My husband has been out of town for awhile now on business. At first, I felt crazy sad. I started checking Facebook too often and posting one too many “I miss you” comments on the walls of practically everyone. I started talking about my husband constantly at work, randomly linking a conversation about peanuts or new shoes back to him.

Then the weekend came, and it stopped. I made myself a nice dinner, had extra to put in the fridge, and didn’t fear that someone else might eat it before I could. I wrote for a couple of hours on Friday night and watched Cleopatra. Saturday I wrote for five hours, went to the gym, bought champagne, and spent the evening with the Film Director’s Wife and her wife at their beautiful new home. Sunday I wrote some more, went to the gym, and watched The Deer Hunter and To Kill a Mockingbird, both of which I’d never seen. And I started sleeping in the middle of the bed.

I’ve felt guilty ever since. Secret Thirty-Nine, Revealed. Because it was the nicest weekend I’ve had in a really long time, and it was without my husband. I did not have to compromise on a single moment of my whole weekend. The rhythm of my days were different. I got everything done. I didn’t stress. I felt like suddenly everything I normally struggle to do got done without much effort. And it was divine.

My husband gets back today. I’m excited. I miss his face and the way a warm hug feels at the end of a workday. But, as I sit now in the middle of our bed with all of the pillows stacked behind me and no one to tell me to turn out the light, I wonder if it’s possible to have this kind of freedom within the day-to-day of a marriage. Probably not. Marriage is compromise, just like living with any kind of roommate is a compromise. And if I have to have a roommate, I way prefer my husband over anyone else on Earth. So, sigh. Goodbye, again, single life. You’re a really fun gal to hang out with for a weekend.