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Single, But Not Ready To Mingle

By Elizabeth Major on February 19, 2015 in Other

Photo: Jim Nasium

Photo: Jim Nasium

In the recent aftermath of yet another heartbreak, I once again swore out loud that I was done with dating. I made the New Year’s resolution to stay single, planning out a year of holidays and music festivals with friends, and getting excited about new career goals. Ostensibly, this was easy to do, but for a reasonably young, not-hideous female, staying single is actually rather difficult.

For starters, girls like looking nice. I may not wash my hair too often and regularly forget to wear deodorant to the gym, but when someone says let’s go out, I have the ability to drag myself out of hiding, dust off some excruciatingly painful high heels and put on some red lipstick for no other reason than my own self-glorification.

According to Freudians, however, the reason men find lipstick so attractive is the subconscious correlation to the ‘other’ set of lips, so without intention, my pout is reminding men of sex and, apparently, my desire to partake in it with them. When I think about it, though, most men think of sex regardless of lipstick and since my lips are a permanent structure of my face, I am afraid their mere existence is now giving off the wrong impression.

So the obvious answer to me is to not go out. No great conversation can be had in a nightclub anyway, but I do sometimes venture as far as the Clovelly Hotel. Last week I found myself there, face to face with a very handsome young man who we shall call John because, well, that is his name.

It started well; he was nice to look at and apparently quite enjoyed looking at me, so I eventually broke the awkward staring with a hello. This is about as far as we got, as his limited vocabulary and conversational ineptitude left me feeling bored. Quickly, my eyes glazed over and I wanted to put my finger to his lips and whisper ‘shhh’, but instead I absentmindedly gave him my phone number. It wasn’t until I walked away that I actually realised I hoped to never hear from him. What could I have possibly gained from this, given that I didn’t even want to talk to him, let alone date him?

Granted, some activities are more fun with two, but most women will probably agree with the age-old adage that if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. Firstly, for efficiency, but also because a battery operated boyfriend will never expect you to return the favour. To be fair, it will also never cuddle afterwards, but let’s face it, this is Australia and in summer it’s too bloody hot for snuggling anyway.

In defence of the single life, I will concede that I am not altogether good at relationships. I usually prefer fictional characters to real people and my favourite bedroom activity involves a book and a food product that will likely make me fat. The only thing that I can make an actual commitment to is the gym, and despite spending so much time on creating sculpted legs, I don’t much care for shaving them. Now, in light of all of this, if you see me on the street and think, ‘she looks like a nice girl, maybe I should talk to her’, I hope your only destination is the friend zone, regardless of what my lipstick is telling you.