All my friends have the same favourite past time (I think), which is stalk me each time about the status of my romantic life and when, exactly, I will “find someone”.
I guess that’s what happens when literally 95% of your friends are either in a Very Serious Relationship, Married and/or already having kids. I've already get to the point that I've actually fallen out of contact with most of those "used to be" single friends because they are too busy spending time with their other half.
And so these people are fundamentally confused about how I've been single for such a long time. Twenty-Five straight years of singleness was only briefly punctuated by two years I spend staying with the idea of being in love of a guy who probably never knew I exist until today. I occupied my time withdrawing from the world and keeping away from opportunity of men who might fall in love with me. The more you step closer, the more I withdraw. Like really, tell me more about how I am worthless and won’t amount to anything. Or just completely ignore me. I'm seriously turned on now.
And if, for one brief moment, I decide to crush on someone who actually treats me like a real human being, I’ll make sure it’s with someone I am totally incompatible with. In other words, we called that “unavailable people”. People who you go on great dates, but does not wish you on your Birthday or forget about Valentines and/or people who live a thousand miles away.
Not forgetting, I boast a certain superiority in my singleness. I claim to feel stronger, more independent, more confident than my friends who require the companionship of another human being. I scoff at people who are in love and the sacrifices they make for that love. I pretend to hold it in disdain, in contempt – as something beneath me. But the reality is, I'm full of shit.
I walk a different direction, which my way was with nobody, because that’s exactly the way I had designed it. I bit back tears, because I don’t cry anymore. I pull over and drove home – alone. Truth be told, I don’t know how to go home any other way.
Maybe I never will.
I guess that’s what happens when literally 95% of your friends are either in a Very Serious Relationship, Married and/or already having kids. I've already get to the point that I've actually fallen out of contact with most of those "used to be" single friends because they are too busy spending time with their other half.
And so these people are fundamentally confused about how I've been single for such a long time. Twenty-Five straight years of singleness was only briefly punctuated by two years I spend staying with the idea of being in love of a guy who probably never knew I exist until today. I occupied my time withdrawing from the world and keeping away from opportunity of men who might fall in love with me. The more you step closer, the more I withdraw. Like really, tell me more about how I am worthless and won’t amount to anything. Or just completely ignore me. I'm seriously turned on now.
And if, for one brief moment, I decide to crush on someone who actually treats me like a real human being, I’ll make sure it’s with someone I am totally incompatible with. In other words, we called that “unavailable people”. People who you go on great dates, but does not wish you on your Birthday or forget about Valentines and/or people who live a thousand miles away.
Not forgetting, I boast a certain superiority in my singleness. I claim to feel stronger, more independent, more confident than my friends who require the companionship of another human being. I scoff at people who are in love and the sacrifices they make for that love. I pretend to hold it in disdain, in contempt – as something beneath me. But the reality is, I'm full of shit.
I walk a different direction, which my way was with nobody, because that’s exactly the way I had designed it. I bit back tears, because I don’t cry anymore. I pull over and drove home – alone. Truth be told, I don’t know how to go home any other way.
