Some time ago I read a post by a fellow single mum blogger, about the fact that when someone utters the dreaded line “It’s not you, it’s me,” it inevitably feels as though the reverse is true. After all, you’re the one who has the great big stamp of rejection branded across your forehead.
Now, I must add that no one has said this to me, at least not recently, but the words don’t need to be said for the sentiment to be there, even when you know for a fact that it really isn’t you, and it really IS them. On this particular occasion I find myself disappointed, again, over the loss of something I never really had but had projected into the future. A potential, if not Happy Ever After ( we all know those things don’t really exist) then at least someone to hang out and have conversations with that don’t focus around what’s happening in Paw Patrol. And now all I see stretching out ahead of me is yet more dating apps full of people doing ridiculous selfies in front of the mirror (SWIPE LEFT IMMEDIATELY) and yet more of the endless catalogue of disasters that is my love life. I won’t go into details about what happened this time out of respect to the person involved, but suffice to see that if there is an episode of Sex And The City I have not yet re-enacted, then I have yet to see it. And I’ve seen all six seasons and have the box set (don’t judge me. It was groundbreaking in 1998).
So it looks like it’s back to square one, and back to the acceptance of the likelihood of yet more drama and rejection. I would just throw in the towel right now but hey, it’s the summer holidays and I’ve got nothing better to do, and anyway the received wisdom is that you have to kiss a lot of frogs before finding the right frog, or something, although I have lost count of how many frogs there have actually been now. I honestly don’t know how anyone manages to get married to anyone when everything in the dating world seems so difficult and overly complicated, but maybe I have just been unlucky. At the end of the day I have my health, a lovely family, a beautiful son, a house, some friends (albeit mostly far away in the distance) and in general, a life which can even look passable on Instagram from certain angles and with the right filter, so what do I really have to complain about? Nothing. And anyway, it wasn’t me. It WAS him.