Diary of a Marriage: Solo Senorita

One Em minus J., in Cabo.

Last week, just as these frigid temps and relentless snow threats were becoming plain unbearable, I was lucky enough to hop on a plane (two, actually) and jet off to sunny, blessedly warm Los Cabos, Mexico, for a friend’s destination wedding.

Sadly, J. couldn’t get off of work, so while I was sunning and sipping umbrella drinks with four of my friends, he was back at home, trotting back and forth to work in the slushy snow. Every time I thought of him, I felt a twinge of guilt.

That I missed him wasn’t surprising. After all, if you don’t miss your husband while out of the country for four days, I think that’s a bit of a problem, no? What surprised me was how much I missed him. This was the first time that we’d been apart for longer than a day or two and, given my cell phone’s sky-high international charges, we didn’t talk or text at all while I was away. It made me realize the obvious: Good things are better when he’s around to share them with.

But it wasn’t just the rote absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder type of thing. I also realized how difficult — if not impossible — it would be for me to live with anybody else, how the day-to-day rituals J. and I have are much more etched in stone than I ever realized. I shared a room with my good friend Jane during the trip, and it was all I could do to remember to shut bathroom door, or fill up every hotel drawer with my stuff, or waltz out of the shower without a towel on.

J. also wasn’t there to do the little things he’s come to do automatically, things you can’t ask or expect a friend to do: Hand me my towel as soon as he hears the shower shut off; remind me to take my allergy medicine; let me pick at his plate; put up with me when I get cranky; cram the things that won’t fit into my evening clutch into his jacket pocket; slow dance with me at a wedding.

I am more than capable of grabbing my own towel and remembering to take my medicine. And anyway, it’s rude to pick off of someone else’s plate, I should really work on my crankiness, and I do need to learn how to pare down the list of things I stash in my clutch. But I’ll take my slow dances with him, please. And I think I’ll take my next far-flung Mexican getaway with him, too, if only so I don’t have to remember to shut the bathroom door.

Tell us: Have you vacationed without your significant other? Did you feel guilty or enjoy your time apart?

Getting married? Start and end your wedding planning journey with Philadelphia Weddings' guide to the best wedding vendors in the city.