Dirty Thirty

So I am now 30. The big 3-0. In my fourth decade on this earth. I’m at the stage where if my kitchen bin is full – I’ll empty it rather than thumb something between the lid and a pizza box. I insure things. I have a skin care regime that contains three distinct stages, each more overpriced than the last. If shoes give me blisters I just don’t wear them and my hangovers typically last 36 hours. I’m an adult. Or as adult as I’ve ever felt.

In the run up to being 30, it’s fairly natural for people to have a wobble, you know? A bit of a “blimey, where did the time go” eye roll.

It would be fair to say, I had a Stephen Fry, ‘drive to Lincoln with no shoes on’ style wobble. A full blown tin foil hat on the crazy scale. A mind-fucking manic episode where the sight of a engagement ring bedazzled claw, a rounded belly or a new house key on Instagram made me dry heave and sweat.

I get that everyone under the surface of their social media show reel is a shit sandwich on the buffet table of life, but that shit sandwich is engaged to some other turd filled treat. I’m not.

I’m nowhere near where I thought I would be. Family get togethers where everyone brings their partner and I am notably solo – well it stings. I have had my fair share of bozos (as you all know), some have rejected me and I have rejected some of them, but at the end of the day I am still back to square one. And at square one all you can see ahead of you is a long road, already trodden, riddled with ladders for you to hurtle back down the board on.

All of the above thoughts became very overwhelming in the run up to my milestone birthday. Go on beta blockers, get some counselling overwhelming. I saw a dusty old, ovary shrivelling, Bridget Jones, ‘you’ll find someone’ journey ahead of me until the sweet release of death. Why is it so hard to find someone who isn’t a complete and utter cunt from hell?

So I decided to fold, walk away from the game and cash in my chips. No men, no talking to them over text or dating apps, no meeting them. I decided, if I didn’t know what to do, I was just going to do nothing.

But that wouldn’t be very interesting for you now would it?

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