I came to the realisation a couple of days ago that, for the first time since my marriage ended three years ago, I’m really quite happy on my own.
Don’t write me off just yet – I’m not about to buy a couple of cats and commit myself to a life of singledom – but I am increasingly enjoying my own company, let’s say, Carrie Bradshaw-style. Think: good job, great friends, lovely home, enough shoes. Sorted!
It’s an overall feeling of contentment. Planning travel and not worrying about what I’ll do if I’ll have a boyfriend by then. Making financial decisions without considering a hypothetical plus one later down the line (it’s crazy I did this, right?). Feeling comfortable enough to leave the house with no make-up on without worrying the potential love of my life will see me at my worst.
And I still delight being master of the TV remote each and every single day. There’s nobody here to judge how many episodes of Grey’s Anatomy I may or may not watch in one go and I LIKE it that way.
BUT. There are still some points when I think “ugh, I could really use a man right now”. I miss the company, the cuddles, the sometime craziness.
Here are some of those times I could do with one of those boyfriend creatures:
To get rid of spiders
I have two children who aren’t that keen on spiders, which means that I have to pretend to be, like, super brave or something. We’re at that time of the year now when they start crawling inside, and I’ve discovered more than one disgusting eight legged creature creeping round our home lately.
Have you ever heroically removed a spider while you’re internally freaking out and hyperventilating? It really takes it out of a gal.
To do the shopping
I had a couple of hours to myself one evening last week so I used the time to partake in one of my favourite hobbies: perusing the aisles of Waitrose. As I was wondering round in my blissed-out bubble I witnessed a guy in his twenties, rushing around with what looked like a pretty in-depth shopping list on his iPhone.
I caught the look of stress and panic on his face and thought, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone doing that for me?
Of course, any boyfriend of mine would probably arrive home to be berated about buying the wrong brand of coconut water but still, the thought was there.
To build shit
I made Hux’s Tracey Island today – the big present I bought him for his birthday. He was THRILLED and I got maximum parent points, but could I build the thing? Could I heck. In the end I texted the ex and asked if he could give it a go when he’s up to take Hux out for his birthday treat tomorrow.
See also: most LEGO, any Meccano, a crazy loop-the-loop car game Hux once received. I will never be an engineer.
To put out the bins
I hate putting the bins out. I have nothing else to say about this, I just hate it. Worst household job there is.
Here’s how it goes down in our house:
Sunday night, 7pm: “I should put the bins out”
I’ll just eat dinner first.
Sunday night, 8pm: “I should put the bins out”
I’ll just reply to these emails.
Sunday night, 9pm: “I should put the bins out”
Washing! Let’s do the washing!
Sunday night, 10pm: “I should put the bins out”
Ooh, Ab Fab is on Netflix! Yeah!
Sunday night, 11pm: “I should put the bins out”
Monday morning, 7.30am: “Mummy there’s a big noisy lorry outside!”
Fuck! Fuck! Fucking Fuck!
*Puts bins out in dressing gown* (at least it’s a good one)
To make me dinner
Sometimes I get home from a mental day of work then kids clubs then seeing people then errands… and all I want to do is stare at the wall. It takes the little bit of mental strength I have left to do dinner, bath and bed for the little people, yet I still have to make something to eat. How nice, how nice would it be to have someone that isn’t my local Tandoori restaurant do this for me?
I wouldn’t even mind if they’d bought the wrong brand of coconut water.
To listen to my worries
I love it when Kirsty, my BFF in NYC, calls me. We both literally word-vomit all over each other, barely coming up for breath as we regale each other with tales of our weeks. It feels awesome to off-load my thoughts and feelings to her.
I miss having this time to reflect with another person each night, discussing our work days and making future plans. And as lovely as Kirsty is, until she comes home to me every night from work it’s just not the same ;)
So as happy as I am being single, it just shows there are some uses for those man-types. There’s no danger of any cats entering my household just yet…