My ‘Bridget Jones’ existence

After a particularly bad speed dating incident with a friend of mine, I left feeling fairly deflated and through the (obviously one too many!) wine I wailed at the top of my voice ‘Oh my god I’ll never find the one’. My friend reminded me that I had only in fact been single for two months and if anything it was her turn next to find a possible Mr Right. So maybe I was over reacting, but why, when we get to a certain age, do we feel like the clock is ticking to find the one?

I keep trying to reassure myself that now is the time to concentrate on me, my career and anything else I have severely neglected over the past 10 years because men have got in the way, but somewhere in that stupid head of mine I seem to think that I need a man to make me happy.

And I know I’m not alone in my thinking - but why? Is it to prove to exes that we’ve moved on – like they have? And even if we do find someone else it’s not as though we’re going to appear at their front door with a speakerphone saying ‘ner, ner, ner ner, ner I’ve got a new boyfriend’, he’s cuter, smarter and nicer than you – so there!’ Then stamp on their foot and run away, because that would of course just be plain childish.

Or is it purely just to fit in with the status quo? When you’re nearing thirty you’ve surpassed those ‘lets have fun’ years and most of your friends are contemplating marriage and babies. Being the single one is like a zebra attempting to fit in with a herd of goats – the likelihood of standing out is quite probable.

Of course your now attached friends have all been there, worn the t-shirt and have felt like a spare part once in a while, but when I was newly single ALL my friends seemed to be happily, smoochly and deliriously in love. They dragged me out and promised that it wouldn’t be coupley, but of course I found myself speaking to a bunch of star crossed lovers by the end of the night - in fact I think I even heard the lonely chair next to me make a whimper or two.

And it’s not just my friends that I have to keep up with - as I stalk old university friends, school friends and work colleagues it dawns on me that half of them are now married, engaged or having sleepless nights because the little one has arrived. I even bumped into an old school friend the other day who said: ‘So have you had any kids or got married since I last saw you?’ – as I muttered under my breath that I was newly single she reeled off how she ‘can’t believe how quickly her young uns are growing up’. Her kids will probably be Mum’s before mine are even a twinkle in their daddy’s eye – that’s if I ever find him!

So did I miss the boat somewhere which was heading to grown up land? Or did I just fall off and wash up on single island? And if it’s as hard to escape from as the one on Lost I think I’m a bit screwed!

It’s not like I want any of that stuff yet. Having to look after a child scares the living daylights out of me, and how, when I feel like a teenager still can I possibly even fathom the thought of getting married? But when everyone else is doing it you sort of feel left out, it’s like being the only one who doesn’t go on that school trip – frankly it’s just not fair and you hate your parents for being so mean.

And yes now I mention them, parents don’t help keep the worrying at bay either. My Mum is quite frequently heard moaning, ‘When am I going to be a grandma god damn it?’ and conversations like how I should start considering freezing my eggs and which fascinator she’ll wear at my wedding aren’t a rarity.

I suppose it’s the whole ‘Bridget Jones generation’ – soon I’ll be singing at the top of my voice “all by myself, don’t wanna be all by myself anymore…” and accidentally making blue soup – but being single after a certain age is still frowned upon. It’s as though people think that to be whole you should be part of a pair and it’s probably drummed into us round about the same time we learn how to make a pineapple upside down cake and the ins and outs of algebra.

Maybe I’ll stop the clock for a while and just enjoy the view. After all I’ve got plenty of time to spend with the ‘one’ when I’m old and grey – maybe its just time to have some fun…… right?

Whatever happened to the ex?

I nearly choked on my cornflakes the other morning when I found out that a past flame was now married with a kid. I sat there open mouthed for a good five minutes before I even so much as mentally digested it in my brain. Marriage. Baby. Okay so maybe he was thirteen years my senior and possibly in the age bracket where those things were on his to do list, but I just couldn’t work out how in the three years since I had last spoken to him he had even had time to do any of this stuff - when I’d broken up with two guys and been on a string of unsuccessful dates since then.

But it’s not just us girls who wonder what becomes of the broken hearted. Tom Mitchelson did just that for the Daily Mail recently, with a somewhat mixed reactions from his exes.

So is it a good idea to even venture backwards or should we just be leaving the past where it belongs and charge full steam ahead into the future? I recently had two brushes with the past.

The one that got away

Chris had been a mate at school. Nothing more than that. He was a guy I’d have a laugh with at the back of a boring Media studies A’level class and one that, which he ever so rightly reminded me of, cooked me fish finger sandwiches at his house once.

So when I bumped into him a few weeks ago, ten years since I used to hang out with him, it was very strange. His first reaction was ‘you look really different’ – I was hoping he meant it in a good way. But he looked different too. Gone was the slightly too big shirt, trainers, curtain hair cut, and instead was replaced by a more grown up look. His hair, I decided, was much cuter, his dress sense, as my friend put it, was mouldable and his ability to drink copious amounts of alcohol was quite impressive.

So after lots of shots, a night of flirty behaviour and dragging myself to work with a hangover the next day, before I knew it I’d arranged a date with my blast from the past.

Weird doesn’t even come in to it. Before the date all I could think of was fish finger sandwiches, what and if I’d learnt anything in my media studies class and if I’d actually accomplished anything worth talking about since I’d last seen him. I went from ‘not sure’ to ‘what the hell’ and I couldn’t even bring myself to think about snogging him.

But he kind of surprised me. He was funny, honest and nothing like the guy I remembered from school. Phew.

He wasn’t, by any means, my dream man but a slight distraction from my ex, which was definitely a good thing. Then again, snogging him was kind of like a cringe filled playground snog - I don’t think I’ve ever made such a hasty exit from a car.

The x

Even though my friends think I'm shallow enough to actually sleep with or get back together with my ex before my ex, I never would.

He had been nagging on at me to meet up with him for ages for a ‘catch up’, but when I even mentioned it to friends their faces were enough to make me realise that they didn’t approve. So, I just didn’t tell them about it.

As the day neared I was strangely looking forward to it. But as I quickly found out meeting up with this ex was a terrible mistake. Half an hour in I was bored of the stories that he took so long to tell me, after an hour of telling me he had chilled out I saw that aggression-look return in his eyes, and by the end of the night I realised I just didn’t enjoy his company anymore.

Some people are good for you, they enrich your life, complement it or make you see things that maybe you’re blinded to.

He turned me into an annoying mother figure that would cringe every time he opened his mouth or make any sudden movements. And every minute I spent with him I saw that side of me creeping back in. I spent three hours with him and even though it was nice to catch up I really never want that part of me to come back again. Its not me - its who I became when I was around him. We all change, but when a guy makes you change for the worse, whether you’re with them still or not, you really have to question why.

He obviously hadn’t felt the same. The next day I received a text asking me if I wanted to meet up again in a few weeks. Erm…no. Time to delete him out of my phone and my life for good this time.

I’m starting to think my first boyfriend had the right idea, he’s pretended I haven’t existed ever since I dumped him – even after my many friend requests on Facebook. Meanie!