Tag Archives: single

Hanging with the Faux Singles

Posted on by

This is a fabulous group of people to find yourself in the company of at an event, night on the town or any situation that involves having a good time.

The Faux Single classification can be assigned to any coupled-person, wife, husband, mother or father who is in a social state without their significant others. Work is a common catalyst for the Faux Single Hang. Bespoke occasions where +1s and kids don’t make the invite list are also modern day generators.

The overwhelming trait of the Faux Single is a skyscraping enthusiasm to get amongst it. Caught up in the whirling anomaly of being outside normal interlock of partner or family, they exhibit an energy that can transform even the most undesirable affair into rock solid extended gold. Faux Aura ripples through a group.

Depending on a Faux’s real-life status, their capacity to party will vary wildly.

fauxsingles_520

A Faux Single New Mum, for instance, will be a front runner in the pack at the start of the evening. She showcases admirable and adventurous aspirations and a luminous pro-party glow. She is likely to tail off quickly though, dogged by tiredness and in some cases a hiatus from going out for months prior. The goodbye given to New Mum is always a warm and grateful one – she has been integral in getting the party started and group members have found joy in sharing her revisit to carefree-spirit-of-the-night, however fleeting.

The way is now paved for the Lead Fauxs. They are experienced and they raise the frequency.  Spanning the age spectrum from 30s to 40s and beyond, without spouse or children these males and females are reborn with extra-special-strength powers to party. They wear well-tailored clothing, rock high-end leather accessories and order drinks that come served in hollowed pineapples.  Lead Fauxs take you places you wouldn’t normally go.

Take last week for example: I spent it in Singapore for work.  It was corporate business by day, team outings by night.  Did I ever, in my loftiest dreams, envisage my Thursday Night would be spent in an establishment called The Pump Room doing high-speed Latin dancing on an empty, well-lit club floor to Cuban-Asian beats with the lead singer of seven-piece band Culture Shock? No. Of course I didn’t. But I have the rumbling, volcanic-like force of the Faux Singles to thank for making that a reality.

But there are dangers.

A Real Single remains alert in the midst of a Faux tornado, acutely aware of precisely the right time to cut free from the wolf pack with the aim of getting upward of four hours sleep before obligations of the dawning day. They have, after all, been out many nights over the past many years and are probably quite realistic that The Pump Room isn’t going to deliver up an end to Single Life. But this is a battle fought hard, seldom won.  Leaving early is frowned upon and without human beings to pin impenetrable excuses on, this is enforced most heavily on the Real. Hours can roll on, leaving the Real weak and jaded by too many pineapple drinks. Home time comes only when a Lead Faux breaks. The Real is elated – and so goes the cycle of the highs and lows of the Faux Single Hang.

I like to look at most experiences in life as an opportunity to develop as an individual. What can be learnt from the curious and marvellous Faux Single? I’m learning how to be a dangerously good one.

—–

I think my parents are having more fun than I am

Posted on by

This was a shocking revelation. I can’t be sure of the exact tip-off: was it the thirty-seventh email with photo attachments I had received from my mother showcasing the highlights of a Turkish cave hotel or that at the time of receiving it I was alone in my apartment on a Friday night watching a repeat of Master Chef?  Whichever the case, the fact was, I had mind-stumbled upon a completely new phenomenon.  I was shaken and unsettled.

Both parents are seasoned performers of the sixth decade.  I, on the other hand, am half their age, an extremely interesting individual and a very fun young woman.

Up to this point in the lifelong escapades of Daughter Versus Parents, I had blindly assumed the post of dominant fun-maker.  I was the great adventurer of the bountiful and boundless lands of fun and would regularly return to tell the tales.  But a transfer in the power balance had taken place.

Parents 520

A quick mental reflection over the past months exposed a sequence of phone conversations that revolved around all the exciting things they were doing.  When one of them was forced to break speech to recuperate oxygen, it was my turn to talk.  I struggled to come up with fun-based content to raise the stakes.  There are only so many times you can extract a fresh angle on a top story like dancing with supermodels in the desert and when you’re dealing with fun parents of leisure, you’re up against quality, outrun by frequency.  No… I’d chime in with anguish of a complex work project, corporate politics or something else equally mundane that had planted itself in my storytelling offering as an unbeatable idea to share. I mean, take today for instance: the most exhilarating thing that’s happened to me so far was getting mildly electrocuted by my earphones on the way to work.  And yes, I will be telling my Mum that when I talk to her next.

The two sixty-something-year-olds in question continue to not only be phenomenal parents, but phenomenal people.  This emotional backlash I was inciting on the ones who gifted me the opportunity to breathe in and out caused me a slight internal horror and I was grateful thought moved fast: in seconds I arrived at The Lion King.  This wasn’t about fun; it was a Circle of Life issue.

My parents have fruitfully emerged from the long hard years of family-raising and career, during which time I enjoyed a fanciful existence of essentially doing whatever I wanted.  If there are any mothers reading this post you might balk at my next comment, but it’s where I am: I am ready to not be able to have fun whenever I want to.  I don’t mind the thought of having to stay awake all night because a child won’t sleep. I’m also looking forward to perpetually syphoning hundreds of thousands of dollars into feeding, clothing and educating other human beings.  I guess that’s the silver lining of the thought process when you want something important but at times entertain the possibility you might not get.

So for now, I will champion my generational elders having the time of their lives, wholeheartedly support their reckless spend of the inheritance and will enthusiastically respond to every email with photo attachment I receive. I’ll get the power back soon enough.

— — — — —

Feel the Fear

Posted on by

I’m single. And 32. The fear of this predicament didn’t surface until around age 31. Since then it’s made up for the late mental alert by steadily simmering until it recently reached boil-point status. My story isn’t unique. Not to any of the other single females in their thirties lolling around today wondering how they ended up wanting a boyfriend but not having one at a pivotal life juncture.

I spent the second half of my twenties blissfully happy in my single state and unintentionally nonchalant about males hitting on me, asking me out on dates or trying to be my boyfriend. Sunday mornings were usually spent with girlfriends, debriefing the previous nights’ events and men. Scenarios ranged from losing the number of a hot boy, a random party kiss or looking through photos to discover yourself with a handsome man you couldn’t remember. The moral of the story: we lamented good opportunities missed, but generally didn’t carry it further than midday. I wasn’t on the search for a boyfriend and I was in my twenties! Even at 29, just a year or so off impending fear-scape, the thought of entering my thirties without a partner was a total non event.

Then came the shift in my generational landscape. This was a product of most people I found myself in the company of completing the orderly steps of marriage and children, right on schedule. Comparisons in the face of this are tough to ignore, let alone shake. I also, quite remarkably, had suddenly acquired a new-found and incessant skill of tuning into every pop culture reference that honed in on the loveless individual. When coupled people listen to Sigma’s ‘Nobody To Love’, it’s likely and entirely acceptable they hear a glorious pop-techno celebration. But when I hear it, it’s like Sigma has put the gig on specifically for me, is shining lasers and strobe lights directly into my retinas and is forcing me to dance – but not for too long because I better go find a husband, quick.

All of this can be quite pressing on a girl’s mind. After several nights (over several months) of deep mind analysis, into-the-past voyages, sibling phone workshops and drinking more than recommended, I did a successful job of getting rid of the (ridiculous and unnecessary) comparisons I was making between myself and the wedded-with-kids. Where did I find myself after the full-circle brain battering-turn-enlightenment? In the exact same place I was before fear-scape: in the middle of living my life. My life, which, bar a few hiccups along the way ranging from mild to life-threatening, has and continues to be pretty fucking amazing. Do I still want a husband and kids? Of course I do. It’s in my female make-up. But I’m learning not to waste my current situation of ultimate freedom worrying about a schedule paradigm that I am apparently experiencing differently to some other people.

I spent last weekend hanging out with a friend I haven’t sat down with properly for a long time. She’s single too. We talked for hours on the subject of finding our men and everything in between and it was comforting and inspiring. But the truth is, that’s all we can do – talk about it. What we’re dealing with here is the great unknown and no matter how many times you want to ask the question, the answer doesn’t exist. This brings me to today. The 30s Search is on. For a good man yes, but really, for life. Feel the fear, then lean straight into it.