My love life has a pretty disastrous history. I should have been able to foresee my wayward path when at the late blooming age of 20, my first ever boyfriend ditched me after a glorious six month relationship for his half sister with a walking stick awaiting her hip replacement.
Oh how I was scorned! Since then my love interests fell into one of two categories. Either your typical bad boy where I would swoon ridiculously if they ever looked in my eyes for more than a millisecond or out of character said something nice. Or at the other end of the scale, those that were a little less fortunate in their relationship history (like myself) but were very keen to make amends.
As I got older, I added a string of secret work flings to my bow, which more often than not ended up in major avoidance tactics and embarrassing small talk at the coffee machine. All forgotten after a few days of making ourselves incredibly busy around the office. These interludes did absolute wonders for my productivity, it’s a wonder my bosses didn’t encourage it.
At around 26, I began to reach my stride and was confident, flirtatious and vivacious. A socialite who could hold court with a room full of potential mates (or so I thought after my sixth vodka and cranberry). Realistically I would be falling asleep on the late tube home, alone, being woken up at the end of the line by the driver whilst wiping the dribble from the corner of my mouth and wondering whether I’ll be able to make it home before peeing my pants.
So what has happened? I feel like I am a child who has regressed in her development. I now cower in the corner and hide behind imaginary pot plants if I have just a tiny notion that there may be a single man in the room. Words refuse to leave my lips and I stand limp, blushed and bamboozled in front of the male sex. I erect an almost visible wall at the mere mention of men or dating.
I am actually incredibly comfortable being single. I'm not lonely, I really enjoy having only myself to answer to and clean up after. My only concern is that time is not on my side. My last date was pre children when my breasts stood up on their own and my stomach was as tight as stretched canvas.
I can only conclude that there is so much more at stake now. I’ve grown up and I want more. Gone are the days of frivolous flings. I’m 10 (ahem) years older and have a much better idea of what I want and need in a relationship, emotionally and physically. It’s a long list, I tell you. I also want a role model for my children, an income to share, he needs to fit into my life with my children, and to coin and old work phrase, must be able to ‘add value’. Someone we can all learn from, laugh with, cry upon and just comfortably sit next too, without talking. Above all, he must be willing to mow my fricken lawns.
So, in my endless world of research (I like to find a new topic each day. Yesterday was the pollination of figs – please google, great dinner party conversation.), I will find the most appropriate steps for someone in my situation, to finding a potential and fulfilling mate. I will then post and report my progress on this blog.
If my history has anything to go by, I’m doomed!! But goodness knows it will make good blogging material.
Wish me luck!
By the way, please don’t forward this blog to any potential mates, I will obviously deny all of my above demands and become the old fancy free frivolous flings me. Oh yes, Easy Breezy. That’s me.