Seven days of singledom

The man and I decided to end things this time last week. We still live together (how we met and ended up in bed) so the name of the game this week has been avoid each other. Not in a “this is bloody awkward”, or a “I hate your face” way, simply a “we’ve ended things, so lets put in some space” kind of way.

This has meant my alcohol consumption for the week has soared – with colleagues suggesting a drink after work almost every night. Almost every night? In fact, every night except Wednesday. Wednesday you were boring. Nights out with friends from work brought around the re-download of Tinder, people in relationships love to get all up in your Tinder business. They find it far more exciting than singles do. Lesson already learnt, don’t drink and Tinder. You’ll end up drunkedly messaging an ‘engineer’ who in fact has just fluffed his job title and is really a refrigerator repairman.

Frequenting my company’s local watering hole so many times this week also managed to get me ‘in’ with the barman. Who apparently kept asking after “the Australian girl with the brown/blonde hair who keeps requesting NZ sauvignon”. My boss then decided she best quiz him, and correct him on my nationality. He’s cute and all, and I’ll admit I was flirting, there’s no denying it. But the grown up inside (at the ripe old age of 30) keeps telling me, you’ve had your barman fling back when you were 24 – it’s time to be sensible. Plus, I’m pretty sure he’s younger than me… but that beard… and those arms…

Last night was the test. The man and I had bought tickets to a comedy gig a few months back and I sure as hell was not giving up my seat, and neither was he. So off we went, on a post-break-up-non-date-date; drinks, dinner and the show. No idea why we did drinks and dinner first, I think to prove to ourselves we could just be friends? I was on my best behaviour and of course put in some extra effort getting ready, and even a spot of red lippy – not in a bid to get him back, just to make myself feel fabulous. There was no chance of flirting with anyone new, as we looked like a couple who had just had an argument over what linen to use or where to eat – friendly enough, but short with each other and not flirty or touchy-feely. Just awkward. The night went smoothly, even though we looked awkward, and as we kept drinking of course things got flirtier, but I was in control of myself. Until the bus ride home when I was thinking it would be so easy to just jump back into bed together. Just one night, it wouldn’t hurt anyone. But that is what happened LAST TIME. Luckily he had more control than me and there was no questionable moment, we said our goodnights and went to our separate rooms.

What did I do with all my pent up energy you ask? I got up this morning and went for a run around Greenwich Park. Fuck yeah, singledom.

Seven days of singledom

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