But more important than Europe and chris, my time here has been about making mad, passionate love to myself.

That's right. I am learning to really have a good relationship. . .with myself.

When have I been single since I was 14? It is just rare flashes in this journal and then WHAM, "I met this guy. You aren't going to believe me, but I am so completely in love with him."

Yes, dedicated readers, we can both admit it now, I have a relationship addiction.

Evidence that I am finally madly in love with myself can be found in my disinterest in every boy I have had a fling with post-chris. It isn't like, "I can do better," but more like, "I acknowledge that this person isn't right for ME, therefore I am not going to let it continue in order to fulfill my temporary need for emotional/physical connections."

Also, there is evidence in my ability to turn away from Lirra. That was a huge deal. She was my best female friend here, but was very overbearing, disliked by the rest of the group, rude to my friends and shallow. I was able to say to myself, "She is nice, but I will spend less time with her."

THESE TWO THINGS ARE HUGE DEALS!

I am finally becoming more aware of what I look for in the people I surround myself with. I will no longer idly entertain dislike in favor of companionship.

And, evidence number three: What did I do last night (a Saturday)?

Well, I am very set on not spending money this week (I spent too much at the bars last weekend), so I decided to stay in for the night. I put on a skirt, drank chilled white wine, read my book, lit a candle, made myself a wonderful dinner (fresh artichoke and my own pasta sauce) and watched an old movie I rented from the library ("The Maltese Falcon" with Humphrey Bogart). There was nothing I would have changed about the entire night. There was a moment when I doubted myself... it was after the movie, after 3 glasses of wine, while I was reading my book that I realized, "Wait, I haven't had a conversation with a single person all day." I hadn't. I had sent a million belated e-mails, walked around the city with my ipod, bought myself a cone of ice cream, greeted my roommates and had my little dinner party. Not a single person all day.

Did I feel neglected by my superficial friendships here? Did I regret not seeking out more social occupations for my Saturdays? Was I afraid of being branded as a "total LOozer!" for not going out last night? Not at all. I rejoiced in my strength. So many members of our group were at a bar talking about nothing, waiting until they felt drink so they would have a story to tell the next day. I just laughed at myself for a while and then felt content, drank another glass of wine, and had wonderful dreams.

So, yes, as sad as I have seemed in this diary, not all of my time here is spent missing him. A large part of being away from everything familiar to you is learning to be comfortable with solitude and consequently with yourself.