So, as I mentioned last week, on Sunday I started a weekly column in the Sunday Times called A Million Miles from Normal.
Some people who live too far away to get the local Sunday Times have asked me to post the first column, so here goes:
Hope you enjoy.
For those of you who have already seen the column and are now muttering under your breath, ‘wait, what the fuck, i’ve already seen that column, where’s my daily original post? grumble, grumble, grumble… ‘ for you lot, click here, and then click on ‘The Random Button’ something entirely interesting and educational is bound to pop up.
or go to google and type in ‘SMUT’, either way that should keep you entertained for at a least a couple of minutes.
To the rest of you, hope you enjoy this column:
A SINGLE INSIGHT – By Paige Nick
I’m a twitterer, I tweet. Which means that on occasion I log onto a website and tell the world how I’m feeling, 140 characters at a time.
The other night I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of happiness. Perhaps it was because I’d finished all my work for the day, or because Natalie was voted out of Survivor, or because the weekend was in sight, who knows. But lacking anything more intriguing or inspiring to say, I tweeted it:
‘Feeling happy. It’s kind of nice.’ I said.
Minutes later I received a response from a friend:
‘Paige, are you in love?’
You’re kidding, right? Is it so impossible to believe that a single person could actually be happy while on their own? Never!
Often when people find out I’m single I can see them immediately scrolling through their mental rolodex for someone to set me up with. They can’t help themselves, they’re pre-programmed. Maybe it’s a throwback from our days on the ark, when the animals went in two by two, hurrah.
I was at a party the other evening where friends spent the entire night trying to nudge me in the direction of the only other visibly single person in the room. The fact that he was clearly a complete chop, with masochistic tendencies was beside the point. Their urge to pair me up with someone, anyone, far overtook the boring practicalities of whether we were a suitable match or not.
Because surely all single women in their thirties must be desperately looking for a partner? Well don’t shoot me, but not necessarily. Look, if I meet someone nice along the way, great. I’m sure it will happen at some point, contrary to all historic evidence and some tragically bad taste in men. But if it doesn’t, I’m okay with that too, no biggie. And I’m not just trying to be brave here, I really mean that.
Being single is fantastic. Besides all the usual clichés – like the fact that nobody dominates my remote control, there are no hairs in my soap, and if I put something in the fridge it stays there until I either eat it, or it gets so old it grows a pair of legs and walks out by itself.
Of course being in a relationship can be incredible, but it’s not at the top of Maslow’s Hierarchy of needs, people. Believe it or not we can actually survive in the wild on our own, as long as we make sure we look both ways before we cross the street.
I’d love it if for just one night the tables were turned and I went to a party where everyone pitied the couples. A night when couples are looked upon with sympathy and their single friends spend the evening trying to break them up, so they can be free at last.
At a dinner party recently I was seated next to a married couple. He told her she was talking too loudly five times, I
counted. Another couple I know hasn’t had sex in six weeks. I’ve watched couples around me make each other miserable for years at a time, decades even. So I have to wonder why couples are so desperate to pair everyone off.
Misery loves company, right?
New column coming up this Sunday in the magazine section of The Sunday Times. Hope you enjoy.