*Edit: This blog was written from my single self-perspective. I have complete confidence in women and believe that choosing to be single is a very viable life choice, so I hope you enjoyed my single thoughts.
“Don’t worry,” they tell you, “you’ll meet the right one.” “They’re right around the corner,” they tell you. From the age of 13, I became obsessed with the show Sex and the City. Seeing a little of each character in myself: Carry’s neuroticism, Miranda’s sarcasm, Samantha’s out the gate sexuality, and then there’s Charlotte, the eternal love optimist! “I’ve been dating since I was 15, I’m exhausted, where is he!?” To my 13-year-old self, I wasn’t particularly bothered, thinking yeah I’d get around to it, meet the “right one” if you will. 21 years on from that, a divorce and a string of diabolically busted up relationships later, I began to feel my inner Charlotte thinking ok the joke’s up now, loudly followed by my inner Miranda telling me the joke will never be up.
In my life I like to consider myself pretty open, I have dated men, women, couples even, so you could say I am pretty well-rounded We make decisions based on temporary impulses that we rationalize through passion; else, we settle for a complete lack of passion, but essentially you’re dating/married to your best friend. As someone once said to me a sexless relationship is the equivalent of owning a Ferrari but crawling to work because you can’t be bothered finding the keys. I once pondered the logic behind arranged marriages, or why those who got married so quickly when we all said “they’re crazy,” make it last, yet those of us who make “informed rational choices,” and marry the “one we love,” find we’ve actually made a complete and utter 💩 sandwich of a decision.
A few friends have said to me I shouldn’t jump into relationships and should be single for a few years. I have sat and thought about that too, being told “You don’t know yourself.” Perhaps the actual problem is I know myself too well. I am beginning to think I am so set in my ways and what I want that I quite literally can’t be with someone. That I have become so comfortable with myself and being alone that I can’t be bothered? I onsider myself a strong woman, but that begs the question, am I too strong? Have I let my inner Miranda take over to the point that I’ve come to expect my relationships to fail as a protection mechanism?
Being a woman of psychology, I have analyzed the heck out of my relationships, and my thoughts around myself and those relationships. I can tell you why each and every one failed. Some my fault, others a combination; but inevitably, they all fail! Studies of successful women along with longevity studies of women show the women who seem the happiest and led the least stressed lives; colour me cynical but I’m beginning to wonder if there is any point to dating or getting married if it’s all going to end in tears and disaster and valium (along with the possibility of having half your 💩 taken).
You invest so much time, energy, soul, and yourself into these relationships and be it 7 years (my longest) to 1 month (don’t laugh), you put so much into it and for what, anxiety, tears, and liver problems due to alcohol consumption. I really feel I’m at a point of indifference, whereby yes I see some benefits to a relationship but is the allure of cheaper rent, and possible frequent (if you’re lucky) and decent (if you’re really lucky) sex, worth losing yourself for? cause, I don’t know about you but every busted up relationship has chipped a little more away at me to the point I’m pretty sure I can’t afford to lose anymore.
So, off with ya Charlotte, I’m 35 and “he” probably doesn’t exist! … What’s next? read “Go it alone” for the instalment about donors and taking your fertility into your own hands, if that is the path you choose.
