Do I want to die alone? Spoiler: No.

Image: Olivia Steele

As February looms, red roses make their way to the front of supermarket florist stands and Tinder sponsored ads take over our innocent morning Instagram scroll. But as with most things, love in particular is rarely black and white. For many of us, it’s not simply a case of being single and ordering a takeaway for one, nor as straightforward as a romantic candle lit dinner. There are so many of us in between those two ends of the spectrum- the friends with benefits, the unrequited love, the ‘situationships’, those scarred by past or in the midst of an office fling. Today’s submissions explores the messy thoughts and confusion that make love, love …

“Do I want to die alone?”

This is a question I ask myself on an alarmingly frequent basis, and one whose answer changes depending on multiple variables.

I am a very niche type of girl.

I could sometimes be considered cute (5’1”, quite round cheeks), or attractive to a particular type of person (again 5’1”, quite round cheeks). I make people laugh when I sarcastically mock myself and my surroundings, and I am often complimented by fellow girls on my clothes or hair, but I am definitely not sexy. I should point out I am heterosexual, with dark hair (my crowning glory), a glass half empty attitude, and when I’m not especially tired I have nice looking eyes. And yes that is really the run down of my attributes.

I’m generally considered the mate, the pal, the non-intriguing member of any group. I am also fiercely independent, so the idea of a partner both warrants curiosity and wariness in equal measure. Or in the case of meeting new people, I usually find out they are actually awful and I’m better off single. When judging these men (potentially too harshly, but when friends boyfriend’s honestly tell me all their friends are dogs what am I meant to do, go easy on them?) I ask myself again do I want to die alone? In those situations I emphatically reply yes! But then I’m alone once more, wanting to talk to someone or cuddle or have some form of sexual interaction that involves more than one player and I think no, I don’t want to die alone anymore, I’ve changed my mind.

I hit up friends again and ask if there is anyone single they’ve missed from last time. Maybe someone’s long lost cousin has resurfaced, or a previously eliminated candidate is suddenly not as grim as previously considered.

I re-download Bumble hoping for a chiselled jawline, kind eyes, a sexy smile, or maybe just no sexist or vile comments in his ‘About Me’ section, and frantically swipe left on all the people I find repulsive (spoiler...it’s all of them).

As my enthusiastic energy and will to live dwindles, I start a new book instead, rapidly shutting down my need for a partner. I slip back into my usual apathy and decide that I’m happy as I am after the appalling selection just witnessed, and yes I will die alone thank you very much. But then the desire returns and the cycle continues.

However every subsequent time I give up faster, almost as if my personal sixth sense is the ability to detect people that will bore me, and I put in less and less effort with each attempt at meeting The One. Only the previous evening my energy levels lasted all of one hour in the pub before my friend and I gave up and went home for an early night! At this point I would not be able to meet anyone new unless they broke into my house and robbed me.

“My most recent date was with a not-my-typer, because I was determined to try. God help me I wanted to at least try. It turns out he made guns for a living. I am anti hunting.”

Maybe it’s me, I’m too difficult, or picky, or stubborn. Maybe I should, as I see it, settle. Or maybe everyone left available at this later stage of the game is dire, like the dregs at the end of what started off as a delicious cup of coffee. Regardless of whose fault it is, I do not feel alone in this. I know plenty of women who feel the same. Is it our own inflated self worth or are we actually in a dating crisis? Many of the women I know are beautiful, complex, exciting and hilarious, and yet single despite efforts to date and find someone. This genuinely confuses me because I know many mediocre men who have partnered up with apparently no effort, and half the time I consider they are punching with truly great women. I do not know what is going on.

I have tried dating outside of my comfort zone. I have tried guys with different interests, or maybe do not fall directly into the category called My Type. A close friend once gave me sage advice, sitting me down to tell me very seriously that you look for potential and then mould the man into your type over time. I have scoffed at this a lot over the years, however after almost ten happy years together they have just married each other, so maybe I don’t know anything.

My most recent date was with a not-my-typer, because I was determined to try. God help me I wanted to at least try. It turns out he made guns for a living. I am anti hunting. It was not a promising start. However armed with a gin and tonic in a nice pub I was convinced that we would find common ground. We did not. Surprisingly it was not a difference of opinion on killing wild animals that did it for me, it was the lack of flow. There was no banter, or humour, or spark. There was just dull chatter that ebbed until all that remained was awkward silence. Not the fun first date awkward silence because you are both shy and nervous, but at least from my side, the silence from utter boredom.

During a toilet break I was already messaging friends asking why oh why this date was so shit. Returning from the toilet a dog came into the pub, which honestly should have been the ultimate reprieve and icebreaker. With its floppy ears and good-natured licking it should have been the thing to lift this fog of tedium, but instead it prompted the most bizarre comment from him. “I’d love a dog but wouldn’t get one.” Why on earth not, you like dogs, have family dogs, and have your own house. I saw no barrier. “Not until I’m older.” He was 35. What was he waiting for, old age to claw at him, drag him down until he succumbed to dog ownership? If I had all my ducks in a row like him and loved dogs, I wouldn’t have hesitated to get one. I wouldn’t wait for my life to leach away from me one dogless day at a time. If it would make me happy and I was ready I saw no reason to wait, and that was the nail in that date’s coffin.

We parted ways soon after, and I told my friends I did not understand his stance on getting a pet. Honestly none of us did, as there seemed no reason for him to hold out, to make himself unhappy with his decision. I saw dating the same way as I saw the dog, I would not settle if I was unhappy, I would not wait for the right person if I was ready and they did not appear. If I wanted a dog and was ready for a dog I would get a dog, and maybe dating is the same. If I am ready for the right person, and I want the right person, maybe the right person will happen. And maybe until then I will not settle for less.”