I'm just back after a lovely week or so of a conference, visiting friends and another wedding – the second in two weeks. I've also just agreed to a week's holiday for a friend's 40th and I am number 13, the only single person.
What do all of these have in common – I was the token single girl in amongst a multitude of couples. It stings a bit. Not because I am unhappy or jealous but because as others bring their plotting and planning to the table, I only have my voice. Being the minority isn't much fun.
There's a trip afoot for Hogmanay to a tiny Scottish island off the west coast. I'd love to feel the bitter cold sea air on my face and walk the island's paths and hills.
But, there's a but.
The group is, once again, made up of couples and the token gay man – too I become the gay man's substitute partner at social occasions. I love these people, they are my friends but I don't love an unmixed group.
It makes me feel lonely.
As others turn to kiss each other and welcome in another year, I will wait in line until someone remembers I am there.
Of course, I can host another party here at home or be amongst different friends. I wish I didn't have to decide now. A deadline is looming.
If don't go I know I will be sad to miss it. If I do, I know I will be sad that there is no one to kiss me a happy new year. I know I'd be fine. Feeling left out, no matter how unintentionally on the part of others or self indulgently on my part, is never much fun.
No comments:
Post a Comment