It’s official: I hate being single. I’m fed up with being single. I’m lonely, horny, and above all, I miss having someone to snuggle up to at night. I can’t work out what’s wrong with me right now. I had The Lapdog and I didn’t want him. I had The Guy I Couldn’t Get Rid Of and I didn’t want him. And now I want both of them, either of them, to come back.
What the hell? I need a slap. I know I’m allowed to change my mind, but this is getting ridiculous.
I had a great day today, just in case you were wondering. Work was fun. Some fancy dress event. I took the opportunity to try and make myself feel a little better, maybe flirt with some people, so I let a bit of cleavage slide out. Not too much. My boobs are huge and untameable … If I let too much slide out we’re going to have a problem on our hands. It did feel good to get a bit flirty though. Talk with my boobs for a bit.
Once work was done, Bestie and I went for walks and talks, holding hands and arms in that way we do. It means nothing to us, just a friendship touch. Him making sure I don’t fall down a kerb, or me making sure that he doesn’t walk out in front of a car. But it made me realise something: I miss having someone’s fingers in between mine. I want to feel the warmth of a lover. Friends are great and all, but I miss having a lover. I hate being single. This is why I’m never single.
The thing is, it’s quite tough for me to meet a man. It’s not exactly appropriate for me to meet men through work, and I’m sure I’m crossing a few lines if I do. And I don’t really go out drinking these days, so it’s not like I’ve got pubs and clubs filled with boys in which I can make my pick. It feels like the chances of me meeting a man go down with every one I dump, and the chances of me hanging on to one for long enough to have a real relationship with, slim to none. How the hell am I meant to find a man when I’m busy all the time? I work, I take care of family members, plus I don’t have that many friends here these days. Moving away from the country for nine years (with a few little return trips home in that time) did nothing for my friendship circle. I also realised that I didn’t like most of my regional friends when I first came home. Our priorities were no longer the same … and the gap between our levels of morals extended. I started to look down my nose at people that I once loved and held so dear, but that’s the thing about friendship, isn’t it? It grows and evolves, tearing apart or intertwining together. You can never really be sure which way yours will go.
It feels like I’m no closer to that stable, happy-ever-after than I was when I first left the country. I still haven’t bought a house or had a baby. There are no stable job prospects in my future. I can’t even keep hold of good friends without a struggle. And it’s so hard meeting people, whether it’s for friendship or something more. What are you meant to do? Walk up to someone in the street and ask them if they’ll be your friend? And if I can’t even meet new people to make my friends, how the fuck am I meant to find a new special someone to call my next love?
Everyone keeps telling me that I’ll wake up one day and everything will just click into place. That I’ll magically make up my mind about having babies, even finding the right man to have them with. But when does that happen? I’m not even sure I believe it happens at all.
This is why I hate being single. I have too much time on my hands and that means too much time to think. I used to love all the weird and quirky things about myself, but now I’m wondering if my adventure-seeking, thrill-hunting, world-wandering life has hindered my ‘grownup’ life? Breakups are still tough, new loves are still hard to come by, and I still don’t know the answer to any of my questions, especially as far as love is concerned.