Do you know how much I hated being single in my twenties? Reader, let me count the ways. I hated the fact that weekends stretched out for eons and eons, empty and alone, the only highlight being a bottle of wine and a pizza in front of The X Factor.
I hated the fact that on the rare occasions my coupled up friends deigned to invite me to dinner parties, they’d patronise me with the most condescending words in the English language: ‘We live our lives vicariously through you.’
I hated that I would turn up at these dinner parties, and everyone would say, ‘Oh goody, we can stop talking about politics now that you’re here! Tell us about the fun things you have been up to!’
I hated that I was expected to come armed with both a bottle of wine and several embarrassing anecdotes about one night stands and aborted attempts at relationships, that everyone thought I was incapable of expressing an opinion about Ed Miliband.
These friends thought they were being complimentary, when in actual fact all I could hear was ‘Hahahaha! You are a ditz and a clutz and a failure, and will never have the love of a good man and a three bedroom house with expensive glassware! You are destined to a life spent living in a dank basement flat with a family of silverfish and some chipped Ikea wine glasses!’
I hated that I was expected to come armed with both a bottle of wine and several embarrassing anecdotes about one night stands and aborted attempts at relationships
I hated that I was expected to drop everything when one of my coupled up friends decided she wanted a night out. I hated that when I went to one of their weddings, they would always sit me on a table with the flotsum and jetsum of their lives, thus telling me everything I needed to know about how single women are viewed by society.
I hated being told that I would only find love when I was ‘truly happy in myself’, as if they were Oprah bloody Winfrey, and I hated being told that I would find love when I least expected it. Newsflash: I didn’t want to find love when I least expected it. I wanted to find love right that very moment.
But mostly, I hated the fact that I hated being single. I hated that I wasn’t happy being single and ‘independent’ (I was never independent – I was still asking my mum for £50 at the end of every month). I hated that I was basically betraying the sisterhood by giving in to the evil whims of the patriarchy.
I hated that I was supposed to be channelling Beyoncé in All The Single Ladies, despite the fact that song is really just an ode to marriage (‘If you liked it then you should have out a ring on it’) and that Beyoncé herself has long been coupled up with one Mr Jay Z.
Reader, for the entirety of my twenties and some of my thirties, nobody expressed even the vaguest desire to put a ring on it. And that really smarted.
I knew, from fellow lonely friends and people who had written to me having read my Telegraph column about being a single girl about town, that it smarted with a lot of other woman too. That we needed to change the fact everyone sees girls who want boyfriends as well as careers as tragic. That we needed to say, ‘Actually, this is TOTALLY. AND. UTTERLY. NORMAL. It is why the human race is so successful.’
So I wrote a bookabout it.
But here’s the funny thing. Having got married and had a baby (though absolutely not in that order) a little later than most, I realise that actually, being single in your twenties is the best thing ever. Hindsight is a marvellous thing, but thank Beyoncé I didn’t end up getting stuck with any of the losers who dicked me around when I was 21. And 22. And 23, and 24, and so on...
I don’t want to sound as smug as the people who used to invite me round to dinner parties to play the role of performing monkey, but a few of my friends who got married at 25 are now no longer married, their ‘starter’ husband replaced by someone completely different.
And here are some other things I wish I’d realised about being single in my twenties:
It is OK to be alone on the weekends. Instead of moping in my flat, I wish I’d gone to the cinema or to galleries. I wish I’d been more proactive – joined one of those military fitness classes and spent my Saturdays doing press-ups in the park with other people just like me. As it is, I will never now join a military fitness class. No, really, I won’t.
Each break-up makes you stronger. I used to take months, if not years getting over being dumped. (I was always dumped, it was never the other way round.) But now I’m grateful that I was dumped so often, because they were never right for me, and with each failed relationship I learnt more about what I wanted in a good one.
So when I eventually met Harry, I wasn’t put off by the fact there weren’t fireworks and our ‘friendship’ grew very slowly. I was just happy that I was experiencing a contented relationship that didn’t make me feel as if I was on a rollercoaster 24/7.
Being single enables you to concentrate on your career. Looking back, I’m glad that I didn’t spend my twenties pregnant and married. It meant that by the time I was doing those things, I had focused on my career enough so that I could vaguely afford to.
When your coupled-up friends say they are living their lives vicariously through yours, they really are. Don’t be offended by it. Now I’m married with a child, I can see that their lives really were that boring, and that my friends really did find my life thrilling, even if I didn’t. Enjoy being single. Because the chances are it won’t last forever.
The Wrong Knickers by Bryony Gordon is out now
Follow Bryony on Twitter @bryony_gordon
Picture: Eylul Aslan
This article originally appeared on The Debrief.