My (Temporary) Return to Bachelor Life

I always had a safety net growing up, only I never realized it. Growing up, my parents took care of everything. In college, I lived in the dorms and then in my fraternity house. When I was a residence hall director, I actually lived in an apartment inside the dorm.

There was always someone who knew what was going on, and I just had to show up and get through my day; I just never paid attention to it. Even when I was married, there was someone else who knew what was going on.

But when our first child was five, I had a shocking realization: "Wait, WE'RE in charge?"

I realized I had been living life without a safety net for the last nine years. It was like when Wile E. Coyote runs off the cliff but doesn't realize he's done it until he looks down. This was that moment for me: I looked down and realized I had been doing everything without any kind of permission or backup. I was now an adult, and I wasn't so sure I liked it.

I mentioned this to my wife, who said, "I know. Pretty scary, huh?"

I said, "I feel like there should be someone who, you know, gives us permission to do things like this."

Turns out you don't need it. You reach a certain age when you're kicked out of the nest and told to fly. You just hope your parents taught you the necessary techniques before you hit the ground and have to move back into your parents' nest, hoping you don't accidentally bump into the other birds from high school and have to explain this is only a temporary setback, but that you'll be migrating again in a few months.

I wonder how my single friends manage it. How do they go through life knowing they have no backup or safety net? They just look at a situation and just... make a decision? By themselves? And it only affects them?

When I make a decision, I have to consider everyone around me.

So, if they want to eat chili dogs every night for a week, they can. If they want to eat two bowls of Cap'n Crunch for lunch, they can. I don't get to do that anymore.

In fact, it's been so long since I've lived alone, I don't know if I could do it permanently.

Basically, I lived on my own for three years out of the last 50+ years, and it was amazing.

I stayed up as late as I wanted, played loud music, and watched whatever I wanted without considering other people's feelings. I would also get terribly lonely every two days, so I would have to go out just to be around people. Now that I think about it, being single kind of sucked.

But I've sometimes fantasized about what it would be like to live alone again. Not returning to the single life of a 22-year-old, when my furniture was a hand-me-down couch and bookshelves made from milk crates. When my mattress was on the floor, and my concert-sized stereo speakers served as a nightstand. When laundry was sorted into three piles: clean, still wearable, and "I should probably throw that away."

I had the chance to relive my bachelor life several years ago when I got to spend three months living in the Jack Kerouac House in Orlando, Florida as the Spring 2016 writer-in-residence.

I showed up with a week's worth of clothes and toiletries and a milk crate full of books I swore up and down I was going to read. I set the crate on a bookshelf to pay homage to my days of milk crate furniture.

The house was already furnished, including the kitchen. I spent an hour figuring out where everything was and hiding away the things I wasn't going to need, like salad bowls and vegetable peelers.

This was going to be a fun adventure, recapturing my lost youth, and I did all the things you do when you're single and no one depends on you.

I went to bed at 2:00 am and got up at 10:00 am. I ate Cap'n Crunch whenever I wanted, became a chili dog connoisseur, and watched baseball every evening. I worked all day and wrote my novel at night. Then, I went to bed at 2:00 and started it all over again.

And I gained 30 pounds.

"Oh, THAT'S what happens when I live alone," I realized. I was happy to go back to my house where someone more sensible than me — like my children — helped plan healthy meals that relied more on actual berries and less on Crunch Berries.

At the end of my three months, I packed up everything, cleaned out the refrigerator, and saved my half-finished novel. I had gotten to relive my bachelor days and had a fun time with it, but I didn't want it to be permanent. I had a great time: I slept when I wanted, watched what I wanted, and ate anything I wanted.

I never did read those books, though.

My new humor novel, Mackinac Island Nation, is finished and available from 4 Horsemen Publications. You can get the ebook and print versions here.