Have you ever thought about which Sex and The City character you are most like? I’ve always felt more like Carrie. I’m definitely not as sexually confident as Samantha nor am I the kind of girl who would agree to marry a guy after two weeks like Charlotte. I’m a little bit needy like Carrie. I over think things too much, I fall for the wrong men – just like Carrie. But as I watch yet another re-run of my favourite girl sitcom I realise I’m not Carrie at all. Maybe I used to be but I’m not anymore.
I’m Miranda. And I’m a bit scared because one thing I learnt through watching the series was that she was scared of falling in love. She never let men get too close. She’s cynical, judgemental, stubborn – all the qualities I wish I could shake.
Living on my own I’ve become used to my own company. I like my towels folded a certain way. If there’s no soap in the bathroom I panic. I have a fear of running out of toilet paper so I stock up for the next millennium. Weird? Maybe. But this is all part of my quirky secret single behaviour. It’s part of my identity and living alone has perhaps made me a bit loopy. I’m reluctant to share my space with anyone. I’m a creature of habit and I like routine even if that does make me a total and utter bore. That’s me.
There’s a lot of perks to living alone like having “just a row” of Whittakers hazelnut chocolate but really eating the whole block. No witness. No crime. Getting tipsy alone is also quite amusing, a couple of glasses of sauvignon blanc with dinner can make you believe you can sing every note in tune. Great for your ego, not so great for your neighbours. While living on your own can make you at ease in your own company it can be hard.