It’s a Saturday night in December and I have made the unwise decision to buy a box of chocolates and watch Bridget Jones’ Diary, one of the six greatest films of all time.
I am alone, and while Bridget Jones is a great film, it’s probably not very “good” for me to watch it. I really should keep gin in the house for occasions like this.
Here I am at the age of thirty-one and three quarters and I CAN NOT UNDERSTAND HOW I AM NOT YET A POPULAR TV PERSONALITY/ FAMOUS WRITER/ NOTED PUBLIC INTELLECTUAL/ RENOWNED POLITICIAN.
Of course, on some levels, I understand that I may not be fated for greatness. But. Must I also put up with being a spinster forever?
It’s been so long since I’ve been to bed with someone that I swear my hymen has grown back.
I’m not sure I want an actual relationship. I am used to being alone and to having my own space. I don’t like having someone see me brush my teeth and I definitely can’t imagine sharing a sink with someone else doing it.
But a husband would be awfully handy. For one thing, another person would give my life routine and shape. I should currently be frantically writing teacher training seminars that I was supposed to submit yesterday. I wrote to my editor at 5:00pm yesterday, saying I’d definitely do them over the weekend. Instead, I’m watching Bridget Jones, eating chocolate and blogging. A husband would surely keep me in line better than I do myself. But that’s not the real reason I want a husband.
I do like being able to shut the world out at the end of the day and retreat alone into my castle, but when I got in after a stupidly busy evening of Wardening on Thursday, and saw that some students had ripped the Christmas paper off my front door, I wanted to cry and I really wanted someone who cared enough to hold me, someone who gave a damn about my Christmas paper.
Instead, I just went to bed, pretending not to care, because it’s €2 paper, and they’re only 18.
But one day, I’ll find that man, the man who cares enough about my caring about my Christmas paper to hold me and to make me feel safe again.
And in the meantime, while I’m waiting for this prince, I’d totally settle for some mediocre sex.