First up i’d just like to thank you all for all the comments, emails and texts over the last few days, you are all stars. As an update, I’m doing fine…still needing to blog about things so bear with me for just a little while longer, or send me a meme so I can think about something else for a while. Either will do.
Secondly, if you missed it in my last post, my last comment was the 1000th comment on this blog, so go me! Thanks to all of you who have commented over the last year or so, I had no idea people would ever start reading my weird corner of the internets but stick around now you are here! x
Anyways, with the news out the way, today’s blogging topic was to be all about being single; but considering I have only been single for 4 days in the last 9 years, it didn’t seem very appropriate. But then when have I ever shied away from being inappropriate?
(Ok, around my mum, my boss or in church doesn’t count. Although I did once shag my boss in front of a full glass window of a skyscraper in Belfast which isn’t exactly appropriate…ahem)
Even if i’m really not qualified to talk about it, one thing I have realised about being single is that I don’t like it. Yes I know it’s only been 4 days, but come on, being single is fundamentally shit.
Basically:
I have no one who texts me to say ‘good night baby xx’ or ‘good morning honey xx’,
I have no one to email stupid jokes to me all day,
I hate cooking for one person; in fact I can’t cook for one person,
I have no one to go and see shit movies like Transformers with (not a girls film),
The kitten has no one to terrorise but me (or more honestly no one but me to get up at 7 and feed her),
There is no one to take the bins out or pop to the shop for chocolate and fags and wine, and
If I have PMT there is no one to run me a bath, make me a hot chocolate and give me cuddles in bed…
Yeah I am joking about all the superficial shit, but honestly, i’m sulking. I’m drinking and smoking too much and sleeping too little and generally looking bloody awful and puffy. I now have no motivation for exercise as wallowing on the sofa is too desirable. I have greying hair, an expanding middle and I’m 31. Plus my summer holiday has been cancelled and I have to be single at another family party, again.
I’m also extremely horny and my vibrator does not cut it.
See being single is sheee-iiiite.
Is there really light at the end of this tunnel.. ? Is it really this shit? or is the answer just to have a one night stand to get rid of the hornyness (as if im honest thats the biggest problem) and get over it….
Kx
right here right now
I hope it haunts me til I’m hopeless, I hope it hits you when you go, and sometimes on the edge of sleeping, it rises up to let me know
One of the worst parts of the end of a relationship has to be the re-hash. You’ve just got over the humiliation of being suddenly single, when only the night before you had been lovingly singing his praises, and then you have to spend night after night consuming wine with friends dissecting exactly why he did it. And thinking of all the reasons you hadn’t actually thought about…and feeling even more humiliated…and angry.
(Actually, i’m now possibly more angry than humiliated…and I want to rip each of his extremely long eyelashes out….)
(…no man should have eyelashes that obscenely long, I did NOT appreciate them being longer than mine.)
Anyways, why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we feel the need to discuss break ups in minute detail, he said, she said, were you drunk? why, why, god dam why?? To be honest, I would quite liked to have stay oblivious to all the things that might have gone wrong, all the myriad of reasons that it might actually have been my fault, not his. Wouldn’t that be a double humiliation, being dumped because of something you did? Nice.
Maybe it’s just a girl thing, one of the many activities that we bond over; (which also includes lip gloss, willy size and designer shoes…) the relationship dissection is a right of passage, as while it makes you feel 10 times worse, it allows all your friends a smug glow of happiness that their man would not turn out like yours no sir-eee (of course, they nearly always do in some way or an other, so you can eventually get your own back)
(ok, that bit is a joke, dont hit me for suggesting there might be any smugness involved)
(its just me that might have been smug. Once. and i didnt really like her to begin with)
So now, I have to spend a stupid amount of time persuading myself that it’s not my fault, I did not get dumped because of ‘me’ and that I am fabulous.
…and then maybe I might just bitch some more, because bitching (and eyelash pulling) is fun.
Kx
P.s Girls (ok, and guys) why the hell do we do this to ourselves??
…and arbitrary and that’s why it’s so terrifyingly tenuous*
Love to me is a two way thing, there cannot be love with out love. If there is no love then there is no love. Its not something that can be measured in degrees.
Cynically, i look at people and think: are you settling, do you realise what love could be? But I don’t think i’m cold hearted, like the female orgasm, i honestly think it’s not just me, I think we all sitting here thinking is that really it? Is that really what love feels like?
I’m in awe of people who have found that mutual ideal. It’s rare and golden and it’s very hard to settle for anything else.
Maybe i’ve become jaded, too realistic, too fatalistic. Maybe I have a weird view of what love should be, but its my view. So when the tough little part of me, lets call it resilience, pops up and gives me a slap to say ‘remember what you believe’, i’m thankful for it. I’m thankful to think that maybe one day i will be sitting here writing a post with a stupefying grin on my face telling you all that i too know how it feels.
Until then i’m not going to sit and wallow in the misery that yet again i haven’t found love.
Kx
P.s am i a love cynic or right? What do you think?
I haven’t got angry; yet. I could though be be described as a cold fish, but hey, i could also be described as a man in a girls body so its all no big deal. He’s walked away, again, that, i suppose is why i’m writing this post. Although i must admit, i’m drunk, so its coming out slowly and with plenty of spelling mistakes (thank god for spell checker, its my life line tonight).
I’ve had enough platitudes for the evening, the way of the world is to get dumped, get drunk, get over it; so that is philosophy i’m following. A night out with some male friends was a good tonic.
Life goes on, so hey, what now, what is there for me? Do i get my short skirt and heals back on, get out there and have some ‘fun’ with inappropriate men and more inappropriate 30 year old women who think tits and ass is appropriate dress. And then there is the men that want that kind of woman.
I am not that kind of woman.
I cant be that kind of woman.
I am not that kind of woman, i’m not high maintenance, i do boy behaviour, i do obsessive sex that eventually fades to nothing, i do football chat, i do sci-fi, i do what ever the hell you challenge me to do, i do drinking till we all cant stand. I don’t do preening, awkward behaviour, hair flicking. But i do do 4 inch heals, gorgeous, glamorous girl.
I am a contradiction.
Maybe i should be high maintenance but i am not.
One day ill find the man who doesn’t give a shit about what i am and what i am not.
One day ill be fucking happy.