I never used to believe people were single out of choice. As in, “no, you're just perfect, but I don't want a boyfriend.”
But they really are. Eventually. For the last three months, I've been single by choice. (In that, given the chance to not be single in various situations, I have uhmmed and ahhed.) I mean, I'm a selfish bitch now, why would I want to change my bachelorettedom?
I'm finally starting to feel comfortable coming home to an [by most part] empty bed, making my food just the way I like it, talking to my rat like he's my brother, and eating stuff and not wiping it off my face afterwards.
In the wake of people getting engaged – God, have people got the fever or what? – it's actually fucking happening, it's making my head spin. I've hit that age where my mates are shacking up. Dropping like flies. (“Crikey Moses, another fucking engagement...that's surprising...[stifled yawn]”)
It's like there's pressure amongst the couples, and shit, am I glad not to be a part of that. One couple gets engaged, the other one is thinking, “Shit, I'd better propose now. The pressure is on.” Or, “well, I suppose I'd better do it. My mates have proposed, I guess it's my round.” Does this happen? I'm thinking it just might. What about the, “But her ring is bigger than my ring,” thing. I'm taking a stab in the dark here – but my instincts tell me there's a lot of connubial competition that goes down behind the scenes. Possibly not spoken about, of course.
And thus, I remember that the life of a single and happy woman isn't too shabby at all.
Do I actually even want to marry someone one day? I'm not sure if I do. Do I want children? Well the broody vibe hasn't kicked in yet, that's for certain. Show me a howling kid in a restaurant with snot bubbling out of it's nose and screaming like a banshee....nope, don't want spawn.
My married mates had better just visit me in my old age home, where I'll be dying alone. While they pay bonds and pop out kids like gumballs, I'll be getting boozed and own at least 100 pairs of Jimmy Choos.