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(单词翻译:双击或拖选)
Living Alone And Loving It
Here are the things I know for sure: I sleep better with socks on; I prefer Dutch chocolate to Swiss; I look lousy in black and will always wear it anyway; and I will never, ever live with a man again.
Ever since I was a small child, I've wondered why people should have to live together. It's wonderful when you want to be together, mind you, but what about when you don't? Doesn't it make more sense to have the option, either way?
I'm not talking about families here, of course; obviously children need to be with their parents and parents need one another's help with the kids (though I think in principle it might not be a bad idea for each parent to get a day or two off every week). But for everyone else, I just don' t see the point.
Not that I haven't done it. For better or worse—and there's always way too much "worse" for my taste—I've lived with three men in my life: one at the age of 22, one at 35, and one at 38. In each case, it took about a year and a half of living together, inescapably, day after day, until the relationship fell apart. I'd been crazy about these guys before that: two of them I'd even planned to marry. The third proposed to me while we were sharing a home, and I said no.
I can figure that one out.
And so I've determined1: I keep my place, he keeps his. Instant two-home family. I'm a person who values solitude2; when I'm on a writing spree I can go weeks without seeing him. The silence is transcendent. There is no one moving books around, leaving socks on floors, misplacing ashtrays3. No one dictates4 what time I eat or peeks5 through a door to catch me in the ungainly act of picking at a zit; no deliciously warm and tantalizing6 body lures7 me back into bed when the alarm goes off at 4 am and I should be—and want to be—writing.
Unless I want it that way.
My current boyfriend is one of the men I once lived with. Since then, he's moved from our tiny apartment to a house—a real house, with three bedrooms, an eat-in kitchen, an upstairs and a down. Sometimes I spend a few days there at a time. It is always difficult to leave. It is also always great to come home—at once comforting, liberating8, exciting, even. What adventures await me here, in my own place, in the soft white whispers of my own private sanctuary9, between my pen and my notebooks and me? There are days I scarcely leave my desk. I don't have to. I don't want to. And that's the end of it.
This time, our relationship is working. I get the best of both the single life and the coupled life.
Including the romance: We make dates. When he arrives, I am showered and combed and my lipstick10 is fresh. Some might say that this isn't real life, but it's our real life. When he kisses me, even after seven years together (on and off), it's new; it's our first date, or a second, or a third. There is never a moment when we are together by hazard, just because we happen to live in the same house. We spend time with one another because we want to.
Intrinsic to this is a kind of trust I don't always see in my cohabiting friends. I have to, and I do, trust that he is home on the nights he is not with me. And he honors me with the same. There's no resentment11, no waiting for him to show up when he's been out late, no annoyance12 on his part that he has to come home because I keep wondering where he is. It is the purest form of shared life that I can imagine: he has his life. I have my life. We have our life. All three are whole and rewardingly complete.
I have a friend who serves as a partner in crime. When her marriage broke up three years ago, she found the emptiness overwhelming. But eventually she repainted a living room wall dark red and her hallway orange, reupholstered her couch in yellow tweed, and lost ten pounds. Together we have taught one another to do the stuff we always thought we needed men for: open doors when we locked ourselves out, replace light bulbs in complicated fixtures13, repair heaters. Last week she tiled her own kitchen.
She, too, feels that she would never give up the freedom of living alone. Yes, some would argue that living with others is healthy, adaptive: one is forced to learn to compromise, to be tolerant, to share. But doesn't any well-raised child learn those things anyway? Besides, if you haven't mastered these things by the time you're my age, it's hard to have much of a life.
Having a space all to myself makes it easier for me to be patient and generous with others on those occasions when I do have to share a bathroom or closet space.
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1 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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2 solitude | |
n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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3 ashtrays | |
烟灰缸( ashtray的名词复数 ) | |
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4 dictates | |
n.命令,规定,要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 );口授;支配;摆布 | |
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5 peeks | |
n.偷看,窥视( peek的名词复数 )v.很快地看( peek的第三人称单数 );偷看;窥视;微露出 | |
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6 tantalizing | |
adj.逗人的;惹弄人的;撩人的;煽情的v.逗弄,引诱,折磨( tantalize的现在分词 ) | |
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7 lures | |
吸引力,魅力(lure的复数形式) | |
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8 liberating | |
解放,释放( liberate的现在分词 ) | |
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9 sanctuary | |
n.圣所,圣堂,寺庙;禁猎区,保护区 | |
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10 lipstick | |
n.口红,唇膏 | |
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11 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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12 annoyance | |
n.恼怒,生气,烦恼 | |
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13 fixtures | |
(房屋等的)固定装置( fixture的名词复数 ); 如(浴盆、抽水马桶); 固定在某位置的人或物; (定期定点举行的)体育活动 | |
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14 bouquets | |
n.花束( bouquet的名词复数 );(酒的)芳香 | |
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