On being single

It’s not so bad; but then again, I haven’t been single for long; so maybe the poison of loneliness and lack of physical “activity” hasn’t quite sunk in yet. To be honest with you, I haven’t really thought about it: I’m not single, I’m busy. That’s right; I’m busy getting on with my life and I’m doing just fine, thank you very much. However, I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t be nice to meet someone, but for some reason I am finding it increasingly difficult to do so. Aside from the numerous dating websites, where does one meet potential lovers?

The common misconception seems to be getting drunk on a night out. The problem is, I don’t drink alcohol, nor am I much of a party animal. Don’t get me wrong I enjoy a good night out; once in awhile, but I am not an every Friday night on the prowl and pull kind of girl. I have tried it, and maybe it’s just me, but I never met anyone interesting on a night out. Men (even the ugly ones) develop a James Bond complex; where they think they can be as aloof and as choosy as possible. While the women move together like a shoal of tuna, making it nigh on impossible for you to approach them. This makes it difficult to achieve anything; and by the end of the night, you wonder how the fuck you managed to drink fifty quids worth, that you’re just going to piss straight back out again.

Perhaps I am hunting in the wrong territory. Maybe I need to find a specific type of man in his natural “habitat”. Although if that’s the case; then do I just hang around art galleries, until a handsome, well dressed artist comes along? Somehow that doesn’t seem like it’s going to work either. Oh and in case you’re wondering my friends don’t have any friends that I’d like to date (been there, done that, didn’t like the T-shirt).

Another thing that confuses me is this; why do I attract men that I am NOT interested in, and the one’s that I am, don’t want any of it. Is it because their already one half of a couple, gay, or too busy loving themselves? I’m not sure. I suppose that’s just life though and knowing me I’ll end up meeting someone after steeping in dog crap, with a massive chin spot, horrendous hair, in the pouring rain.

So until then, I guess I’ll try my hardest not to develop Bridget Jone syndrome and enjoy my own company for a change.