Missing the boat

I had a particularly peculiar feeling the other day, the day that I got the email from the WelshOne about his impending move. Not about him per se, more a feeling that I somehow seem to have missed something.
I felt as if I had nipped out of the party to get some champagne, and by the time I'd got back the boat had sailed without me and there I was, stuck on the shore watching everyone having a good time; doing things that responsible adults should be doing, getting married, buying houses, moving in with their beloveds, having children.

I am now the only single female in my group. In truth, I think I may be the only single person in our group and most of the time I am okay with that, in fact I relish it; especially during the tears and rows and strife that come only between two people who love each other. No thank you very much, I had 5 years of that and am pretty content without it these days.

But this week has also made me realise that indeed it's okay to want to share this life of mine with someone and despite knowing that I am freakishly picky, that if I am going to commit myself to one man he has got to be something phenomenally special, with the ability to make his way through the jumbled obstacle course to my heart, it doesn't stop me feeling like somehow I seem to have missed something, while I was off to the off licence to get that bottle, those around me seemed to be making radical decisions, developing relationships that meant something and while I was the last to leave the party, tipsy and dazed with another unsuitable candidate, they had left with something more tangible. Had moved on from the party, made homes and engagements. Got to the boat on time and moved on.

Single men seem to be few and far between, Nurse K even jokingly emailed me saying that, like me, she always checks the left hand for a ring these days. Gone are the days we looked at eyes, legs, mouths, and er... that pert, apple cheek ass.
It's all about the ring finger these days. And even if that man is not attractive, if he appears to be single - well, that man's stock goes up ten fold.

Sad.

But true.

Ramblings of no importance whatsoever

So there I am, in the gym after a particularly gruelling cardio session comprising of rowing and cycling, my hair is wet with sweat, my face is red and I'm bent over the glutes machine, my butt in the air, my back leg straining against the weights, glutes tensing... a not very dignified position, and all in all I am not looking particularly glamorous, attractive or well... to put it bluntly I looked like hell.

Now The WelshOne, for those who remember, was the nice young man I dated last year and the only man in the last 2 years whom I've dated in that time that has given me that butterfly feeling.
Granted, we didn't date for long and it was almost a year ago but I still remember how he made me feel and so, even though I know we have both *MOVED ON* it was still with a tinge of regret that when he announced his impending moving in with new girlfriend this week, I replied with an ever so slightly through gritted teeth "Congratulations, am so happy for you etc etc bloody etc"

I have seen him since The Great Smiths' parting, granted... and every time I saw him again a little of those butterflies decreased until I was fairly sure that I was *over it* and that it wasn't him I was pining over after all, rather it's those butterflies I'm missing. And we have in truth had several email exchanges so if I was to see him again, it wouldn't be that big a deal... non?!

Well, unless I'm bent over the glutes machine in a rather undignified position? And turn around, hair lank, red faced to face him? Grinning like a fool at me.

So the good news is there was no twinge, no butterflies, not even a moth and lo and behold someone I used to fancy saw me looking less than my best, and if you think of all the other things I should be worrying about, really... that's a pale comparison.