Sometimes it seems to me that my friends’ desires for me to find Mr Right FAR outstrip mine. And just saying this makes me feel like a very naughty dromedary indeed.
I’ve always had issues with eggs (no not THOSE eggs. Not ovaries. No corpus luteums if you please. I mean DAIRY eggs). Another time perhaps I’ll explore this issue I have. But, for now, I’ve a little story from back in the day at primary skool. Until the day in question I’d never eaten an egg sandwich, never expressed any interest whatsoever in such a snack. Had always found them truly wrong. And 'cos I’m a bit of an opinionated so&so everyone knows this. On that morning, an egg sandwich rocked up in my lunchbox, hiding with the 54321, the carton of OJ and the bag of Sainsburys PLAIN (pooh!) crisps. Being a brave soul obviously in dire need of Omega 123456 and 7, I took a bite. And I’m not a drama queen but I threw up that sorry sanger all over my classmate’s foot and got sent home. There, I told you I didn’t like egg sandwiches. Perhaps you didn’t believe me but there it is. Don’t ever mention them again. And all you single ladies who feel the pressure will, I think, know what I am saying. Even if I'm talking here about egg sandwiches, you know what I'm getting at..
My well-meaning and adorable friends’ enquiries and attempts to avail me of my tragic singledom trigger in me a similarly infantile response – “AAAAARGH.” I want to stamp my feet but I’ve got a dodgy toenail (acquired of course during one of my soulless and possibly suicidal nights in alone with nowt better to do than settle down with a nice bottle of acetone and a pair of nail clippers from the pound shop).
Over to you amigas:
“You’re too picky. “ Right so YOU’D go out with someone who looks like they’ve been in-bred with one of Borat’s sisters?
“You really ought to advertise yourself on a dating site.” Been there mate. Oh I’ve been THERE. (Another time readers, another time.)
“Heres my mate’s husband’s mate – you’ll like him.” Met him. Er, friend whose friend’s husband’s friend is pretty awful....note to you. You’ve known me over 10 years and this monstrosity is what you’d choose for me? Thanks buster!
My favourite – “I can’t believe you are still single.” I bet you get this this all the time too. As in “I can’t believe you are still waiting for the 208 bus. You should have got the 61 and changed six times” But I say, “if I wait, the 208 will come eventually. While I’m waiting, I’ll read the back of a receipt or something but I still would rather catch THAT bus.” (Unless 208s have been discontinued and I’m the last to know. Aah they haven’t ‘cos one just went the other way (which means that one is soon to come this way doesn’t it!!??)).
Is it okay to say I am STILL SINGLE because I (gasp!) just haven’t met the right one FOR ME? Are there really women out there who are that superficial that they make lists and reject anyone who doesn’t conform? Its their bloody fault they are single. Well, yes. I have a list. Not much on it to be honest – its succinct. Another analogy (I like these). I go to the supermarket to do my shop and I have my list. Most of what is on my list I will get. One or two things won’t be in stock. And no doubt I’ll sneakily pick up a few things I hadn’t planned for. Crisps don’t make the list. That’s in case I die on the way there and, as well as having on a pair of pants which date from 1995 I have crisps on my shopping list so therefore I’m a total wanton disgrace. I can compromise on potato cakes (irritatingly out of stock in both Tesco AND Waitrose) but there really is no alternative to milk. Whitener just aint happening. You get my drift? Well, my man list works just like that. Hair colour – whatever (in fact, hair, whatever). A few extra pounds? Who cares. No personality? No date. Wanna get a bit abusive? 999s the number for you. You lika the Columbian powder? Me no lika you. (I’m enjoying this bit.)Still married? Come back when you’re divorced. In fact, don’t bother.
Its not that I need validating. I think I just need SUPPORT. I do 90% believe in what I’m saying, I just need that little extra push to say “you’re doing the right thing. Its okay not to be desperate.” Look, I have absolutely no control over some things in my life. And I still hold onto the idea of fate, meeting someone, getting to like them and going from there. When you try to control, you feel the mercury rising, it all gets frantic and, yep, you make BAD decisions.
What we non-desperate single ladies need are a few WISE HAPPILY ATTACHED PEOPLE (WHAPs) to keep our feet on the ground. There aren’t that many of these around. Try to find one. That’s your role model. When my mate who thinks her husband smells awful and no she can't bear to look at his winkle tries to give me advice about what I should want it just doesn’t have any credibility. When my pal who just spent an hour moaning about how her husband criticises everything she does then attempts to help me with my single status I go into sleep mode. But when I was trying to convince myself that I should really TRY to like Mr OH HES SO NICE AND SO INTO ME BUT HES A BIT CAMP one of these WHAPs said something that hit me - “if you don’t fancy him its game over.” And it is isn’t it. And I don’t even need convincing of that.
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