SIX YEARS SINGLE

Single: an individual person or thing rather than part of a pair or a group, AKA: me for the better part of 6 years. SIX years, Jesus christ… Prior to this, I was always the one with a boyfriend and it made me feel important. To think that out of all of the people in this world, I was the chosen one. Having not been “chosen” for such an extended period has forced me to re-evaluate the weighting I’d placed on this status and I can confirm with full sincerity, it has not been a comfortable exercise. 

Reason, season, lifetime. 

I’d often wondered if I was too sensitive for love. The thought that a partnership would either last a lifetime or come to a crushing, mutual, or inevitable end made me feel uneasy. I couldn’t reconcile with the notion that some people are poised only to come into our lives for a short time, holding space in memory versus actuality. What would be of the promises we’d made and hopes shared, jokes only we knew or the bond our bodies could never unshare? I’ve learnt to practice living without regrets, but it’s not always painless to imagine things could have ended any other way. 

Eliminating ego. 

This has been the toughest and what I despise about dating. Being asked to separate the single standing from a sense of worthiness, entering into the unknown, and awaiting judgement like a prized pig. You’ll meet, talk, laugh (maybe), part, ponder and anticipate. To message or not to message? He loves me, he loves me not? It’s excruciating. Even more so when the verdict isn’t unanimous. Accepting that someone is not totally enamoured with you can quite easily lend itself to self-perpetuating thoughts of inadequacy, real good times! 

How to be happy for others. 

Love is all around – as it should be. Having been the only one without a date to the Christmas party and continuously told, “your turn will come” or worse, “it’ll happen when you least expect it”, I could be forgiven for feelings of bitterness. But until you detach your own story from that of others, it’s not going to be a fun ride. Engagement and baby announcements should be celebrated without any remnants of injustice, and they can be. 

In my very first post, I alluded to the possibility of not being married by the time I was 25 – HA HA and I’ve long made peace with the fact I’ll never be a Mum in my twenties, shit at this rate I may not be at all. I hope these things happen for me, but until then, I’ll vow to stay sane and the biggest cheerleader for those who have been lucky enough to write their stories, together. For now, this one’s my own.