Strange Single Behaviour

Do you have any SSBs? Strange Single Behaviours, that is. I do. I mean, I think I do. I’ve lived alone and been single for so long now, I think I’ve developed some habits and things that I like to do alone that I suspect others would think are a little strange.

For instance, I like to sing when I’m on the toilet. I mean, I’m already in the bathroom, the room with the best acoustics, I might as well sing a song, right? Every. Single. Time. And I usually sound great.

I also talk to myself a lot. Not like, full-on conversations, but I’ll talk myself through my agenda for the day (or whatever), remind myself to do things, ask myself questions. I laugh out loud if I remember something funny that someone said to me. If I drop something, I’ve noticed lately that I say “whoopsie daisy” a lot. That’s a little weird, right?

I watch a lot of YouTube. Which in and of itself is not strange, but if I imagine living with someone and them taking notice of what I’m watching, what I invest a lot of time and sometimes thought and emotion in, they would probably think I’m a bit of a weirdo.

I don’t shut any doors. Perhaps this one isn’t that strange, but because I’m by myself, I leave the bathroom door open when I’m showering, etc., and I leave my bedroom door open when I go to sleep at night. I don’t know why, I guess it’s because the whole space is mine, and I don’t need to “claim space” from someone else, so I like to keep it all open? That sounds right.

I’ve been known to take my bra off while watching TV, leaving it on the couch, often forgetting about it being there, and then awkwardly having to grab it when someone comes over unexpectedly.

I get naked a lot. It’s my preferred state. I walk around, watch TV, read, and generally putter around in the buff. A couple of times I’ve had to remind myself to throw something on before going out on the balcony, lest I give the neighbourhood a show. I usually do this out loud. Naturally.

I tend to pour several and various drinks for myself, never finishing any of them, leaving a trail of half-empty (or half-full??) cups all over my apartment. I feel like that’s not so much strange as it is annoying, and if I ever live with someone, I’ll probably have to curb that habit.

I started thinking about this because a friend of mine whose partner went away for a week was telling me how strange it was to be on his own in their place, how he felt all discombobulated and kind of bored. He remarked that he “doesn’t know how I do what I do,” being on my own all the time. It was meant as a compliment, and I took it that way. As I always say, if you don’t like hanging out with you, how can you expect someone else to? But, it did get me thinking.

What if I’ve passed the point of no return and I’m not able to live with someone harmoniously? What if I’m so entrenched in my routines and ways of doing things, that I’ve lost the ability to be flexible with someone else in my space? I’m so used to doing my own thing, not having to consider anyone else in my day-to-day existence in my home, what if I can’t do it?

If I don’t feel like doing the dishes until the next day, then I don’t do them until the next day. And you know what? No one dies, there are no consequences for me not doing the dishes right away. That’s the thing: there’s no one to answer to, no one to be accountable to, no one to judge my strange single behaviour.

I’m not even sure how I’d go about trying to watch TV with someone. What if we wanted to watch different things? What if my future partner doesn’t like that I walk around naked all the time? What if he wants me to shut the door when I go to the bathroom and take a shower? Will I have to watch my YouTube vlogs in secret and stop singing on the toilet? Oh God, what if end up with a morning person!?!?!?

Of course, none of this deal-breaker material, nor is it something I won’t be able to work through, but it’s something to think about, for sure. I guess I just hope that I end up living with someone who appreciates (or even loves) my weird habits.

Or, perhaps I’ll be on my own forever, in which case, this is all moot, and I’ve just let hundreds of people in on my strange inner-world, where there’s lots of singing, not so many clothes, and where “whoopsie daisies” abound.