The Single Life

I'm pretty sick right now. Anyone on Twitter or Facebook will probably have picked this up from my perpetual moaning through the medium of social networking. It's this sickness that caused me to comment to a colleague the other day that I was really pleased I was single right now. I mentioned this as I had just nearly choked whilst in the midst of trying to blow my nose. Not a sexy situation to be in, you might conclude. Thus my comments about being pleased that I had no boyfriend to witness such unsexy scenarios.

It kind of got me to thinking though. In truth, and in general, I'm actually quite pleased I am single right now. Why? I don't know. Am I supposed to be continuously yearning for a boyfriend? Spending my nights worrying about being on the shelf? Cause I'm not. Not at all. But should I be?

The reason I ask is that I'm a bit of a cynic. When most of my single female friends say that they "love being single", I tend to view them with a suspicious eye. Maybe I am being too harsh. But I generally don't believe most girls when they say they are "quite happy being on my own". Mainly because I am the one wiping away their tears 10 hours later when they have had too many vodkas and are wailing about how they are going to die alone. See, what I have found, is that most females PRETEND they are happy being single, but in reality are desperate for a boyfriend. But society has made it so that to admit such defeat would make one pathetic and a bit desperate. So they don't. They pretend they love the single life.

This leads me onto my point. I'm worried that I am kind of the reverse. Because.....

I really am happy being single.

Really. I love it. A little too much I fear. I love my own company. A little too much I fear. And this is what scares me. It's been a while since I have had a proper boyfriend (over a year). Shouldn't I be craving some male companionship by now......?

Maybe I should start by listing some of the reasons I like being single?

We'll start with the obvious and what led me to this blogpost.

I'm ill. Like really ill. Like the type of ill where you don't want to share a house with someone, never mind a bed. My symptoms currently range from the ordinary to the downright disgusting. The disgusting, hacking smokers cough is doubled with bringing up phlegm. Not something any man wishes to be woken up with at 3am. No-one wants to visit the bathroom after I have been in there. My body is currently running out of orifices. I have a slightly worrying rash, which I have been told is nothing more than viral and nothing to worry about. But regardless I feel disgusting. And the unsexiest I have felt in years. Do I really want a man here trying to help? Making me cups of tea and bathing my clammy brow with a wet flannel?

Do I fuck.

I want to be on my own so I can be as ill, disgusting and downright unsavoury as I deserve to be in such a state. I don't want to be worrying about whether he is slowly going off me in my oversized mans shirt or thinking that our relationship might be a bad idea because my hair hasn't been washed in over two days. I want to be alone in my misery. In short. Right now. I want to be single.

And not just when I am ill. I love the fact that I can binge on carbohydrates on a Sunday to the point where I can't breathe without worrying that someone is going to want to get jiggy later and I am going to have to suck in my food baby. I love that I can deep exfoliate as soon as I get home from work and then chill out in front of the TV without worrying about looking like a burst tomato. I LOVE that I can fall into bed at night and sleep like a starfish without having to worry about anyone hogging the duvet or snoring into my ear. In short, I am far too happy being single. And it's concerning me.

The thing that led me to this concern happened a couple of weeks ago. I had started a new job. And I was tired. VERY tired. I was putting in alot of hours and not sleeping great and the effects were starting to become apparent. Whilst sitting on the sofa on my laptop at 12.30am trying to sort out some music for the new bar I was struck by a thought that chilled me to my very bones......

I thought:

'I wish there was a gorgeous hunky bloke sitting next to me and I could just sling this laptop, crawl over to him, and cuddle up in his arms and fall asleep'.

Now. Maybe not such a crazy thought. I'm sure we have all had them. But the difference for me is that I never really have these thoughts. And that's what worries me. Maybe I should? I'm worried there is something wrong with me. And most likely so is my Mum after this little conversation:

Me: "Man, I would love to go out with someone who was in the army"

My Mum: "How come? Is it the uniform?"

Me: "No. It'd be great cause they would be away for half the year. You would hardly get to see them".

You see my problem?

Anyway. I'm not saying I am a committment phobe. Or so cynical, bitter and twisted that I could never venture into another grown-up relationship again. Far from it. I'm willing to grab one with both hands should the right guy come along....

I'm just worried that I should want one a little more than I do.

But then again, maybe I am just thinking too much.

Again.