Last Saturday night, I watched the X-Factor live finals for the first time in this series. I have managed to be out on a Saturday night for the past two and a half months. That's good going. In fact, I have made it my mission NEVER to be in to watch the X-Factor, and certainly not in on my own. Last Saturday, I was at a friend's house, drinking wine and slagging off men. Always fun. I rolled into bed at about one, and woke early on Sunday morning with a sense of confusion, a dry mouth and a sore stomach from the huge quantities of sour cream flavour tortilla chips, pizza and popcorn that I managed to put away (Let me off the wheat and dairy free regime for one night and I just go crazy!)
Remember the scene from Bridget Jones when she's wearing those red pyjamas and singing 'All By Myself'? It scares me. We laugh at that scene, but actually, I find it deeply horrific. It could happen to any of you, the director is saying. So get married and have kids, quick, before you end up drinking a bottle of Chardonnay a day and sitting in on your own.
The majority of my friends are, at the moment, all in relationships. The effect of this is that they no longer want to come out on a Saturday night as they are all doing romantic couply-type things with their other halves. The knock on effect is that obviously I don't want to go out on my own, and therefore, at the moment, I have limited chances of meeting somebody. We used to get dressed up and hit the town for cocktails, but now they tend to spend Saturday nights curled up with their other halves. I'm not resentful of their happiness at all, in fact I'm very glad for them but their blissful coupledom makes me feel more like I need to git me a good man. Or at least a short term fling.
The weekend is a veritable mine field of unexploded loneliness, waiting to flare up at any moment. Once a single girl manages to get over the emotional hurdle of Saturday night, there is still Sunday afternoon. Sunday is a day made for couples – brunch, reading the papers in bed (matching white bathrobes optional) and a cosy home cooked roast dinner. For me, the reality of Sunday is marking, ironing, cleaning the bathroom and other tedious jobs that I always say I'll do on Friday night but never get round to after my post-school glass of red or two. When I was on my year out from university and living in Florence, Sunday was the only day when I ever felt lonely. I would walk past houses from which delicious smells would be coming, and watch families get out of their cars, back from church, dressed in their Sunday best and about to eat a huge lunch together. Sunday can be dangerous if you're single. It's best approached with care (and three large glasses of Chianti – preferable at lunchtime).
To be honest, my gloomy frame of mind is probably caused by the fact that hot FB guy, after flirting on and off with me for the past two months, told me the other day at work that he doesn't want a relationship (with me). I put those brackets in myself because a) as you may have noticed, I like brackets and b) I am certain that if he thought I was his soul mate, he would want a relationship, regardless of the timing. When he told me, I just pretended that it didn't matter and said it was fine, I knew all along that he didn't want a relationship and so there was no big deal. Actually, my poor unsuspecting Year 11 class got the brunt of it. I was horrible to them.
Last weekend, although I cleverly managed to avoid a red pyjama Bridget Jones type situation, I had a bit too much time to think. I've vowed not to make the same mistake again. So next weekend I will be out. All weekend. I'm going to visit my cousin and I'm sure a change of scene will be good for me. Apparently he has hot single friends and I'm definitely up for meeting some new people. Maybe I could even take loads of pictures of me with a random hot man and put them up on FB? No, that's not sad at all!
Not everyone feels this weekend loneliness. Some people, I'm sure, are perfectly happy to spend it on their own. They must be incredibly well adjusted and secure. A single colleague told me on Friday that she was actually planning to watch all six Harry Potter films back to back over the weekend. On her own. I guess this proves the old saying that there's always someone worse off than you.
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