Following Russ’s post on reasons to be single I thought I would balance the equilibrium with a post on reasons to be in a relationship. (I drew the short straw.) I sat for a good 25 minutes and pondered the question. After all, I pride myself on the fair comment and balance of opinion on my blog eh- em.
I won’t tell a lie, dear readers, I think I’d find watching Debbie does Dallas with my parents in the room easier. Pray tell me, someone; what the hell is so good about being in a relationship? Cause I’m damned if I know.
I know plenty of people who have embarked on the journey. Spending near on every day together and I admire their patience and persistence. But I just don’t think it’s in me. Understand this, it’s not men per se I struggle to deal with and I love nothing more than the first flush of romance. When you get butterflies thinking about them, suddenly find yourself enjoying 2 hour car journeys because it means uninterrupted time to dream about them and hurry through your week in anticipation of nights together. Endless fun, endless sex, endless laughter. Ah, sweet love, how you pangeth my heart.
And then this happens.
You both get over-familiar. Suddenly that little bit of nasal hair you used to find cute, in a Michael Heseltine circa 1989 kind of way, grosses you out. You bicker and squabble, you find out he’s a sulker (and, boy, do I hate a sulker). That he’s a bit mean or gets moody every time you have a night out with your friends. Maybe he wears Lynx at 43 years old or has One Direction on his MP3 player, can’t hold his drink, or wants so much anal that they’re thinking of remodelling the Dartford Tunnel around a papier mache replica of your asshole. And suddenly, BANG, like a thunder bolt (sadly not the good type this time) these things aren’t cute anymore (not that over-sized arseholes have ever held 1st place in the cuteness chart). No, now he gets on your nerves and makes you want to stab his eyes out with a blunt fork because guess what, girlfriend, you’re in a relationship!
And then just when the unfortunate series of events couldn’t get anymore unfortunate, this happens –
“He’s not that bad, nobody’s perfect, at least I’ve got a boyfriend, virginal sex is over-rated anyway, it’s better than being … urgg I can’t say it, help, I daren’t think it! … Alone!!!”
No, actually. It isn’t.
Good relationships are good, they’re more than good, they’re fucking ace and a delightfully butterfly-y joy to behold. But bad ones are not better than being alone, not now, not ever.
Perhaps I turn all men bad. It’s the bitter, twisted, blog writing old bitch in me that turns them all to rot after a couple of months but, from my humble experience, there aren’t too many I relationships I wish I was in. Not when being alone (well that would be alone as in, alone with all my delicious friends, all my fabulous family and all those super exciting dates I have to look forward to, that kind of alone) can be such fun, and actually not scary at all.
It means I have no idea what is around the corner, I can wake up every morning knowing that I’m strong enough to cut my losses, mount my metaphorical horse and ride off into the sunset, just me and my freedom.
Being in a relationship isn’t shit but being in a bad one is. And being single isn’t shit at all. It is what YOU make it and that is the difference. Being single means there is hope and anticipation and means that you are spending time with your wonderful self, getting to know every inch of your beautiful, fabulous, not one tiny annoying habit about you at all, person.
“Maybe some women aren’t meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free till they find someone just as wild to run with them.”
So if you’re single, run free, feel the wind in your hair (and test drive a few cowboys). Gymkhanas are over-rated anyway …