I do it all the time.
I’m sure some of my family thinks I “overshare” on Facebook, but this is different. I update my status with, “He’s in Beijing this week.” or “When he called from Minnesota” etc etc. My husband travels for work, and everyone I know, knows this. So I don’t think twice about posting about his trips on Facebook or Instagram. Or if I ever figure out Twitter, maybe there.
I’ve been warned recently, “You shouldn’t say you’re home alone.” “Don’t tell the internet your husband is gone.” Even my husband has been told, “Tell her not to tell people when you’re gone.”
I got another warning the other day in my messages. And that night, I really thought about it. Too much. Obsessed even. It was as if I was alone for the first time. As if Mister hasn’t been traveling most weeks for work since we got married over seven years ago. I double checked the doors. Triple checked the doors. I even made a point to take out the trash before it got dark. (Which happens to be 5:30 now, and nowhere near the time all of my trash is done being harvested for the week.
Suddenly, a few concerned and well-meaning friends had me worried that I would be tracked down and targeted by a burglar or violent criminal. I was sure that somewhere in my friends, and friends of friends, on Facebook there was a serial killer, ready to pounce on me now that he knew my husband was halfway across the world. I was a sitting duck at my house, all by my lonesome except for three kids that THINK they know karate.
For exactly one night, I got no sleep. I set the alarm after locking up, then saw the sensor flood light go on in the back yard. I slept with the light on next to my bed. I even put a sound machine app on my phone, to drown out the creepy noises that were probably, most definitely, the raccoons that kept setting off the sensor light out back.
I let myself be scared of being home alone
even though I spend every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday all by myself doing laundry, pulling weeds, paying bills, and SLEEPING, with not a care in the world about being intruded upon whatsoever. I don’t carry mace to the mailbox while Mister is at work. Whether he’s around the world, or a 20 minute drive in his office.
I hardly worry about intruders at all, because my pool guy and lawn mister are both scared to get anywhere near the doors or windows of my house because of my seemingly aggressive and noisy dog pack. (Note to self: start leaving on Cujo during my errands to give dogs new ideas on terrifying potential intruders. And maybe leave out some sort of cool whip or something frothy. For effect.)
I’m disappointed in myself for wasting a whole night worrying about an extremely rare potential threat. I’m disappointed in those kind folks, for assuming I am in danger because I’m alone a lot. What about the tons of women on Facebook who proudly tout their status as, “single” and don’t think one thing bout it?
Did I suddenly become a bigger target because I got married?
Are the lesbian mom couples supposed to be doubly worried about themselves getting jacked, because two women are ((obviously)) weaker than one? Do they take out the trash together? Is one of them a karate expert? Clearly I have lots of questions for lesbians (and karate), so feel free to chime in here, ladies who love ladies. I need to know if you are double and triple checking your chain locks, and keeping your shotguns handy for the killer men trying to attack you at night because they know there is no man around your house to protect your virtue (or lack thereof) or your treasure chest full of gold and diamonds and rubies.
Hey, people! How dare you forget that I am just as confident and strong a woman without my husband around, as those women living their lives day in and day out without a man to “keep them safe.” Pardon YOU, but have you advised your single friends or widowed relatives on Facebook to fake their statuses in order to dupe EVERY MALE ON THE INTERNET into thinking they are safe and sound, with a bearded (or clean shaven, but beards seem very trendy and masculine right now and therefore maybe more threatening to intruders) man wielding an axe (okay, i’m obviously associating the Bounty guy with bravery for some reason)?
Reality check: I am often home alone. Daily. Often nightly. It’s part of being a stay-at-home mom! And sometimes I’m even alone AFTER DARK! (((GASP)))
Dear Murderers and Robbers on Facebook – If you are going to go to the trouble of watching my every move, tracking my daily ins and outs, plotting to murder me while I sleep, just keep in mind, it’s the 21st century and women are not dependent on men, or their burly facial hair, for protection any longer.
Also, you should know that I have a single chin hair growing right now and that could possibly mean I am becoming the very definition of trendy-male-protector. So you never know. I also have three kids, of varying heights, that each know a tiny bit of karate from watching Nickelodeon. If you DO decide I am a target because my husband may, or may not, be home right now, watch your shins, balls, and neck when you enter. Also, the old dog has been known to eat banana peels and masking tape, so you should assume she’ll eat your skin.
Thanks for your concern, Facebook friends, but I think we’ll be okay. If the lesbians and single moms and grandmothers are out there surviving, me and my tiny ninjas should be just fine.
Ninja image from Manuel Sanvictores Flickr CC