Today marks a whole year of being single.
It was on March 6th 2007, during Manchester United 1-0 win at Lille, where Han told me over MSN that she didn’t want to go out with me anymore. Now, whether you think it’s a good or a bad way to split up I don’t know. I have my opinions, but I’m not sharing them for fear of turning them into a slanging match. I just want to say my thoughts.
Firstly, being single for this length of time both shocks me and doesn’t shock me that – despite for a positively waterlogged patch last October/November (it’s amazing what a trip around Europe does for the confidence), and a mystery Valentine’s Day balloon over Facebook – I’ve pretty much had zero female interest since then. I mean, I rarely get hugs or anything like that even. No words through the grapevine, nothing.
I’ve even joined a few dating sites and usually I send messages. Not only do I rarely get any back, occasionally people leave the said dating site after my message. Whilst I’m not going to do a jump off the end of Llandudno pier, I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t bother me a little bit.
Part of me doesn’t understand it. For one, I’m hard working, hold down a good job, got a good sense of humour (according to Compare on Facebook), fun to be with (again with Compare), cuddly, intelligent and – dare I say it – not actually that bad looking. Certainly I consider myself better looking than the slung shouldered ugly sperm showerers usually seen with prams, acne and no chance of employment.
But then again, I can see why I’m am single. For one, I live with my parents, hardly budoir of love, secondly – you could count eligable women in Colwyn Bay with one hand and still have fingers left over (they fail my “Rhombus of Perfect Woman”: attractive, sane, intelligent, without children – usually only meeting 3 of the rhombous’ points), so I can’t say I actually fancy anybody since that time in late November, and I’m not like most men, and can’t fake a relationship.
But the main reason is simple: I’m not sure I can do with the hassle.
Lets compare lives for a bit. For some reason, people come upto me and generally bitch about their men or women. Coming to me for relationship advice is like going to the gynacologist for tax restructurisation. Nevertheless, I hear more stories as well through other people bitching about their men or women. To me, it just seems like too much hard work, and relationships seem to suck the will out of people (as it did for me). I became fat, lazy and generally unproductive in my relationships. Why? Because I was getting laid.
However in the last year of since being single, I’ve been to 10 countries, had countless nights out, developed my websites into a genuinely good second income, began learning to drive and generally had a good time.
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that whilst I wouldn’t mind somebody there to help share my life with, whilst there isn’t anything at the moment, I’m not going to try and force it. I’m going to wait until I actually meet somebody I like in that way, and then go from there. For what I’ve seen in relationships, it’s not how much time you spend together that makes it successful, but how much time you spend apart.
Sorry for the emo post guys, but I’ve become rather reflective in my 2 days of 24-ness.