Several months ago, I was talking to another writer about being alone.

“I don’t understand it,” I said. “I could sit on the porch and write when my husband is home inside and it’s the exact same. Why is it so much more delicious when the house is empty.”

He’d just nodded. “There’s nothing like being alone.”

I love being around my friends. I love making new friends. I enjoy writer’s conferences and book festivals. I enjoy road tripping with friends and taking trips with my husband. But I love being alone. Before I got married I lived alone for years. With my cat, Jake. I loved it. I also was thrilled when my husband moved in, but I never regretting that time alone. Before he moved in, while we were still dating, I encouraged him to try out his own apartment. He had never lived alone before.

He hated it. He ended up subletting the last few months of his lease to move in with friends. He just prefers being with people.

My last year of college I got a one bedroom apartment and lived alone for the first time. I remember how vicariously excited my mom was. Helping me pick out thrift store end tables, nailing up pictures where ever I wanted. She had never lived alone. I loved that apartment.

So what is it? What is so magical about existing in an empty home for hours, days, or weeks at a time? I have a few theories.

Introverts are able to recharge. I’m an introvert that turns on the extrovert mask well. I’ve always gravitated toward things that seem to burn my energy: teaching group fitness, acting, writing conferences. There’s nothing like coming back to your own place and collapsing into the warm embrace of solitude to fill the tank back up.
One can be truly free of expectations. Even if you’re married for a long time, you’ll each have wants and needs directed at the other person, even if they’re slight. Time alone allows you to release those considerations from the back of your mind. Even if you didn’t even realize they were nesting there.
Time to hear yourself think. There’s so much stimulation bombarding us all the time it can be difficult to shut it all off and dig down into what you really need. Personally, I’m more motivated toward productivity when someone else is around me. Perhaps even pressured, self imposed or no. I’m never lazy when alone, I just tend to gravitate toward the activities I want to take care of, rather than those I feel I need to take care of.
All the mess is your mess. If you’re an organized person, it can be mildly irritating to trip over someone else’s shoes, or scrub a burner free of their mess before you’re able to cook. When you’re alone, the one that created the mess is you! I’m unable to relax if there is clutter around me, all I see is what needs to be done, so it can be incredibly relaxing to be clutter free for a day or two.
You’re forced to self-solve, self-sooth, and self-entertain. When you live with someone, it can be easy to just walk into the next room and start asking questions when bored. One of the great things about living with someone is having a partner to conquer problems with or to go to when you’re frustrated. But I believe it’s equally important to occasionally rely on yourself for those things. Not only does it allow you to appreciate your partner a bit more, but you don’t lose your sense of self-reliance.

I’ll have to drag the fire pit out by myself, but I think I can handle it!

My husband is leaving this weekend for a last-minute trip. I couldn’t go if I wanted to—I’ve taken a trip every weekend for the past three weeks—but after the crush of activity within the last few months, I admit to being downright excited for some extended time alone. I don’t yet know what I’ll do with the time, but the time will be mine, and that’s delightful.

It's okay to enjoy solitude.