I’m twenty two, fresh faced (minus a few spots and fading acne scars oooh yummy!) and living the fun loving life of a student (without sex and hardly any booze….woah I’ve turned into a bore!) Yet I know, I mean really know…that spinsterhood, lying in my own piss and surrounded by 101 cats is the fate that awaits me.
How do I know this? Let me fill you in:
1) I love Breaking Bad, I love Suits and I love Silk; all the “cool” programmes that any twenty something should be obsessing over. However, what I love more than these shows….more than these shows combined in fact, is- Eastenders. I say this without shame (and this is the real problem.) Eastenders is the true love of my life- a love that NO man can compete with. Nobody’s gossip interests me more than Kat Slater’s. I’ve cried more often at sad or soppy storylines in Eastenders than I have in my own life. Wednesday is also my least favourite day of the week on account of it being Eastender-less. I know this isn’t cool, I know it isn’t right and I know that it won’t help me bag a boyfriend!
2) Wonky eyebrows. I loathe my impatient sixteen year old self. There I was tweezers in hand- a little too pluck happy…I did my right eyebrow (if l may say so myself) to absolute perfection. My left eyebrow however…well that’s a whole other ball game. Wouldn’t you think that SIX YEARS later the little bald patch in my left eyebrow may have re grown? I mean hair has no problem re-appearing in my armpits, on my legs and in my vajayjay so WHY LEFT EYEBROW are you being fussy?!? Anyway it’s left me sporting a very unusual look- that anyone who looks close enough can see. A look that requires I colour in my eyebrows every half hour and which, even then, is still noticeable. It gives me a kind of “your face is weird but I can’t quite put my finger on why” mystery. A mystery that no male in their right mind would take the time to solve. Who wants a 1.5 eyebrowed girlfriend?
3) I hate sport. I dislike doing it myself and I sure as hell hate watching it. Since when did observing other people having fun become fun?! I get it, I do. It just isn’t for me…I don’t want to invest an hour and a half of my time, a morning travelling and hundreds of pounds on a season ticket to watch a football game that culminates in a draw. BORE. At least with a trip to the theatre or a gig you know what you’re getting…always. Definitely more my thing. As the daughter of a rugby loving family, I used to find myself spending my Saturdays at the rugby ground feigning an interest in a hobby that my family all adored. That was until I reached about eleven and told them enough was enough. I’ve now doubled in age and what little enthusiasm I had for sports then has now somehow halved since…sorry non-existent future boyfriend.
4) I cannot cook. Sex and food is the way to a man’s heart, I know, I know and whilst I’m competent at the whole fun in the sack business (unless I’m bored and feigning a headache, tiredness or the need to pee ofcourse!) a domestic goddess I am not. My signature dish is pasta….with shop bought sauce that I mix (when I’m at my most adventurous!) with sundried tomato paste! This is the extent of my cooking abilities, I kid you not. I also make a mean sandwich, if you’re interested boys! The smell of freshly baked bread is something you will never return home to, you will never catch me icing homemade cupcakes for our daughter’s charity stall and I shan’t ever be cooking fine foods for dinner parties or social occasions! Honesty is the best policy, right?! I’ll always be happy to nip down to the local chippy for you though, boyfriend!
5) I insist on singing all the time. In the shower, in the car, in the kitchen, in my bedroom. First thing in the morning and last thing at night- I’m blaring cheesy pop, emotive ballads and hardcore rock. I can also give Eminem a run for his money! The only thing is that I’m alone in seeing my ability- a rough diamond, you could say…my future boyfriend would have to accept this all consuming passion of mine…and ideally join me in my solo karaoke sessions! I fear this will never happen. I once made my sister cry during a looooooong car journey in which I sang all the songs from “The Sound of Music” soundtrack until after much pleading and a bollocking from my mother, I was convinced to be quiet. Will you be my Sonny and let me be your Cher? Yeah, I thought not…