Subject: FW: Still out with the jury.
There is a romance about romance. We enhance a romance with many false images, we embellish romance with not only heightened affection but we fantasise its talents far beyond their reach.
Our lives are often distorted by our affection, an affection as much due to our own needs but which often come into conflict with the person who is the centre of our attention. The sound of a voice, the attention attributed to a cheery hello, all act as a balm to our psyche and contribute to our inner sense of well being but of course the opposite is also true, when the voice has an edge, or worse, when the silence is deafening.
One of the advantages when living alone is that the torment of trying to second guess becomes irrelevant and silence can be rewarding as you settle in to an evening of your own choice. This or that program, or better still, no program at all. Heating the room loses its highly contested sub plot, as does the time you go to bed or get out of bed in the morning. Even the bathroom takes on a different perspective. Gone the crowded bottles of lotion, the preparations designed to hold back the ageing process, the diet pills to turn the years on their head, all are gone. A bottle of Old Spice and a recognisable brand of toothpaste are all that are left to clutter the window sill and even a trip to the toilet can now be done with the door open.
Yes a nice cup of tea in bed requires dragging oneself downstairs, at which point the cuppa seems irrelevant. That concern about your cough is missing but so too is the rude comment when you inadvertently pass wind, or worse, cough up phlegm as part of your early morning routine to acknowledge your alive in the morning.
The chores are mine, no chirping, no casting doubt on ones usefulness around the house, only the silence of ones own conscience.
It's not to say that a meal doesn't tastes so much better when cooked by someone else or that banter reveals that there is someone else in your life but the pros and the cons on living alone are still out with the jury.
Our lives are often distorted by our affection, an affection as much due to our own needs but which often come into conflict with the person who is the centre of our attention. The sound of a voice, the attention attributed to a cheery hello, all act as a balm to our psyche and contribute to our inner sense of well being but of course the opposite is also true, when the voice has an edge, or worse, when the silence is deafening.
One of the advantages when living alone is that the torment of trying to second guess becomes irrelevant and silence can be rewarding as you settle in to an evening of your own choice. This or that program, or better still, no program at all. Heating the room loses its highly contested sub plot, as does the time you go to bed or get out of bed in the morning. Even the bathroom takes on a different perspective. Gone the crowded bottles of lotion, the preparations designed to hold back the ageing process, the diet pills to turn the years on their head, all are gone. A bottle of Old Spice and a recognisable brand of toothpaste are all that are left to clutter the window sill and even a trip to the toilet can now be done with the door open.
Yes a nice cup of tea in bed requires dragging oneself downstairs, at which point the cuppa seems irrelevant. That concern about your cough is missing but so too is the rude comment when you inadvertently pass wind, or worse, cough up phlegm as part of your early morning routine to acknowledge your alive in the morning.
The chores are mine, no chirping, no casting doubt on ones usefulness around the house, only the silence of ones own conscience.
It's not to say that a meal doesn't tastes so much better when cooked by someone else or that banter reveals that there is someone else in your life but the pros and the cons on living alone are still out with the jury.
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