better about myself. Surprisingly, for those of you who know me, you know that I am anything but anti-social. You may have heard my motto: Two's company, three's an audience. I interact with people on a daily basis. My daughter and I have a great relationship. But at the end of the day, I'm always there to greet me with a smile.

So don't cry for me, Argentina. The truth is I really like me. You should like you too. I encourage you to become your best friend. Be alone, but don't be lonely. Cherish these times you have with yourself. You won't be around forever, and neither will you.

Oh, and I started a blog, too.