Having spent all 22 years of my existence so far as a single (heterosexual) lady, and as somebody with a predominantly female friendship circle at both home and university (apart from the odd gay friend), I have always been absolutely fascinated by boys.
What are they like? What makes them tick? How do I make them fancy me? How do I get into a relationship with one? Is a boyfriend like a pet? Do I need to feed it? Take it for walks?
Most importantly, I’ve always wondered what being a relationship would be like. I spent years, pretty much since the age of 13 after my first ill-fated ‘boyfriend’ broke up with me (we held hands in the field, never kissed, he called me a bitch behind my back, we broke up over MSN messenger – the classic first ‘relationship’), thinking that if only I had a boyfriend I would finally be happy. Thinking that a boy would be the thing to complete me, I pined after them, dreaming of the day that boy from my class would finally realise how beautiful I was, or picturing a meet-cute on the train where I would fall deeply and madly in love. This fixation was probably not helped by my massive obsession with rom-coms and teen fiction, in which the happy ending always seemed to be when the girl got the guy.
I soon arrived at university, still a fresh-faced, naïve, and single virgin, sure that being exposed to So. Many. Different. Boys. would be the situation I needed to find myself a man. Low and behold, that didn’t happen. Maybe when I go travelling around Europe I’ll be whisked off my feet by a dashing Frenchman, I thought? Again, I was wrong, that didn’t happen. SURELY, I frantically convinced myself, a year abroad in Sweden would be the chance to FINALLY find a boyfriend? Alas, the Swedes are not only extremely good looking (tick) but also massively boring (sad), and a boyfriend did not materialise. Final year, then, I desperately pleaded to the gods. Please give me a boyfriend in final year!!
And alas, here we are, at the end of term two, and that has not happened either.
For so long I saw myself as a failure. I thought that not having a boyfriend symbolised everything that was fundamentally wrong with me and, this absence of ‘love’ (as I thought back then) fuelled the never-ending cycle of self-hatred and sabotage. I was too fat, too ugly, too boring, too annoying to be possibly deemed desirable or attractive by the opposite sex. I thought that if I had meaningless sex with countless strangers from TP or Tinder I would find self-worth, but all I got was an STD, an increasing body count with some names I couldn’t remember, and a self-worth that had in fact been dragged through the mud.
I realised that I had started to collect experiences with boys like anecdotes. Each encounter, no matter how embarrassing, or tragic, or heart-breaking, would be like a little silver pearl, a funny story, a memory, or something to show off about that I kept with me like a collection of sacred belongings. Whether it was the boy who fucked me over through the course of a year, or the 27 year old Swede I picked up in a club who looked about 15 and wore a terrible snapback, I revelled in sharing these nuggets of memorabilia, thinking that they made me cooler, more interesting, more impressive, or somehow funnier.
However, something has fundamentally changed. Yes, I am still fascinated by boys. Yes, I still would like a ‘boyfriend’ (kind of in the same way I’d like money or a good job or a new kitten). Yes, I still struggle with feeling worthy enough. But, along the way, being busy thinking about boys has led me to realise some pretty fundamental things about myself.
- Being single does not mean being alone. I believe that the reason I have such incredible friendships with such strong independent women is testament to the fact that I have been able to so whole-heartedly focus on my female friendships without the distraction of a long-term boyfriend. Knowing that they have my back, even if we don’t speak every day, is the greatest gift I could ask for, and shows me that I am never alone.
- You do not need a boy to complete you. I want to be so full, so complete, and so happy on my own that a boyfriend or partner would add to what is already a pretty fucking incredible life.
- Boys in the Royal Marines are, on the whole, a terrible, terrible idea (and telling yourself ‘third time lucky’ or ‘maybe this one will be different’ is deluded).
- If you want to have sex, have sex. If you don’t, don’t. Sometimes, all you want is a drunken shag after a boozy TP session. Sometimes, you don’t. Either is fine. You do you.
- If someone doesn’t add something to your life, you don’t need to be with them. It can be so tempting to cling on to the first boy who gives you the time of day, but if they treat you badly, if they’re too boring, or if you don’t want to rip their clothes off when you see them, don’t waste your time. You’re too important and valuable to be wasting your time and energy on people that don’t deserve you.
- Self-love and self-worth are two of the biggest gifts you can give yourself. As soon as you stop basing your self-worth on what others think of you, you’ll be free. I used to be so incredibly self-conscious, terrified that boys were laughing at me, judging me, and finding me completely and utterly unfanciable. Realising that I’m alright as I am, needing to impress nobody, has been the biggest weight that could possibly have been lifted from my shoulders.
So, boys, thanks for teaching me some pretty fundamental things about myself. Whether I’m single for another six months or six years, I am going to relish every second of it, and someday someone will find my big thighs, Harry Potter obsession and terrible sense of humour endearing and fall in love with the person I am no longer ashamed to be.