Sixth reason — tranquility is worth more than illusions
Miguel finished his tequila.
— The most important thing I’ve understood in these years is this: relationships don’t always make life better.
He said calmly:
— Sometimes they just complicate things.
He looked at me.
— If I ever meet a woman with whom everything is easy, calm, and interesting, I’m not against a relationship.
We sat there in silence for a while longer. The only sounds in the kitchen were the ticking of the wall clock and, occasionally, the distant sound of a car passing by on a street in Mexico City. Miguel slowly swirled his glass in his hand, and I thought about everything he had said.
He didn’t seem like a bitter or disillusioned man. On the contrary, he spoke calmly, without resentment. More like someone who had simply drawn his own conclusions.
After a few minutes I asked him:
— And you never feel lonely?
Miguel smiled slightly.
— Luis, people often confuse two different things: loneliness and tranquility.
He took a small sip of tequila.
— Loneliness is when you feel you have no one. Tranquility is when you are at peace with yourself.
He turned the glass slowly.
— I’m not alone. I have friends, coworkers. I have my daughter. We talk on the phone often, sometimes she comes to visit me. At Christmas or on Independence Day we always try to spend time together.
He looked out the window.
— But when I get home… I like it to be quiet.
I nodded. In a way, I understood what he meant.
— What if one day you meet a woman who thinks like you?
Miguel shrugged.
— Then it would be different. I’m not against relationships. The problem arises when people enter into a relationship simply because they believe it’s the right thing to do.
He smiled slightly.
— There’s a lot of social pressure these days. If you’re over forty and not married, the questions start immediately:
“Why are you alone?”
“Don’t you want to start a family?”
“Aren’t you afraid of growing old alone?”
He raised his eyebrows.
— But almost no one asks something more important: “Are you happy?”
We remained silent for a few seconds.
— So, for you, happiness is freedom — I said.
Miguel shook his head slowly.
— Not just freedom. Rather, balance.
He placed the glass on the table.
— For example, a typical day for me is quite simple. I get up, make coffee. Sometimes I go for a run in the park. Then I go to work or I work from home.
She smiled.
— In the afternoon I cook something simple. Sometimes a friend comes over, we sit and talk and have a glass of wine or a shot of tequila. Other times I read a book or watch a movie.
He looked at me.
— Doesn’t sound like a bad life, does it?
— No, the truth is no.
Miguel let out a quiet laugh.
— Exactly. Many people think that if someone lives alone, then they are necessarily unhappy.
He paused.
— But sometimes the exact opposite happens.
We finished the tequila and I stood up from the table.
— Thanks for the conversation… and for the drill — I said.
Miguel nodded.
— Whenever you want. You know where I live. If you ever want to come by for a chat or a drink, I’m here.
We shook hands and I stepped out into the hallway.
As I slowly went down the building’s stairs, I kept thinking about what I had just heard. Not because I completely agreed with everything he said. Everyone follows their own path.
But one thing was clear.
Miguel didn’t seem like a man who had lost something in life.
Instead, he seemed like someone who had deliberately chosen the way he wanted to live.
And perhaps that was the most important idea.
Not that relationships are bad.
But that they should come from a sincere desire to be with someone, not from a fear of being alone.
When I reached the door of my apartment, I paused for a few seconds.
Because for the first time I thought about something very simple.
Sometimes people are not alone because they haven’t found anyone.
Sometimes they are alone because, at last, they have found peace.
