Post by sitamappants on Sept 12, 2007 7:55:22 GMT
Isn’t it annoying that you’re not allowed to enjoy being single anymore? Now, contrary to other people’s obvious beliefs, I actually quite enjoy the single life. That’s not to say that I would turn down romance if it presents itself, but I’m certainly not about to leap on the first unfortunate potential suitor with my tongue hanging out and my tail wagging eagerly.
But, all around me, everyone seems to be pairing off, like animals in a queue for some grotesque pink Love-Ark, as if the future of the species depended on it. Which I suppose it does, so they’re not too wide of the mark. It’s just, well – where does this leave the singleton? A dying breed of solitary creatures, who find their social lives gradually ebbing away as their old friends and confidantes (and, let’s face it, pulling partners) up anchor and drift away, waving to the singletons on the jetty with a sense of smug belonging.
It’s not that we mind – most of us who listen to the relationship woes of the dearly coupled are grateful for our singular status. But then we are bombarded by dreamy music on every radio station, fluffy hearts every February, the wistful, blissful smiles of our friends (when the relationship is going well) and we wonder – deep in the darkness of our pre-sleep moments – should we be looking harder? Are we missing out on something? Will we die, alone and loveless, still telling ourselves that we don’t care when we are, in fact, desperately lonely? Add to that the pitying looks of our friends and – worst of all – our aging relatives (blatantly under the impression that we are not only stuck on the shelf, but are welded to it) and we find ourselves convinced that we need the presence of another to make our lives complete.
But then, where to go? We are on the banks of a rapidly flooding river of love and romance, the Love Ark has sailed and we no longer have the means of boarding! We have, to stick with the theme, missed the boat! Where do you go, on your own, without looking desperate? Heaven forbid you should have to prowl the singles events, become the hunter and the hunted, hoping against all hopes that you aren’t falling prey to a bunny-boiler or axe-murderer in your eagerness to conform. So, instead, we roll with the floods, some of us paddling to keep up with the Ark, hoping to be allowed on board as an honorary member, the rest of us swim defiantly in the opposite direction, until our limbs give up the ghost.
So, this is where I came in – isn’t it annoying that you’re not allowed to enjoy being single anymore? I’ve watched the Ark sail, I’ve ridden the tide, paddled behind the Ark and I’m now a changed woman. I’m quite content with my lot, swimming wildly in all directions and having a ball. Who knows who I’ll meet on the way? But until then, I’ll keep on swimming.
Although, if anyone’s got a life-buoy, they might sling it over. My arms and legs are killing me …
But, all around me, everyone seems to be pairing off, like animals in a queue for some grotesque pink Love-Ark, as if the future of the species depended on it. Which I suppose it does, so they’re not too wide of the mark. It’s just, well – where does this leave the singleton? A dying breed of solitary creatures, who find their social lives gradually ebbing away as their old friends and confidantes (and, let’s face it, pulling partners) up anchor and drift away, waving to the singletons on the jetty with a sense of smug belonging.
It’s not that we mind – most of us who listen to the relationship woes of the dearly coupled are grateful for our singular status. But then we are bombarded by dreamy music on every radio station, fluffy hearts every February, the wistful, blissful smiles of our friends (when the relationship is going well) and we wonder – deep in the darkness of our pre-sleep moments – should we be looking harder? Are we missing out on something? Will we die, alone and loveless, still telling ourselves that we don’t care when we are, in fact, desperately lonely? Add to that the pitying looks of our friends and – worst of all – our aging relatives (blatantly under the impression that we are not only stuck on the shelf, but are welded to it) and we find ourselves convinced that we need the presence of another to make our lives complete.
But then, where to go? We are on the banks of a rapidly flooding river of love and romance, the Love Ark has sailed and we no longer have the means of boarding! We have, to stick with the theme, missed the boat! Where do you go, on your own, without looking desperate? Heaven forbid you should have to prowl the singles events, become the hunter and the hunted, hoping against all hopes that you aren’t falling prey to a bunny-boiler or axe-murderer in your eagerness to conform. So, instead, we roll with the floods, some of us paddling to keep up with the Ark, hoping to be allowed on board as an honorary member, the rest of us swim defiantly in the opposite direction, until our limbs give up the ghost.
So, this is where I came in – isn’t it annoying that you’re not allowed to enjoy being single anymore? I’ve watched the Ark sail, I’ve ridden the tide, paddled behind the Ark and I’m now a changed woman. I’m quite content with my lot, swimming wildly in all directions and having a ball. Who knows who I’ll meet on the way? But until then, I’ll keep on swimming.
Although, if anyone’s got a life-buoy, they might sling it over. My arms and legs are killing me …