Given that the present BF is not of this Isle, my life day-to-day is essentially that of the singleton

I like my own company, so this really isn’t an issue – at least not for me.  Social Norms, however, demand that I either produce a live-in man, or walk around looking sad-and-lonely™, despite the fact that I don’t want one and I’m not the other.  For some reason, this is a hard sell despite the fact that several studies over the last 5 years have shown that the happiest group of women are those who are single.  Sceptical?  Well, consider this:

1. No trudging around the house collecting socks.  No grumpy commuter demanding supper.  No man-poo smells.  Yes, men are fabulous, but even Benedict Cumberbatch/[insert thinking-woman’s totty of your choice here] has his faults.
2. Shopping alone is an absolute joy.  I have very little spare time, which means that if I do hit the high street, the last thing I want to do is spend half my time in shops I don’t like looking for items I don’t want.  When the credit card is out, it’s all about me.
3. It’s much easier to get the last seat for lunch, even if you are somewhere busy and popular.  Skip to the head of the queue and perch smugly in the corner while the crowds wait in vain for a table for four, staring enviously at your glass of bubbly.
4. Many basically sold-out plays often have just one or two seats left dotted around the auditorium.  Perfect for the singleton – and once the lights are down, it really doesn’t matter who’s sitting next to you.
5. Ditto cinema.  Plus, the popcorn’s mine-all-mine (and you aren’t supposed to be chatting all the way through it anyway. Shhhhhh).
6. I’ve finally had time to catch up with my really good girlfriends – and make some new ones.  No one will mind if I’m away for the weekend, or out for cocktails every night of the week.  No, you’re a lush.
7. Getting fit is easier.  I don’t have to sit down to a big plate of man-food every night, I don’t have to fit exercise time around someone else’s schedule, and there’s no one at home lolling on sofa, tempting me with slothfulness and wine.  Those size 8 jeans are almost comfy now……
8. The absence of compromise is a rare treat.  It’s the tidy-freak’s bliss to create order, go out, and return home to find things exactly as you left them. It’s fab to be able to eat what – and when – you please.  It’s a delight to accept an invitation without worrying about someone else’s sensibilities.  You get the picture…

So there you have it.  The age of the dependent appendage is well and truly done.  If you’re a singleton, stick two (metaphorical) fingers up to the sympathetic head-tilts and embrace your flexible state for the fun that it truly is.

Mine’s a glass of Prosecco please!