I have only lived alone once, and it was not by choice. When I was a senior in college, my boyfriend broke up with me over the phone from San Diego, saddling me with a lovely studio apartment with an eat-in kitchen, lots of sun, and a rent payment that I couldn’t really afford. I paid my rent using a loan that I am still most likely paying off, and spent a lot of that long winter marooned on my bed eating frozen grapes and watching the Food Network, since I refused to cancel the expensive cable. I lived there for the whole year, alone, but was too sulky to appreciate what I had.
Normals are prioritizing their alone time, regardless of the cost.
Jumping off from my previous WWYD column, I woke up this morning to find a bunch of messages on Twitter from some fine folks discussing what percentage of their income they spend on rent.
I live alone. It was a decision I made last year, because I could afford to do it, and also because sometimes you just want to live by yourself.