We all know that I’m not technically single. But five out of seven days (71.4 percent of the time), I live like I am. Mr. B lives just over an hour away. And, he works second shift. So it can make life seem a little less “partnered” than it would if we lived in the same town.
I’m not complaining. I’m just telling it like it is.
Most of the time, my un-single single life isn’t bad. I have my routines and my schedules. And I’m comfortable in the life I’ve built for myself over the past nine years. (Eek! Can it possibly be that long?) And I’m not uncomfortable being “alone.”
But, now that I know how good it can be to have someone to share adventures with — even if the most exciting adventure is going to the grocery store and then falling asleep on the couch — it’s hard to go back to how things used to be. Because partners really do make life more fun and, honestly, easier.
Especially on days like today. Days when life doesn’t go as you have planned and a partner would be really, really nice.
My car’s in the shop. I dropped it off 12 hours ago. And it was supposed to be finished by 5, so I could pick it up on my way home from work. No inconvenience, no help needed. But when I called to make sure Val — the Cavalier — was ready, I was told that she, in fact, would not be ready for me at 5.
But I could possibly borrow a loaner car from the shop to get me through the night and back to work. Except, nope, that didn’t work out either.
So, there I was, at 5:02, stranded at the shop, looking at my beloved Val on the lift — where she would spend the night. No ride home, since all of my coworkers had already left for the night. And the public transportation in the area? Not exactly handy. What’s more, there were no immediate possibilities for a ride to work in the morning.
A frustrating way to end a successful, productive day — especially since I had to cancel my dinner plans with The Lovelies, Anna and Kelly (fellow health and fitness bloggers). And my post-dinner gym plans. And tomorrow morning’s gym session. It was even made a teensy bit embarrassing since the owner of the shop had to offer to drive me home, lest I curl up behind the front counter for the night. After all, all of my “others” live in different towns and couldn’t come pick me up.
Clearly, I made it home safely — the owner of the shop really is a kind, pleasant man and an interesting conversationalist. And we “single,” independent women deal with things as they come up, so I’m certain I’ll track down a ride to work in the morning with no issues. (Besides, I’ve run a marathon, I could run the 10 miles to the office if need be, right?)
I suppose there’s no “real” point to this post. Other than to say I miss Mr. B’s presence in my life when he’s gone — or, be as it may, when I’m gone. And I miss Mr. B.