Ever since I moved, I have my pillow on the left side of the bed. The same as I used to. As if somehow I was expecting at some point some knight in shining armour to come and fill the other side, the other pillow. I’ve been waiting, hoping, going on dating apps, looking around in bars. I’ve been feeling sorry for myself that others (some in particular) have partners and I don’t. I’ve been wondering when it’s going to happen to me.
But you know what? I don’t need a man. I don’t need one to sleep or to breathe or to walk or to work. I don’t need to wait for a text message to come in or to wonder if one likes me or if he will become my “boyfriend” after a couple more dates.
I have my own place. I can do the washing up or leave it if I like. I can leave my dirty washing in piles on the floor (sorted piles – I know what they’re for) and my clean (but rather well worn) knickers on the airer. I can fill the Sky box up with rubbishy American TV shows which involve a lot of murder (my favourite type) and cook (or not bother) – who’s watching?!
I have a whole bed to myself. But I have only been utilising “my” half. You know what? No more. I have moved my pillow to the middle of the bed and I be sleeping all the way across from now on. I don’t need to share it with anyone. No, more than that. I don’t WANT to share it with anyone.
It’s my bed and I’ll be sleeping in the middle.