Retirement (for real)

Two further years have elapsed since my last retirement post. For the most part, I was never truly retired from Bachelor City. Saturday, November 20, 2010 merely marked the day I woefully admitted that I needed somebody – that my right hand was no substitute for a woman, no matter how pretty a face I drew on my palm.

I pondered in that post upon the fruits of singledom and concluded that ‘even the sweetest of fruits grow bitter in time… and no doubt rot…‘ and in the many months that followed my proclamation of retirement, the feeling of loneliness was rotten indeed. At some indeterminate point in time ‘post-confession’, singledom, or bachelorhood if you will, became synonymous with loneliness rather than ‘license to fart whenever you want’.

Yet I continued to be a bachelor. I struggled to reconcile my acknowledgement of needing somebody, with my confidence in my own emotional independence. I knew that I needed somebody, but believed that I did not.  My inner conflict was paradoxical. There was no resolution insofar as I desired to reconcile these two mutually exclusive notions. Something had to give, and for a while, my confidence triumphed.

Timing is a funny thing. For most of my life it has conspired against me. Familial issues before an exam period. Check. Missing the train by five seconds. Check. Needing to pee when you can’t find any coins for the parking meter but are too scared to move away from your car lest there’s a parking inspector right around the corner. Check. But in a fleeting moment so brief as to warrant an analogy with a solar eclipse, timing offered me benevolence.

On an evening late in December 2011, my confidence faltered. The stars must have been in perfect alignment for, as timing would have it, I found somebody that very evening. It is said that the fray of war can bring gain or danger (Sun Tzu, The Art of War). In the fray of my internal war I was in danger of emerging an irreparably bitter individual. Instead, I found my savior from bitterness.

So I retire. Truly.

Indeed this would not be a quintessential ‘wanker’ post without some form of petulance… so I note my utter detest in my inability to carry myself naturally around her… whether or not this is in fact a desirable thing is outside the scope of my current concerns… but I digress. She is a sweet little thing and I see in her a myriad of virtues than she fails to see in herself. She does me more good than she can ever hope to imagine. There is no impetus for me to return. Wanker signing out indefinitely. 

Retirement

Since the abrupt end (a rather crudely executed end on my part) to my last relationship, I have enjoyed the many fruits of singledom including, inter alia, unused phone credit that rolls over to the next month and not being reprimanded for 'accidental exhibitions' of flatulence.

But even the sweetest of fruits grow bitter in time (and no doubt rotten) and my career as a bachelor has spanned two years and four months - that's two years and four months of being a wanker (take that however you will). Perhaps it's time to hang up the boots.

Given that I have not made any serious attempts to be in a relationship, my unwavering bachelor status during these years could mean only one of two things:

1. All the ladies have been trying their hardest to refrain from approaching me (and indeed, from clinging onto my left leg).
2. No ladies have been interested in me.

Speaking rationally, option one seems to be the more likely case, however if I am to make a serious attempt at ending my unbroken run of singledom, then I would assume the latter and take a prudent course of action - I will make the approach.

And thus ends my conscious desire to remain single. Ok ladies... you can stop trying to not approach me now... Hello? Anyone? My left leg is free...

Ah fuck.

I'm in for a long ride.