2011: The year that wasn't quite, but nearly.

Ah, the customary yearly round-up post, where we all talk about what we've achieved, or haven't, and then make wild statements about what we are definitely, absolutely, 100% going to achieve next year. And then don't. I was meant to post this on New Year's Day, except I was busy dying, so here we are. Needless to say, my first resolution is no drinking in January. My poor liver. And poor face! I look like a teenager again. Clearasil to the rescue. Le sigh.

I always do a New Year’s resolution of some sort, even though I know they are slightly pointless. They’re not often that successful; ranging from the not-even-close (I vowed to learn to snowboard, last year and the year before that, and guess what I’ve got as a resolution again), to the did-it-for-a-while (dieting, reading more design publications) to the quite successful (career related stuff, get more freelance work, get a new job, tick tick.) It's almost like, because it's a new year, you feel you have to mark it in some way, to improve yourself going forward. That's what life is all about right? Constantly making everything just a little bit better?

This time last year, I made a terribly melodramatic statement (presumably whilst drunk) that if I was still single this time next year, i.e now, then I would die. I would literally stop living. I probably mentioned some sort of noose contraption. Tasteless jokes aside, it was a statement made in jest because I couldn't possibly believe I'd still be single by the end of 2011.

Well, hello. Here I am. Single and still alive.

However, I have been trying. In fact, this is the first year that I can honestly say I have. This time last year I was all despair and no effort to rectify it. This year I'm all despair and many dates behind me, so it's definitely an improvement. At the beginning of 2011, I was probably complaining about how I never seem to meet any guys, ever, as my friend suggested I start online dating.

The horror in my face was palpable.

I think I probably said something about how only lonely, ugly divorced people do that, and I can't believe how you think I'd stoop that low. She told me to trust her. Reluctantly, I did.

She helped me joined Mysinglefriend, I was proved completely and utterly wrong (so many fitties are online! I proclaimed) and the rest, as they say, is history. Sort of.

I had an eventful year. There was:

- Cameron, the crazy, wig-wearing, strange American, which will possibly go down in Dating Lore as the worst date of all time.
-Phillip, lovely guy, no connection or attraction however, unfortunately I backed away from second(!) kiss, we never spoke again...
-My Life Your Hands, the Guardian Dating columnist who wrote about our date in the paper (totally fine) but live-tweeted our second date to his followers, unbeknownst to me (not fine)
- Spencer, who I met offline, had 5 wondrous dates, really thought it was going somewhere until I went on holiday and he stopped talking to me. Eventually talking resumed and he admitted he had got back with his ex. Upset.
- Rating the Dating, who I met through this blog, again, lovely guy, but I found the whole thing a bit weird and too much paranoia for my liking.
- Ben, my most recent lost love, who after 2 blindingly amazing dates, he dropped off the face of the planet, never to be seen or reply to my texts again. Muchos upset.
- a plethora of drunken kisses and boys liking me but me not liking them. Makes a change.

After Spencer was where I started this blog. I started it more as a cathartic thing, not really knowing where it would go and if anyone would read it, but to my surprise, a few people actually are. Which is nice. It's still in it's infancy, I'm still deciding on directions to go (do I want to keep reporting in detail on my dates; is that ethical, moral etc, or do I want to discuss the wider world of dating and it's many issues in a wider context?) and such, but so far it's going Ok I think. Hopefully not damaging to anyone, I think the anonymous thing was the way to go really. We shall see. The last thing I want to happen is hurt anyone, including myself - I'm a Single Girl Trying Not to be, remember.

Ultimately though, the whole point of all this is to document my efforts to FIND ME A MAN gosh darn it. I'd quite like a boyfriend. Yes, yes I would. Or at least, somebody who likes me who wants to hang out and have sex every so often. That's all. That is more important than the blog, of course. So 2012 will be spent on working on me, being nicer to other people, to get me better as a person, less clingy, more awesome, less self-centered, more girlfriend-y, and essentially more myself, thus a man-type should hopefully follow. I am not perfect. I do not want a perfect man. Just someone I can do stuff with. Isn't that why we're all here?

2012, you'll be happy to hear, has got off to an OK start. That is, I kissed someone at midnight, so that's always a good sign. The downside is I didn't know his name, was far too drunk to remember, and he has since somehow acquired my number and keeps texting me. Ugh.

Sober January here we come! What are your dating resolutions? x

The 'C' Word.

Found here.

It's the time of year when we reflect on things that have passed, and think about what's to come. Even if you're not making resolutions, you're probably thinking about things you want to do differently this year, or achieve, or simply to be a better person. You know, that ol' chestnut.

I want to talk about the C word. Celibacy.

Even saying the word feels awful. It's funny how such an intrinsically pure, chaste word can feel so shameful and dirty. I imagine that admitting to someone that you are celibate, for whatever reason, somehow evokes a much worse reaction than if you were to admit to being a promiscuous sex addict. You'd probably get less understanding, anyway.

The definition, in most English dictionaries, is as follows:

Celibacy [n]

the state of abstaining from marriage and sexual relations: a priest who had taken a vow of celibacy

So. By definition, celibacy is a willing thing - you make a conscious decision not to have sex, therefore, you are celibate. But, what if you are someone like me; Someone who would, actually, love to be having sex, but somehow isn't, and amazingly, hasn't for over 3 years. What then? Am I to be defined as celibate? Or just having a very unlucky, admittedly occasionally self-inflicted, 'dry patch', as it were?

Even admitting this to you, dear readers, as an anonymous, faceless girl, is difficult. I have told my close friends, as and when the conversation arises (usually to gasps and desperate faces of untold pity, sometimes even disbelief, which is nice), but I'm not particularly proud of it, so I try not to tell anyone, if I can help it. It's not a religious decision. It's not an 'I hate all men', decision (I don't, some are lovely), and it's not a I-still-hold-a-candle-for-my-ex decision. I think. I'm sure if you sat me in a psychiatrists chair you'd get all kinds of crazy shit coming out. Let's not dwell on that.

It's not even any kind of decision, really. Not consciously anyway, I think. I hope. Otherwise I'd be effectively sabotaging myself, and that's not cool. But it's difficult. Especially when we live in such a hyper-sexualised culture, where seeing sex on telly, in adverts, hearing about it in songs, in magazines, in the clothes we are force-fed by the high street and sex oh-so-readily-available on the Internet is so completely and utterly normal that anyone not having sex every minute of the day is bound to feel like they're missing out. So what of us? Of me, and countless others, who aren't having sex, not because they don't want to (we do) but because we can't just fling ourselves at anyone, no matter what Rihanna wants to make us believe?

And this is why I'm grappling with the C word. The clue in the definition is abstaining - and to abstain you have to make a conscious decision not to do something. Well, I haven't made a conscious decision to never have sex, but I do know I hate one night stands. I can't sleep with any random guy, hot or not, that I've just picked up in a bar. I cannot, and will not. It's awful, and frankly, a bit rubbish. I like sex. I bloody love sex actually, from what I remember of it, and I'm no quiet mouse in the bedroom, (as previous housemates can attest to, I'm sure...) but I like to do it with people I'm comfortable with. Who I fancy a bit, and who I've known for more than five minutes. I don't think I'm the only one, right? I wish I could do one night stands. They seem like a lot of fun. On the telly, etc. But all the ones I've had have been terribly disappointing, if not a bit weird, and often leave me staring at the ceiling at 5am praying for daylight to come. Perhaps I've just been with the wrong people. Perhaps it's me.

So, by making this decision to only have sex with people I have some sort of valid relationship with/have dated a few times/etc, am I effectively abstaining? Because these people I speak of, that I am only letting myself sleep with, don't exist. Not at the moment anyway, and they haven't for three years. I say to myself that it's through no fault of my own, just a catalogue of errors*, but surely, I have myself to blame? If I really, really wanted to sleep with someone, wouldn't I just do it? Wouldn't I just go out and find someone? It's not particularly hard. I'm certainly lucky enough to look alright in the face department, I'm not obese (unless Christmas has had it's wicked way) and I own clothes and I wash myself, so someone would, statistically, take me home. Surely.

 

(*It's more bad luck really. The last guy I slept with, it all went a bit wrong, halfway through my third year at Uni, so I put men to the back of my mind and focused on my degree for the last 6 months of my time there. After graduating I moved back home for a year - no chance of pulling anyone while living with the parentals, away from all friend contact. After that I moved to London - where I have been for 18 months - and then started dating, properly looking for someone. Not found them yet.)

But I don't want to just 'take someone home'. So this strange 'Accidental Celibacy' thing seems to have crept up on me, and I'm a bit worried it's here to stay. I'm now not only petrified of being single forever, I'm petrified I'll never have sex again. Double paranoia. Pass the paper bag. Oh God.

So what to do? In the spirit of New Year, I should probably try a new tactic. Maybe I should try the whole one night stand scenario again. *shudder* Not that I'd have any idea how to actually make that happen. I'll carry on with the dating, hopefully get past 4 dates (that's not a rule or anything, that's just the highest amount of dates I had with someone in 2011...) and something will happen eventually. Right?

 

Here's to actually having sex in 2012. Cheers!