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Lurv Drought
Next month Zina Saro Wiwa reaches the 'two year mark'. One whole year more than the maximum accepted period to have between boyfriends... Does that fill you with horror, that someone in her 20s and supposedly in her prime should have such a thing happen to her? Whatever you think, Iām not the only one. I know of many other young women in a similar position to me. In fact some of them have gone a lot longer without boyfriends. We are all experiencing a love drought.
I must confess for that for the first year of my drought I would have periods when it bothered me and the odd, ooh, few hours when it really didnāt. I assumed that Iād pick myself up and breeze into a new relationship after a six-week dusting off period like Iād always done. But what I encountered was a desert. A certain unfathomable but brilliant composer was my undoing. He fancied me alright yet he didnāt want a girlfriend. This left me flattered, bewildered but ultimately tearful with frustration. I believe he was the turning point in my love life. I lost my touch and things have never been the same since.
During this period I hated people asking whether or not I had a boyfriend. But why should I have been embarrassed? Where on earth was this pressure coming from? I mean itās not as if I was living in a South American or Mediterranean country where, all about, you see couples in cosy conspiratorial clinches, narrowed eyes staring out from behind tight embraces, pitying and fearing you - a woman alone. No Iām boyfriendless in hip, swinging London where being single and independent is celebrated and glamorised. So why did I feel like a loser?
Iām afraid Iām going to turn to the beast we blame for ALL the ills of the nationā¦ The Media. Watching television and reading glossy magazines, it would seem that the whole world is jumping in and out of relationships at a rate of knots. Iāve seen certain TV programmes based in New York (no names mentioned) where people balk at the idea of having not had a relationship for 4 months. Well, I use the word ārelationshipā because, well, I am on Radio 4, and as itās a Saturday morning Iām not sure Iām allowed to mention the word āsexā. But Iām going to anyway. Sex, sex, sex. There - thatās better.
Itās a rotten pre-occupation and weāre all made to feel guilty, sad or foolish for not getting what is deemed to be āenough of itā. Quite what the media would make of a sister of a friend of mine who went SEVEN WHOLE YEARS between boyfriends in her twenties (and there were no dates and no kissing in these years), I really donāt know. What I do know is that people are getting married much later and you can find yourself courting for anything up to 20 years before your first marriage. If you look at it that way a hiatus of a few years seems nothing to get worked up about. Vile word that 'courting', Iāve always hated it. So pervy-sounding...
Love drought or sex drought - which is worse? For me itās most definitely love. And there are many serious reasons for them - for example being extremely beautiful (as in my case - ok maybe not), but you could be emotionally scarred, or working in an office where there aren't any decent blokes.
Pickiness may also have something to do with it. When you get to a certain age, you have different needs and start to veto the sorts of people you might have dated before. I myself have had my fill of arty types that manage to combine deep intensity with profound boringness. Now I no longer see the point in getting worked up over a manās obscurities, his so-called mystery and the attendant ability to make me feel insecure. Iām not interested in what I donāt know about what they feel, instead I want to get worked up over what I do know. Luxuriate in the evidence of his high regard for me not roll around in puddles of approval that are few and far between.
But re-tuning ones radar and picking up on the right kind of fella isnāt so straightforward. Your lifestyle needs time to catch up and adjust to your new mindset. Often there is a severe lag and you find yourself falling into the old patterns - all the while knowing that itās not going to work. Whatever the reasons for your drought, itās rarely an easy time. Though I like to think of myself as intelligent with lots of interests, in my first drought year, I found it hard not to obsess about when the next man was going to turn up. Would tomorrowās party be the party? Ah, I see that Venus is in my star sign two weeks from now. Should I start shaving my legs? Noting my desperation, sympathetic friends and colleagues would give me nuggets of so-called wisdom that never failed to sound lame to me, like: 'love comes when you arenāt looking for it'. What the hellās the point of that I thought? The other oft repeated mantras were 'you'll never find him if youāre desperate' and that other classic 'loveāll happen when you least expect it.' Unfortunately their advice led me to develop a skewed - but brilliant logic:
Iād taken their advice and had begun to least expect a boyfriend when I was most desperate for one. So I calculated this should rightly mean that I was now about to meet the love of my life - because I didnāt expect it.
No-one ever had an answer for that one...
Chop logic aside, the unfortunate truth of the matter is that you have to let go if you want to meet someone. Itās the letting go thatās the hard part. But the 2nd year of my drought has seen me do just that and Iāve begun enjoying my single status tremendously. And, true to form, the men started arriving thick and fast. But none of them have stuck. It has since dawned on me how rare love is.
Getting together with someone seems like a random million-to-one occurrence. I almost canāt believe itāll ever happen to me. But Iām prepared to wait. Because, if, like me, youāre the sort of person whoād rather saw off their right arm than be with a person they only sort of like, then youāre destined to be alone until fate sees fit to find you someone who is worthy of being worshipped by you. So Iām prepared to see myself through a further two-year drought until the right man comes along.
But any longer than this and I, of course, shall marry the first man who asks me...
How long is 'too long' in the time between relationships?
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