This is clearly something I love blogging about recently, my non-existent love life. I have the worst bad luck with men.
I love to laugh about it though, laughing makes it all okay doesn’t it? Makes it look like you don’t give a fuck? But trust me, sometimes it bloody hurts even for an independent bitch like me.
So I thought, to give you a picture of this ‘love life’ I’d give you a quick run down of my pathetic attempts… Age 15 my first boyfriend joined college and completely forgot I existed. At 16 I got into a 3 year relationship and on the plane home from our trip to Australia we broke up (that long flight was made much longer, trust me). Age 17 my boyfriend went on a family holiday and shagged 4 girls, 4 fucking girls whilst he was on holiday with his Nan. Age 22 the random abrupt end of a 2 year relationship I genuinely thought I’d be in for life. What a fuck up.
I suppose I’ve always been unlucky in love, maybe it’s due to my care free attitude, or my sarcasm or the fact it takes me 20 minutes to think of a reply to a simple text message.
With that said, my friends have always loved it. They love hearing my stories, and they especially love swiping right to absolute mingers on my dating apps. (Go ahead).
There’s only so many times I can sit on my friends sofa’s whilst they are cuddling their boyfriends and I’m hanging off the edge hoping to not fall off. And only so many dates I can gatecrash and tag on the end like the annoying younger sister your mum has forced you to bring along. I’m getting bored of it and I’m sure my friends boyfriends are too!
Maybe, one day I can actually pop in the group chat that unfortunately I am not free to go boozing until 8am because me and my significant other are randomly flying off to Dubai for 4 nights away. Or that yes I will be attending your engagement party but is it OK if I bring a plus one?
Maybe, I will find someone that treats me like a queen, takes me home to family dinners, and asks me for dog walks on a Sunday. (I don’t know if I would particularly enjoy a muddy dog walk, but an invitation would be nice).
Until then, I suppose I’ll stick to giving my friends the gory details of dates that end with them holding my hair back whilst I’m throwing up in toilets, getting so drunk on first dates I fall down the stairs in the bar or meeting guys that honestly can’t string a sentence together.
Question is, will I forever be that single friend?