A gang of dressed-up twenty-somethings come barging past and one of them steps on my toe, which is not ideal as I am wearing strappy sandals that consist of wisps of diamanté nothingness. I yelp in pain but he doesn't even stop or acknowledge his clumsiness. I limp off to the bar to sulk and ruminate upon the fact that I have officially become INVISIBLE.
Happy New Year is it? My arse! It's only a fortnight into 2014, and I've just been dumped, like countless thousands of other people in January. I've become another statistic - another soul cast adrift on a winter wreck of broken hearts, created by the likes of Divorce Day, Blue Monday, and oh heck, just because it's THAT time of year.
Before meeting my other half I spent the best part of five years navigating the peaks and troughs of single life and know all too well the pain and pleasure of flying solo on special occasions. Here are some of my tips on how I enjoyed, made the most of and kept my sanity/perspective in check at Christmas and many other special occasions.
I've heard The Speech many times and it gets a bit boring, but don't get me wrong, The Speech always warms my heart a little because it shows that my friends are looking out for me, and care about me, and want me to be happy. To sum up, it basically conveys an expression of disbelief that I am still, technically, single.
Yep, it's wedding season. If you're single, wedding season can bring to surface a lot of confusing emotions. On one hand, you're likely over the moon happy that your friends have found true love and are excited to share in their joy; on the other you might find yourself feeling jealous, bitter and annoyed with the whole affair.
Having been married and had a family, then been single, then been married and had a family again, I can say conclusively it's easier to be green when you're single. In fact, I'm pretty sure there must be a rule somewhere which states that your ability to be green is inversely proportional to the number of people in your household.
A bottle of wine shared after a particularly trying day at work is far more relaxing than a bottle of wine binged upon while trawling deeper and deeper through the annals of Facebook, the stream of which seems to be filled exclusively with evidence that my exes are all coping with single life far better than I am.
I ordered the first Martini of the day just after 2pm - I was first to arrive at our table for ten. We always seem to go to the same restaurant in Soho and noone knows why - the food is over-priced and just shy of mediocre, and they always try and stick us at the back so we don't annoy everyone else.