“If you’re lonely when you’re alone, you’re in bad company.”
― Jean-Paul Sartre
This morning when I woke up, I could hear the rain glancing off my window. It was wonderful. The English weather has thus far been beautiful and warm, which seems crazy to be tired of, but when you come from California anything other than sunshine is worth throwing a party over.
I’ve noticed that it is when I am alone, on mornings like this before anyone else is up, that I most surprise myself. I will kiss my stuffed-animal rabbit good morning, stretch, pad over to the bathroom, and wash my face in the icy water as I was taught by the seven dwarves in Snow White. Suddenly the process of brewing coffee and toasting bread has become a game—anything that goes wrong becomes something to laugh at.
I’m not asserting that mornings like this come often for me, or that every time I am alone things just become better. Not at all. But I do feel comfortable saying that at times like this, when there is freedom of behaving absent from observation, I am more likely to loose my pretense of cool and just be silly. It seems important to try to take myself less seriously more often. I think we all take ourselves far too seriously.
It was as I excitedly scurried around my apartment in that lovely pre-dawn light that I had my second epiphany of the day: I think you can know that you love a person when you feel free to behave around them as you would around only yourself. I hope to marry someone who will not mind, nay, will even enjoy, being a part of my early morning silliness.
Listen, I know how weird I am when I’m alone, but I suspect that you’re pretty weird too. So let’s just embrace it, shall we?