So, Dear Reader, you may have noticed that there was no blog last week.
Entirely my fault. I went for my Covid Innoculation.... and despite having been very vocal and somewhat disparaging about people’s illnesses after said jab all being in their minds, I flopped onto the sofa on Friday and stayed there, clutching my arm sobbing 'ouchy' and 'I don't feel well' at various intervals across the entire weekend.
My arm still hurts.
Not that anyone paid the slightest bit of attention because as we know - I‘m single and have been for what seems like an awfully long time now.
Feeling ill when you are single is a pretty defining thing. It’s when you realise that there actually isn't anyone that will get you some Anadin or worry about you not eating or give you a hug when you feel all wobbly.
I did worry and did maintain contact with Pip in her hour of need, so don’t get the violins out just yet.
The dog, much as I love him, can‘t manage the kettle with his paws so is useless at making cups of tea, and his sick bed attitude is one of,
'Move over Hooman, that’s my side of the bed' punctuated with doggy farts, rather than anything more uplifting and helpful....
I've lived on my own for just under 4 years now. On the whole I quite enjoy it - living alone that is.
Some of us more wedded type people who share our space with overgrown adulty children, over enthusiastic chefs and twelve year old girls who think they’re fifteen are somewhat envious from time to time of the solitary nature of the singleton.
Being single is something I'm somewhat more conflicted about. I mean the lack of sex is a major downside. An upside is not having to explain anything - like the purchase of an Edgar Allen Poe death mask....
You needed to explain it to me as I was very bemused. At least I get sex. There is an upside!
Since TBT a year ago, there hasn't been anyone else, not that I haven't looked you understand. I have.
I just can’t see anything but him. Sad I know but its true.
Love is a very strange thing that seems to keep perfectly intelligent, rational people tethered to the notion of ‘the one’. No amount of explaining that he’s a twat and treats you like a part time hobby ever works. I speak from personal experience of such a TBT before I swapped him for a cocker spaniel called Frank and my life improved dramatically.
Bec - there’s nothing wrong with my life, I just don't want to share it with anyone who isn't TBT.
My very half hearted search for a 'boyfriend' has highlighted some pressing questions - like why Im bothering, but more specifically...
If one (i.e. me) is in their 50's can one still have a 'boyfriend' - is it charming so to label someone, or does one have to go for the more business like 'partner'? Can one just say 'friend'? Would it be rude to refer to someone as ones 'lover'?
I insist you take a lover so I can live vicariously through you. Can you take the nice young man I mentioned to you that I get to see on Zoom calls sometimes, that way I get some of the fun and none of the divorce inducing activity?
Probably not Bec - but thanks for the suggestion....
It would be pushing the boundaries I guess to introduce ones new squeeze to your family and friends as your 'fuck buddy'?
'Hi Mum, I would like you to meet [ insert name here] he's my new fuck buddy.’
Mum presents nonplussed face, then extends smile of sympathy on her daughter’s maladroitness, and greets [insert name here] and offers him a drink....
Knowing your mum, she wouldn’t bat an eyelid.
Why do men on dating sites say that they are 6 feet tall when they are clearly 5'3?
Unless I have in the last 12 months suddenly increased in size from my hitherto universally accepted height of 5'1 (and a quarter) to 5'10 these men are definitely NOT 6 feet tall.
I don't say that I'm 25 years old and a size 10! Transparently I'm neither so what would be the point?
Is it some sort of ostrich syndrome? If I say it it must be true? Most odd.
Men will literally say anything if they think they’ll get their leg over.
I get that but who would fuck someone who had already obviously lied? As a strategy I think it has quite extensive flaws.....
Why are men's profile pictures on dating sites so universally terrible? Don't they have friends to tell them they look like the bastard love child of Jabba the Hutt's sister and Ronnie Wood?
And given the fact that they are presenting as a bag of spanners it seems to be slightly over hopeful - or possibly deluded - to have a list of requirements that include things like 25 - 35, slim curvaceous build, must be attractive, etc etc.
Unless they are multi gadzillionaires*, men must rely on being nice people who make us women laugh and occasionally bring us a cup of tea in the morning, take the bins out and make an effort on our birthdays, beyond that, our needs are fairly simple.
Bec - Your needs may be fairly simple - Mine appear not to be....
*ladies who marry gadzillionaires can then divorce them when they’re tired of their twattishness and get lots of cash, then marry a nice, penniless school teacher and live happily ever after just like the former Mrs Bezos has.
You do realise mate that you look like a bulldog licking piss off a nettle?
Plus stating that you are an 'entrepreneur' or a 'director of own business' makes me wonder how extensive your window cleaning round is, not actually believe you.
I refer you to my previous comment*
And what is it with neat men? All tucked in, crease ironed down the front of their jeans... Do these people live with their Mums?
I have decided that if I can't have what I want (and I do know exactly what I want) then being happy on my own is the way its going to go.
So I have cancelled the dating site subscription - with a bit of effort - they don't like one giving up on their dream, and decided that I‘m going to get another dog.
Hurrah, I highly recommend this strategy as it worked for me.
Yes Dear Readers, I'm acquiring a friend for Dude. I am going to be Crazy Dog Lady.
He is delighted. So am I.
Me too, although, if you could take the occasional toy boy lover, that would be much appreciated.
Bec - I recognise your determination of purpose but I‘m not shagging someone just so you can vicariously enjoy it....
I have always fancied a tiny lickle sausage dog - she would be called Arabella Twinkletoes...
Downside is they are a bit yappy......upside is they are very cute and do tiny poohs.....not the gargantuan dumps that Dude produces three times a day......downside yappy...hmmm.....
Dude's actual name is Major - but I don't like it so we have always called him Dude.
When discussing another dog with Beautiful Daughter recently she suggested that whatever I get should be called 'Sargent’.
Beautiful Daughter laughed for a very long time, quite loudly about me standing in a field shouting 'Sargeant
Example of a cute puppy....
Major' at the top of my voice.....
I’d like to hear that too.
Did you know that there are 3 million additional families with dogs as pets compared to before lockdown? I wonder what will happen to all those animals when schools go back full time, people in offices go back to work, pubs reopen and life begins to return to normal, or whatever normal ends up being ?
I think there might be an influx of homeless dogs into rescue centres, it having been decided by the now too busy family that the dog is surplus to requirements.
I find dog rescue centres almost impossible to visit - when I adopted Dude, I had to go in, meet Dude and leave not looking around! Otherwise I would have ended up with 11nty billion dogs going home with me - I was very tempted by Neil the Rottweiler, he very nearly moved in with us at the same time as Dude...
Neil still pines for you and has ‘Pip’ scratched into his kennel wall.
Pip, once she’s visited a few dog rescue centres
So my decision is that, as we ease out of lockdown, I shall keep my eye on all the local rehoming centres and a second dog - of what flavour I know not yet - but Dude and I will know when we meet them that they are ours - will be joining us this year.
It probably won’t be called Sargent........