singleness

i’m really, really, really single. i have had years to perfect the art of singleness - years of uselessly becoming attracted to people who mostly don’t know i exist, or who think, “gee that wallis kid is pretty fun to hang around...as a friend.” i don’t say this in the hopes that the collective pity sighs of all my readers will somehow cause a cosmic shift in the atmosphere so that i meet ‘the one’. i say this because it is true...but not true in a sad way. it’s true in the same way that ‘penicillin kills nasty things’ is true...an excellent truth that happened through hard work and dedication.

not many people are 32 and really, really, really single...it’s not normal. it’s kind of like australia winning a gold medal at the winter olympics: rare and mostly when it happens it is by accident. we don’t become 32 and single on purpose, well i didn’t anyway. but however it happened, i still think it is worth celebrating in the same way as an accidental gold medal in a race where everyone else fell over is worth celebrating.

i have unrequitedly liked boys over the years, and on a few rare occasions have been unrequitedly liked by others...men and women. one of my favourite stories happened when i was out at a leagues club one night with some friends watching another friend’s band play. my first mistake was going to a leagues club...it was never going to end well. we were dancing to some excellent mid-nineties rock when i noticed a lady watching me from across the room nursing a beer. she was middle-aged at best, i was around 18. she was tastefully dressed in what looked like a massive t-shirt (worn as a dress), some football socks and a pair of high-heels. her staring made me more than a little uncomfortable so i spent the night angling myself away from her trying to enjoy the music while mastering my underappreciated style of leagues club dancing. she approached me later in the night with a ciggie hanging from her lips and breathed a huge smoky, beer-y breath into my face and said, “you’re a bit special aren’t you.” i’m not sure exactly what she was hoping for from me, but i ran. i ran like the wind. the boy i liked at the time escorted me safely to my car and i think he tried to kiss me goodnight but it was all a bit much. in conclusion, don’t go to leagues clubs.

another time i met a guy at a big Christian youth convention. i was running a program for kids aged 13-15, while the rest of the delegates at the conference were 18-25. i was 20 at the time. in the evenings all of our little kids would mix in with the rest of the conference delegates, so i would go and meet my friends to say hello. this one particular night i met a friend of a friend and we started chatting. he was incredibly good-looking. (side note - i’m normally terrified of good looking men so i have no idea how this conversation ever happened). anyway, the conversation couldn’t have gone better. i was having a ‘funny’ night and he seemed to be an easy laugh which was a wonderful combination. we talked about music and sport and i eventually asked him what he was studying at uni. in an unbelievable turn of events it turned out he was studying the same degree as me. with a massive smile i told him i was studying exercise physiology too, convinced that he would propose on the spot. but for reasons unknown to me at the time he didn’t immediately propose. instead, he began laughing at me and saying, “no really, stop it, what grade are you in?” i didn’t understand at first and had to ask what he meant. he explained that i had to only be 13-15 years of age because of my t-shirt. i was wearing the shirt for my kids program. it was on this night that i learned there is a difference between someone flirting with you and someone talking to you as though you are a 13 year old. easy mistake to make it seems.

years later i found myself singing at a wedding where i knew the hot guy was going to be the best man...my chance to redeem myself. i honestly don’t think i’ve ever looked better than i did at that wedding. i casually mentioned to the photographer (a friend) that i was going to try and snag the best man before the night was over. sadly i didn’t even get close to him because at some point i remembered that i’m terrified of good looking men. the next day the photographer presented me with a ‘gift’. he had taken photos of me looking hot and morphed them with photos of the hot best man to make it look as though we were together all night. in conclusion, sometimes it doesn’t matter how good you look, the best you will end up with is a tragic photoshop montage of what will never be.

so, if it’s not about looking good or being able to pull killer moves on the dance floor of a seedy leagues club, what is it that means most people aren’t really, really, really single at 32? is it just that the male population isn’t ready for this jelly? i clearly have some kind of appealing spunk to me...even if it has only been good for attracting smoky, middle-aged beer ladies. maybe it’s just a matter of tweaking the spunk ever so slightly so i begin to attract non-smoking, 30ish men? i don’t know, and to be honest i really don’t care. i wish i could succinctly let you know how i have managed to be really, really happy while being really, really, really single, because i know that most women in my position aren’t so happy at all. the only ways to explain my happiness come in the form of terrible cliches. eg. nobody will be able to make you happy unless you’re happy with yourself first. or this...being married doesn’t make you a whole person, if you’re half a person before you’re married, you’ll still only be half a person when you are married. or this...if you count your blessings before you count your troubles, you’ll soon forget what your troubles are. or this...ooh baby do you know what that’s worth, ooh heaven is a place on earth. well that last one is a belinda carlisle song but you get the picture.

being 32 and single isn’t always easy, but i can’t imagine that being 32 and married is always a bed of roses. i surround myself often with excellent calibre human-beings and i don’t watch meg ryan movies. i think these are 2 of the keys to successful singleness...along with my abnormal love of solitude...something i can only attribute as a beautiful gift from God.

i have a lovely life and i think that if you look hard enough you'll find that you do too. so really, this isn’t about singleness at all. sorry.

ps. if you are a male aged 30+ (but not like 60) and you would like to woo me away from the singleness i adore so much, the key to unlocking my heart is buying me a winnebago. seriously. so you should do that. and also, you’d have to acknowledge that mashed potato is a legitimate breakfast food.