Ronery...
Zander left for Beijing on Thursday (work stuff). I haven't decided if this is easier or harder with us not living together.
While I definitely feel his absence, I'm not lonely, per se ("alone" and "lonely" being distinctly different creatures in my world). I can't ever remember feeling lonely. I'm an only child, and I've always been comfortable by myself. I found I preferred my own company to those of my peers (like many only children, I tended to get along much better with adults than other kids). So much so, in fact, I can vividly remember my parents punishing me for some transgression by sending me outside to play. I pounded on the door, begging to be allowed to go back to my room to read, or to play a four-player game by myself, or to make up elaborate stories for my stuffed-animal audience.
As a teen, I'd go to movies by myself, or spend three hours in a library. People who knew me at school were fooled: I was quite the socialite, moving between social groups fairly easily and generally being friendly and outgoing. But outside of school? Hermit. My parents worried. I didn't do the things that teen girls were supposed to do: hog the phone (why would I want to talk to people? I just spent 8 hours doing that, what more did I have to say?), talk about boys (they were all my buddies, and I preferred horses), hang out with friends...well, the FBI background check my parents required for anyone I saw outside of school was admittedly part of that last one. But it was also a convenient excuse to be by myself.
My former spouse, Dick, would follow me around the house. The TV or radio was always on. He couldn't STAND quiet (my theory is that if it were quiet, he'd have to think, and he's afraid of new things). If I chose to sit on the love seat rather than the sofa (where he was), it resulted in a 2-hour conversation about how I was this horrible cold person and I wasn't in touch with my emotions and wasn't sensitive to his needs. When I kicked his ass out, I spent the first days and weeks reveling in the blessed silence. The first weekend he had the kids, I went 42 hours without speaking, and felt more refreshed than I had in years.
One of the reasons Zander and I get along so well is that we both have very firm ideas about personal space and quiet. On the weekends, we'll go hours sometimes hardly speaking to each other, in that lovely sort of comfortable stillness. Don't get me wrong, he's also one of my favorite people in the world to chat with, and we both do our share of conversation domination by turns, but there's no pressure to keep talking if neither of us has anything in particular to say. During the week, when we get no face time, we just do the quick check-in...hey, you doing okay, you got any news, me neither, love you, bye. It's not the same as face time, but it helps you get by.
Phone calls from Beijing are prohibitively expensive. I haven't seen him since Wednesday, haven't spoken to him since Thursday, and I won't talk to him or see him again until this Friday. Check-ins are done via email. He's 13 hours ahead of me, so I feel like I'm sending emails to the future. It kinda freaks me out. And email isn't the same as hearing his voice; it's barely adequate to help you get by.
For the first time, silence is not my friend.
While I definitely feel his absence, I'm not lonely, per se ("alone" and "lonely" being distinctly different creatures in my world). I can't ever remember feeling lonely. I'm an only child, and I've always been comfortable by myself. I found I preferred my own company to those of my peers (like many only children, I tended to get along much better with adults than other kids). So much so, in fact, I can vividly remember my parents punishing me for some transgression by sending me outside to play. I pounded on the door, begging to be allowed to go back to my room to read, or to play a four-player game by myself, or to make up elaborate stories for my stuffed-animal audience.
As a teen, I'd go to movies by myself, or spend three hours in a library. People who knew me at school were fooled: I was quite the socialite, moving between social groups fairly easily and generally being friendly and outgoing. But outside of school? Hermit. My parents worried. I didn't do the things that teen girls were supposed to do: hog the phone (why would I want to talk to people? I just spent 8 hours doing that, what more did I have to say?), talk about boys (they were all my buddies, and I preferred horses), hang out with friends...well, the FBI background check my parents required for anyone I saw outside of school was admittedly part of that last one. But it was also a convenient excuse to be by myself.
My former spouse, Dick, would follow me around the house. The TV or radio was always on. He couldn't STAND quiet (my theory is that if it were quiet, he'd have to think, and he's afraid of new things). If I chose to sit on the love seat rather than the sofa (where he was), it resulted in a 2-hour conversation about how I was this horrible cold person and I wasn't in touch with my emotions and wasn't sensitive to his needs. When I kicked his ass out, I spent the first days and weeks reveling in the blessed silence. The first weekend he had the kids, I went 42 hours without speaking, and felt more refreshed than I had in years.
One of the reasons Zander and I get along so well is that we both have very firm ideas about personal space and quiet. On the weekends, we'll go hours sometimes hardly speaking to each other, in that lovely sort of comfortable stillness. Don't get me wrong, he's also one of my favorite people in the world to chat with, and we both do our share of conversation domination by turns, but there's no pressure to keep talking if neither of us has anything in particular to say. During the week, when we get no face time, we just do the quick check-in...hey, you doing okay, you got any news, me neither, love you, bye. It's not the same as face time, but it helps you get by.
Phone calls from Beijing are prohibitively expensive. I haven't seen him since Wednesday, haven't spoken to him since Thursday, and I won't talk to him or see him again until this Friday. Check-ins are done via email. He's 13 hours ahead of me, so I feel like I'm sending emails to the future. It kinda freaks me out. And email isn't the same as hearing his voice; it's barely adequate to help you get by.
For the first time, silence is not my friend.
posted by ilse at 5:39 PM
1 Comments:
Nah, I got 6-month-old marzipan to keep my belly full *grin*
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