Recently I went on a short trip and had to work hard every day. When at night I went back to the hotel and lay in bed, to my dismay (and delight) I found that I didn’t miss my husband.
I was glad to be alone.
It felt like a betrayal.
It reminded me of a story by Albert Camus called The Adulterous Woman. She was married, but she didn’t cheat on her husband.
She just took a walk alone at night.
Of course, the truth is, I know that it’s okay to want this sometimes, and really, I wouldn’t want to be any other way.
I’ve always said I feel so sorry for anyone that doesn’t truly like being alone—at least sometimes.