what’s been haunting me all week is a matter of love. now love… it’s a fickle thing. i’ve been wondering lately why it’s such an omnipresent, super poopsie* topic. i mean, obviously i’m capable of living alone. and not only capable, but i even quite enjoy it, most of the times. like, if you’re not invited to a wedding alone or if you’re not trying to hang pictures on the wall and accidentally hit your nail instead of the nail… if you know what i mean. like jill scott** so nicely sings:
‘i can pay my own light bill baby.
pump my own gas in my own car.
i can buy my own shoe collection.
i’ve been blessed thus far.
and now… i mean you’re doomed not to believe me, right? you’re doomed to think ‘yeah right, she loves to be single’, and who am i kidding? i like to live alone. yet, of course i’m longing to be with mister right. and, truth be told, the single presence would be so much easier to bear if i knew that mister right would, eventually, show up at all.
but what’s been bothering me is that people think, or assume, rather, that just because i’m single, i must be super frustrated… and i’m almost certain that other single people like me out there have experienced the same: people around ‘us’ (like it’s a special feature we’re sporting, haha) assume you’re unhappy and frustrated because you’re alone. sure, i am frustrated sometimes. but really, it’s not that bad… surely?
yes, i am very sad that i don’t seem to
be able to*** find love – though i absolutely stress that i still believe in it. and i absolutely do not belong to the share of women who believes all men are shites, scumbags and generally useless bastards. what saddens me though is the fact that, time and again, i’m starting to believe the people who tell me i’m frustrated. because that’s me: i take feedback seriously, consider it, let it go to my heart. so, yes, what if i am? because, hands down: if we’re being completely blunt about things then yes, i am definitely frustrated! i’m frustrated that there is no means to improve the search. you know; the search for love (big, big thing).
it just drives me crazy that that the only aspect in life you can’t seem to improve with sheer willpower, determination and hard work is your love life. you can not work hard to gain it, you can not influence it, you can not push it. you can only hope – and trust, god forbid, which i’m still doing – that someday, somewhere, somehow you will magically belong to the lucky few who got struck by cupid’s bow. some friends tell me: ‘scarlett, honey, you have everything! you’ve got a job that you love, you recently got promoted, so you’re obviously also pretty okay at it, you’ve got your own, nice space, you have fun and loving friends, you have lots of cool adventures both behind and ahead of you, you aren’t alone, you have your cooking and the blog and visions and dreams. so what’s the problem? why focus on the single thing you do not have, when you have so much else?’
really, can you believe how amazing those friends are? such a sweet and loving reminder that, yes, a lot is really okay. and yes, i appreciate everything i’ve got. i’m a lucky bitch, even. i really know that and i’m grateful. thank you for the many blessings in my life. but don’t get me wrong: there is just really obviously (and to heck with the obviousness of it) something missing. okay? the significant other is missing. there, i’ve said it. and if it makes me look even more frustrated to spell it out for you and adress a sort of taboo topic than so be it. judge me. judge me for all you like. okay, so i’m single – and sometimes it sucks. but the fact that i’m sitting here, trying to get to the bottom of my own heart and sharing my worries with you, i think it’s kind of brave. because there might be the odd girl (or boy, mind) out there who feels the same. who feels like lacking, like missing out. it scares me so much that i can’t do anything to improve the search of the missing piece. because, every other aspect in life that makes you unhappy, you just attack! you analyse it, then you find a solution, then you go get it. bam! you work poopsie hard to get it, not to forget. and you might fail, miserably, on the way. but you can get up and try again and fail better next time. and maybe, the success will show. i do believe that we can improve our own lives. work + patience = good life, or something like that (i was never good at maths…). hard work always pays off. but, with love it’s just different. maddening, isn’t it?
sure, you can go out there, present yourself in your best clothes and shoes, with your nicest hair, freshly shaved legs and, well, stuff (…), glowing skin (hard work, that…), a nice tan (horrible mess in the bathroom), perfect mani / pedi on a silver tray with the spotlights and all eyes on you. you could, for example, start to online date and go on blind dates (let’s not go there, it’s a dark, dark and lonely place that only brings you down). or you could go out every night all night long, drink too much, party harder, talk to strangers you instantaneously dislike and hope for the better. because you’re positive and life loving like that. you can also get a new gym membership and excersise harder, you know, to look slimmer, more toned, fitter, more attractive, glowing, improved. because that might help, boys might be more attracted. but… it’s an exhausting path. a healthier alternative would be to face your worries, and share them with your friends. eventually, you will come to the conclusion that you can think as positive as you want, nobody will be able to help you. your friends might only end up bored and fed up with you over-sharing your worries. they might even feel awkward around you, because they can’t help you, duh! or you might decide to spend your time to yourself and not give a shit anymore at all. if you did that, there would be so much to explore! you could cook more fantastic meals that random people would come to enjoy, bake more cakes that you end up eating alone, sharpen your pencils every night or clean your shoes or tend to a garden or polish your jewelry. at least, you’ve got some results, there (sharp pencils?). you could, naturally, also spend your time doing completely insignificant stuff, like watch more tv. next, you could buy a dozen cats and rely on them to make you happy. you can, and, if you’re like me (i.e. positive thinking, hard working and determined to make things happen with your own strength) then you probably will to do all of the above, too (minus the cats, let’s make this really clear). will it bring you anywhere?
the truth is: it probably won’t. everything you do to distract you from the fact that you’re single and not loving it every minute (for god’s sake) is making you vulnerable. you can’t do anything about this! you can’t. and you just have to accept that fact. that this area in life is a construction zone that you can’t make go away on your own. so, with this, uhm, revelation or acceptance, you can just relax. lean back and just tell yourself: it’s okay, you’re okay, you’re single but you’re still alive (mostly). it’s not about what you do or don’t do. it’s about what will happen, who you’ll meet, accidentally. it’s fate. fate! effing fate. not you, not your friends, not cupid. okay, maybe cupid… – but generally not anyone but fate. so leave it to fate. trust in fate (i know, it sucks!). lean back, enjoy a good movie, go out, do what makes you happy, live for yourself (we all have to be able to, anyway…).
btw: yesterday, supper club no. 5 took place: ‘dolce far niente’. 12 old friends and new friends were here to have dinner. it was fabulous! maybe not if you ask me feet (outch!) – but the smiling faces and full tummies were definitely worth the effort.
and about this watermelon and frozen banana smoothie… it’s super simple to make. just chop up a banana roughly, put it in a freezer bag and deep freeze it for at least 4 hours. put it in a food blender with watermelon chunks and blend until smooth. serve ice cold.
* yes, that’s a word.
** i strongly recommend you, single and not single women out there, to listen to this beautiful and strong song
*** seriously guys, you can be blunt with me… is it me? what’s wrong with me?
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