I love living on my own. I have friends, acquaintances colleagues and lovers who sometimes enter my space on my terms, so I’m certainly not lonely. My home is calm, quiet and stress-free, and I don’t have to accommodate anyone else’s temperament, moods, or likes and dislikes. I get up and go to bed when I feel like it, or when my work requires it, and I can read or snore in bed, or go to the loo at 4am without having to apologise. I choose what, if anything, to watch on TV. I don’t have to be nice to anyone in the house if I’m feeling grumpy, and I don’t have to be sensitive to a resident misery-guts if I’m feeling chirpy. I don’t have to discuss major plans with anyone else - if I want to move or apply for a new job, it’s no-one’s business but my own.
I think the only down side is that I have to do all regular domestic chores myself - I can’t say ‘could you just unload the dishwasher, please?’ If I don’t do something, it doesn’t get done. That includes home and car maintenance tasks, evicting or dispatching unwelcome wildlife and unblocking drains. Over the years I have acquired a decent set of skills, which means I can be pretty self sufficient, and thus not dependent on a spouse, relatives or odd job people.
In a perfect world I’d have staff - a cook-general, a gardener, a ladies’ maid and a butler - but none would live in. Alas, my budget only runs to a cleaner, because housework is the one think I hate doing and do very badly. She is cheaper and a lot less hassle than a husband.