Tag Archives: single

To date or not to date? is that a kitten…

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Over the last few weeks I seem to have attracted a great many comments about my lack of interest in dating. I spent a great deal of my time in relationships that provided memories of pants (not in a good way) and thought that I was happy on the single shelf looking out at the world of relationships content that I was not going to pursue anything at this time, but then this happens…

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Baby Stan the cat was born, he still lives with his mummy but as soon as I mentioned that I was going to be the proud owner of a third cat I became bombarded with strange pictures, comments and pitying looks. Heck my son even turn to me and said “Mum you need to start dating”!

So in five weeks time Stan will be moving in, this I have been informed is now or never on the dating calendar of my life. God forbid that I do not marry before the age of forty, I shall not of course end up on the shelf I shall self combust in a fluffy ball of discarded cat hair. Who exactly decided that forty is the golden age by which we must be tied to our life partner till death separates us and all that remains are kittens and mourning? And Why? oh Why? Is being single and without a plus one such an affliction? These questions have been spiralling in my head along with one other ….

Why is this bothering me? I have started assessing dating potential in the men I meet… It happened all of a  sudden, this chap was wearing a great shirt we chatted and in my head I had begun to list reasons NOT to date him, we had only just met there was no indication of a potential date but no Becs brain hits overdrive and rules him out – no woman can consider dating a man that raises his pinky drinking from a pint glass can she?

Great shirt man was just the start.  Last evening I ended up in conversation with someone who kindly informed me that I am “not bad looking” so at my age I should consider the younger man, a curve ball that hit me in the side of the head it was so unexpected. Oh yes because most of the men my age are taken or passed it… I do not think that is what he ment in this observation but really me a cougar I don’t think I could.

Through all of this, Stan’s moving in date has been set and as long as weaning goes well he should arrive home in 5 weeks. I have been badgered and cajoled teased and tormented at my ongoing single status, my resistance to change this might (this is a big might) have been eroded slightly. Have I succumb to the will of the masses? not at all. Am I going to end up the mad cat lady in the purple hat ? probably.

But just incase, to give me options if you know of a tall, single, good looking chap, who has great arms, a fabulous sense of humour, endless patience an ability to iron and is between 35 and 45 in age perhaps just… I might think about it.

Do it myself

It all comes out in the wash.

Yesterday was labelled a good day, I made the most of my positivity by sharing the day with friends, drinking coffee and putting the world to rights. Oh how close companions can debate the facts as they are seen, how we can share an opinion, tell one another the truth as we see it.

I cherish my friendships and probably do not tell my friends often enough how much they mean to me. Between them and my family I am surrounded by walking reminders of my good fortune, even in times of need, times of discomfort.

Today, as I loaded up the washing machine I pulled the dark from the lights, checked the pockets for the remaining tissues that always seem to be forgotten. I mulled over some of the natters that we shared the day before. Words passed between friends can sometimes haunt thoughts, for you know, if a friend has taken the time to tell you this, they the least you should do is examine the why. I shut the door on the washer; tipped in the powder and mulled over “being stuck in a rut” I am living a “safe life” and not challenging myself.

Outside it might be cold but the sun shines down and this near spring breeze will dry the washing. Inside I mull over the choices I made and make, the places I opt to visit and the people who bring so much to the way I live. Am I stuck in a rut? I suppose I play safe now, I found a home and routine that I fear changing. Is comfort making me complacent?

During yesterdays conversation there was much emphasis on me meeting someone, having someone that I can rely on to be part of a partnership. It has been a while since I last dated, but the inclination to “get back out there” is not something I feel. Does society dictate the need to date and to couple up? It is indeed an expectation that my mate expressed to me, for I “deserve to find someone and to be happy”. Why do some friends feel my life is incomplete without an “other half”.

Yet here I am on Good Friday, watching the laundry tumble in the machine quite content in the silence and solitude of my home. Next week will bring a new chapter of my life, a new job, a new focus. I can manage without the distractions of dating to be sure.

So now from the safety of my rut I peer into the unknown, the one thing I can be certain of, my friends while we may not always agree speak with honest intentions and challenge me to be me. What more could I ask. Perhaps someone to assist in re-hanging the curtains in the lounge, to put up the shelves in the kitchen, or a book that explains how I can “Do it myself”.