Tuesday Flash Fiction: To FOMO or not to FOMO?

Photo by Michael Discenza on Unsplash

Almost everyone around me appears to have FOMO. The dreaded fear of missing out.

Oh no! they think. I don’t have any plans for the weekend yet. Whatever will I do? I must fill every minute with something. I’ll do brunch, then a music festival, followed by a pub crawl, then dinner, then a movie…

It’s too much! Me? I don’t get FOMO. In fact, if I do make plans, then I get FOMO of another kind. I get the fear of missing out on my own company.

That’s right. When I’m alone in my home, you see, I have everything to myself. No noisy restaurants, no blaring music forcing me to scream to be heard. No jampacked bars where I’m constantly jostled and elbowed at best, cursed out at worst.

And don’t even get me started on the money. $15 for a glass of wine? Why am I here again and not at home in my pajamas, partaking of a solitary, noise-free cup of tea?

Human connection is important, indeed (how else would I learn how to depict real dialogue?). But what about standing inside holding a cup of coffee, roasted exactly how YOU want, the steam wisping upward and warming your face, as you gaze through your window and watch a squirrel in your garden eat an acorn, rolling it back and forth in his tiny hands? Or watching a mama bird fly up a tree, bringing her youngling some food? I get you, mama, always thinking about your baby.

Or how about watching your dense dog chase a leaf? Or run back to the house all pleased with herself after barking (again) at the mailman?

And when you finish a good book and slowly close the cover, pondering the significance of everything you’ve just read. And you lean back on the sofa, feeling the softness of the cushions as your back sinks into them. You stretch out your arms and legs, not caring whether your shirt rises and exposes your tummy, because you are alone.

And your mind is clear and you can think, because you are alone, with no static, no interference, no one demanding your attention and begging you to make a decision.

That’s a perfect night out. Or, rather, a night in.