My Transition from Super Serious to Single Senior
"To the five of us," my roommate Hannah said, "all single and living together in one bachelor pad." It was a Thursday night in mid-September, and my boyfriend and I had decided the night before that we needed to take some space from each other. We used the word "space" metaphorically speaking, since he had graduated from Syracuse University in May and was now living and working in New York City, some 249 miles away from me in my senior year at Syracuse.
In retrospect, "space" probably wasn't the best word to use metaphorically, either. Most couples use the phrase "taking space" synonymously with "you're seriously getting on my nerves, and if you don't leave me alone, I may punch you or the nearest small puppy." This wasn't the case for us, partially because I really like animals, and partially because truthfully, we didn't piss each other off that much. And when we did piss each other off, it was usually my fault. Lucky for me, he never made me feel bad about my occasional mood swings, and usually fielded my sarcastic rants quite well.
Our personalities complemented each other perfectly, too, and from the day I met him (my freshman year at a party the night after my sorority initiation), we were basically inseparable. He was nothing like any guy I had met thus far at Syracuse – he was a gentleman, funny, and good-looking, a combination you usually only find in romcoms starring Jennifer Aniston. We had a blast together no matter what we were doing, whether it was going on an impromptu road trip, having dinner at a new restaurant in town, or just lounging on the couch watching reruns of Jeopardy (don't judge, things would get very competitive). He'd drive my friends and me to parties when it was too cold to walk, would surprise me with Brueggers in bed, and even made me soup – from scratch! – when I was sick. He was without a doubt the perfect boyfriend, and my friends, parents, and sorority sisters told me it every day.
With a perfect boyfriend comes one tiny drawback: I wasn't enjoying college life to its fullest. Yes, I still went to parties, and of course I still hung out with my friends, but many nights I would be out and would only want to go to where he was so I could hang out with him. I would spend my time in between classes with him, weekend days with him, and most nights with him. I missed out on fun adventures with my friends to just slum around his house with his roommates. It wasn't his fault at all – he always encouraged me to hang out with my friends, go to parties, even flirt with guys, but we were so much into a routine that I didn't want to do any of that. I just wanted to hang out with him, and that I did.
We had planned on staying together throughout my senior year, but when I moved into my apartment in late August with my four best friends, I knew something was different. For the first time in three years, my boyfriend was 249 miles away from me, and gulp he had a real job. He was going to bed at 11 and waking up at 6:30, and I was going to bed at 6:30 and waking up at 11. I watched my four unattached roommates embrace their singledom every night at parties or the bar, and they constantly talked about how out of control senior year was going to be. I was having fun, of course, but I longed for their carefree attitude of a single senior. I wanted to make sure I didn't miss out on the last of the best four years of my life because I was traveling to New York or leaving a late-night voicemail for a sleeping boyfriend.
We had discussed taking some time apart for those very reasons, and my boyfriend constantly told me to enjoy being a senior with no responsibilities and to not feel like I had to call him all the time to tell him what I was doing. The problem was that I wanted to talk to him all the time, and the fact that he encouraged me to stay out until all hours of the night and not worry about checking in didn't help. We decided together to take an official "break" with the hope of reevaluating and rekindling after graduation, and he told me that he wanted me to have the time of my life so I wouldn't look back ten years from now and think that I missed out on a crazy senior year. I shed some tears – a lot of tears – that Wednesday night, but knew our decision was for the best.
The next night, my roommates and I had some sushi and casual Saki bombs before our night out at the bar in a bittersweet celebration of my newfound freedom. They were slightly upset about the breakup for the same reasons I was, but they made it clear that they were happy to finally have me back in a single state of mind. They had joked over the summer that our apartment would be a no-boyfriend zone, and consequently had named our dwelling "The Walnut Bachelor Pad," which was an ironic name considering we didn't live on Walnut Avenue, none of us are guys, and I was still tied down at the time of the naming. Nonetheless, the name stuck, and my four roommates were ecstatic that it would finally live up to all its expectations.
My first night in three years as a single college student was interesting, to say the least. With a single complex and a slight buzz from the Japanese wine, my roommates and I ventured to our Thursday night haunt, Lucy's, a surfer bar famous for its strong fishbowls and super bro frat guys. My roommates clung to me like Janis Ian and Damian clung to Cady Heron on her first day of high school, eager to make sure I had a great night. And that I did. I flirted with some potential suitors and scored a bunch of free drinks, both things I did while I still had a boyfriend, but this time, it felt different. I had an entirely new attitude about going out, and I felt so carefree about everything. I had no intention of hooking up with anyone, but not knowing where the night would take me was exciting, and brought me back to a place I hadn't been since high school. Even if I wasn't going to act on it, the idea of being single felt great, and I felt my fun factor increase tenfold.
One semester later and I'm one semester away from the real world. It's terrifying, yes, but a lot less terrifying knowing that I've had more fun in the past four months than I've had all of college. Luckily, my roommates and I are about halfway through our bucket list, so I have a feeling that I'll have no regrets comes graduation. On the actual guy front, being single isn't all it's cracked up to be. The majority of guys I've met in the past semester have been sleazy with some seriously bad intentions. But to be honest, I'm not concerned with that. I'm not looking for a new boyfriend, or even for a new hook-up for that matter. Instead, I'm looking for a good time with my newfound freedom, and hopefully a lot of funny college stories that I can tell my kids when they're old enough.
As for my "ex" and me, we still talk all the time, and I still consider him my best friend. We still talk about getting back together after I graduate, and he's encouraged me to take all the time I need and to have as much fun as possible during my last semester. As long as I haven't talked him up to the point that someone reading this steals him, fingers crossed that graduation is our new anniversary.
