Vacancy

I was lying in bed this morning, still slightly groggy from the night before. For an inexplicable reason, I reached with my hand to the other side of the bed and just felt the cool empty bedsheet next to me. This is the life of a single girl, I thought. That being, sleeping on the left side of the bed with a vacancy on the right. For a moment, the observation struck me as somewhat sad.

Yet as I remind myself, this vacancy -- in my bed, in my life -- could easily be filled if I so desired. I could have been married by now to someone I didn't love, had kids, lived in a modest home, and maybe not be deliriously happy, but be minimally content. It would be a satisfactory life. And perhaps I'm being unrealistic in wanting something more.

The night before I was chatting with a rather cute guy at a club. A little scruff on his face. Dimples. And a little odd, which I confess intrigued me more. At the end of the night, I told him I was leaving. He then asked me if I wanted "some company."

Some company.

Of course I always want "some company." But not just any company. I want the real company. The kind that means something.

So I told him I was just going to go home and catch up on sleep. I still gave him my number (is it a red flag that a guy asks a girl if she wants "some company" three hours after meeting her? Nah.). Maybe we'll grab lunch this week. Maybe not. It doesn't really matter as I suspect he is not one of the Ones.

The point is, if I wanted to fill in that vacancy, I could have filled it. And this morning when I woke up and felt the empty space next to me, I know I could have had "some company" right next to me (unless of course he bolted before the crack of dawn). I suppose I want something more extraordinary that just some company, more meaningful than just filling in a vacancy. I suppose I just want something more.