Listen, here is the venerable Amy Kellner just totally hitting the nail upon the head:

"Well, it was a good run, but my social life is officially dead. Dead, dead, dead. Stick a fork in it. A sad, sad, sad, rusty, crud-covered fork. It's "fashion week" and "art opening week" and I have not gone to a single solitary "event." Not one. Here's my life now: Work (which is good, don't get me wrong), get home around 9pm, collapse onto couch, stare at television, fall asleep by midnight. Lather, rinse, repeat. Ta da! I guess this is what they call being a normal person. Am I sad about it? I don't know, I can't tell. Probably I am. But you know, I shouldn't even blame work for my newfound hermitude. Plenty of 9-to-5 working folk go out a lot, and there are weekends. I just don't feel like it. I mean, I am an elderly person now, what is the point of traipsing around at all hours with lithe, freewheeling youngsters ten years my junior? What I was searching for on all those dizzy moonlit nights (ha!), I never found. Maybe I found a little. But not enough and so I say good riddance, sir!"

I pretend as though I am worried that I might be lonely during my forthcoming sojourn to Stockholm. And indeed there are certain people I will greatly miss. But generally I just smile at the thought that I can indulge my hermitude with not a whit of guilt.

Anyway. Yeah. I ran away to Vox. And now I want to come back.

Labels: feminism, hermit, vox

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