I'm puttin' on the shades to cover up my eyes

On ridin' solo and relationship privilege

There is a wealth disparity between those in relationships and those who are single. I know relationships have their own problems. Life is not always rosy — the grass is greener on the side of the fence where the sheep are tied together, sure.

London rentals. Wedding attendance. Flat renovation. It all adds up when you don’t have someone to split the bill with. Trust me. Last year, the film of my summer would have been called ‘Four Weddings and an Overdraft’. Yet, when I say wealth, I am not solely talking about monetary disparity. Yes, the financial gap does exist but I am talking about emotional wealth. There is a confetti-showering of anxiety; speech-worthy amounts of logistical planning that come with riding solo and making life decisions alone. As a solo party (it’s not really a party if there’s only one of you is it?) you’re constantly balancing if you’d like to be uncomfortable or be out of pocket. The answer is: you will probably be both.

This week, on my way back to Italy after celebrating a hen weekend in London, I navigated a terrible Italian car hire experience on my own. The queue was huge, there were arguments kicking off in the office with every customer, I worried about being scammed at a later date as they attempted to upsell me insurance that cost more than the car hire itself (when I had pre-paid for insurance at booking). I felt anxious. I navigated it with composure. I found another female solo traveller and we helped each other out. I felt proud of myself. I felt independent. Then, when I got in the car, facing a near two hour drive alone after a long day after a delayed flight, the navigation system didn’t work and the charging cable was the wrong type of USB. My phone was low on battery after all the Ryanair-standard impediments so I made it back in the dark, using only my intuition and Italy’s badly placed road signs. My cortisol spiked during the drive. I panicked I’d get lost forever, never to be seen again. I didn’t. I’m here writing this now. Go me.

When I arrived at the house in one piece, I wanted to celebrate. I felt brave. I felt like an independent woman who didn’t need no man but my God, did I want one. Have you ever noticed that the lyrics to Independent Women, Part 1 go: ‘I pay my own fun and I pay my own bills, always 50/50 in relationships’? Destiny’s Child are a beacon for financial independence but it doesn’t say anywhere in the song that you’re expected to stand without water, in the heat for thirty-five minutes, negotiate your way out of a late pick-up time fine because of your flight delay in your best pigeon Italian, all while a bunch of sweaty, angry, hot and bothered Brits shout down the phone behind you about the ‘utter chaos’ going on Surprice Car Rental Pisa totally on your own.

After my debacle, I wanted to laugh in the face of car hire adversity and relish in the brilliance of life’s adventures with someone else. I didn’t. I cried in bed that night instead. I sent a message to my mum who replied ‘Glad you’re back. All good stories for your writing.’ She’s right. But, I’d like to add that despite being Italian herself, she had never driven a car in Italy until she was forty-two and even then, she’s never done it without a passenger next to her in the car. So really, she can’t offer much solace here.

I am courageous enough to travel solo; I am privileged enough to be able to afford to. Some don’t feel brave enough and I don’t blame them; some are not financially independent enough and I am not surprised. Travelling alone can be expensive and it is not always relaxing.

Solo travel, to me, is freeing: you are in control of your own agenda; a book is a great companion; you can quite literally become the flaneur of your own holiday-based destiny, aimlessly wandering but never feeling aimless. There are so many more hours in a day alone. You can sip in the delicacies, whiling away hours people watching and reading. You can always get a table, even when the restaurant is busy. You are more likely to meet people. Last year, solo in Verona, I spotted the girls who were sat next to me on the plane out at the same restaurant on my first night. I went over and introduced myself and we ended up travelling to Lake Garda together the next day. This would not have happened had I been travelling with someone else.

What you can’t do is when travelling solo is: