So you’ve reluctantly joined that hideously depressing club of lone males wondering the streets aimlessly, you are officially single… Dun Dun Dun (Hollywood musician wanted)
Your shiny style attempt at a dating profile, fronted by that blindingly happy smile picture she took, is getting fewer visits than a plague site and you think you might be borderline stalking the ex on FB
What can I say; it hurts like a bitch on a bad day in hell
Two weeks in: “It’ll get better, just get back on the horse”
Two months in: “She’s out there for you buddy, keep positive and hang in there” (not in the sense of a support beam and a noose however)
Two years in: The fact that life has chosen not to thankfully open the ground and swallow that pale faced ghostly figure you possess, maybe you’ll meet her at that sweat pants addiction support meeting!
I’d love to indulgently wax lyrical about the positives awaiting that ever embracing warmth you desperately cling to but no, it hurt like a bitch on a bad day in hell then and now… the bar you drowned your sorrows in just renamed a bar stool in honour of your continued financial support. You’d phone a friend or two but their respectively opposing luck in the ever treacherous dating game has netted them a ‘partner’, cue the awkwardly nerve inducing couples nights and mercilessly observational “You can partner with… oh forget” death take me now, I need a legitimate excuse to leave this social funeral early!
Block the ex on FB, put the dating profile out of its prolonged misery and for the love of all that’s holy stop playing ‘our song’ in an endless PTSD inducing loop
- It’s over so accept it
- ‘Our song’ was really a piece of shit that got you laid, blunt but the truth will earn you hate mail from angry feminist groups!
- Sensitivity: Something men fake when they need to falsify emotional accessibility; now, Sensitivity: An unattractive weeping noise when you start blubbering profusely about ‘her’
- Life’s a bitch, so slap her on the arse and wink like a Carry On star! (for the angry feminists my address is….)
- Stop hunting that illusive feeling called ‘Love’, it pitilessly removed that former heart of yours and served it to cupid on a bed of wild rice so why actively invite that again?
Seeking relationships is like trying to get that darn cat to consider your worthless arse worthy of its attention, chase it with desperation reeking abandon and it’ll skedaddle like a twitchy anxiety sufferer, sit there calmly eating a cheese sandwich you just lovingly handcrafted (as a result of taking that cookery class you thought might be populated with sexy women, not the collection of single guys all with the same idea) and that feline predator will be oh so coolly purring next to you.
To be single is not a death sentence or shame evoking exercise, neither is it a thing to be showered in sickening acts of self pity… NO, being single is a self constructive act of accepting that scrapheap in the mirror with an uncaring smile and a damn stylish drink in hand to in film noir manner toast him. As with any curse the key is owning it and through unwavering logic turning the tidal wave of potential self loathing, to one epic mother of a surfing opportunity with all the sun drenched glory that goes with it.
And take all the time you need
She’ll perch precariously on a bar stool and place a well scuffed notepad on the freshly waxed bar, “Are you a writer? or just a women about to tell me to mind my own business?” I’ll semi-sarcastically display a safe level of casual curiosity, off set with the hint of a safe dismissive tone to buffer the potential rejection and she’ll answer, I don’t know the rest but I know it’ll feel right.
So you’ve reluctantly joined that hideously depressing club of lone males wondering the streets aimlessly, you are officially single… So enjoy the ride and steal a few kisses on the way, because when the stars align you’ll find happiness ready to call you mine, and it’ll feel so fine.