Raise your hand if you hate couples

I love the view of the lake from the window of my apartment, it’s fabulous. No matter what the weather or time of day I love gazing out at the baby swans that float across the water, the windsurfers gliding towards me and the ducks being fed by passers-by. There’s just one thing that ruins it – couples.

Sadly, my lakeside apartment appears to be a haven for loved up couples and I find it most depressing. They’re either strolling hand in hand, walking the family dog, cycling with their 2.4 children or smooching on the grass. It makes me sick. Maybe I should start spitting at them from the balcony?

Okay, so I’m single, but I really don’t need reminding of it every time I look out the window. And it is every time I look out the window. Every time! Do they know I’m single and gather outside my pad just to spite me? Do they pull on fake smiles and loving looks every time they walk past my window, just to make me envious of their coupled-up happiness? It’s starting to feel that way.

I never see single folk going for a stroll; the occasional jogger perhaps, but generally people travel in pairs. It reminds me that my apartment is so wasted on one person. It’s really a home for two (certainly financially) and I’ve yet to have a member of the male population through the door. I can’t really count the Sky man of the telephone engineer can I?

Lately, I have been pining for a boyfriend. And I get angry when I do that ‘cos I should be independent and happy with my single status and not reliant on men for an ego boost. But I do. I’m home alone on a Friday night and watching TV would be so much better in the arms of a hunky guy.

My ideal Friday night would consist of:

• Coming home from work to find hunky boyf cooking up a treat in the kitchen. It smells fab. He’s also tidied up.
• Crack open a bottle of Pinot Grigio and share a pre-dinner, candle-lit bath with boyf – massage aplenty.
• Over tasty dinner (eaten in our his and hers dressing gowns) we engage in intelligent conversation. He asks me about my day and how I’d like to spend the weekend.
• Move to the sofa where the dressing gowns come off and we engage in a bit of…you know what…I don’t need to go into details. He hits all the right spots, says he loves my body and we orgasm together.
• Curl up on the sofa for post-sex DVD and cuddles before retiring to bed. His arm doesn’t leave my waist all night.

A girl can dream. My actual Friday night consists of:

• Work late and then head to TK Maxx to buy nothing in particular and return home with two vests, a pair of shorts and some flat shoes. Random.
• Put a load of washing on and empty the dishwasher.
• Catch up on emails and bill payments. This somehow runs into a couple of hours.
• Tuck into microwave meal for one. It’s low fat so tastes of nothing.
• Pour glass of wine from bottle that’s been open for two weeks. It’s yukky and I can’t be bothered to open a fresh one.
• Crave chocolate but the cupboards appear to be sugar free. A mug of hot chocolate takes the edge off.
• Cut toenails and paint them.
• Retire to bed. Alone. Read book and fall asleep to live Big Brother.

Line up the single folk and pick your victim

It was a mate’s significant birthday over the weekend and as well as promising us cheap booze, a finger buffet to die for and plenty of cheesy dance music, she also highlighted the number of single men on the guest list. Excellent news, fresh victims, I thought.

There were a few single gals at the do, all stunning as is always the case, and three or four single chaps. Trouble is, you kinda assume that all single people will be drawn to all other single people and that’s just not the case. You can’t just pick your guy and go home with him. Shame.

So, when two of the guys stated a preference for my lovely blonde mate, my heart sank. There were single guys in the room and they just weren’t interested in me. My self confidence is nose diving a bit at the moment and I’ve come to realise that I’m just not that good looking. I ain’t ugly either but with so many single stunners out there, us average folk don’t get a look in. Depressing stuff.

As much as I enjoyed the party I was a tad miffed that none of the guys took a shine to me. I even wore a dress. Me and another mate sloped off into town after the party and drowned our sorrows. Not helped by the fact that we were joined by her foreign friend and Mariah Carey lookalike. She stopped guys in their tracks and, quite rightly so, lapped up the attention. Us two stragglers were defo the ugly friends that night!

I did manage to smooch with a guy called Gavin who took my phone number, reluctantly, so I insisted he shouldn’t feel obliged to use it. He hasn’t. To be honest, I can’t really remember what he looks like. Alcohol’s way of saving you from the trauma that he might well have been a minger.

The ultimate sin

I committed the ultimate sin on Friday night. I’d arranged to hook up with an old flame (a guy who dumped me to concentrate on his career, yeah right!) for a friendly drink as we’d been texting a bit over recent weeks.

I don’t know what it is about this guy ‘cos he isn’t that good looking but there was something about him that attracted me. However, rather than come across as a sexy and confident woman who he’d been a fool to ditch, I got way too pissed and clearly left my dignity and my brain at home.

I pulled my mate from bar to bar trying to find this guy (lots of confusion as to where we were meeting) and basically made a fool of myself. My memory of the night is very blurred but to cut a long story short I ranted at him quite a lot, got agressive, abandomed my mate who had no choice but to chat to my ex’s chubby but cheerful pal, and clearly offended him so much that he stomped off and refused to talk to me. That’s the end of that then.

Although a tad embarrassed about what I may or may not have said to him that night, I’m not too worried about losing him. I never had him in the first place, his job will always come first and he’d lost a lot of weight since I saw him which made him considerably less attractive. I have been referred to as a chubby-chaser before now – I prefer my men with a bit of meat!

What I am embarrassed about is that I became the type of woman I hate. The type of woman who aggressivly won’t let go, who argues for the sake of arguing and bascially comes across as a bit of a nutter. And the ultimate sin is swapping what could have been a good night on the dancefloor with my best pal, for a night spent chasing a loser guy, all for nothing. This is so out of character for me and I feel utterly ashamed.

I’d be the first to shout at my mates for abandoning their friends to chase a guy and I did just that. My poor old mate had no choice but to follow me as I pulled her around in pursuit of….in pursuit of what? I don’t even know! I honestly didn’t want to get back with this guy, and don’t think it was even an option, but just wanted a bit of friendly male company I guess? But I, more than anyone, know that it’s impossible to stay friends with an ex, no matter how hard you try.

There are always issues when relationships end and mine clearly surfaced after a few too many glasses of wine, shots of God knows what and a glass or two of Southern Comfort and coke. No wonder I leapt out of the taxi 100 metres ahead of my front door and hurled all over the pavement. Disaster all round.

My mate has been great, bless her, but nonetheless doesn’t feel guilty about sloping off half a day earlier than expected to go and meet a guy of her own, and I don’t blame her. Usually I would frown on friend abandonment, but I owed her one. She said she had a good night anyway, but I don’t know how. It was pants and a complete waste of a Friday night.

And I still feell terrible. I crossed a line on Friday and although losing the guy isn’t the issue, the way I acted is. Not attractive. Note to self: do not act like that ever, ever, ever again – or I face a lifetime of singledom.

With no male prospects on the horizon and a distinct lack of boys’ phone numbers in my address book, I’m feeling unloved, unattractive and pretty depressed. What does a girl have to do to get a boyfriend? My mates can manage it, and those who are single still have dates.

Three months without bedroom action is the longest I’m prepared to leave it, and this is now month four. Serious dry spell! Anyway, I’m gonna work on a few things in order to make myself more attractive – need to stop eating shit so a detox will start tomorrow, and I’m not going to drink so much when I go out. If it turns me into the monster I was on Friday night then it’s really not worth it. I pride myself on being a regular girl and that’s not who I was on Friday. I was Idiot Girl!