The “depressive” season

Tis the season to be…

Yeh whatever!

The office party

I absolutely love the office Christmas party. Besides for free drinks and food, I also don’t have the stress of finding that perfect date… you know the one, the one that will not drink too much and embarrass you in front of the people you spend most of your time with. The one that does not swear like a sailor and wont perve on the girls you share the loo with on a daily basis. Yes people there is a actual plus side to working for a shnoop company – NO PLUS 1's!

The family party

I love my family, they eat too much, drink too much and yes it always ends in a fight… some of what I remember even physical. One of the very few days we get together could go either way, fight or “I really love you guys”, and then followed by the fight! It works for us, the functional disfunction!

So it’s not really the ideal environment for dates, potential significant others or even that friend that you hope would end up looking at you like the one and only queen for him. However, what stings me is that I don’t get asked if I will be bringing anyone. What? Like I could not possibly pull a man my way and yes this sounds insecure and over sensitive. But I also described my family to you so YES; I am insecure and overly sensitive. Just bladdy once I would like to be asked “Are you bringing anyone?”… Anyone at all??

New Years Eve

The reason I call myself the last single girl is because I really am. So New Years Eve is the absolute worst single part of the year. About 7 years ago I decided to no longer participate in the craziness of this night and instead opted to spend this eve with my son every year, this was up until a year ago. The Eve past we a little party at my old place all invitees being a part of a couple. I’m pretty sure this was not intentional, but yes I was the ONLY SINGLE GIRL there! So guess who was the last to be kissed when the clock sung its way to the hopeful new year. No really, guess!! Come on, you can do it! Heheheheheheee

Ai ja needless to say I felt like sloppy seconds, which was exactly what I was. So I drank too much until I passed out.

The festive season is a huge reminder of singlehood; weddings, family gatherings, holidays with friends and so forth. As hot as it is it’s a hellishly cold time for us single duds! We gift shop alone, we eat alone and on new years eve, we are the last to get kissed.

I am grateful for one damn thing though.

The great, his or my parents, debate. Yor that is the best part about not having a partner. His parents’ traditions suck, the don’t drink and they pray before they eat and there sure as hell is no dancing. His mother (the ungrateful cow) says “oh” when she opens her R300 massage gift voucher and all I would think is… Bitch, you know how much beer I can get from that money? So yes for every apparent cloud I create in my head, I also create a grateful embracing single perspectiveJ

All that I would like to add to this is that this season is torturous for everyone, not just us sodding single sows; it’s filled with obligations to friends and family alike. It’s accompanied by heartburn, not only caused by food but also by parents, partners, kids and friends. It’s crazy the amount of pressure and frustrations such a relaxing time should really be about. The whole year is about back to back sacrifices of time and energy. And this is the one time we should be able to do what we want and at least relax. So go out there, drink too much, have sex with random strangers and have fun. The only obligation you should feel right now is to be safe :)

So get out there and have a single vodka…

On me!

Alone?

On the bus this morning, sitting in front of two ladies possibly late 30’s to early 40’s (and for your convenience and mine I shall call them married and single) I was unintentionally eavesdropping (ja so bis soes my ma) I found nothing particularly interesting in their conversation, but was still listening. Naturally it being summer, people tend to rant on about skin and sunburn and so forth. I can hear by their tone that they are very conservative (ok more rigid than anything else). The conversation moves from this to that to clothing and perfumes and of course which hibiscus floral design will be the summers new black... then finally something interesting... The apparently married one of the ladies comes back to the skin topic and mentions how she just "hates" sunburn. The single one describes a horrific sunny experience where she was terribly burnt in the face and within two days she was wrinkly and peeling. Shocked married one gasps and says and I quote true story “Oh God your boyfriend obviously didn’t like that” to which the single ones response is natural, but slightly embarrassing, “no I'm………. Ah single”. Even more shocked the married one says and I quote again… true story “shame”. And not just in any tone, it’s the tone that my ouma uses when she says something like: “Haai, hy is baie nice… shame”, loose translation “he is very nice, but I'm sure there sure there is something wrong with him”.

The rest of the conversation went a little something like this

Married: But then what do you do?

Single: Do about what?

Married: when you want to go out?

Single: I still go!

Married: ALONE?? (high pitched Antie Stienie pitch, that even pikanese dogs can hear)

Single: uh yes

Married: But then who do you talk to?

Single: At a party?

Married: Yes

Single: I talk to the other people at the party

Married: But they all there with someone right?

Single: Yes mostly, but there are other people that are single

Married: Yes but probably not your age (please note this was not a question, but a statement)… But do you have fun

Single: (pause) Yes I do, they my friends

Married: so why don’t they find someone for you then you don’t have to go to parties alone.

Single: I don’t really want a boyfriend

Married: Of course you don’t want to be alone forever

Single: ……. Where did you buy that bag?? (She politely changes the subject)

Note… if it were me I would have pulled her false teeth out her bek and made it bite her gevriet off… but that is just me and my aggressive nature.

So I’m sitting there appalled and in shock. I knew us singletons were discriminated against, but this was a slap in the face to anyone who has been alone ever. I felt bad for the chic, thinking that this lady don’t know her circumstances and why she chooses to be single or even if she has to choose it. Must there be an ultimate socially accepting reason for women to choose to be alone??

Sadly, this is how people think. We single people are diseased and cannot carry on in normal society without a “someone”. We should be kept in a basement fed through a whole and if we ever go outside we should carry the “S” letter with us and no I don’t mean Superman!

Going to a party… alone?

Going to the cinema… alone?

Lunch dates… alone??

Yes it is known to happen, but it’s still not acceptable.

Sympathising with my fellow single social “s” letter carrier and felt warm and fuzzy inside (“,)

My friends invite me to every party with or without a partner. I love their husbands and boyfriends and they love me. There is no singles table and no singles separatist congregation. We gather together and party together and laugh together. They listen to my troubled single life and sometimes listen in envy same as I am in envy that they have that special someone to share these little tales with.

So who gives a fuck what an old tart with a hairstyle from 19 voetcheck and floral print shirt that was and never will be in fashion thinks? With the comfortable life with a man that made her have too many children and still has too little money. With the Shoprite sakkie instead of a bag and gets home to cover her mullet with a swirl kous!

I am an outcast

I am a freak

Yes I am single,

But NO I am not alone!!

For One?

Ordering single espresso for one! The waiter looks at the other empty seat. We both thinking the same thing, “will someone eventually occupy it”… suddenly it hits me, just like Brigitte Jones playing “all by myself” in my head… I am doomed to be single for life.

Suddenly desperation kicks in as I cling to my last bit of single dignity, I order a large slice of cheesecake, for one of course as I watch the full restaurant filled with women comfortable in their closed relationships cooing over their choice of partner. I savour the decadence while gloating as I suck on the spoon knowing that the “others” have safe, non fat meals or salads. And I take comfort in the fact that I can have whatever the menu has to offer with no guilt or wonder what the other person may think of me. Satisfaction glows in me that I am independent and strong and don’t need anyone.

I carry my eyes around the room, it falls on the table closest to mine. Staring through my eyelashes I witness how she lightly touches his hand and how his eyes follow her whole body as she moves and how he lights up every time she smiles. My cheesecake curdles in my mouth and in my stomach. Its not nausea at their apparent happiness, but nausea at my sad emptiness. My glow is gone and my smiles are now reserved only for the really funny. And even though my age still gives me hope, my age is now the scariest part of my singlehood. At this age I am what I am and I am cast in stone. Can I coo and giggle? Do I still know how to flatter a man for no reason? Will I still remember how to smile just the right way when he says I am beautiful?

And even though I enjoy the lust, impulse and selfishness of singledom, I miss the simple brush of hands, the simple glance of appreciation, the debate on what movie to choose at the video store, the simple comfort of holding someones hand and the simplicity of sharing a meal.

There are two sides to this vary large coin… I am face down between the darkness and the table.

Here is to hoping that the coin will flip and I land with my face exposed to sun kisses and who knows, even his.