I’ve had 5 years to really look at solitude inside out, to examine its textures and tastes. Not to say that I’ve been entirely single the entire 5 years - I’ve dated casually here and there - but for the most part, I had me to myself and I enjoyed nearly every bit of it.
And what I’ve learnt is this - to understand and appreciate the idiosyncrasies of a person. To accept that we, as humans, are able to change and exercise our option to choose something different and new every single time. To learn, unlearn and relearn; the fact that like the ocean and its waves, we ebb and change and evolve and grow, and that is the nature of personhood.
And within this understanding, the realisation that any other person is the same too, be it partner or foe. To mistake another soul as a static being while perceiving the own self as being dynamic, is perhaps one of life’s greatest ironies.
I have no doubt that should I meet any of the men whom I’d toed the line with, or friends I no longer meet, that none of us are the same person as we were, and that makes it so fascinating (though some may argue it’s frustrating - to not expect at least a level of certainty from anyone you’d want to commit your life to) , to constantly be in the process of getting to know each other.
Then again, I am no expert at relationships. Solitude, even not so. But I can say that solitude, despite being pretty damn comfortable for the longest time, is getting a bit tired too. #thetudungtravels