I am not single by choice. I would like nothing better than to have a man with whom to share my time, experiences, concerns, hopes, etc with and, cliché though it may sound, someone to just grow old with. But I don’t. I go home everyday to an empty house, skip meals that would have otherwise been lonely and avoid going out for movies so as not to attend solo.
Why am I single? Well I don’t really know. I was in a relationship that ended a couple of years back and haven’t found my footing back into that particular rat race since. Not that I couldn’t be bothered, but it always seems to happen, that the people I would move to Borat’s Kazakhstan for hardly notice that I exist while those I’m not interested in propose marriage. Yeah well!
Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t spend my day skulking and dejectedly seeking out the unsuspecting man who shall my mate forever be. I do not spend countless hours watching the wedding show and picking out the perfect theme colour for my own prized day. Far from it. I am rather happy and am content to have the freedom that singleness brings.