I was recently reading an article about Lena Dunham and she mentioned that before she met her current boyfriend, she was obsessed with the romanticism of being an artist alone forever. And I suppose this mostly works if you’re successful, but I also believe solo living is the way to success.
The catch 22 is, as soon as you determine that you want to be alone forever, you usually fall in love. It’s one of life’s great ironies.
So here I am, single, ambitious, happy, feeling a rejuvenation of inspiration. I’m pretty content with where I am in life. And I realize that falling in love would ruin it all.
I have men in my life. Sometimes I get drunk with them and think, “Maybe tonight I’ll be down for some naked and intimate company.” But I’m not ready yet.