Singledom, irony and interpretation

So I wrote my last post on the train, as I do quite often and one of many reasons why I rarely take the time to go back and edit prior to publication. If you see grammatical and spelling errors - that’s mainly why. Editing is annoying when I’m writing on the fly. I don’t draft these blog posts out - though I do research when the occasion calls for it. 

The thing is though I wrote my last post about the importance of being earnestly single on the train (the wrong one actually) on the way to a Meet Up in Parramatta. 

I was on my way to meet up with a new friend, our own meeting being quite a funny story already, and join in on a Meet Up she was going to that night. I was hungover, tired, furiously typing to get my thoughts out in some kind of comprehensive way in the hopes that my new feelings and reframing of singledom made sense - so they could maybe reach someone else who needed to hear it. 

I made it to the end of the train line, the wrong one, and by the time I changed trains and arrived in Parramatta I was close to 45 minutes later than the Meet Up was meant to start. 

If you’ve never been to a Meet Up before it’s a website/app aimed at connecting people socially for all kinds of things, across all ages and offering many, many different activities. It’s really great for people who are new to an area or city and don’t really know anyone - or people just trying to make new friends in general. I signed up years ago with the greatest of intentions before lockdown hit and had joined some groups but never made it. 

This Meet Up was just a dinner & drinks for 20 and 30 somethings, but mostly I went along this time to hang out with my new friend, meet another friend of hers and just have a good time. Since I was hungover and tired already I didn’t intend for it to be much of a wild night.

It wasn’t wild, but it was kind of crazy. 

I met some great new people, made some genuine new friends, and had a really nice night in general. But what was the most refreshing, and ironic, was that I met someone. Like a human man. A nice one that I liked. In the wild. 

Did I hit my head or fall asleep on that train? 

Apparently not, but the jury is out on what that means. Maybe nothing, maybe I’ve made a new friend, maybe I’ve met someone that could be something. 

I spent over 5 hours talking to this guy, sometimes on the dance floor, sometimes by the bar, sometimes in the beer garden, and sometimes on a couch in the corner. Until 3am, long after we lost the entire rest of the group, and before we realised the time. Just one very long continuous conversation that covered all manner of topics from family history, to tattoos, past relationships, music, travel and sexuality. Occasionally someone from the group would temporarily join in before disappearing back into the crowd, but mostly it was just us. 

It was so nice, I lost my voice. Talked it right out. 

I can’t remember the last time I have spent all night talking to someone - especially not a straight man. It was a really nice, refreshing experience and I have no idea what it means. Maybe nothing - though he asked for my number and I’ve heard a little since. Maybe he was just being nice? 

Something I’m working on in therapy is that I seem to have developed a really screwed view of what people’s interest in me looks like. I can’t see it if it’s at all subtle and I get in trouble when I think someone is just actively interested but really they’re on the rebound or love bombing me. It stems from my teen years and early 20s - but the main thing is I don’t know when to trust people’s (well men’s) intentions anymore. I have been burned so many times and it’s a bit terrifying honestly. 

So I’m a bit anxious - anxiety is my middle name. 

I also said it’s ironic and it is - I had literally just written about how I love being single the majority of the time. If there was ever a time to be suspicious of the universe’s intentions wouldn’t it be now? 

Me: I’m happy being single.

Universe: hold my poodle, time to crush her again. Send in the next one!

You’re probably thinking: just chill out, stop overthinking everything, go with the flow. 

Trust me, I want to. But you might have to lobotomise me. I can’t turn it off and I feel like Jack Skellington trying to decipher the meaning of Christmas. 

Maybe I need to meditate more or sleep for a century. Maybe I need to start a new thriller novel. Maybe I need some chocolate. What does everyone else do in these situations? 

I’m just going to assume he’s just nice until I hear anything to the contrary. That seems right.

Watch this space I guess. Worst case scenario: Being single is awesome. Best case scenario: Being single is still awesome.

Sam xox