Dinners with girlfriends are my window into married lives. Children dictate at least 12 years of full-time parental activities. “I have no idea what to cook this week,” said a woman who has cooked three meals a day for a decade. “You go to bed at nine?” said another woman who spends every evening getting her young kids through bedtime routines after a full day of work and making dinner. During spring, summer, and winter breaks, activities are researched, planned, and paid for in advance when kids have no school. Plus, husbands have their needs, desires, opinions, and demands.
I don’t live based on a prescribed plan or rigid expectations of family life. “I had to negotiate with my husband to come to this dinner,” another girlfriend said, a dedicated wife and mother. A family has its routine that everyone agrees to and obeys. Before spending a night out with me, she had to make sure everyone else in the family was okay first and find a backup to complete her usual duties. I silently noted my nonexistent negotiation with myself; it took seconds to say yes to this dinner.
As advertised by many singles, I can do whatever I want, and there is nothing I have to do. The catch is I’m responsible for figuring out what to do with every minute of my life. Outside of work, no husband or children competes for my attention and energy. It may seem easier, but it’s just flexing our brains differently.
I can’t wait for someone to show up to fill up time or help me move. I initiate everything in my life, some more glamorous than others. I have to brave the world alone. On a late Saturday morning, I wake up without an alarm. While I brush my teeth, I decide that I want banana and strawberry pancakes from the deli near me. In ten minutes, I am out of the house. When the last bite of that pancake is in my mouth, I decide to pick up milk and grapes at WholeFoods next. When I get there, I have time to wander. From WholeFoods, I may end up in nature or the city. I have become comfortable doing things on my own, checking out restaurants, visiting museums, and listening to live concerts. My weekends are joyously spontaneous.
Of course, I don’t rely only on my whim to live my life. Like most adults, I plan and mark on my Google calendar for activities that require tickets, coordinate with other married friends, or go far away for vacations. I can be a planner when I want to.
There are times when I run out of ideas after having napped already. This freedom sometimes leads to boredom. Initially, I panic and hurry to “do” something. Anything. I’m used to being productive at work. Naturally, I have the same attitude outside of work too. After a while, consistently being on the go doesn’t lead to a greater purpose.
I am reminded of lives opposite mine, packed with activities, stretching too thin. My girlfriends tell me, “I wish I could have a moment to myself.” Sit down and read a book. Take a walk without rushing. Nap in peace. I’ve seen women hiding in closets to get a moment to themselves on social media. Not me.
With aging, I have become comfortable sitting motionless, quietly without thought. I don’t want hyperactivity in my life. Staring out of the window, I notice the budding leaves. On the sofa, I relax my shoulders. Being bored feels like mini-meditations. It can be calm, beautiful, restful, or whatever I feel at the moment. After that, I’m ready for the next adventure, small or large.
The point is when I’m bored, I feel luxurious.