The Plus One I Needed…Was Me.
For a long time, being alone felt like proof that I wasn’t wanted.
It was a reason why I ended my first marriage.
There was a time when being alone felt uncomfortable. Exposed. Like something was missing. If I had an event, a trip, a dinner, a social gathering, I wanted a plus one, I needed one.
I was traveling alone for work.
Going to events alone.
Building a life that required visibility and presence.
I had a husband at home. He just didn’t want to come.
At the time, that felt personal. It felt like rejection or like something was wrong, either with him or with me. I resented it.
What I didn’t understand then was…I didn’t actually know how to be alone.
I had never fully met myself without someone else in the room. So of course I thought I needed a body beside me. I didn’t yet know I could be solid on my own.
It wasn’t until I lived alone. Until I was single.
Until I had quiet evenings and solo dinners and trips where no one knew where I was going or what time I’d be back.
It wasn’t until I learned who I was without being mirrored by someone else…
That I realized something surprising: I actually love my own company.
Now I’m married again. To a wonderful man I love deeply.
And, I still do a lot of things alone.
I travel alone.
I go to events alone.
I book solo trips.Sometimes I go out to eat alone.
But this time, there’s no resentment.
If he doesn’t want to come, I’m not mad.
If I want to go and he doesn’t, I go anyway. Because I don’t want someone beside me just because they think they have to be there.
That energy ruins everything.
When you bring someone somewhere who doesn’t actually want to come, you can feel it, right?
They’re half in. They’re checking the time. They’re scanning for reasons to confirm why they didn’t want to come in the first place.
And then you spend the whole night managing them and your own anxiety.
You’re watching their mood. You’re trying to make sure they’re having fun.
You’re overcompensating. You’re trying to control their experience so it validates your decision to invite them.
It’s exhausting. And they’re miserable. And you’re anxious. And you come home and wish you had just went alone. And suddenly the thing you were excited about feels heavy.
I don’t want that anymore.
I want us both to show up excited. Present. Choosing it.
If he comes, it’s because he wants to.
If I go alone, it’s because I want to.
That’s it.
If I have a solo trip booked, I’m thriving. I actually look forward to it.
I know how it’s going to feel. I know I can trust myself. I know I can handle whatever comes up.
I get to decide how I spend the day.
I control what I can control, my presence, my behaviour, my energy.
And that makes me happy.
It was never really about who I was with.
It had everything to do with who I became in between.
Between marriages, identities, needing someone and choosing someone.
Independence doesn’t mean isolation.
It means I’m with you because I want to be, not because I’m afraid to stand alone.
And that changes everything.
Because the last thing I want to do is drag someone into my joy.
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.
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Michelle Gallant
