So here we are again, singledom. I’ve been here enough times to notice a pattern. That relationships go through stages; the flirting, the first date, the late night fondling followed by frequent weekend visits. At all of these stages something can go wrong yet it seems as if you pass effortlessly until you get to a point. Last night I reached that point.
Just when you think you have a woman sussed any man is at his most vulnerable. One ill-received remark, a bit of awkwardness and a night when you aren’t quite sure how tightly you should hold her. The gap gets bigger until it fills the room the following morning, after that it is just a series of formalities and a game of who will make the final move first. She did. Via text.
I kinda hoped this would have lasted a bit longer, perhaps for the summer but it is what it is. I’m 33 this September and while so many of my peers are celebrating their first, second, third Fathers Day I’m at Ground Zero with no hope of my loins creating an heir anytime soon. Just at the point when I think Mum might be getting some good news and the far away hope of grandchildren I have to again tell her ‘Nope, not seeing anyone at the moment’.