Years ago, Nancy and I woke up, a little hungover. I’d crashed at her house after a fun night with a group of our girlfriends. Nancy made a pot of coffee. We wrapped ourselves in blankets, sprawled across her cozy living room, and let ourselves slowly wake up.
I’d been feeling really sad about being single. One of those tough seasons where I just felt a little lonely. I had recently broken up with a long-term boyfriend who I had truly thought I would marry and have kids with. But it didn’t work out, and that was okay. For the better, I told myself. I didn’t yet believe it, but one day I would.
Nancy piped up. “Isn’t this amazing? We have no where to be.”
I nodded. It was actually pretty nice just slowly waking up.
“Can you imagine if we had children?” Nancy said. “We definitely would not be doing this. We would not be doing this for several more decades.”
I sipped my coffee. “Can you imagine having a hangover and a baby? That sounds horrible.”
We both laughed. Yes, it did sound horrible. And in that moment, we both agreed — being single in our late 20s/early 30s was kind of amazing. We had so much freedom. We could spend our money how we liked, we could make decisions without consulting anyone, and we could drink our damn coffee in peace. It’s a little hard to fathom, but that was maybe the first time I realized the freedom I had as a single person. And how awesome it actually was being single.
Fast forward a lot of years. This is my friend Nancy, and this is her insanely cool apartment (where we’ve gingerly sipped many a cup of coffee). Nancy is embarking on an amazing adventure — a badass job in a new city. Because she has loved and nurtured and designed every inch of this amazing apartment, Nancy asked me to come document it so she can always remember her first home.
As I moved around her apartment, I asked if she remembered that conversation we had so many years ago. She did.
We talked about our friends struggling to be new parents, trying to figure things out. And we both expressed gratitude that we’d had these incredible years to explore and grow.
To travel, solo and with friends.
To develop a sense of style, in our homes and in our wardrobes.
To treat ourselves.
To grow our careers and have work opportunities.
To drink coffee and sleep in, to get full nights of rest. To love our friends’ kids, but to go home to our own beautiful homes not yet covered in burp rags and sticky handprints.
I’m so, so grateful for that. I’m grateful for friendships I nurtured and grew throughout my 20s, and the inspiring men and women I’ve met as a single person. I will miss my inspiring friend Nancy so much, but I’m thrilled to watch all my friends — single and coupled — to grow and succeed. Here’s to the next chapter, the next apartment.