Table for One

I have become an island. Sure, it's a scenic place, and there are ferrys at regular intervals. But the weather is unpredictable around these here parts and when my temper is particularly torrential, not too many people are willing to ride that lonely, rocking boat with the creepy old one-eyed oarsman to get across.

I don't mind it. I can stand in queues alone even when my iPod battery has died. I can drive alone, and I can take walks alone. I can drink coffee alone and I can drink whiskey alone. If I was the kind of person who smoked, I would be the kind of person who always had her own lighter and never bummed cigarettes off anyone. I can think alone. Cocktails and reservations - I can make them for one. I can tell myself my butt doesn't look big in that dress. I can buy myself pretty things and ice cream on a bad day. I can buy myself pretty things and champagne on a good day. I can finish my own popcorn at a movie, and I can hold doors open. I can't bake alone - but then again, I can't bake at all. I can keep my own secrets. I can go to the supermarket alone and buy ten boxes of sugar coated cereal instead of sensible things. I can be far too practical to be lonely. I prefer the singularity.

I have learnt to be alone. I only hope it was a choice.