On behalf of all the loners: Leave us alone!
I have to say that I’ve felt this way for quite some time now.
It’s just that I’m always hesitant to broach a topic that could be easily construed as controversial.
Especially in the current political climate, I am reticent to even mention the subject.
But, no. You know what? This country was founded on certain indisputable rights (I never spell inalienable correctly, so I cheated there). Anyway, freedom of speech is a biggie, ding dang it. So, I will state my piece.
Because there is a certain faction of the populous in these United States that I feel is treated poorly. In a place where we claim to celebrate diversity and individualism, how can this injustice persist in 2020?
Look, it’s just one group’s preferred way of being. And yes, fine, OK, perhaps what some might refer to as peculiar. Whatever. We’re not hurting anybody.
I’ve been silent too long, friends.
I am crying out in defense of the solitary.
For generations now, the word “hermit” has carried on its well-hidden back the shame of stigma and I, for one, believe it’s high time for the bigotry and intolerance to end!
There, I said it.
On behalf of semi-recluses everywhere, I must beseech you: LEAVE US ALONE ALREADY! But like, literally.
I’m not sure exactly how everyone arrives at this life choice. I assume it’s transition that typically occurs slowly over a period of several years, maybe decades. Sort of the same way a hairline recedes or a beach erodes or Pamela Anderson embraces middle age … or marriage … or clothing, you dig? Girl, you’re 52, come on now.
But for me, at least, the change was abrupt and absolute. KABLAM! Mommyhood = homebodi-ness.
Sure, I used to be THAT person. You know her — she’s fairly annoying.
“Come on, guys, it’s almost Friday; what are our weekend plans?” I’d say like clockwork weekly from about age 16 to 30.
Back in the day, I’d toss out suggestions like Elizabeth Taylor did husbands:
“Oooh, let’s go to Chi-Chi’s!” (Dating myself there.)
“I am DYING to see the new Tom Cruise film!” (Not true anymore but it once was and clearly still applies.)
“Hey, why don’t we check out that new club downtown?” (Timeless.)
Today, however, I’m so much happier sitting on the couch, preferably with my boys and our Monnie girl seated nearby, munching snacks and watching a new Netflix release. #MyHappyPlace
Leaving the house at 10 p.m., staying out until closing time and grabbing breakfast with the girls at Perkin’s afterward? Yeah, those nights are completely gone — like Lori Loughlin’s Hallmark Channel contract.
Look, it’s not that I NEVER wanted to leave my cave, er, house after becoming a mom. I still loved getting together with my pals — always for kid-friendly food and fun, fer sure.
But the older I’ve become, the more I find myself drawn within — la casa, capisce?
And why not? We eremites have everything we need at home, especially now that Amazon delivers everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, to your doorstep by the time you finish paying for your online purchase, a’ight?
So what if I don’t like clubbing or concert-going or, you know, like, staying up past 9:30 p.m. anymore?
I can see the stage WAY better from my TV. Besides, I can watch in my sweats, without judgment — and my ears won’t be ringing in the morning. So there! #IAMSOOLD #HELPME
Kimerer is a columnist, blogger and semi-loner. Contact her via her underground bunker at www.patriciakimerer.com