I never liked being alone. Maybe that’s why, in addition to being married, I’ve had many boyfriends in my life.
Some time ago, I got divorced. Being single at 40 has some peculiarities. The first is that we get more lost than a bridesmaid on a wedding dance floor. It’s a mix of emotions and questions: “What do I like? Where do I go? Who do I call at times like this? How does this Tinder thing really work?”
The most painful thing is the inevitable fear of being alone (forever, even).
The reality of the current affective market is complicated: after the pandemic, a group of people separated, most of them in my age group. The good thing is that I have no shortage of random friends to have a beer on Wednesday and finish off at forró (when my son is with his father). The bad side is that, for independent, well-rounded and empowered women – as I like to think I am – just a charming smile or a funny joke no longer makes a summer.
Let’s look at my situation: 40+, separated, writer, bipolar admitted and treated, mother, happy with my hair. I tried it, but I didn’t like the dating app. I started swapping forró for Emily in Paris, I got rid of the fear of being alone. It was when, sitting on the sofa, in an online consultation for labyrinthitis, my ENT, 15 years older, gave me a “singing line” (that was how they spoke in his time). I resisted, but the guy was friendly, a doctor, athletic and everything good that rhymes with “ethical”. I gave it a chance, we started dating.
It lasted while it lasted. Perhaps, due to my inexperience in love at that time (after a divorce we become pre-pre-teens), and because I had practically changed a relationship into a marriage, I felt bad. I even did something dramatic: I smudged my mascara listening to our playlist while eating Bacio di Latte from the pot (there comes an age when Chicabon is no longer the case). In fact, what hurt was not the end of the relationship, that I no longer had all those guaranás, but rather the fear of being alone, which came back even stronger. Furthermore, if I didn’t know who I was a while ago, at that moment I had to remember that my name was Bia. But I didn’t even have time to remember my last name. I met another boy.
This time, I had to get up from the couch, but only to pick up my son from school and give a ride to a new friend. The boy had a single, handsome and good father, as he said, eager to become my son’s “brother”. My only son also thought it was a great idea to have someone to play video games with. So they arranged to “study” at each other’s houses, causing Dad and I to exchange messages and meet at the door of my house.
Think of a person different from me. No mutual friends, not even on Instagram, even though we’ve lived in the same neighborhood for years. The only thing we shared was our taste for country music. But one thing overcame all the differences. One thing that doesn’t care about reason: passion. I fell in love with him, he with me, we started dating.
Spoiler: after a year it ended (days ago). It was an intense, fast-paced, emotional relationship. We get together as a family, we travel a lot, we practically live together. In addition to liking Marília Mendonça, we found ourselves in romance: there was “I love you” in the fogged-up mirror, coffee in bed with a jar of jam and God knows how many passionate chronicles and poems I wrote for him.
But remember the differences? As much as we really wanted to be together, our way of being, thinking and our tastes became increasingly divergent. Look how curious: the last disagreement was a simple cinema. The cinema that I love so much and he can’t stand it. I really, really wanted to see the movie “The Secret Agent”. Wagner Moura, best actor at the Golden Globes, four Oscar nominations… need I say more? But, for him, there was no point in watching a film sitting down (instead of stretched out), without being able to press pause to go to the bathroom and, on top of that, paying a lot for popcorn, which is his specialty. I even wanted to go alone, but, expecting him to change his mind, I lost the timing and the film was canceled. On top of that, there was no forecast for streaming. I was devastated.
Of course it wasn’t the popcorn. Not even the fact that I love sushi and he prefers barbecue. Or that he loves motorbikes and I’m scared to death of riding a bike. The truth is that, improbably, we became incompatible. He finished.
When we break up, people cheer. What I heard most was: “Wow, you look great” or “You are glowing”. The issue was not that I left a relationship that erased me. The new thing was that, for the first time, I no longer needed to see myself in the reflection of other eyes to exist. Suddenly I was comfortable being me.
Remember the fear of being alone? Strangely, it became a desire to be alone. How long I’ll be single, I don’t know, nor do I want to know. The more I mature, the fewer plans I make. After all, they end up going the way life wants them to.
On Sunday I went to watch “The Secret Agent” at the cinema, which was back in theaters, with great company: myself. Simply one of the top 3 best films I’ve ever seen in my life. I floated away, I didn’t even need an escalator to get to the parking lot.
I confirmed that life really is much more fun when we are in love. And that person may be closer than you think: in your bathroom mirror.
*This text does not necessarily reflect the opinion of Jovem Pan.
