I hereby declare my refusal to hang off the fridge door of Love.... (or unemployment, for that matter)

Having had a lot of spare time on my hands over the past  two weeks (GAH! It's been two weeks now...?!) I've worried momentarily on more than one occasion that boredom could be creeping around the corner. Luckily, as soon as I've felt the first tingles of the dreaded 'b' word, I've used a bit of foresight and done something to keep myself occupied - dabbling in blogging, for example, reading, drawing, cycling, sunbathing or calling on one of my life-saving friends. 

Now, I'm sure this is going to tumble out all wrong and I'm inevitably about to make a few highly questionable statements, but the slightly lost feeling of finding myself jobless can, to some extent, be likened to the uneasy few weeks which come in the wake of a crumbling relationship break-up. Most of us are familiar with the pining and the heart wrenching: neither of these are symptoms I'm suffering at the moment of course (although it is a bugger not having a job I'm hardly pining after it) but there is a similarity to be drawn between the two  unfortunate circumstances as both do tend to free up a great deal of your time.

Mrs Haversham blues are at bay.

Don't panic! This is not a story about to descend into doom and gloom quite yet... in fact, I can glady report, ladies and gentlemen, that I'm feeling quite the opposite. Since my last bout of mourning over a lost love, I've had an epiphany worthy of a Carrie Bradshaw closing sentence in that I have no desire in my head whatsoever to be coupled up and playing the relationship game right now. I realise this comes at a time when I'm perhaps not the best catch for potential suitors (anyone saying this to my face, by the way, will get a sharp slap in the face, male or female) I can honestly say, without even crossing my fingers behind my back (actually, I'm typing so not the best example) or secretly crying inside whilst imagining myself as an ancient Mrs Haversham-esque decaying mess, that I am 100% happy and feel at no loose end in not having a significant other to  pour my affections over, just as I am getting by so far being a little misplaced in the world of work.*

[*I must stress at this point that I am not half way through a bottle Chardonnay right now, flapping my free hand around whilst listening to 'Single Ladies' by Beyonce - promise. In explaining my contentment in being single I don't wish to come across as an expletive spitting, man hating, independence citing crack-pot. Although, if I'm permitted to make one futher disclaimer, it would be to also avoid offending any woman who does chose to celebrate her singledom in this way: right on, sister.]

Beyonce with some 'single ladies'

This well cemented contentment was not just an idea hatched by myself after sitting in front of my computer all day trying to see what mine and every fathomable potential boyfriend's children would look like using one of those creepy websites (I did try to do this once to freak a guy out for a laugh, but you have to register and shit, it's far too much hassle just to see a man faint... if you'd like to give it a go though, just click here.) it was actually a very wise and wonderful woman of the world who I had the pleasure of living with through most of my years at uni who guided me towards the light in this case.

We'd just had an idyllic day of sampling some Brick Lane street cuisine, wandering around Spitalfields market and hanging in the sun-drenched park drinking wine. The weather was fabulous, it was a Sunday and life had reached a pinnacle of bloody brilliance. As we are both currently of single status, the subject of our lack of male co-dependants arose in afternoon conversation, and she made the most wonderful statement about her own autonomous happiness: she said that she has enough things to occupy her time without having to concentrate her energy into seeking out another half, and that perhaps the girls who feel this uncontrollable hunger to snare a man are just too bored in their own company. These, I believe, are the 'mental' girls which I have heard so many guys shudder and bitch about lately - I'm pretty sure I was even amongst the 'mentals' once - the girls who are so desperate not to lose the person they've become so dependant on to provide all of the care, interest and drama in their lives that they would literally transform their otherwise normal, likeable selves into mobile phone wielding psychopaths who are capable of reaching every single extreme of aggression from 'zero' to 'crazy drama hungry bitch'.

And so from now on when I get these little inklings of feeling slightly lost, I think to myself about huger pangs: the kind when you're not really hungry but you have a craving for something and you're not sure what it is - so you open the fridge and hang off the door staring into it.... move a bit of cheddar aside to see what's behind it only to realise you don't want the ham which was hiding there (and that yes you can survive without finishing off the family pack of Crunchies which you know is waiting for you in the bottom drawer) NO - you're just bloody BORED. At which point I will now never hesisate to firmly close the fridge door and just go and do something, for christ's sake. It seems to me it's easy to get into the habit of just hanging off the fridge door of your sometimes empty love life, because you want something, but it's not really there. Perhaps there are more people who need to realise they aren't going to find it in the fridge, or in a bar, or by stalking every member of the opposite sex they're friends with on Facebook, and instead go and do something to interest themselves. 

After all, if you're bored then you're boring and if you're boring then no one will ever fancy you, now will they?

THESE LOT CLEARLY ARE NOT GETTING IT