So, I was single. I figured that, when all stability has been taken away, the one thing that will definitely keep you going is creating perspective. And that’s what I did.
The night I moved in with my friends (the ones with the cosy LED lit spare room and relevant literature) I hesitantly handed my phone number to an old friend who happened to pass by. Hesitantly, because I was feeling like my heart had been ripped out, cut in half and put back in with a “you’ll end up fine” note clinging to it. It took me over two hours to dictate the 10 digits that make up my number, however good-looking that old friend was. Also, teasing him was just too tempting not to do.
I told you about the dating app I installed? One date followed: not with the police officer but with the owner of a bar who could brew one mean cup of tea. I was terribly nervous, feeling like a giddy sixteen-year-old, and I ended up having a very good talk about splitting up and discovering a nice coffee bar. There were no corpses involved.
There’s something you should know about me before I tell you the rest of the story. When I was a teenager, falling in love was like a real hobby to me. Come spring, I would feel the butterflies flutter in my belly, but ever since I turned 20 it’s all become a bit unclear. Am I only excited? Am I just having a good time with a friend? Or am I indeed deeply in love?
Before I left home, I’d picked up a pink notebook and named it “The big book of our divorce”. It’s come to hold things like:
- financial calculations (very important when you’re single);
- my packing checklist;
- advice from friends;
- Yogi tea cards;
- comfort food recipes;
- legislative information on how to file for divorce;
- a log on how I was feeling.
One piece of advice in the notebook is very sound, and luckily it turned out to be rather correct:
On 10 March 2017 you were given the chance to become happier.
Set out to create my own luck, I jokingly conceived a cunning plan with my friends.
First of all, I would stay single for at least six months so as to perform a thorough (not too thorough though, I am an honourable lady) analysis of the market. According to statistics, if you date 100 people and reject the first 37 up to 60.7 percent of the suitors, the person you’ll end up with will be 90% perfect!
It was all about creating perspective… Therefore, a second part of my fictional plan was that I would find, in this exact order, someone who’s handy (bathroom & kitchen renovation coming up), another guy who’s an excellent chef (for obvious reasons) and finally someone who’d be the best personal trainer I could get after a full year of stuffing myself with all that delicious food (sorry, the chef will have to go before I end up in cardiac arrest).
Ironically, I’d met a handy (two complete home renovations, check!) lover of cooking (check!) who’s not doing too badly in the muscle department (quite the understatement, check!). The only thing I had to do is realize I’d fallen in love with him the day I was slowly dictating him those 10 digits of my phone number.