Although I gravitate towards expressing my happy, hopeful, sometimes sad, always honest, ‘Just Jamie’ heart with written words, I know I’m no Carrie Bradshaw. I can’t run in heels; I seldom squeal; and if it were me, I don’t think I would have let Aiden go so easily. But, I also never in a million Manolo Blahnik’s thought I had anything in common with Big….
Truth be told, this whole “Shacking Up” business is full of surprises.
Rewind your Bradshaw-mind to Sex and the City – The Movie part 2. Now, recall when Big so casually offended Carrie with the concept of scheduling their days apart from one another. He thought that her single-gal place might be a nice retreat for her now-and-again. I can so candidly recall the feeling in my gut that that Not-Aiden man made me feel. After all their years of sleeping together, breaking up, then reuniting only to argue about the scent of his cigars in her bed and her peeled oranges in his, calling it quits again, all the etcetera in between I’ll spare us right now, and even an alter-ditching, they finally cut through the bull shit, and committed to love and marriage – with each other. So I just couldn’t understand how he could ever ask her for more time apart??
Spring has sprung, and I am boxing, bubble wrapping and good willing my life up. Emphasis on “up,” as in up, up and away. The packing started out really strong. I was moving quickly, making decisions in a snap, unlike my Libra-self, and moving forward with my life. But as the “forward” more quickly approaches, I am taking note of the things I am choosing to pack very last: one wine glass, waters, face wash and a toothbrush, the slouchy couch I retreat to when I’m on SMILFy-overload, my great grandmother’s table where nearly all my blog ideas came to fruition, and my queen size bed that, even on my loneliest nights, really only fits a diagonal me. And I just keep thinking about how I wish it could all stay – just the stuff, not me.
I want to shack up with my boyfriend, and make a life, and share our days, and make memories. But I also don’t see the harm in having a little place for a little me-time every now and then. After all, this is where I write; this is where I miss him; this is where I laugh out loud all by myself because my book is funny; this is where I overfeed my girlfriends because I have little concept of modifying recipes; this is where I finally conquered my fear of the dark (most nights); this is where I do all the chores because I know no one else will; this is where I learned how to be comfortable in complete silence. This place is where I made peace with being all by myself. This place is Just Jamie.
And so here I offer unsolicited, honest advice to all my single ladies out there: live alone, even just once. You owe it to yourself, and your future partner.
Independence and Love are righteous and courageous things. I am thankful that I have been afforded both. And now, it’s my sincerest hope that I can find the balance to continue enjoying both of these empowering blessings, together. I mean I have worked too hard and lost too much sleep to roll over and lose my independence, but I also revel in my girlfriend experiences and welcome a dandy future. So here I go: one couch, under one roof.
But yah, you bet your ass, if this was a movie, and I had Big’s bankroll, the ink on a new lease would already be dry.