Eternally Single

I'm already planning on what I'm going to name my 14 cats.  While love-struck teenagers are thinking up baby names, I've been seduced by the life of a spinster.  It was either that, or join a convent.  (The nun garb wouldn't do anything for my pallor.)

While I don't tend to parade my love life (or lack of it) on the Internet, an article I read recently in the New York Times entitled 'The End of Courtship?' really hit home and inspired me to write a blog post.  I'm starting to understand more and more why I am, as my title suggests, eternally single.

Of course every girl will go through that stage when they question why they haven't yet been courted.  Too ugly?  Too fat?  Too spotty? Too boring? Too annoying?  Too weird?  Too vain?  Are my boobs not big enough?  Do I look like a man?  You then wonder why every time you get 'close' to a guy, he either just wants to be friends, or wants to pop your cherry and then leave you, because either he's "just got out of a serious relationship" (two years ago hardly counts as 'just'), he's "not really in that place for a relationship right now", or "it's not practical".  You then find out that two weeks later he's off the market and his new Facebook relationship status feels like a bullet to your brain.  You then start going through every single 'moment' the two of you had together and wonder how you could have possibly misread the signals.  Were you ever that important to him?  Well of course you were, you tell yourself; he always put three kisses on the end of each text, told you he fancied you and he made you feel like his beautiful little princess.  But just when you think he's about to make it official, he disappears into a huge, fat, grey cloud hanging over planet loserville.  (Apparently they don't have 3G signal or wifi there...hence lack of contact.)  He missed you?  Get real.  You were his accessory of convenience.  So alas, Cadbury's chocolate and tissue boxes suddenly become your new best friend but all you're left with is another inch around the waist, a red nose and a broken heart.  And then you find yourself hoarding tins of Vaseline at the check out.

I remember in my first year at university when I hadn't called my mother for a week, she automatically deduced that there must be a man in my life.  After explaining that this was definitely not the case, she hasn't really brought the subject up since.  Now discussions re: my love life only resurface after I've been watching too many romcoms and accidentally let slip something like: "Why can't I find a boyfriend?  What's wrong with me?"  A heart-to-heart ensues before I come to the same conclusion each time: that I enjoy my freedom and it's probably better this way.  But as much as I love my friends, mugs of tea and watching episodes of Miranda, sometimes the only cure for a bad day at work is a boyfriend to cuddle you, look into your eyes, and tell you that you're the most wonderful person in the world.  The irony of this of course is that I've never had a boyfriend so this medicinal remedy hasn't exactly been available to me, let alone tried and tested.  A boyfriend isn't something you can get over the counter at Boots for a standard charge of £7.65.  I can't go to my local GP and ask them to write out a prescription for a 6 foot tall muscular man who likes musicals, cuddling, travelling and has a cracking sense of humour.  (Although of course if you fit the bill, please apply below...)

I have been on very few "proper" dates.  Although, contrary to the NYT article's opinion that dinner-dates and movies no longer exist in the 21st century dating world, I have been fortunate enough to experience both.  But for some reason, despite reluctantly allowing the guy to pay for my meal each time, nothing has ever materialised.  There was always something missing.  A spark, chemistry...biology.  You try and persuade yourself to like him because perhaps he's a gentleman and you're fed up with your life of singledom, but instead you find yourself falling for the type of guy who would eagerly accept a free drink from you, burps in public and doesn't understand the saying 'ladies first'.  As much as we've moved away from traditional courtship and a woman's role in society has moved on significantly from being the 'perfect wife and perfect mother', it's becoming rarer for a man to hold the door open for a lady, or top up her glass of wine first, or pull back her seat before she sits down in a restaurant.  Yet there's something so romantic about this little charade which makes butterflies flap their wings.

But while romantic candlelit dinners are a great way to up the ante, I'm not so sure if I'd feel comfortable having my first rendez-vous with a man over a bottle of Chablis and an Entrecote.  This particular setting calls for a certain type of behaviour or impression.  You're worried about which fork you're supposed to use for the starter or about leaving lipstick marks on your glass.  You're anxious he might judge you on how much you eat, or that you'll get salad stuck in your teeth.  There's nothing more off-putting than concentrating so hard on twirling spaghetti neatly onto your fork or correctly using chop-sticks that you can't enjoy one another's company.  It usually takes a few initial meet-ups before you feel totally comfortable being yourself.  You know you've conquered that stage when you can happily order a plate of ribs and have BBQ sauce smothered all over your face and laugh about it.  Even more so when you feel you can comment on the fact that he or she has BBQ sauce half way up their face too.

And then of course you get those casual coffee dates which sometimes extend into hours of mind-numbingly boring conversation because neither of you has the guts to make an exit.  It's hardly polite to make up an excuse and dash during an awkward pause.  You might as well be saying "I've run out of things to say to you so I'm just going to go home and never text you again."  But when you realise nothing better is coming into your line of vision, you organise a coffee date for a month's time, by which point you've forgotten about how mind-numbingly boring it will be and you end up discussing the same things as last time.  You make a mental note to keep coffee dates with them to a minimum but you inevitably agree to several more soul-destroying lattes.  And no amount of sugar will make them any sweeter.

I've started asking myself how and where I'm supposed to meet the man of my dreams.  In a lecture?  The furthest I usually get is 'Hi, my name's...' before the PowerPoint presentation starts.  I also study particularly female-dominated subjects so I'm not exactly spoilt for choice.  In halls?  Too late - I'm no longer a fresher.  In a society?  Too many egos in the ones I've been involved in.  At Church?  They're thinking about God.  In a nightclub?  He's looking for a one night stand.  At the gym?  Sweaty.  Need I say more?  Dating website?  His picture is probably from 1985.  On public transport?  He's desperate.  At work?  He's probably married and/or 30 years your senior.  At a wedding?  A little bit cliched, and he might be distantly related to you.

Gone are the days of meeting men in ballrooms, endlessly hoping that Mr. Darcy will surreptitiously invite you to dance with him.  We've got to face the facts: people don't make the same sort of effort in this new era of fast-paced technology.  Why would he ride four hours through a thunder storm on his horse just to embrace you when he can ping you on BBM?  Like the article suggests, women are starting to act more as tag alongs rather than invitees to one-on-one soirees.  As much as it pains me to think of modern-day dating culture as leaning more towards group hang-outs, in some respects this is probably healthier in the initial stages of getting to know each other.  If you share mutual friends then your relationship won't seem like such an isolated affair and is more likely to blossom naturally at a pace suited to both, rather than an awkward memory you'd rather forget involving a premature kiss and cryptic text messages.
 
Meeting in a more informal setting also means there's less pressure and you don't feel obligated to buy anyone a drink out of courtesy.  However, an overly 'lax' approach to dating could result in both boy and girl being too anxious to discuss their romantic feelings for each another and it's a lose lose situation.  Furthermore, dating culture has evolved into a game where young men and women are often dating multiple people at once, keeping their options open and struggling to commit even to being 'exclusive' with just one person (which in many circles, still doesn't count as 'official').  This ongoing struggle to stick to our guns and 'pick' a boyfriend or girlfriend is becoming absurd.  Have we become a generation too preoccupied with forming our own liberal agendas?

But one thing I do know: If you're not totally satisfied when you're single, you're naive to think having a man in your life will fill all the gaps.  Sometimes you have to experiment with the glue first before you let someone else stick you back together.  Because who's to say they won't go pouring glue in the wrong cracks....