A guy I know who’s been single for many years following his second divorce has recently fallen in love. He’s like a giddy teenager and has started telling people they may need to buy a big hat. It’s lovely to see. It really is.
It’s also been very unfortunate for me. This is because it’s prompted people to start looking at me with a knowing look and saying, “Oooh, you’re next!” as if there’s a conveyor belt of older, single people that I’m on and I’m next to be processed.
Over the last few years I’ve been an easy target for the many people I know who think I need a man and are sure they have the answer.
I have one friend who tried to feng shui my house to create the right vibes for bringing a man in to my life. It turns out I’ve got pot pourri in my love zone and I need to replace it with statues of men and women getting it on to change my luck.
Another (married) friend trawled through all the single men she knew and came up with the perfect match. Perfect for her, that is. I’m not judging the guy, but this one was really, really not my type. Anyway, my friend was so chuffed at finding this bloke, I swear she almost started an affair with him.
I can’t say I’m much better myself. In fact I can safely say I’ve made some disastrous choices. I dated one guy because I wanted to have some fun. Someone to go bowling with; to the cinema. You know, nothing serious. Next thing I know, this guy’s trying to move in my house one Morrison’s carrier bag at a time, so he had to go.
The last date I went one was so awkward that when the guy dropped me off I actually said, “I don’t know what to do now, so I’ll just give you a dead leg shall I?” And I did.
All of this leads me to believe that I’m best off as I am for the time being. The day I get round to deciding what I’m looking for, I’ll replace my cassis & pomegranate pot pourri with a live plant and invite the love right on in.