“I’m on the Bloody Shelf again, me minus one, Solo, yep just me. I know this is no way for me to introduce myself but to be frank, the last time I jumped off the shelf I thought it would be exactly that, ‘the last time.’ I’m Gesnay King, Single girl, who now welcomes Friday nights in, Supermarket trips on my own, DIY jobs that never quite go right and invitations addressed to ”Me, plus one.”
I hate the Shelf I’m thirty one and I think I can safely say, “My shelf life expired a long time ago”.
Last Friday night for instance I found myself being introduced to two eligible bachelors by my mate at a friend’s birthday celebration. She stood there giving me the “3:00 clock eye” as she waltzed over and struck up a conversation of formalities which somehow involved explaining what I did for a living, without any hesitation she gestured me over to join the awkward charade.
Armed with a full glass of Moscato I introduced myself… I must admit he was actually alright looking; tall, dark, handsome, well groomed, blah blah-blah.
He introduced himself as Warren, A full time musician currently touring with some Pop star I had no interest in remembering. He kept waffling on about which city they’d be performing in next and how he happened to be in London that night but was off again come morning. I lie not to you he looked at me square in the eye paused smiled and then continued talking at both of us, as though we were his groupies. I kept on sipping my glass of Moscato hoping it would kick in and this travesty would fizzle out into nothingness… I’d actually completely checked out of the conversation. I just stood there baffled at why this man was talking with so many hand gestures, just pointing and laughing; opened hand, clasped hand, pointing hand, open hand again, all to an audience of one as though he was practicing his NLP techniques that he learnt on some overpriced online course, I clearly wasn’t interested, so it was my turn to give my mate the “let’s go eye”.
I felt disoriented and repulsed, I did however notice the tanned ring mark on his left hand ‘ring finger,’ where I can only assume a wedding band once resided or better yet, still resides and conveniently comes off when he is on the road; I’d settled for the latter and kept it moving.
The other guy, well let’s not go there, I mean let’s face it, the options at thirty plus are slim pickings. Yes all the good ones have already settled down and are now at least on baby number one.
Who’s left? Workaholics, non-committers, cheaters, and the baggage’d.
I’m pausing have I just put myself in a box? Does this mean that I too am slim pickings? Is the little box that I conveniently put single men in after thirty, sexist, naive and narrow -minded? Am I unable to self-reflect? Am I too, one or all of the above?
My best mate told me once that most of us are given these titles, names or labels by others that we are completely oblivious to; labels that in some way or the other describe a major flaw in our character, personality or appearance. I couldn’t help but wonder what mine was, desperado, Eat Love Pray, Bachelorette for life or just on the shelf again? One thing I’am sure of is that, I’m on the firing line and the committed settled and married are out ready with their label guns… to start tagging.
Well here’s to the bloody shelf and a Journey to come, bottoms up ladies!