I’m sitting around the table at my friend’s 30th birthday meal, with a group of women I know from school, but haven’t seen in several years.
We’ve caught up on all the usual topics: work, family, vacations, etc., when the conversation turns to dating.
Or should it be like this? my have a date. Because I’m the only single person in the group.
“How’s Hinge going, Sophie?” one of them asks with a lascivious smile. —Have you had any fun dates lately?
Immediately, all eyes turn to me. There might as well be a spotlight over my head and my name in neon lights, with an emcee shouting: ‘Roll up, roll up, come see Bachelorette Sophie!’
My friends have called me ‘a Bridget Jones of the North’, writes Sophie Cocherham
Of course, there’s something cathartic about sharing a terrible dating experience with friends. From the man who made me watch his bad electronic dance music video in an otherwise silent pub, to the Olly Murs wannabe, and the one who kept me up until 3am explaining how the pyramids had been “planted on Earth by aliens,” the past two years have been filled with amusing anecdotes as, at age 30, I navigate being single for the first time since my teens.
But while I’m happy to share my stories, I can’t help but feel a little irritated when I’m presented as some kind of freak show and expected to entertain, just because I happen to be the only one who isn’t married or in a long-term relationship. term.
It reminds me of the infamous Bridget Jones dinner scene (my friends have called me ‘a Northern Bridget Jones’), where the assembled ‘smug marrieds’ ask her why there are so many single women in their 30s. To which she replies, no doubt upset at being patronized for the umpteenth time: “I don’t know, I guess it doesn’t help that under our clothes, our entire body is covered in scales.”
I can often feel that couple friends are trying to live vicariously through me. By encouraging me to send a saucy text or go on another date with a guy I met on a dating app, they can enjoy the thrill of singleness from the comfort of their relationship.
The last two years have been filled with many funny anecdotes as, at 30, I find myself single for the first time since my teens.
And that’s the thing; there is no emotional danger for them. They may gasp in shock or laugh at a funny story, while feeling quietly relieved to not be in the same situation.
Maybe it’s this power imbalance that keeps conversations from being fun for me. Maybe I’d be more willing to tell my ridiculous stories if they had similar mistakes to share with me in their own relationships.
Vaguely describing a recent date that I had enjoyed, but not quite feeling that spark, I was pressed with follow-up questions, such as: ‘What was wrong with you?’ and ‘But were they still sleeping together?’
I hadn’t spoken to this particular woman in almost ten years and would never have asked her about her sex life with her husband; However, since I am single, no intrusive questions are supposed to be off-limits.
There is a part of me that does understand. Two years ago, I was the person in a serious, long-term relationship and I wanted to enjoy the stories of my single friends, who were (sensibly) spending their 20s dating other people. I loved hearing their funny stories.
Aside from a period of about nine months when I was 20, I had been in two long-term relationships. The first was when she was 17 years old and it lasted three years; the second was her for almost seven years, before it ended on January 2022, just before her 28th birthday.
When I decided to start dating “properly” in September of that year, I thrived in my new role as a single, flirtatious friend. Coming from a group of friends who easily annoy each other, I have never been afraid of being the butt of the joke and can laugh at myself and my own misfortune.
Fast forward 18 months, however, and telling stories about my love life is starting to get a little boring, especially since I often feel the pressure to make a disastrous or disappointing date sound fun to save face.
I had a running joke about attracting ‘sad boys’, who start off by telling me they’re 100 percent over their ex, only to realize after a few dates with me that it turns out they’re still very much in love. her love with her.
While this may say a lot about the unhinged and unhealed nature of Britain’s thirty-something men, I find myself making light of the fact that he was someone I was excited about before it all went down the drain.
Of course, rejection is part and parcel of the dating experience (not everyone will like you and vice versa), but that doesn’t make it any easier.
Maybe it’s because I’m a little older that it seems like a very sensitive topic to me. I’m happy to be single and have cultivated such a rich life in other areas that, most days, I truly feel like I’ve hit the jackpot.
I’m happy to be single and have cultivated such a rich life in other areas that, most days, I feel like I’ve hit the jackpot.
But with four glittering weddings to attend this year, and a slew of engagement and baby announcements, that nagging feeling that I’ve done life “wrong” by being in a relationship for most of my twenties, and now I’m single at 30, it’s still there, especially after a bad date.
It’s not that I’m terrified of getting married or having children. I’m not even sure I want more. They were always two milestones that I saw quite clearly in my future with my ex; But since ending the relationship, I have learned to “live in the moment” and refuse to compromise my happiness just so I can be a mother. However, the social pressure to settle down still weighs heavily.
It’s also no secret that the dating scene in recent years has become terrible. According to a survey this month by Forbes, 80 percent of online daters reported feeling “burned out” using the apps. I can’t help but agree with them, and the constant onslaught of strange, emotionally unavailable men has made dating more brutal than ever.
So maybe it’s time we start extending a little grace to our single friends. My love life is only on the table for discussion if yours is too. Don’t feel like sharing every sordid detail of your relationship or marriage? I do not blame you. Instead, ask me about my travel plans, what I’ve been working on lately, that concert I went to that seemed like a lot of fun, anything other than tedious, “hilarious” stories about my dating problems.