20 and cursed to a life of Singledom

Words by Michelle Andrews.

The day I arrived home from Europe I learned that my Grandmother has begun knitting my future children scarves and jumpers (apparently my first born is a boy, who knew?!) Unfortunately for my Nanny, singledom is something that’s all too familiar to me. .. and my siblings. Yeah, Nan, look- I don’t think little Michelle-spawn are on the cards for a few years yet. Let’s be honest, we’re probably looking at a good decade before I even start cooing at tiny baby shoes and those beach towels with the inbuilt animal heads.

Why can’t I just be one of those 20 year old girls who are madly in love with their boyfriend who they then spoil with gifts and spend their anniversaries together at The Sofitel or pigging out at The Langham?

You know those people who are relationship people? The ones who always have a boyfriend/girlfriend, or have a romance, or at least a ‘person’? Yeah, well those people really shit me. They are too mature and happy and they make me and my nightly comfort bowl of cookies and cream ice-cream look really pathetic. Which we are not, for the record, we just aren’t ready for commitment beyond the frozen confectionary aisle.

Like where on earth do you even find one person who doesn’t irritate you so much you want to throw bobby pins at their face?

One half of me thinks I may have some deep-seated psychological issue which makes me incapable of love, but then again at the drop of a hat I seem to develop emotional attachments to boys who are completely wrong for me, so maybe I’m just emotionally backwards. Considering the fact that I seek affection from men who have the emotional maturity of the common sock then yeah, that’s probably it.

Surely I am not the only 20 year old who is on the receiving end of the same questions at every family gathering: “so any special boys in your life, Michelle?” Yeah Gran, funny you asked actually, just yesterday a guy on tinder told me I had “a hot little bod” that he would “take to pound town”. We’re currently engaged in deep discussions regarding our impending house deposit and gift registry!!!1!

There’s also that one guy who always likes my Instagram photos… but we’re taking it slow. Really slow. I may one day comment that emoji with the love hearts for eyes on his selfie, but I’m not sure if we’re quite ready for the next step.

I can hear the reassuring voices of loved-up 20-somethings behind their laptops: “you’ll find the right guy when you least expect it” or “it literally happens as soon as you stop looking for it.” OKAY THAT IS QUITE POSSIBLY THE MOST FRUSTRATING CONCEPT EVER. That and “you just have to have an open heart” make me want to hurl. Come on, what does that even mean?

I’ll be completely blunt: the thought of committing multiple days a week towards another person makes me seize up with sheer panic. I seriously struggle with the idea of sacrificing so much ‘me’ time for another person. I’m a girl who needs my own space to breathe and do my thing. I am fiercely independent, and I’m not exactly thrilled by the concept of sharing every private aspect of my life. This, when coupled with the fact that I despise conventional dating doesn’t really make me girlfriend material.

Dinner and a movie? Can’t we just chill at your house and watch parodies of music videos on YouTube?

Don’t get me wrong, I wish I WAS girlfriend material. I envy those people who throw themselves head first into relationships and just trust their gut… I’m just not there yet. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe your 20s can be equally fulfilling without having someone by your side to share them with.

Just maybe you can do it all by yourself, and come out of it knowing exactly who you are, and what you want. And on the bright side, a few bobby-pin casualties may be spared in the process.