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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, I鈥檓 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 didn鈥檛. I assumed that I鈥檇 pick myself up and breeze into a new relationship after a six-week dusting off period like I鈥檇 always done. But what I encountered was a desert. A certain unfathomable but brilliant composer was my undoing. He fancied me alright yet he didn鈥檛 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 it鈥檚 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 I鈥檓 boyfriendless in hip, swinging London where being single and independent is celebrated and glamorised. So why did I feel like a loser?
I鈥檓 afraid I鈥檓 going to turn to the beast we blame for ALL the ills of the nation鈥 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. I鈥檝e 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 鈥渞elationship鈥 because, well, I am on Radio 4, and as it鈥檚 a Saturday morning I鈥檓 not sure I鈥檓 allowed to mention the word 鈥榮ex鈥. But I鈥檓 going to anyway. Sex, sex, sex. There - that鈥檚 better.
It鈥檚 a rotten pre-occupation and we鈥檙e all made to feel guilty, sad or foolish for not getting what is deemed to be 鈥渆nough of it鈥. 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 don鈥檛 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', I鈥檝e always hated it. So pervy-sounding...
Love drought or sex drought - which is worse? For me it鈥檚 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 man鈥檚 obscurities, his so-called mystery and the attendant ability to make me feel insecure. I鈥檓 not interested in what I don鈥檛 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 isn鈥檛 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 it鈥檚 not going to work.
Whatever the reasons for your drought, it鈥檚 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 tomorrow鈥檚 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 aren鈥檛 looking for it'. What the hell鈥檚 the point of that I thought? The other oft repeated mantras were 'you'll never find him if you鈥檙e desperate' and that other classic 'love鈥檒l happen when you least expect it.' Unfortunately their advice led me to develop a skewed - but brilliant logic:
I鈥檇 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 didn鈥檛 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. It鈥檚 the letting go that鈥檚 the hard part. But the 2nd year of my drought has seen me do just that and I鈥檝e 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 can鈥檛 believe it鈥檒l ever happen to me. But I鈥檓 prepared to wait. Because, if, like me, you鈥檙e the sort of person who鈥檇 rather saw off their right arm than be with a person they only sort of like, then you鈥檙e destined to be alone until fate sees fit to find you someone who is worthy of being worshipped by you. So I鈥檓 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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