Alone

Recently I haven’t been able to open the internet without someone complaining about being single or someone showing off that they finally aren’t. It’s been a taxing process because I’m super happy for the latter and want to shoot the former. Personally, I’ve always been a big believer that there is a lot more to worry about in the world than dying alone. Like money. Or a career. Or these shoes. I have always had a long list of things to stress and worry about. In the infamous words of Jay-Z, I got 99 problems and a bitch definitely ain’t one.

It has always baffled me that people would get depressed because they feel that they need to have a witness to their life. To get married and settle down. To finally feel collected. This is both the men and the women by the way, Egyptians – and probably most people in the rest of the world – are constantly searching for that validation from another person. Constantly looking for something to shut their mothers up. Constantly wondering how they’re going to walk into another wedding alone. How are we going to exist without a boyfriend/girlfriend/someone to fight with?

I can’t even begin to think of a commitment to a child that would last forever. I can’t think of marriage or of a car or of schools or of the constant conversation. That isn’t how I have ever pictured my life. I want to have a loft apartment in the center of a city. I wanted to have friends over for wine and beer and dinner (by dinner I mean fried chicken and cocktails). I want at least fifty pairs of sunglasses and a heavy duty sound system. How the fuck am I supposed to plan the rest of my life when I can’t even hook up a laptop to a TV? I wanted to go to art galleries and museums and parties and road trips and live. Then I remember I live in Egypt. Then I remember that it’s Monday and that means Devious Maids is out and I should watch that and shut the fuck up. Then I’m really satisfied with the fact that I don’t have to consider the volume because someone else is sleeping. Or text someone sweet nothings before I pass out. Or think about the plans I have to make the next day to accommodate a significant other. I am very comfortable with the notion that I was, am and will always be doing me.

Then all these single people come in and kill my buzz. Articles on thought catalogue tell me I should be upset because I look over to the other side of the bed and see nothing. First of all, an empty bed by yourself should never be something upsetting. On the contrary, it’s fucking amazing to sprawl out and have all the pillows to your mutherfucking self. Second, should I be feeling this way? Am I heartless for wanting to spend the next chunk of my life enveloped in my own freedom? Should I be lonely? Am I lonely? Is that my problem? No, my problem is I’m not a millionaire. Being single is the least thing I should worry about.

My whole point is, these are the best years of your life; the times where you’re supposed to be having fun and figuring shit out, really getting to know yourself and all of that bullshit Oprah goes on about. I mean yeah, you live in Egypt and there isn’t that much to do and all that and someone to be bored with would be nice, but if you don’t, what’s the worst that could happen? You’ll spend more time alone? What the fuck is wrong with that? You can draw, you can blast Beyoncé at maximum volume and dance buck naked around your room. You can eat M&Ms in bed and not worry about sleeping on one or two (this has happened to me several times, once I slept on a Galaxy and woke up thinking I shit myself, but no one was there to judge me). I’m not saying be happy you’re alone – which wouldn’t be a bad idea btw – all I’m saying is your life would probably suck just as much as it does now if you were in a relationship. Shouldn’t you make sure it sucks as minimally as possible before involving someone else? Shouldn’t you be super comfortable with yourself? Deepak Chopra or Paulo Coelho or some other equally annoying fucker said something about the most important relationship you have is the one with yourself. And that’s true. And if I was stuck with anyone, I’m pretty fucking glad it’s me. But what the fuck do I know though, don’t listen to me. I just finished watching Devious Maids, I basically know nothing about life.