I was in my kitchen at college, drinking tea and trying to decide my food destiny for the evening. I didn’t have many options, as I hate cooking and rarely keep any food in my cupboard. It was looking like Pot Noodle or a trip to the shop. Someone had left the most recent issue of Cosmopolitan on the table, so I mindlessly flipped through the pages despite the fact that I hate the magazine. It didn’t take me long to find a reason to hate it even more as I came across the article, “Sex and the Single Girl: Rosie Mullender Loves New Year’s Eve - it’s the only time she can be sure what her future Mr Right is up to.” It said ‘sex’ and ‘single’ so I thought I’d give it a browse.
Mere sentences in and I was already annoyed. What is to proceed is the absolute crap statements Ms Rosie Mullender makes and what I find wrong with them:
Much as I love being single, I can’t help mulling over who my next boyfriend might be.
I’m sorry, but ‘loving’ the single life involves no mulling over future boyfriends. It involves mulling over which dress to buy at the John Lewis clearance sale. The best part about being single is implicitly implied in the word ‘single’ – alone, one, you. (By the way, I’m aware ‘implicitly implied’ is redundant, but whatever. It sounded good in my head.) When I’m in a relationship I think about my other half all the time, because they’re just that – half of you. Being single means not worrying about relationships, that is if you’re the kind of “fun, fearless female” that Cosmo is constantly insisting women be. This kind of obsession with the future and who you’ll eventually end up with is useless, because you’ll never imagine your future partner exactly as they are. Which leads to the next quote.
It’s a dangerous game: I’m likely to be fairly disappointed when the tall, clever, sexy man of my dreams translates into what the average man is really like: bum-obsessed, prefers lie-ins to wrestling bears and loves a Pot Noodle.
Apparently I fit the bill for the ‘average man.’ This sentence only made me want Pot Noodle more, so while the kettle boiled I pondered her ludicrous statement some more. No shite you’re going to be disappointed that this man doesn’t live up to this Cosmo fantasy of what a man should be. Fit, intelligent, nice, loves the same things you love, good in bed. No man can live up to the impossible standards women are capable of imagining. Blame every RomCom Julia Roberts has ever been in, blame women’s lifestyle magazines, blame whatever you want, but it’s high time we stop putting this kind of insane pressure on men to be all-encompassing perfection. Those guys do not exist. I’ve met some who are close, but they also liked porn and video games. It's a trade off kind of thing.
The person I’m meant to be with is out there, somewhere.
Perhaps. Your common sense is hopefully out there, somewhere, as well.
I’m concentrating on how much I’ve got to look forward to.
Why not concentrate on how much you have? Live in the moment, not in some fantasy future that may or may not have this man in it, you silly cow.
I know the best thing that will ever happen to me - meeting and falling in love with The One - is lurking in my future. And that’s so exciting.
More like so pathetic. Really Rosie? Really? The best thing that will ever happen to you is finding this mythical “One”? Falling in love is fun and all, but I can think of many, many prouder moments in my life than falling in love. I don’t doubt that eventually finding someone you love and want to spend the rest of your life with is fantastic, but it’s certainly not the focal point of my life.
It’s like knowing your lottery numbers are almost certain to come up eventually - you’re just not sure when.
I like the lottery, but do I play every week, waiting until the day when my numbers come up? No. If I win on a scratch card, it’s fun, if I lose, it doesn’t mean I can’t eat this week.
At the moment he and I are both enjoying our lives separately. But we’re gradually moving closer to the day we meet, like trains heading towards the same destination.
I find it hard to believe that it’s enjoyable to live in a constant obsession over when you’re going to meet a man. Maybe it’s because I have so much companionship in my life between my friends and family, but I don’t see where worrying about this future relationship that doesn’t even exist yet is healthy.
Whenever I meet a new man the same thought flashes in my mind: ‘Is it you?’
Ugh, cue me chundering everywhere. This just screams desperation. I guarantee if you are treating every man you meet as the potential future father of your babies it will come across in how you act. Why not just enjoy things for what they are? Which, in the first minute of meeting someone, is almost certainly casual. Sure there may be attraction, but nothing scares away boys like an absolute nutter.
I simply do not understand the female obsession with men. It’s largely what my female friends want to talk about when we get together, and it’s not just casual chat, it is like an affliction. ‘He said this, he looked at me out of the corner of his eye, he poked me on Facebook, what does it mean? What does it mean?!’ It probably means absolutely fuck all you crazy woman! Do you know what guys talk about behind girls’ backs? Not girls! Hanging out with guys is a refreshing break from the mindless banter and speculation about the opposite sex.
Now, I do love men. I can obsess with the best of them. But then I snap out of it. It isn’t a constant running analysis in my mind of when I’ll meet the right man, or if I’ve already met him. I don’t even think things like that about men asleep in bed next to me! You will never imagine the future exactly how it will be, so why bother even trying? Keep yourself grounded in the present. There may or may not be someone for everyone, but why worry about that everyday? Everything happens for a reason, and if something is meant to be it will happen. You won’t think yourself into that perfect relationship, so calm down and enjoy what you have – don’t stress about what you have no control over.
Oh, and there's nothing wrong with men, or women for that matter, who eat Pot Noodle. I don't have time to play Jamie Oliver when I get home, and the chicken flavour is delicious.
Yorum Gönder