Two years ago, just before Valentines Day, I wrote a list of all the reasons why I think I am still single.
Two years later, I am still single.
But it isn't because of the reasons in that article (reasons such as only purchasing a single pillow for my double bed because it would save myself a tenner). It is now a whole lot worse.
I am still single because...
I have the last two hours of Ceefax ever broadcasted recorded on my TV. When my Mum found out she looked me in the eye and said "Scott that's the saddest thing anyone has ever done EVER."
I haven't really ever understood the concept of Valentines Day. When I was 14 I had a big crush on a bloke my age, and basically I made it so blatant that I fancied him for so long he practically went into hiding. I was worried and anxious about hurting his feelings, so I wrote him a letter more or less saying "Look, just to let you know that I don't fancy you in any way, let's just be mates" to give to him the next day. It was essentially 350 words of me saying exactly the opposite of what I was feeling.
Now that doesn't sound so bad does it? Wrong. Without realising, I gave my note to give to him on the evening of February 13th 2003.
He never read the note.
Everyone thinks that I never wash. It's not because I don't wash or anything, it is purely because until very recently I always used to wear very similar clothes. So, for example, I used to wear a lot of purple hoodies with exactly the same design on it for days on end.
Once I wore four different purple hoodies on the trot. Unfortunately everyone thought that it was the same hoody the whole time. So, after 20 continuous days of looking as if I hadn't washed or taken my clothes off... I. Was. Looking. Fit. As. Fuck.
Every single person who I have ever fancied knows that I fancy them. Got a hunch that I might like you? I DO. Think that when you have your back to me I'll invade your personal space and start grinding against your body? I MOST LIKELY WILL.
I have no concept of personal space. I didn't realise for years that I touch nearly every single nice looking bloke's arms, shoulders, hands, face and thighs without realising. I thought it was completely appropriate to place my crotch three feet in front of their crotch whilst giving them a hug. I do it to all my mates, regardless of whether I fancy them or not, but apparently I do it to people that I fancy by accident approximately ten times more.
I've done it for so long now many friends have assumed that I am deeply in love with my straight best mate Tim, because I invade his personal space all the time. There have been interventions about this issue by him, our friends, my friends, his friends, my parents and I think Tim has had an intervention by his parents as well. The fact is though, I don't fancy him. Eventually, everyone gets used to me touching him up. I even think his girlfriend has gotten use to me touching him up too.
I'm not a pervert, I'm just very touchy feely. I like to think of myself as a kind of British youthful Joe Biden. I also like to think that I can get away with this because of some long lost charismatic Italian heritage in my family. Problem is, I've checked. There isn't any long lost charismatic Italian heritage in my family. Our family tree is 40% Aberdeenshire, 30% Lake District, 20% Cornish Tin Miners, 10% Oxfordshire, 190% not perverts. Thanks Ancestry.
I have never deleted a single song from my iPod. This doesn't sound much like a barrier to love, but trust me on this, it is. Sometimes when I'm a little bit drunk at a mates house I decide to elect myself as the 'House DJ' and attach my iPod to the speakers. I try to put the coolest trendiest, sexiest, skinny jeaniest tracks on first, I try to get the vibe right of the room and choose the right music to suit the mood in the playlist... but then I forget and leave my iPod on shuffle. I wonder out of the room, chat to some mates and down some abandoned open chardonnay, which tastes quite a lot better than the half price kerplonk that I brought, discreetly.
About ten minutes later I come back into the living room / dance floor room and everyone else has abandoned the room as my iPod is blasting out every single album track of Dido's 'Life For Rent' or David Gray's 'White Ladder'.
I say 'love you' to every single person at least 25 times a day. I have now said this word so many times now that to me, the words 'love you' has been devoid of all meaning. I say it all the time to my colleagues, I said it on the phone during a phone interview several months ago and I think I just said it to the cashier at my local Natwest branch ten minutes ago.
I now fear having any date. For you see I'll meet them, wear the same clothes as they saw on my Guardian Soulmates profile before whispering the words "I love you" into their ear whilst accidentally feeling up their inner thigh.
I hate being single.
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