You will be happy to hear that I appear to have turned the corner on my obstacles course strewn life. At work, HWMBO is slowly learning to ‘love’ me again and the stressed look which has become a signature expression for the last three months on my face is diminishing daily. On the fitness front, I have finally cancelled my gym membership and moved to a better deal elsewhere.
My dating outlook however remains decidedly unrosy. I can confirm there has been no further contact from the Curry Boy, but I have joined dating site number 4 and attracted the attentions of a 29 year old lawyer who lives in Birmingham. Yes, you’ve guessed it not my type....at all. S2 (fit IT Director) has read my standard hi there email, who has choosen to return email fire. He seems lovely so....(but of course I'm not holding my breathe !).
“You’re so bloody fussy” said G, tucking into a pizza slice and checking her latest text message from ‘the Fool. (Yes you heard me right, they are still together, despite her "we were on a break" indiscretion!).
Why is it that attached people, particularly those who have come through their own dating drought, always think their single friend should just accept any offer they get? Also for those of you who are foolish enough to remain friends with your ex's (male or female) meeting for coffee catch-ups, why do they always lean their heads to one side and muse about why you are still single, conveniently forgetting how crap they were when they were with you? Forgive me for not at the very least wanting to hook up with someone who has little something about them. Someone who has spark, actually lots of sparks is D.
The news that he is having his first child has had a weird effect on me. First I am ecstatic for him as he's a friend, a lovely person, his missus is a complete honey and they are going to make great parents. Also, because he constantly tries to restore my rapidly diminishing belief in love or the semblance of it, that there are actually any other men like him left in the world, who are single, honourable, faithful (but you can never be too sure about that one!) and looking for a nutcase like me.
Usually when I finish talking to D I feel revitalised, particularly when my love tank is empty, but this time I didn’t. It is as if the penny has finally dropped with me that I may not find my Mr Right ever, because all the good guys really are taken, players, married or of course, gay.
Let’s consider the evidence. As of this year, I have been single for three years. I haven’t quite turned into that little old lady who smells of wee and lives with her twenty cats, but I feel like I am just a hop and a skip away from her.
My last three years has consisted of pseudo dates - meetings with men your friends fix you up with, who you would never, ever go for. Dates with men who just want to sleep with you - fine if that's your bag, but totally not me. Then there are unreturned phone calls, these are usually from men you really want to call. You know the ones who when you try to find out what is going on, start mumbling something about wanting to give an ex (girlfriend, booty call whatever) a second or third chance! Now that's just rude!
Let's not forget the numerous lightswitch letdowns and my car crash with 'H' my big mistake (we all have one!). Sex is a distant memory and even third drawer entertainment (I love my rabbit and his other friends!) but playing in my own private idaho alone is now about as exciting as doing a luke warm showerhead dance!
A distracting night out was obviously needed and a gay night out was just what TJ gave me. While sitting in the Stag, surrounded by gay men of varying degrees of handsomeness and listening to R vent about his Brazilian boyfriend's shock termination of their relationship, I realised my own problems were small fry.
"I've gone through crying, denial, drinking, every gay break-up song I can lay my hands on and now I'm just so angry" said R "And when I see him, when he picks up his stuff on Sunday I'm going to let him have it. There he was feeding me all this garbage about his open heart and him loving me being so open and loving and he does this. He does this to me. Well I hope he just remembers this the next time, with whoever the next guy is he does this to!" Argh the emotion!
6 double vodkas later, and having done some hardline flirting with a very cute barman and latino almost jailbait fancy who had glued himself to Rob, I left Rob gazing into the bottom of his glass, still nursing that broken heart.
"You've got until Sunday to get over it" said N (who is as wise as he is funny), tapping his watch firmly. "And then all sympathy is is withdrawn Norma!" I couldn't resist adding. Good to know that boys get the dating blues too!
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