I have been single for too long. When I had a guest over for dinner last week, I was a wreck. Not with the usual date-jitters, but just by the thought of anyone being in my teeny, tiny apartment. I'm not known for having company over--there's barely room to swing a cat, much less entertain. And I'm hopelessly private about my home.
All day long, five days a week (or more) for nearly fifteen years, I've worked in retail. In retail, you are a captive to the public---anyone can walk in that door and you have to interact with them, no matter how painful that may be. So, as a result, I jealously guard my alone-at-home time. I've told people to go away through the mail slot. All friends know that the drop-by is the worst of sins.
I had a knot in my stomach the entire dinner---and a little voice in the back of my head gritting its teeth and muttering "Get out of my house, get out of my house, get out of my house." Any doubt I have trouble dating??? Poor guy didn't stand a chance.
One thing I've learned this time around is that maybe I haven't been single for too long, perhaps instead I haven't been single long enough. Down in the honesty section of my gut, I actually like it, maybe even prefer it. I'm back on my two-one-bedroom-apartments-with-double-hotelstyle-doors as the perfect domestic situation for me.