Dating isn't just a numbers game; you can't simply date as many people as possible, hoping one sticks. Unfortunately, this is how most people approach dating. The common misconception is that mister or misses right is hidden in the masses and all that one has to do is date enough people, sifting through the crowd and finally find that perfect one.
There's a kind of rumour going round that it's not very 'good' for women to talk about men all the time. As if it trivialises us. Well, meh. OF COURSE we talk about other things: like Brexit, the threat of Donald Trump, and how would you genetically engineer a unicorn?.. but you couldn't stop me talking about men with my friends if you paid me.
It's a period of your life, which my married friends reassure me will be gone far too quickly! So, unlike most singletons, rather than rushing to ditch my single status, I've set to work making the most of it. Because when I finally reach the 'other side of single', I don't want to have any regrets!
I fucking hate cats, usually. Like men, they're either ugly, good-looking but dumb to the point of irrelevance, or else transparently cunning. And, also like men, they do that thing where they treat you with indifference, until you withdraw your affections, and then they're all over you like salt on chips.
In the car the phone is hooked up to loud speaker and a call comes through as we whizz through an underpass. It's a woman's voice, high pitched and breathy, speaking in an unknown Eastern European language. They have a short conversation and after she hangs up I start giggling and ask who the hell it was... "It was my wife" he said flatly.
Whether your "New Year New You" dating resolution was to find that someone special in 2014, to cut down on your never-ending list when it comes to finding that perfect person or to update your profile picture from the one of you posing on holiday seven years ago, I think now is the time to take a look back.
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.