Well now. The last time I wrote a blog was October 2021. Nothing like keeping it current, eh?
I’m not even sure blogging is still a thing. How and ever. Here goes…
Being single is one of the most empowering things you can do. Look, I know. I just used the ‘e’ word, but stay with me. There is NOTHING like having your own space. I have learnt this the hard way. I have a brilliant little boy who follows me everywhere. ‘But that’s adorable!’ I hear you exclaim. Not when you are trying to have a glorious deep bath or a difficult poo. Three years without a solo toilet break. ‘Mummay?’ ‘Mummay?’ (that’s how he says it) ‘Mummay, I need some mulk.’ ‘Mummay, Octonauts, Mummay, Paw Patrol’. Adorable. But also intensely annoying. Wee pet.
So, I have taken myself off to a rather lovely hotel in Perth for a mummy-moon. Just me, wine and my room. Two nights. An entire kingsize bed just for me. Quite appropriate in Perth. It’s been years since my last tour, since seven weeks of being on the road and on the rails, being looked after and essentially living in hotels. By God I miss it. Someone bringing me breakfast. Someone making my bed. People smiling at me and asking me if there is anything I need. So weird. So lovely.
But I digress. I’ve been single quite a few times throughout my chequered love life. Sometimes by choice, sometimes not. Being single is odd. It’s just you. On your tod. And people don’t know what to do with you. Oh God, where do we seat her in the restaurant? Is she OK? Is she going to cry and start throwing things? Why is she alone? Why is she here???
Let me explain. Like Jennifer Aniston in her 40s, I am very much choosing to be single. I love it. I don’t have to watch football. Ever. I can listen to the music I like, at whatever volume I choose. I don’t have to cook dinner every night. I don’t have to wash up if I can’t be arsed. The laundry can pile up sky high until I am ready to do it. I don’t care. I can make time to write. I can put together radio shows. I can take Alexander to the park, or the beach, or granny and grampa’s garden whenever I want. I decide. Everything.
Let that sit for a minute. Everything.
Now, for those of you who are shaking your heads pityingly and thinking I’m missing out, think again. I have tried relationships. Some short, some long. I have been proposed to five times. All by men so far. But why would you tie yourself to one other human when there is so much out there to be experienced? I don’t get it.
Monogamy leaves a lot to be desired.
I have pretty much failed in every relationship I have had, except the one with myself (and now the one with Alexander where failure is just not an option). I still don’t much like myself or what I see in the mirror, but, and it’s a really big butt, I’m beginning to appreciate myself. And that’s a start.
