Forever The Single Girl

Hi everyone, I hope you’re all well.

I am the Queen of Getting Fucked Over.

My life is an ongoing comedy sitcom of relentless, draining, unequivocal displays of ‘I don’t give a fuck about you, and I’m here to prove it’.

From getting cheated on on my prom night aged 16, to an ex boyfriend not seeing me on a milestone birthday because he didn’t want to waste annual leave on me, and wanted to play football with his mates after instead, to being stood up for a holiday and standing waiting for 6 hours, my life may prove endlessly entertaining for evenings spent in wine bars, laughing raucously with my friends, but to me…well, it can all seem just a little much sometimes.

There’s a part of me that doesn’t regret a single bad experience I’ve had in love, because it was actually a slow accumulation of all these experiences that led me to creating my blog, and of course, the person you are is everything that’s happened to you in your life…but, and I’m sure most of you reading this will agree…no matter how many funny stories you get out of it all, how many blog posts, how many laughs years down the line, sometimes, you just want a bit of a break.

Having a comedic love life, constantly hearing ‘Oh, you couldn’t make it up!’, ‘That would only happen to you!’ ‘You must be the most unlucky person in love ever!’ (with all good intentions of course), it leads you to thinking…’When will it be my time?’.

I’m at a stage of my life where my friends are either living with their boyfriends, or they’re buying houses, or they’re saving for deposits. They’re either pregnant, or they’ve had kids. They’re either engaged, they’re married, or they’re jetting off on two week holidays to Mykonos together. And then, there’s me. I am the third wheel, the fifth wheel, the constant odd number wheel. I am the one that goes out for dinner with them, and I sit on the opposite side of the table. For every one drink they have, I’m on my fourth, and I provide endless stories of how diabolical my love life is, which I can laugh about whilst out in a busy, bustling restaurant after 5 proseccos, laughing as I write my number on the back of a piece of receipt paper for the handsome waiter, but then I get home, and I get into my empty bed, my head is spinning, and it all starts again; the coming to terms with the fact that maybe, I’ll just never have that.

I have had boyfriends, and I have loved, almost got off on being able to say to my friends, for once, ‘Yeah, me and George will be there at about 9pm’ or, ‘Well, Jack and me are actually off to the New Forest this weekend’. I was, during brief spells of my life, part of The Relationship Club, the one where you don’t care how drunk you get because you’ll be waking up with someone, and you’ll order Dominos for breakfast and watch re runs of Masterchef, and you’ll be able to say into the Whatsapp group chat that you and your boyfriend are literally dying in bed today being SO lazy!

I have loved being The Single Girl, the vivacious friend, talking animatedly about the latest date I’ve been on, the latest romantic blunder. I have loved The Beginning of a Thing, where you don’t know what’s going to happen and it’s so exciting and you tell your friends with a glint in your eye and they say ‘Ooooh, this could be it!’. Going hand in hand with that, is the admission it’s all gone to shit…again. He got back with his ex. Someone caught him still on Tinder. He cancelled our plans. He let his family talk to me like shit. It’s a constant reoccurance in my life, and one that one day, I’d really like to put to bed. I would like to get rid of the dramatics, and for once, not have any stories to tell, even if it’s just for a short while.

I’d like my stories to not involve me being let down. I’d like to just have a few stories of wonderful things happening to me.

The few wonderful stories I do have of being in love, and it being amazing, are slowly being diluted down to a white wine spritzer that’s got a lot more soda than it has Sauvignon Blanc, because of the repetitive cycle I seem to have become acclimatized to, of piss poor men and piss poor situations and piss poor love.

I know I’m one for amateur dramatics when it comes to moaning about the tatters of my love life, but it does leave me thinking…will I forever be The Single Girl?

Speak soon.

All my love BGP xx