Single Serve Singleton

The hunger and dissatisfaction has begun. I don’t feel like eating the same things I’ve been eating for the past 3 days and my stomach is a bottomless pit. Possibly because I’ve now finished riding the crimson wave and when I’m on it my appetite is ziltch. Oh and if that’s TMI then too bad. I will not be ashamed of the most normal and natural thing that all healthy females go through 12 times a year.

Today started all wrong. This could be the source of all my dissatisfaction. I am not and probably never will be a morning person (“morning” autocorrected to “boring” – why thank you kind laptop). If I have the same alarm for a month or more my brain learns how to snooze and/or turn off in my sleep. This is quite inconvenient and has made me late for work many times; today included.

A very small, devious, rogue portion of my brain is dictating that the best idea is to stay put. The large and more rational part of my brain won’t kick in until I’m already late for work. Well done brain, you have once again succumbed to a coup d’etat.

While we’re on this topic, lets talk about my bed. My bed is a very controversial topic among my friends .

My single bed.

I have a lovely shoebox room in a lovely wooden villa in a lovely green neighbourhood and my room would be a lot less lovely if I had a double. It would be 1/2 bed, 1/3 furniture and whatever fraction is left would be wiggle room.

My bed is also a metaphor for my independent single life. I didn’t date or meet many boys in my school years; this was not helped by my inexplicable weirdness and the way my brain will go from A to Q in one short sentence (still not cured of this but I’ve got better at managing it socially).

I always wanted the perfect cookie cutter boyfriend. Of course I thought I found it with the first one but all he talked about was cars and building and I do not give a flying fart about either of those things. A few flings, relationships and broken hearts later (theirs of course!*) and I am fully satisfied that being single is far better than getting wrapped up in people who aren’t right for me.

Realising this was so liberating and is absolutely the opposite of feeling alone. I don’t regret my past relationships and I’m so grateful that I can count most of those dudes as dear friends.

*I’m lying.

Sydney c.2015


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