Sometimes I love being single.Of course it can have its disadvantages. And obviously the fact that I've recently done such things as join an online dating agency and go on a date with a fellow blogger, means that I do want to meet someone and not end up as a spinster whose idea of fun is a new packet of Werther's Originals.
But like I said though, sometimes life as a single girl is great. The freedom, the independence, the not having to shave your legs regularly.
Then there are the days like today. The days that the universe sends you little messages to try and tell you that being single is a big, fat, negative situation. That you aren't an independent women, you are just in fact, all alone in the world. You are an inhabitant of Lonelyville. Population: One.
It started when I went to a body pump class this morning. Was quite impressed with myself for dragging my lazy ass to the gym on a Friday morning. Especially as I was out on the razzle dazzle last night. Got to the class and to say that that attendance was low, would be an understatement. It was just me.
The teacher asked if I wanted to go ahead. I decided I would. I mean it had taken a lot of effort to go to the class, I'd be as well doing some exercise. And in actual fact, wouldn't it be a bit like having a personal training session? Just without the big payment? See, there is a positive side to every situation.
My plan would have worked were it not for the fact that the teacher was clearly still in I've got a class full of people mode and deemed it necessary to put her microphone on and regularly shout instructions like 'Come on everyone! Put some effort in!'
I can only imagine that the muscle men pumping weights just outside the studio must have wondered who the 'everyone' was when all they could see was me. Was she doing a class for someone special? Body pump for Schizophrenics.
Was heading home from the gym feeling a bit like a loser when my phone beeped with a text from my friend Darren.
Hi darling. Just wanted to tell you I had an amazing time with you last night xxxxx
Great. Except I didn't see Darren last night. Plus he usually texts me as though I'm one of the boys. No, this text clearly wasn't for me.
Now this isn't a story about sending a text to the wrong person, of which I have many. For starters, there is the time my brother sent a text to a family friend by accident asking if they 'fancied a shag.' A male family friend.
No this is about the fact that I was having a little laugh to myself about Darren's mistake and was just sending him a cheeky reply saying that I thought it was lovely he'd started calling me darling, when there was another beep...
Obviously that last text wasn't for you.
Obviously. Obviously I'm not worthy of a 'darling'. Or a 'xxxxx'. Or even a 'x'. Mind you it appears I don't even deserve a 'how are you anyway?'
Arrived at the Tower and checked to see if I'd received any post. There was just one solitary envelope in the mailbox. (Are you spotting a theme here?)
It was a circular, looking for donations to charity. I opened it up. There at the top of the page in massive letters is 'One is the saddest number' and then 'Dear Friend, this letter, as you'll have gathered, is about loneliness...'
Give me a bloody break universe! I refuse to let you piss on my single portion of chips from a great height. Sometimes it is great to be a single girl. Honestly. For a start it means that you are able to decide on a whim to go on holiday with your best mate!
Yep, me and Taggart are heading off to the sun next week. Adios!
