Monday, 7 May 2012

So what if I'm single? It's not contagious . . .

I'm rotting.
We all are, slowly.
Although some of us are getting ripe and past our sell by date a lot quicker than others.
The thing is - I'm still on the shelf. I'm the last of the singletons amongst my friends, my family and even the people I can't stand.
I'm like the last over ripe plum.
I've been groped, prodded, tossed around and then thrown back out of the shopping cart. I'm like the banana that's on the turn or the last hairy coconut.
Although I'm not quite in the bargain bin just yet.
If I was in a supermarket I'd definitely be on the shelf in Waitrose or maybe even Whole Foods?
Morrisons and Aldi would take one look at me and know instantly that I wasn't just any old cheap fruit.
In fact, I'm pretty sure I'd be one of Tesco's finest.
Sommerfields would probably have me in their "exotic fruit" selection - surrounded by a bunch of Kumquats.
What I'm trying to say is that although I'm a bit bruised and I'm halfway to battered, I'm still a peach and I'm happy peach too.

I don't mind being single. I like the freedom it gives me and I absolutely love sleeping alone. There is nowhere in the world more fun than my bed - even when I'm the only one in it.
I like wandering around the flat in my underwear and I sometimes like just sitting in the corner, with the lights off, no TV, no music and no distractions. You can't do that if you live with someone. Unless you tie them up, gag them and lock them in a cupboard.
I can eat what I want. If one night I want to drink a glass of champagne and eat a tin of cold beans I can. If I want to eat a whole smoked salmon and wash it down with a shot of tequila I can. If I want to eat a mashed potato sandwich and help it down with an ice cream float I can do that too.
Who's to judge?
Who's to tell me I can't eat this and I can't drink that?
But then again, who the hell is going to wash up?

If I decide I want to run the bath until the water runs cold then that's my business. If I want to light twenty candles and then fall promptly asleep then it's only me who's going to wake up with singed toes and a blackened face (actually, the woman next door may end up a bit tough around the edges too).
If I decide I want to stay up all night watching black & white movies and then sleep through my alarm it isn't anybodies concern but my own, not even my boss. I tell him every time he opens his mouth "now listen, before you utter a single word, unless you're going to marry me, you can't tell me what to do".

If I decide I want to decorate the flat with Union Jack bunting and have a sofa made of marsh mallows, that's my choice. I'm the only one who's going to end up with a sticky arse.
If I decide I want cook a raw chicken with the heat from a burning candle then it's only me who's going to drop two dress sizes and wake up on a gurney in an emergency room.
If I want to wear a pig mask, a leopard print onesie and top it all with a pair of donkey ears then I'm the only one that's going to look like some horrific animal DNA experiment.
And if I want to scare the neighbours? Then I'll just wear that outfit and jump out of their airing cupboard in the middle of the night.
Who's to stop me?

I refuse to have restrictions put upon me.
I have no boundaries I'm not allowed to cross.
I can spend the whole day miaowing like a cat if I want to.
I don't have to live by anybody else's rules or regulations.
I don't have to be crippled by someone else's insecurities and I don't have to play anybody else's game.
I'm free!
I'm free to be me and I'm free to pull my pants down and walk around with a fried egg on my head and a smile on my face if I want to.
If I want to build a tent out of some bed sheets and have a camp fire in the middle of my kitchen it ain't nobodies business if I do.
If I want to sing at the top of my voice and dance around my living room like I've had my drink spiked and smoked a rock of cocaine I can do  - and I don't even have to smoke a rock of cocaine to do it. Because there isn't anybody there to watch me.

I don't care that everyone's getting hitched. It doesn't bother me if they are all shacked up with their heads over their heels and their asses in the air.
If  you're going up the aisle and if you're running down the aisle -  good for you!
Make sure you don't fall on your face and smash your teeth out.
Consumed and madly in love with a significant other?
Attached?
Betrothed?
Engaged & moving in or just in love & living in sin - I'm happy for you.

But more than that, I'm happy for me.
Happy to be me, happy to meet me and happy to know me.

But let me ask you this?
Could you imagine going out with me?

My god -  I think you'd drive me insane. . . . 

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