January 17, 2012 § 56 Comments
From yesterday’s Times:-
A few years ago my New Year’s resolution was to give up chocolate. And I did. For a whole year. In about June, I thought, gosh, this has been going on for a while, faintly tedious, and asked people how long a New Year’s resolution was supposed to last. A lot didn’t have a clue, most people said a month. Only a couple imagined one was meant to stick to it for a full twelve months.
Finding a new husband is this year’s resolution. It is going to be a whole lot more difficult than giving up chocolate. In fact, giving up chocolate for ever would seem a doddle in comparison.
I jest in part when I say finding a new husband. What I mean is taking up with a nice new person who may, if I am so blessed, decide he wishes to be with me for longer than it takes to say one night stand. The problem with this finding business is that it is active and largely dependent on outside forces (other people; match-making; the internet; timing; luck; the will of capricious Fate; and what have you) whilst giving up something is passive and dependent entirely upon oneself and one’s own willpower.
Anyway, as I have been saying every year for several years now, “By this time next year I am damn well going to be with someone.” Well, for all such resolve, it hasn’t exactly got me anywhere. You can have as much willpower as Slimmer of the Century, but husband there hoves into view there none. Before Christmas I went out practically every night for four weeks on the trot, suppers, parties, you name it. Knackering. But I barely met one single man. Not quite true: I met several but none was single in the happily available sense. One, if not officially out, was gay or I am a chicken drumstick; one, with the complexion of stewed rhubarb, declared himself to be unfathomably stupid (his own words) which wasn’t instantly irresistible; another was so depressed, he bemoaned the world and hunched over his supper like a waning dog; the fourth told me he had just flown in from Blah and was going to fly out the following day to Blah Blah and had lived in twenty different countries in as many years. This, he admitted, did impact sorely and negatively on his personal relationships, but he was not about to give up his peripatetic existence.
So at the end of 2011, it was not looking good. Today, there is an ill wind which has sent all my wheelie bins flying and my diary is as dead as a doornail. Nothingness stretches into the ether. It’s just a question of finding the willpower to transform that nothingness into Something or, more specifically, Someone.
Don’t ask me how.