Amour Propre

Some women treat solitude as a waiting room.

Others furnish it.

The difference is difficult to explain until you witness it.

One woman spends an evening alone and immediately reaches for distraction. A screen. A conversation. Background noise. Something to fill the silence.

Another makes coffee.

Not because she has nowhere to be; because she enjoys where she already is.

That distinction is the beginning of amour propre.

Not vanity.
Not self-obsession.
Certainly not perfection.

The French understood that there is a form of self-regard that sits somewhere between pride and affection. A quiet appreciation for one's own company. An internal standard that does not depend on applause.

A woman with amour propre is not difficult to impress because she thinks she is superior;

She is difficult to impress because she is already engaged.

Her life is not on hold while she waits for someone else to arrive.

She has things to read.
Places to wander.
Ideas to pursue.
Questions to entertain.

Even her solitude is occupied.

Perhaps that is why such women are often mistaken for being mysterious.

They are not mysterious.
They are simply elsewhere.

And unlike so many people, they enjoy the destination. 

Liv