When I grow up I want to be Carrie Bradshaw

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When I grow up I want to be Carrie Bradshaw, albeit a an overweight, less fashionable, financially destitute, uneducated version. I have been spending a lot of time watching Sex and the City, mostly to distract myself from something else and I can't decide whether it is meant to make us feel better that even glamorous women have shitty love lives, or make us feel hopeless because if they can't make it happen what chance do us mere mortals have.

As far as role models go she's not what most people would aspire to, but she is neurotic and in that way I feel I have found a kindred spirit, and I won't let the fact that she's a fictional character take away my sense of validation. I watch a thirty something single woman on the flat screen who picks the wrong men, chucks tantrums and can't budget and I feel like giving her a high five. But then she has so much more.

Carrie has my dream life, a professional career where she writes for what appears to be a fairly good living, in a city full of culture and possibilities, with friends who love and support her and never has a problem getting a date. Instead, I have a medial low level part time job that barely gets me from pay to pay, in a tiny town in the middle of oblivion containing only a singular remaining divulge all type friend and I have never been asked out on a official date in my entire life.

Watching the glamorous foursome tramp all over the city I have been fantasising about since Sesame Street leaves me feeling with pangs of jealousy, but that's not why I'm watching it. As 1.30am on a Monday morning creeps up on me and I count down the hours until I have to go to work I still can't stand to turn season three off. Each time I turn it off a new feeling engulfs me, not envy, grief and I remember what I was trying to distract myself from.

The source of the grief I feel is something Carrie Bradshaw will never have to deal with. The complete emptiness and fear that I feel for the three nights a fortnight my son spends away from me. The horrible moments before I drop him off when the terror seeps in that I could never see him again, the  sleepless nights I spend checking an empty bed holding back the tears at the thought that it may remain empty forever. It's the most horrible place to be, a place many shared parent's are spared from. Then my son comes home.

For 11 days a fortnight I have the joy that can be unmatched by any designer clothing, cocktails, fancy jobs and unlimited supply of eligible bachelors. The feeling I get when my little boy puts on a concert, creates something just for mummy and crawls into bed next to me in the middle of the night and tells me he loves me. Somehow it all feels better.

It's 2am on a second Monday and in six and half hours I will have him back. But I still can't sleep, so I lose myself in Carrie's life a little more.

Red Flag City Limits

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Alcoholic, gym junkie
Plain old drug junkie
He's a player, he's too keen
you just don't where he has been
Now that's a Red Flag
Red Flag
Red Flag City
Red Flag City Limits

He's late for dinner, tea & lunch
and talks about his ex too much
He goes to town on Saturday 
Doesn't call you till Monday

Red Flag City
Red Flag City Limit

Emotions to frail
Not a manly male
Your attempts to better him
will be all to no avail
Red Flag City
Red Flag City Limit

Red Flag City
Red Flag City Limit
Never had a real girlfriend
he's not one that you can depend
He goes to mums on Monday
and Tuesday through to Sunday


Red Flag City
Red Flag City Limit


Too many money problems I can see
Don't do much for the community
Not much happening between the ears
Hasn't matured much in 30 years
You got watch out for douchebags
When you're single in your 30's
You got watch out for douchebags
When you're single in your 30's
You got watch out for douchebags
When you're single in your 30's
Keep an eye for the douchebags
Eye for the douchebags


Red Flag City
Red Flag  City Limit
Red Flag City
Red Flag City Limit
Red Flag City
Red Flag City Limit
Red Flag City
Red Flag City Limit

_______________________________________________________________________

What's the red flag in a relationship you ignored?

Email dovehoward1.emptyfinger@blogger.com

On Being Single in Your Thirties

According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics the 2006 consensus reported that 26% of Australian women never get married, that means that 74% will get married with the median age of first time married females at 27 and 46% of them will marry more than once. Greedy bitches.


For everyone who likes to ignore the uncomfortable fact of statistics, lets bring it closer to home. I have been in eight serious relationships between the age of 17 and 34, yes that is 17 years, and seven of those men now are married, most happily, most meeting their wife within months of us breaking up. I am not saying that I would take any of them back, I wouldn’t, but I can’t help but think that none of them wanted to marry me. And that is enough to make you cry uncontrollably on the floor of the shower at 3am after a large binge drinking session.


There are certain times in life when thinking about these things becomes more difficult. For example when your 20 year old sister gets engaged, when you realise you are the only single member of your family or group of friends, or when the trendiest, best looking couple have the most romantic public proposal. I would suggest around the third time you are a bridesmaid is also hard, however I don’t have enough friends to have got that far.


Also hard to swallow is the advice and encouragement from well meaning, happily married for years, friends. I would have thought being happily married for years would have made you the least qualified person to comment on single life for the over 30’s. Clearly I was mistaken, but the next person who tells me “there is someone for everyone” is going to get a smack over the head with the diamond side of a cricket bat. That comment is one of my pet hates, seriously. Not far behind, is the ever contradictory comments of  “you’ve just got to put yourself out there” and “you’re trying too hard and appearing desperate”. I seem to be continually assessing to see if I am positioned correctly in the ‘available but not too needy’ limbo. So, casually hanging around with the same friends at the same place for some drinks once a month when I can get a sitter is too little, and taking out a billboard on the barrier highway is too much. It’s tiring.


At this point we consider the “you don’t need to have man to be happy” argument. This one frustrates me, not only because it is also usually spouted by some happily coupled up know it all, but because it fails to acknowledge some basic psychological and socialisation principles. As human beings the meeting of our need for love and support as a child allows us grow into mature well rounded individuals, I suggest that this is not going to change in our adult years. As a society everything is built for the coupled world from holiday accommodation to medical insurance, then we attend functions where most people are coupled up, and are continually asked about our marital status by ignorant strangers. This gets more difficult as the years go on, so much so that when I tell people now that I have never in fact been married I am greeted with a look of pity and an accompanying sigh. “I’m sure you will find someone” – SMACK!


Short of a Frances Farmer style frontal lobotomy or a miraculous transformation into the 1% of the population that identify as asexual, I am going to continue to crave the romantic and sexual attention of a potential mate, in my case, one of the opposite gender. So I get busy putting myself out there, not appearing to desperate, getting on with life, loving myself and not needing anyone but my mind still wanders. It wanders towards that new guy in town that is kind of cute and said hello to me once, How old is he? Is he single? Is he straight? Will he be sticking around? Is he in my league? And these are the thoughts that go through your head before you even consider the basics such as is he nice? Is he self-sufficient? Would he be good around kids? Would he get along with my family? Can he kill large spiders un-aided on demand?


While I consider what type of guy, out of the ones left available, I should be interested in, one of the considerations bothers me more than the others. Whether or not someone is in my league. I have read that someone is only out of your league if you think that they are, I bet that they beg to differ on that front! Unfortunately we are all judged on looks, fitness, intelligence, interests, popularity, socio-economic status and of course past decisions slash indiscretions. So determining who is in or isn’t in your league can be hard, and sometimes a friend telling you that you “continually set yourself up for failure” by going for those who “maybe don’t appreciate you as much as others would” can be even harder. But trust me it is a help. The down side to this is once you realise what is actually in your league you may be even more depressed than you were before. I know I am.


So where to from here? I wish I could tell you. But I don’t have all the answers I can just relate to the pain and exhaustion of being a single person in a coupled up world. Next time I will complicate things again by adding in the ‘child I prepared earlier’ cause that makes things so much easier.


You may be single but you’re not alone.
:D