Being my own best friend
No one has put it as well as the legendary Ru Paul - If you can't love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else
I was in the middle of drafting another Substack to highlight how crazy my summer has been, with back to back holidays and trying to squeeze in summer in London between jetting off here, there, and everywhere. It was the best summer of my life (more on this when I return to that draft), but I was really needing some time to reset. All of my holidays were with big groups, and whilst I am an extrovert, I definitely need my social batteries recharged from time to time.
So to recharge, I decided to book myself a holiday from my holidays, treating myself to a long weekend by myself in the most romantic city in the world, Paris. What a better place to give yourself some love?
As the Eurostar pulled away from Pancras International, I’ll admit I was slightly apprehensive. I had always been extremely independent and before Kiwi had travelled extensively by myself, but this was the first proper solo trip I had taken since before him and I were together: over seven years’ ago. I do a lot in London by myself and absolutely love it, however transporting alone time to a different country makes it feel slightly more monumental.
I won’t give a minute by minute account of everything I did there, as this is a not a guide to Paris, but whilst I was at the cabaret having spent a gorgeous day stomping round and a few champagnes in, I had a bit of an epiphany. Or, a coming back to myself. I had missed this. I had missed immersing myself totally in another city, people, culture, with no one familiar with me to act as a buffer or a safety blanket so in effect diluting the entire experience.
In coming back to myself, I felt an immense sense of freedom. Who cares if you do something stupid, say something stupid, walk in the wrong direction to do a complete 180, to then 180 again once you realise you were in fact going in the right direction to begin with? You are never going to see these people again and you can laugh at yourself whilst you do it, the same way you’d share a loving laugh with a best friend. This has made me feel so confident again and realise how much I adore my own company, which I will be taking as a souvenir back to London.
Travelling and doing things by yourself is so unbelievably freeing, reminding you how much life there is out there happening all at once, and you shouldn’t have to wait for anyone else to do it with. We (apparently, don’t ask for the source) spent over a third of our time by ourselves, and if you cannot love your own company and have fun by yourself, that’s a hell of a lot of time wasted.
Yes Paris is the City of Love, and that includes loving yourself above all else! x
Absolutely right Queen ❤️ (also, a third?? Wtf!!)