If you’re a Mail Online devotee, then you may within the last week have read that there’s currently 7.6 million Brits living alone, the fastest growing portion of them being between 45 and 64. Namely this was blamed on marriage breakdown, but as this delightful chipper of a women has noted, it’s also down to the rise of the Sex And The City generation.
Only last month I had an ex boyfriend tell me I’ll be alone forever. His reasoning? My refusal to settle for anything less than perfect. In this generation, and quite obviously the generation that came just after our parents, judging by those statistics, we’re led to believe we can have everything and anything. Dream job, money, fancy holidays, car, gym membership and that Disney-esque husband (when the time comes, obvs). What we fail to realise is that perfection and a ‘dream life’ don’t actually exist, not really anyway.
Last week I accepted that, if my life follows the proper order (relationship, engagement, marriage, children) I will be an old mum. I define old as anything older than 30. I’ll be an old mum because life is creeping up on me at ludicrous speeds, and, quite frankly, I’m not ready for a relationship now. Which means that by the time I’ve found someone ‘perfect’ (or have, as the said ex told me to, lowered my standards) I will already be nearing ancient-ville, and considering my mother had me around the age I am now, I’m finding the whole concept terrifying.
Terrifying, but also slightly satisfying, in the most arrogant and smug way possible. I’m a career woman, a real Sex and the City sort, a go-getter, a money-maker. My life really is full of free champagne, z-listers, endless make-up supplies and shoes. I have to ‘pencil’ appointments with family members in. I feel so high flying. But the reality is, this lifestyle can’t go on forever, because if I allow it to, I will become another statistic. Albeit one that’s surrounded by rare breeds of cats.
If I really want a family, and to grow old surrounded by grandchildren, country walks and 4 course roast dinners served on an expensive oak table, I’ve got to accept that this exciting life I’m leading has to slow down before the big 30.
I may be a little while off, but boy am I making the most of my decadent lifestyle whilst I can, because I refuse to be a lonely old person. Sex and the City may be fun right now, but I sure as hell know it won’t be in ten years time.
So as much as I love you champs and heels, know that kids and a Dyson will one day come first. (Disclaimer: I died a little bit as I typed that)