I consider myself to be quite a selfish person. Maybe it comes with being a true introvert – I guard my time and space (especially space) ... and sleep… ferociously. I think my former housemates have emotional scars from when they have had to wake me up in the morning. I don’t like last minute changes to my routine. I like my things where I’ve left them. I value punctuality above all else – I’ll forgive tardiness once, or twice, but where it’s done repeatedly, shows a thorough disrespect for my time, and devalues me as a person. I like my personal space. I don’t like impromptu ‘drop-ins’, unless it’s to give me cake or chocolate. If I could divide my life into units, like Hugh Grant does in ‘About a Boy’, with 100 units making up a day, only 20 units would be set aside for the wider world.
So yes. I’m a rather selfish person. So when a dear friend from home asked to stay with me for a week, I was rather unsure about it all. I’m a 26 yr old single girl, living in my little bachelorette pad. I haven’t shared my living space with another living thing (apart from a fish) for two years.. much less, a boy! I mean… boys are a whole different species, as far as I’m concerned! Yet, I do adore this particular friend, and while being apprehensive about it all, part of me was just happy that he would be on the same continent for the first time in a long while.
He arrived at night – customs held him up at the airport, and he walked through my doors at 10pm. Now, on a normal night, I’m usually all pyjama’ed up, brushed teeth and ready to snuggle into bed at 10pm, and it was a school night, no less!! Certainly not sitting waiting for houseguests, which was what I was doing on that first night. But never mind, he came, I settled him in, fed him dinner, showed him where things were, and headed into bed. By that time it was 12.30am. On a school night. Not ideal.
That first morning, I stumbled out of bed at 6.30am as usual to get ready for work. Stumbled to the bathroom and groped around for my toothbrush in my sleepy daze. Hang on. There’s another toothbrush in my toothbrush holder. Okay never mind. Moving on. Stumbled into the bathtub, adjusted the water temperature perfectly, and noticed that next to my little pink razor, was a much larger, darker one. Hmmm. Finished showering, reached out for my towel and realized… hmmm.. that’s a different texture from my towel. Nope, not mine. (One of mine, because I gave him a towel to use, but not the one I was using right then).
He left two weeks ago, and I feel curiously… lost. Things are back to normal – a single toothbrush, a single towel, a single razor, all-feminine apparel in the laundry basket – and yet, I feel… uncomfortable. What I had previously guarded with my life didn’t seem quite so precious anymore. As I pondered this development I realized why. For a week, it mattered to someone that I got out of bed in the morning. It mattered that I got dressed and went out. It mattered that I came home at night. It mattered that I eat at least 2 regular meals, that I took my flu medicine when I felt like crap. For a week, I mattered.
I suspect that’s what it comes down to. I’m not selfish, not really… I’m just selective with the people I choose to share my time and space with. And when you feel like you matter to the people you do share your time and space with… your heart expands to enable you to give more than you ever realized you could... or would.
-Incognito
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