While laying in my bed, cuddled up to the mound of unfolded laundry at my side, I couldn’t help but wonder; what if this is it? I mean now that I’ve become accustomed to navigating life without a co-pilot, what if this pile of delicates is as close to a warm body as it gets for me before my time is up?
What if I die alone??
While I adore my alone time & freedom, it’s easy for anyone to fall into the “dying alone” anxiety trap. This shitty concept is perpetuated by our romantic relationship dependent culture. Between the movies, music, & dating apps, finding a life partner seems like a critical part of human survival. I mean, who’s going to hold my wrinkled ass hand at my bedside as I whisper “I love you” just before flatlining??? As of right now my answer would be the name of the only Keith Sweat song that matters.
And that’s perfectly okay. I—think.
After a week of brainstorming, I’ve come up with a few reasons why dying “alone” isn’t the worst thing in the world:
1. Depending on how you die, being alone might lessen your humiliation.
The last thing you want to be is THAT ghost who spends eternity ashamed of his ‘slip on a banana peel’ equivalent death scene.
2. Why would you want to give your loved one PTSD?
Girl, if pigs begin to fly and I actually find someone to call bae, the last thing I want to do is taint their memories with the scene of my death.
3. What if you have a deadbeat partner who doesn’t show up for your last moments alive?
Do you know how badly it would suck to know that the partner you spent your entire late twenties, desperately searching for left you hanging in your final moments? I would definitely choose dying alone over facing the fact that my partner doesn’t give a shit about me. If I have a slow, “fade to black” death, I refuse to spend my last minutes stressing over the whereabouts of a man.
4. Ultimately, no matter who’s with us, we can’t control how or when we’ll die.
Having a partner won’t change the inevitable. We’re all gonna die. Also, at the end of the day, whether you die in front of huge loving family or in a port-a-potty; we come into this world alone and leave in the same fashion—SOLO DOLO.
So, single brethren, go ahead and scratch ‘dying alone’ off your list of things to worry about. It’s about time you moved on to more pressing life issues…like what Beyonce’s twins will be named.