No, perhaps it was just one of those little morose thoughts that I oft-times entertain. I know that at times I seem to relish my inner petulant-angst-ridden-hormonal-adolescent (would that we never grow up!) or fancy myself a Byronic creation—but la, usually it was just me being my usual insular, melancholic and snippy self.
I wish I could regale you gentle readers with my stupendous New Year celebration filled with awesome tales of outlandish antics and debauchery that would make even the most inveterate hedonists blush. But no such tales this time around, sadly. After having done and experienced things as I had, it was time to leave such trivialities behind and move on. Like most New Year’s Eve past I spent it at home.
Of course, I wasn’t alone. Not this time around anyway. Suck it!
Therein lay this particular quandary.
I was content to an existence of single blessedness (or is it blessed singleness?). After watching so many relationships unravel—others, mine—I was admittedly leery of being in one. Perhaps it was the oft-cited male affliction called ‘fear of commitment’. Perhaps it was just a long dry spell. I know those who know about that particular aspect of my life would roll their eyes and snicker, Ya think?
As often is the case, just when I find myself in a relationship … is just when I get—we shall call them signals—from previously uninterested parties. Yes, it does make one want to gash one’s wrist, doesn’t it?
I suppose it is the classic case of “when one is waiting for the bus, the bus won’t come” scenario—but seriously?
I have to admit. Stars alone know how tempted …
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