A couple of weeks ago, a fairly momentous thing happened.
I didn't buy a sofa.
Here's how it happened. I don't have any furniture for my newly-decorated front room - at the moment, I'm making do with some borrowed garden furniture. I'd been looking at the Ikea catalogue and had seen a sofa I really liked. So once the decorating was finished and we had a bit of spare time, New Man and I went to Ikea.
We got to the sofa section, and I showed him the one I liked. There was a bit of a silence - the sort that means, "She likes THAT? Is she mad?!"
I said, "You don't like it, do you?" and he instantly responded, "Well, no, actually."
So I didn't buy it. Simple as that.
Now, those of you who've never been single might sometimes think it would be rather nice to be able to choose exactly the sofa you want without having to take anyone else's opinion into consideration.
You might have no idea what a thrill it was for me to be able to say, "Oh well - we'll keep looking and see if we come across one we both like." Of course, it's still my house, and I still live alone - but for the first time in almost 10 years I can see the possibility that this may not always be the case. It's a possibility I'd almost entirely given up on.
I love the fact that these days, I can't instantly accept an invitation without checking with another person. I love talking about "we" and "us" rather than "I" and "me". I love having someone to dissect the day with after we've been out somewhere. I love rushing home and waiting for the phone to ring. I love the fact that he just texted me to ask if I was OK, because he hadn't got the message that I'd got home safely after dropping him off. I feel looked after. I feel loved.
I'm so happy that I still don't have a sofa.