So, I’m going to admit it, I’m having a midlife crisis at 29. For some reason I’ve got it into my head that as soon as Tuesday arrives and I turn 30 it’s a one stop bus ride to desperadoville. The race will be on, the time will be ticking away and suddenly those rose tinted life glasses will crack and the reality of loneliness will come pouring through. Ok, it’s not quite that black and white, but you get the general idea.
I’ve been single for a decade now, a bloody decade! I can’t really whinge about it because I wasn’t looking for a relationship at the beginning, and after several stagnant years you just become used to celibacy. The more you’re on your own the more you decide you like your own company, the less you’re bothered about the lack of a significant other and, in my case, the more cats you decide to rescue and give a home to. They start eating you out of house and home, you have to work harder to cover the food and vets bills, and you simply don’t have time to be searching for your future spouse.
Truthfully told, I am having a bit of a wobble. I feel like all my friends are moving on with their lives, getting married, having babies, growing into their 30’s in the traditional sense of growing up. I’m not pretending relationships are easy here, I have my realistic hat on, but as friends become families I’m dreading being the token single at the party. I’m worrying that my friends will take it upon themselves to start trying to hook me up with other random single people, or even worse, they won’t even bother because I’m just Geoff, the perpetually single bachelor.
I want to love. It’s taken me a long time to realise that. It’s also taken me a long time to realise that I’m also worth loving and that, actually, I have a fair bit to offer if I could find the right guy. Dating isn’t an issue – yet. But finding anything more than ‘nice guys’ is. There’s NOTHING wrong with nice guys, but I can’t settle and I won’t make do because I know that after a few years I’ll be bored out of my mind. The four guys in my ENTIRE life that I’ve felt a spark with simply haven’t felt that spark back…and that’s when it gets hard. Date after date after nice guy date and the drudgery of the first date conversation is killing you until suddenly, a guy who you almost cancelled on, lights something inside. Date one is awesome, date two is even better, and then date 3? It doesn’t happen because they’ve lost interest for no apparent reason – and that damn well starts to hurt.
So I’m here, on the precipice of dirty thirty, of a sagging butt, cobwebs of ear hair and having to get my shoulders regularly waxed, and I’m freaking out. My friends are all settled and yes, they may be fighting with spouses but at least they have them, at least they have something to work on. I’m killing myself that I didn’t start this dating frenzy five, six, seven years ago. I’m still on date after date after date, trying to keep the rolling smile blazing and the charm offensive ignited, when all I really want to do is sob into my cornflakes because every boy who lights my flame doesn’t even stay around long enough to get the fireworks going.