Monday, 18 January 2016

Return of the Prodigal Single Girl.

I'm the biggest flake ever. Four months ago I said I had a Matt Corby song on repeat and I was working on my next post...

...four months ago.

Oops. Quite the little hiatus I took there, hey?

Don't worry, there are no delusions of grandeur here. I'm quite certain no one was religiously checking their computers to see if I had posted something new. To be honest, I was contemplating deleting this blog. I know, in the grand scheme of things, that my trite musings about dating and my perpetual singledom are just that - trite. Trivial. Superficial. Trifling.

In the grand scheme of things - in light of terribly frightening world events and a tragic family loss - my incessant single status is the last thing I should worry about. Yet I keep circling back to love, and my lack of it (in a manly, romantic, boyfriend-type of way). Love is something I continue to want in my life, for some absurd reason. It's this one elusive thing - a part of my life that just won't seem to work out, despite how hard I might try (or not try, since that's everyone's advice - "It'll happen when you least expect it," or "You just have to stop trying, then it'll happen." Fuck off everyone, it's not happening).

Somehow, spitting this out into the universe helps. Writing has always been the best way for me to figure out what the fuck is really on my mind. There are diaries tucked away at my parents' house full of teenage angst and twenty-something, tear-stained pages. At first, the idea of blogging scared the shit out of me; baring this part of my life and my emotions about it is certainly not the easiest thing I've ever done. And though I might be a little late to the blogging craze, it's become quite the outlet for me. Or at least I'm fooling myself into thinking my vague ambitions of writing something meaningful can someday be realized. Practice makes perfect, right?

So. You're stuck with me. Maybe not quite stuck, per se - if you're reading this, it's entirely your choice. But I'm still here. Still single, and still entirely frustrated with the prospect of continuing to be single. Scratch that, single life is not frustrating. Being single lets you make your life into exactly what you want it to be. It may be lonely - but it's something solely your own. Dating - the actual process of meeting people and getting to know them and deciding if they're worth the effort (because you've been spending so much single time figuring out how to make your life exactly as you want it)...that is the most frustrating fucking process on Earth.

So I'm here. Still single. And I'll keep writing about it, whether it matters or not.


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