Right, I give up. I have spent the last three years giving it all ‘I don’t need a man’ ‘I won’t be one of those girls defined by their relationship’ ‘I like living alone’ and ‘I enjoy my freedom too much to have a man come and ruin it’. I meant every last word of it whilst there was a chance I could be proved wrong. Now I’m waving the white flag in the face of the smug marrieds, laying down my single girl weapons and giving up. I am fucking lonely.
It has taken four months, several thousand miles and a complete lack of emotion numbing Sauvignon to face up to the fact that if I had a partner, facing all of this would be a lot easier. I knew moving to the Middle East would be hard, and making new friends the hardest part (especially for a sarcastic mare like me who hates ‘people’) but I look at colleagues who go home to their wives or husbands and I have never felt so alone. No cuddles after a hard day, no ear to bend about the frustrations with colleagues, no distractions from the working week, nothing.
And it’s not likely to bloody change. I think I have dated both single men I have come in to contact with. One date lasted two hours and I didn’t see him again until a party where he tried to proposition me and I threw up on his shoes. The proposition thing may have been brought on by my introducing him to my friends as ‘two hour date boy’ and him looking hurt. I countered with ‘no, it was fine. In the UK I’d have probably got drunk and slept with you regardless of how the date went so it made a nice change’. To which he poured me a drink. That also explains the throwing up part as I’m not sure what was in it.
The other was a persistent little fellow who asked me out for dinner about 20 times before I gave in. All my friends were away that weekend so I went. We had a lovely evening chatting away but there wasn’t a spark. Not even a flicker. I already knew that physically he wasn’t my type but dinner felt like catching up with my younger gay cousin. To the point we went clothes shopping after the date.
Oh and I’m pretty sure the object of my work crush is gay. No one looks that dapper and pretty on dress down Thursday. Plus it would explain the four girls he seems to have attached to him when I see him now.
They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. I have been denying the need for a man in my life for years. But I have a feeling I’m past recovery. Maybe it’s time to get that cat?