How do you feel about being left alone for a few days? What do you do with the time?

My girlfriends have always thought I was impaired because my ideal relationship involves a distance of hundreds or thousand of miles, and constancy in that absence, communication and love and loyalty, but always moments of absence and distance. But then I am a claustrophobe. And it is very tiring being the same person all the time.

I like the cool, clear, clean, calm quiet of being alone, of not having to think about somebody else’s thoughts or worries — I like the freedom.
My mind cleans itself and moves easier without my pushing. It feels so good. That is when I get new ideas. But soon I miss everybody I love or admire and I start to worry about them and I want to know what they are thinking and then I start feeling lonely. However, if being alone is about a man who leaves for periods and there is no problem between us I assume he is happy to be free for a while too.

In my twenties and thirties a lot of my relationships were so long distance they involved separate continents. When I first went to work for Vogue, for example, I had no time off so I flew all the way to Hong Kong for the July 4th long weekend to see my boyfriend at the time, who had been in china covering Tiananmen Square. It was all very romantic and sexy and full of longing and early morning phone calls due to the time change. And then I had this whole separate other life full of my friends and, sometimes, even the occasional other boyfriend. It was like living in a parallel universe. I don’t think I could have lived any other way then, but I realize now there was also a bit of masochism involved. Now, thank God, I’ve finally integrated my parallel worlds (my "own" life and my romantic life). When my husband and I finally decided to get married and buy a house in New Orleans, where his work keeps him, I even sold my coop in New York. I’m away enough — I didn’t want to have two lives anymore, or even two places to live. When I’m in town I work at home all day, and when he comes home I am always genuinely happy to see him. Also, he is the perfect person just to BE with quietly. He used to come into my study in my old place in New Orleans and read while I worked because it was pretty much the only place in that house to sit down. He used to tease me that he was like my big old cat purring in the corner. He had no idea how much I like that comparison. Now that he has his own space in our house, I actually miss looking up from my desk and seeing my "cat." The other thing is that I still go out alone with friends to dinner and movies or whatever without him. I had dinner with a friend in New York last week, who explained that she was free because her husband had a new project that kept him on the west coast for long stretches. She’s a fairly new empty nester and she marveled over how much she loved having this free time to do her thing. I am lucky that I do my thing anyway. But I wouldn’t have nearly as much fun doing it these days if I didn’t know I had John to come home to. Likewise, when he is off on business or doing his own stuff, even the time apart is richer — not empty — because I know it is only temporary.

I always lived two lives. One was my work life and the other my personal life. On my calendar, my work life was in pen, my personal life in pencil, always able to be erased and changed. As the years went by — and when I met a man whose company I cherished — I began to put my personal life in ink, too, savoring my time alone, and my time alone with my husband.

I like being left alone every now and then. It’s the only way I get to go to bed, read books, watch TV and movies uninterrupted and “catch up.” I am a great little organizer when left on my own.

I feel good about being alone for a couple of days, although not more than that. I get lonely if it’s longer. But a couple of days gives me a chance to have dinner with women friends without having to keep the conversation unisex.

My trouble was always that I was, by nature, such a loner that absence in a relationship was essential. Then as I got older and loneliness crept up, I was lucky to meet my first husband who was also a loner, and we lived together very well when we weren’t apart. Which was often. Too often. After I had my daughter I lost my love of solitude and wanted only to be with her. My first husband died after 15 years of marriage and now my daughter is graduating from college in May. My second husband is the complete opposite. Totally traditional. Completely present — in the beginning almost too present. But he’s changed me tremendously. I am less emotionally savage. Less raised by wolves. I don’t long for alone time the way I used to. I am completely happy being with him. But we have regular separations because of work and they are a great way to keep an eye on old friends and catch up on books and I enjoy them but not nearly as much. A few days is plenty.

Loneliness and being alone are very different. I like being alone, but sometimes, in the middle of being alone, a creepy scary feeling comes over me and I need to make contact. I remember on the school bus always trying to get the back seat to be alone. But the day I found out Crissie Peterson drowned over the weekend at the lake, I sat in the front of the bus to be with friends.