Being an I not an Us

I was in the orthodontist’s office today, waiting for Ms M to have her braces adjusted, and naturally I consulted the gossip magazines (you know, does anyone ever BUY gossip magazines? Maybe just dentists?). Anyway, in there was a picture of Demi Moore, looking slightly manic and dishevelled, and an article quoting her as saying  something like ‘I don’t know if anyone will ever love me again! I’ll probably end up with no one, I feel like there’s something wrong with me, like I’m unlovable.’

And I thought, yeah! That’s what you DO think, at a certain stage of life, when you’ve split up with the guy you thought you were going to be hitting the nursing home with, and there you are, stranded on the beach of life like a draggly old piece of seaweed while everybody walks around you holding their noses, and picking up prettier things like starfish and abalone shells. Well ok I’m waxing a bit poetic here but..

The thing is, I voluntarily GAVE UP my lifelong partner. I didn’t like him, and I’m not sorry I gave him up, but if I’d wanted to, I could now be among the ‘we’ brigade who casually refer to ‘my husband says..’ and ‘on the weekend we always..’ and so on. Not only did I voluntarily give HIM up, but there were about five or six other guys who at one time or another I also voluntarily gave up, because they weren’t clever enough,or sexy enough, or manly enough, or funny enough…So now I’m 49, out of love, cheated on, gettin’ old – and I’m thinking, like Demi, maybe there’s something WRONG with me. Maybe the ones who were lovable, are all cuddled up now being loved, and it’s only the defective – or stupidly fussy – ones who are left sitting here thinking, hmmm.

Poor old Demi! I have to admit, I’m not as keen on Ashton as I used to be (and I never did used to be very keen, because I don’t go for that clean smarmy look).

What a slimeball!