At every family occasion I am approached with the question, “So, Emily, do you have a boyfriend yet?” My response always being a limp shrug of the shoulders and slight shake of the head, summoning the reply: “Just waiting for Mr Right then.” Well no actually, Mr Right can come along when ever he blooming well pleases; I’m quite fed up waiting for this ambiguous man to enter my life. I can see myself confronting this mysterious character tapping my watch and telling him he took his flaming time. At which point he will probably run in the opposite direction.
The challenge we have thrust upon our shoulders in our late teens of finding ‘the one’ is a hard and arduous task. Is there even a ‘one’ or is it a possibility that a sticky snog on the dance floor could conclude in marriage? Why are some people so lucky to have met the love of their lives at such a young age and can just sail through with no heart-break. I do sit and wonder what makes these people different and what sets them aside from the single stragglers? Was it just a whole lot of ‘lucky’ that brought these love birds together?
Finding this tall, dark and handsome chap doesn’t seem to be as easy as the fairy-tales make out. Is it slightly idealistic? I mean it can’t be that unlikely Ryan Gosling won’t realise his love for me one day… right? In my twenties and seeing daily Facebook notifications about latest bumps and diamonds on fingers is a bit depressing when the last person to buy me a ring was my own mother. Despairing that I will not meet my ambition of creating a Wills and Kate Mids set up of perfection is a daily occurrence. Wanting a very happy marriage with a beautiful baby and a dog…I don’t think I’m asking for much.
Maybe… just maybe, this is a bit premature. Potentially I am thinking in the mind-set of a 50 year old, who only has a moth eaten carpet and a cat. Now if I end up like that… I definitely have something to moan about. Forever reading blogs and articles about how I should zen my life and throw myself into my hobbies (which are drinking G&Ts, lunching and keeping the high street in business) would cause a lot of procrastination and make me bankrupt. But the feeling of meeting somebody and falling in love with butterflies in my stomach and flushing faces beats any zenning session. Maybe the wait is worth the excitement.
However, as we get older – which we inevitably do – and time moves on, that darn body clock catches up with us… Like a tick tock singing in our ear, laughing at our lonely lives. With our fertility starting to decline in our MID TWENTIES (I also shed a tear when I read this) how can I be a Kate Mids wannabe without my Prince Charming. Is it wrong to look up egg freezing at 21? Probably. Laughing with my friends that the only solution is to stand in the middle of a club and shout ‘FERTILISE ME’ may actually be my only option.
Dear Willy Shakespeare wasn’t joking when he said, ‘ the course of true love never did run smooth,’ it quite frankly epitomises my life. Countless times I have picked the wrong’uns concluding in a broken heart and crying into a bottle of wine – the cliché tale. I refuse to be the next Bridget Jones: instead I have decided to get my act together and hold out for this handsome stranger to sweep me off my feet! I might need to loose a few pounds first, wouldn’t want him ending up with a broken back on our first encounter. It must be worth the wait to find ‘the one’ but a cheeky flirt here and there never hurt anyone so we should carry on with our lives until we are swept. We have so many empowering female role models telling us that we are independent women who don’t need no man to keep us warm at night, which is all very well but even Beyoncé has her Jay-Z. So, my dear readers I will keep you updated on the challenge that lies ahead – finding the Brad to my Ange, the Ross to my Rachel, or instead I might just get a dog. But stay strong you single pringles, this fairy-tale stranger will sweep you off your feet one day when you least expect it!