I don’t hate running alone, but I don’t love it either.
I used to prefer it alone, back in the days when it was all about time and getting better and companions tended to screw up my race with the clock. These days, I pretty much settle in at the same relaxed pace no matter how far I go, so I like it a lot better if there’s someone along to chat with. (OK, now you know how much my pace has lagged over the years.)
In social terms, there’s something really powerful about the word “with.” Maybe a few grumpy curmudgeons prefer isolation (I’m not thinking about Dad here, really I’m not) but think of all the things in life that are better with.
- Movies. I’ve watched a lot of movies alone, which does not make me as desperate as it sounds. I’ve just spent way too many nights in motel rooms and Bachelor Officer Quarters, and between cable TV and laptops with DVD players movies are a natural default for time-killing, and a better one than the lobby bar. The advantage, of course, is I can always watch what I want. But there’s no one to laugh with, marvel with, criticize with. Yell at the screen with a buddy and you’re bonding; same thing alone just is kind of sad.
- Chores. Who doesn’t like a helping hand when there’s work to be done? Even if the other person is weeding while you clean gutters, or maybe standing there talking to you while you clean gutters, that’s better than cleaning gutters alone. It’s way better than cleaning gutters knowing the other person is in the house eating ice cream.
- Sightseeing. I toured Valley Forge alone one Sunday afternoon because the alternative was more motel time. All those families and couples having picnics or roller-blading or tossing Frisbees, and me wandering around by myself reading signs. Other times it was Chickamauga National Battlefield, Independence Hall, the shopping district in Osan, South Korea, a country hamlet in Wales. Cool places, but no joy in any of it because I had no one to share it with.
- Adversity. Don’t think I really need to explain this one, nobody likes facing bad stuff solo.
Of course the ultimate question of “with” is that significant relationship. Teenagers, spinsters and widowers all know that not being “with” someone in the sense of some sort of deeper life commitment is not only lonely, it puts you in a whole different social category. Our paradigm is built around pairs; singles have a tough time finding their place.
It’s a sad fact that we tend to make negative judgments about people who are alone. On the flip side, we have a certain admiration for the person who can be with anyone they want, and who is with a different person every Friday night.
That’s pretty screwed up, though. Date 50 different people and in the end you’ve had 50 first dates. Date one person 50 times and you have the unique and (usually) joyful experience of an acquaintance who turns into a friend, of a friendship that becomes something more.
I have a little secret for all you young people out there: You can only learn about love by dedicated application of the art with a single person over a long period of time.
[Flashback: Teenage son in despair over not being able to see a girl he just met, yelling at father who recently celebrated his 20th wedding anniversary – “You don’t know anything about love!” Was I the son or the father? Likely happened both ways.]
The sorry truth is, if you take the swinging single approach to your social life, your relationship experience will wind up being a mile wide and an inch deep, which means you’ve seen one inch of topsoil. A dedicated relationship gives you experience an inch wide and a mile deep, and then you’ll go through soil to bedrock, all the strata beneath, maybe an aquifer, probably see a few fossils, find some gemstones, and possibly strike oil.
This is true in the emotional sense; it’s also true for physical intimacy, as any couple married 50 years will tell you. My grandparents lived out that “till-death-do-us-part” vow, decades of experience and experiments with just the two of them, so you know they knew more about sex, and way more about love, than Casanova ever did. Hard to get more “with” than that.
