Menage a Moi

Living the way that's right for you... if you can

Humans are sociable animals . That doesn’t mean we need to be sociable in the same way as everyone else. I like reading. That’s something I do by myself. I like writing. As I don’t work in film and TV, writing is something I do by myself too. Already, a lot of my life is necessarily and happily spent by myself. I like thinking, and that happens with or without the reading/writing part. Taking a walk to think about an idea, or to try to understand someone else’s ideas, is also a solitary opportunity. Then, there’s the pleasure of a well-made sandwich. You make it for yourself and you eat it by yourself. I love cooking for others but I love the pleasure of eating simply, and eating alone.

I like talking to myself. I like trying out sentences and sounds. If you want to write well, it’s vital to hear the words. I run dialogue in different voices. I try things one way, then another. Sometimes I stand in the kitchen telling myself a poem. I am quiet as I go about my business in the outside word but at home I am on speaker most of the time.

I like singing along to the radio. Arguing with the radio. I like talking to the cats. They are both good listeners. There is no point talking to the dog - not really - because dogs are a version of Claude. AI Claude. Whatever you say is the best ever and you are the best ever and everything you do is the best ever. Cats are not so easily impressed. I like the way they just walk off.

When I am in the garden I talk to the plants. It’s essential to talk to plants when you are potting them on - that’s stressful and they need reassurance. When they flower or fruit or bloom, they deserve praise. When their season is over, they deserve thanks. All of this conversation is shared, but essentially, it’s alone. It’s me, in the garden, talking to the plants.

Yet, I feel social. When I read, write, think, eat the sandwich, theorise with the cats, encourage the plants, lie in bed watching the light fade as the trick of the candle seems to grow brighter, I might say, to any piece of furniture listening, ‘this is where I want to be.’ There is no lack. No loneliness. No wish for anything else. And that’s not to say that I don’t love my friends and delight in their company. Good friends. Real friends. I look forward to seeing them. But, and this is only something I understood in later life,

I love living alongside myself.

People say, ‘Do you live alone?’ I don’t know how to reply because they generally mean something by that - something negative or sad - and to me, how I live is both chosen and satisfying.

I used to worry about it. Real people, with real lives live together, make a home. I tried that 3 times. Disaster. Actually I tried it 4 times, if you count childhood. Living in Winterson-World was like living on the Titanic after it hit the iceberg. We were doomed. We were in Steerage. There was no lifeboat. It was only a matter of time.

Trying again, young, less young, old enough to know better, and trying it with people who had done well with other people, any failure had to be me, didn’t it? Too weird to make it work. I am not selfish. It wasn’t that. But I felt humiliated by my failure to be someone I am not.

And then, after the last time, and I was back with my books, my boundaries, my bed I didn’t have to share, my orderly, self-directed, solitary life, I realised how much it suits me. That I don’t fit that other shape. I felt surprise, relief, wondered how it had taken so long, and why I had wanted the other shape, because I did want it. Then, after a while, I no longer felt weird. This is me.

I am lucky because I can afford to live alone. But what’s important, I think, is to figure out what really does suit you. You might not be able to live in that way, for economic reasons or because of existing obligations, but understand this, and accepting it, might stop the self-blaming. The life-goal is supposed to be a partner and a shared home. Everything else is less than that. People work towards that shared home, about half get divorced, then most of them work towards it again… or feel terrible. Or if not terrible, a failure. Especially if the ex has sailed off to another relationship that looks like it’s supposed to look.

Most single parents are women. Working hard, being there for the juniors, trying to get some me-time, doesn’t feel joyful, even though it’s better than staying in a bad relationship. The isolation so many women feel isn’t neediness, and it isn’t the inevitable consequence of relationship breakdown. It’s not personal failure. Women blame themselves. The failure is when society fails to support the real lives of its citizens.

In the wider sense, no-one should live alone. We all need neighbours - say hello, wave, have a chat, are you ok? We all need community and community services - libraries, social clubs, youth clubs, age-concern, regular affordable buses. Swimming pools, parks, after-school clubs for the kids. And shops - real ones - alongside the pub and places of worship. People like to come together, to be recognised and supported, to have somewhere to go that’s not expensive, that’s not always about buying stuff, that’s safe, where we can meet. Those simple human needs are not being met. And it’s not our fault. The Right hates social provision. Capitalism never puts community before profit. Much of what humans need has been taken away or neglected. We are supposed to manage everything privately. And it doesn’t work.

So it’s important to recognise what’s you and what isn’t you. What is your responsibility. What’s not your failure. Maybe you love living with your partner/family, or did once, but now, you’ve changed. Maybe, like me, it was never going to work because you are not that person?

So much of life feels uncertain and unknowable now. The old templates and models for a good life have shattered. It’s no longer get an education, land a well-paid job, find a partner, work hard, buy the house and raise the kids until retirement. The good life is out of reach for millions, but we start to ask, is it the good life after all? Are we being challenged to the core about what is worth the effort, about how to live? Is everything there to be questioned? And might this be the pain that we need?

There is nothing to stop us building different kinds of shared living spaces. The alternative to the family home doesn’t have to be the one-bed flat or house-share with strangers. Bringing up children could/should involve more adults than two. These aren’t silly utopia speculations. How to live is a serious question - and it’s not just a question for each of us, regardless of society. How we live IS society.

In my perfect Utopia I would live in a cottage set around other cottages, with a productive and ornamental garden shared by us all, and something like our own village hall. I would live by myself. Others would likely prefer to share. Maybe you would love a city apartment in a building with a communal kitchen. I don’t know.

What I do know is that the assumptions I accepted about a good and right way to live (with a partner in a home) were not good or right for me and caused a great deal of unhappiness. So that’s the highly personal part. What’s not personal is I believe that all of us - extrovert/introvert/party animal/recluse'/child/teenager/ grandma. whatever, in whatever job or none, needs to be part of a community. A community that is sustained from within by those involved, and just as crucially, just as importantly, legislated for by government, funded by our taxes, protected, cherished as a human right, as the best social structure in which we can all find the perch we need, and build a life.

We need to be together so that some of us can (also) be alone.