I think it’s safe to say that everyone hopes to find a special someone to share their life with. Humans are simple programmed that way. And I am no exception to this rule.
Ever since my braces were removed and I started to creep out of my awkward adolescent shell, I was practically permanently in a relationship.
Which is not difficult to do in high school seeing as having a boyfriend is almost as important as passing.
Finding a boyfriend at varsity was also easy as pie because everyone was constantly looking for dates for some residence functions.
The fact that enough alcohol was consumed at the function to make the whole of South Africa tipsy also helped to get the romance started.
Then one fine day you’re a full-blown adult and for some reason you are engaged or married like you thought you would be when you were 13.
I recently found myself at the end of yet another romantic entanglement and though I am only 24, it felt like watching the last ship leave the harbour. Now I frequently find myself wondering where the hell I am going to find a significant other.
I’m stuck behind a desk all day, so meeting someone through the course of the day is impossible. Clubs are not an option for reasons I don’t need to explain to any woman who has ever picked up someone when they already had their wine goggles on.
My father keeps telling me to go to church so I can “meet someone nice who doesn’t hang out at bars every weekend” like I do.
And some days, after scrolling down my Facebook News Feed and seeing another engagement or pregnancy announcement, a terrible thought crosses my mind. Holy shit, I am totally going to die alone.
I know it’s completely delusional, but after so many failed attempts at finding Mr. Right it sometimes seems useless to keep hoping for a light at the end of the dating tunnel.
I mean, how many paddas to I have sacrifice precious months or years of my life to before I find someone I can actually imagine growing old with?
But someone once said that being positive is an attitude that starts with a conscious decision. And guess what? Being single, it turns out, is not the torturous experience I though it would be.
My time is my own. I can go to bed early every night of the week instead of slapping on a happy face and going on a date. I don’t need to be waxed, pedicured and exfoliated to perfection all the time.
I no longer break into a sweat when I look at myself naked and realise I suddenly have a little more jiggle in my rear than usual.
Basically, I have learned to give myself some space. To do what I want, when I want and how I want. I don’t need someone to complete me like Tom Cruise in Jerry Maguire. I am already an amazing person who does not need a significant other to validate that.
Mr. Right will show up or he won’t whether I worry about it or not and that’s just fine with me.