Five

My wife recently left town for an extended period of time for the first time since we got married. Before she left, she took the time to point out the benefits of having the house to myself. The first thing she listed, the very first thing, was "Well, you can poop with the door open." And I thought to myself, is that it? Is that all that separates the married me from the single me? Does living with someone for two years mean that the boundaries between public and private self disappear gradually so that all I have left in the private sphere is bowel movements? Or, and this might be worse, does it mean that living so intimately with someone means that the private side ceases to exist? Neither of these are attractive options. Some private things are best kept private (see postsecret if you really need proof), and while she was gone I rediscovered a few things that I'm going to keep to myself for a while at least. Not secrets, really. Not secrets at all. Nothing that I would intentionally try to hide from her, just the things that make alone time different from together time.

I've never lived with someone this long, romantically or otherwise, and it is time to reevaluate private time. I used to define it as the absence of the other person for better (i.e., nobody complaining about my video games, or the sports on T.V., or making me feel like I should take out the trash) or worse (nobody to rub my shoulders, or cook me food). Now, however, I'm in a place where alone time is not defined by an absence but rather by a presence-the presence of a different part of my personality.