all you need is love…right?

It has been nearly one year exactly since I was last in a relationship. And, up until quite recently, I have been perfectly content with my newly acquired ‘singledom.’ I can go out with the lads and the girls on Friday nights whenever I please without having to check with anyone else. I can go for a good week or two without shaving my legs or seeing to my eyebrows because, let’s be honest, who’s going to be looking at those. And that’s just one less present to buy at Christmas, Valentine’s Day, birthdays and anniversaries. Which works well for me, because I am a bit tight when it comes to money. However, that’s a tale for another day.

I had not felt any need for another human being’s presence in my life apart from my boss, mainly because he pays me. I was perfectly happy with going to work, coming home, spending Friday and Saturday nights with my friends and family, and spending time with other blokes without having to think of a jealous other-half. It was fantastic. For the first time after school, university and exams had finished, I had the time to focus purely and simply on myself.

Considering that I work amongst a tightly knit group of ballsy, independent women, you’d assume that I would not be the lone wolf of the dating pack. Well, you’d assume wrong. The presence of a rather dashing young man in the store, who bought a box of Band Aids from me, drew attention to the other women to the fact that I was the only person in sight who was not married, in a serious relationship or living in a de facto relationship. There is not a sign of a short fling or one-night stand; indeed I am the lone dating wolf. Which, I’ll say again, suited me just fine. However, they’ve all taken it upon themselves to ‘make myself available’ to any good looking man who is breathing in and out that walks in the door. Which is OK, I guess. But I wasn’t really looking for a boyfriend. Like I said earlier, I was oh-so-happy driving solo.

I mean, let’s be realistic here. I, like many of you, am a young woman in her early twenties who is just beginning to dip a tentative toe into the rough waters of life. We live in the 21st century; a world where women can not only vote and drive cars, but a world in which we are independent, virile young things who can do what we want, whenever the bloody hell we feel like it. As the song goes, ‘I am woman, hear me roar.’ I am 20 years old, about to commence my second year of my university degree, and am planning the trip of a lifetime to the UK towards the end of the year. Do I honestly have time for a man in my life? I think the harsh answer is ‘NO’. However, do I want a man in my life? Well, I thought not. Not until all of the other women with whom I work have taken it upon themselves to ensure that I am married and with child by the end of 2012. Attractive young men who happened to be in the store were quickly diverted to my register, with my colleagues hoping that Cupid would deliver me a swift jab to the buttocks with his irritating little arrow and have Mr Band Aid sweep me off my feet.

Now, hang on a minute here.  I’m not ruling out love and the possibility of potentially falling in love with another human being. I’m not totally against monogamy. I don’t dislike men, and deep down, I think I do want to be married and with babe one day in the future. But what about me? What about my freedom? My singledom? My right to purchase a bag of m&m’s at the petrol station, rest them in my lap and devour the lot whilst I drive home has been ruined because, rather than reveling in the wonder that is the chocolate confectionary melting in my lap, I have to worry about getting fat, having blue stained teeth and becoming unattractive to men. I’d have to worry instead about what I am doing each and every weekend and how I am going to spend that time with my man rather than plodding around home in my pyjamas on a Friday night only to be spontaneously invited out to the pub for a night on the town. I can barely manage to organise my own life as it is; how in the world would I be able to juggle another human being, let alone a man, and all various strings attached?

And, more to the point, what about my independence? Am I willing to shelve my dreams, my hopes and ambitions for my future and my career in order to pursue men? More importantly, am I willing to shave my legs on a frequent basis in order to impress said men? The answer, again, is a solid ‘NO.’

So, women of the world, rejoice in your freedom and your life. Carpe the hell out of that Diem. But perhaps more importantly, don’t bully the single ladies in your life. As Beyonce once said, ‘Now, put your hands UP!’