I have never believed in the “you complete me” theory of love. It implies that neither person is whole on their own.
I never wanted someone to complete me. I wanted someone to compliment me. Someone I could compliment. I wanted someone who was a whole person on their own, so I that could continue to be a whole person.
Completing someone else implies to me giving part of myself away. And that is something I am not and never have been interested in.
My wife has her own career and friends and interests. Some of the latter two we share; some we do not. But most importantly, we have space and time that is all our own.
We each have an office in our home, each decorated the way we like it. Mine is filled with sunlight and art. It’s cozy and quiet, and my puppy Aurora loves to “go to work,” sleeping under her favorite fluffy blanket on her corner of the couch. I write and dream and stay connected to self in that space that is all my own.
Not everyone is lucky enough to have a whole room to themselves, I know. But even if you can choose one space, inside or out — like a favorite chair by the window or a sunny corner of your yard — it can make a world of difference. It is imperative, really, when it comes to not losing yourself both as part of a couple as well as a part of this great big world that feels like it gets both bigger and smaller every day as technology and politics and even the weather both unite and separate us, often all at the very same time.
I am also grateful for the opportunity to travel alone. I love traveling with my wife, exploring new places and returning to ones we love. And I also love the chance to step out into the world all on my own, with the chance to eat and do and see and watch and wander whatever I want, wherever I want, whenever I want, without compromise or concern for how my desires affect anyone else.
That’s important. Compromising and sharing are important. But I think, in some ways, we have lost sight of how important it is sometimes to not have to do either.
I was reminded of this recently on a trip to Savannah, Ga. I stayed at a property called The Ann Savannah, which has a really cool concept. It’s a hotel, but each space is an apartment unto itself, each one a studio or one-, two-, three- or even four-bedroom apartment with a living room, a fully equipped kitchen — including Our Place pans, a bathroom, a hall closest and a washer and dryer.
You can rent for a night or a month. There’s a gym and a courtyard, the latter of which some rooms open directly to. There’s a shop that carries all of the usual suspects, as well as items like pasta and sauce in case you want to cook in without running out.
Little James, a charming coffee shop/bar/café/restaurant, is just outside the front door, and guests have access to a pool across the street. The lobby feels more like a welcoming family room than a typical lobby. And two other common spaces that guests can share are also on the first floor.
Each room and suite is impeccably decorated and super well-appointed. Every detail feels so thoughtful. Being there felt like owning my own little Southern pied-à-terre without the real estate taxes and home repairs.
The Ann Savannah is within walking distance of a zillion shops and restaurants on bustling Broughton Street and an easy Lyft to historic spots and restaurants and — well, you name it really — all across the city. Savannah is a great city, and The Ann is a great place to truly call home while you’re there.
And like so often when I travel, this trip inspired more than just a love of a city or a place to stay. Instead, it also inspired a love of returning to me.
I spent time writing in “my” apartment. I ordered in biscuit sandwiches from Rise Southern Biscuits and Righteous Chicken. I ate pho at Flying Monk Noodle Bar. I bought flowery dresses at Pink Chicken. I had ice cream at Leopold’s, and I wandered shop after shop at my own pace, for no reason at all.
I stayed up late binge watching The Beast in Me. I got up early and enjoyed a cappuccino as the light began to fill “my” apartment. I had dinner and cocktails at Little James one night and take-out from there another.
And, above all else, I took the time to remind myself how important it is to know how to enjoy my own company. We are the best partners to our partners when we are first as true as possible to ourselves.
Literally, figuratively, in our home, outside, or on the road — We all need a room of our own.
Jenny Block is the author of five books, including her latest, Badass Manifesting: How to Manifest Abundance, Success and the Joyful Life of Your Dreams, all available on Amazon.com. She writes the monthly column Girl on Girls and frequent travel articles for Dallas Voice.