It’s bloody Valentines Day. Joy. You know what, I actually like the sentiment and that you can celebrate the day by acknowledging your love for someone, however in my opinion there shouldn’t have to be a named day for that. I hear you though, and I promise I am not bitter. I am single, so I am immediately inclined to hate Valentines. I don’t. I get it. And have celebrated it with partners before, it just so happens that for the last few, I have been single. I am a big advocate for the whole “trying not to dwell on it too much”, because to be truthful, I honestly believe that if you would like a partner, if you really do want a relationship, you can find someone rather quickly. Not saying it’s right or who you need. But you’ll find one. Settling is the new happily ever after. But it’s not for me.

I mean, I went to university… we all know the story. One of the most fun things about having a wild early twenties is telling stories from my wild early twenties, I am very aware that I am now only just hitting mid twenties, and so only just at an age where I am socially allowed to have a period of reflection. However, people like hearing the stories, people who have never experienced spending the majority of any given week drunk, living from a diet solely of pasta, and using sex as an ice-breaker. They enjoy vicariously living your lifestyle through an insulating layer of nostalgia and gallows humour. Yet this enjoyment, this entertainment that is gained from hearing these stories always seems to precede a question like; “So… Why haven’t you got a boyfriend, Ellen?”

I mean, in the nicest way possible… Get fucked mate. How the hell is anyone meant to answer that question?

I wouldn’t say that it is a choice of mine to be single. I mean… I’m not actively dating, or desperately searching for someone, but part of that is due to the fact that right now, it’s taking most of my willpower, attention and strength to entertain getting through the day calmly. And so entertaining the permanency or temporary permanency of someone who doesn’t quite understand that I am not really that well, is a “nah I will pass on that one” type vibe. I think I’ve entertained an independent space for quite a long time, my personality doesn’t appear to lend its self to anyone who wishes to stick around long enough for me to actually have anything that really resembles a full blown long-term romance.

I of course, have had boyfriends, but bar a couple, they have all been absolute bellends. So I don’t think I really have too much valuable experience to be able to comment on the whole “being in a relationship is so great for your mental health” thing. My parents have been together for 28 years. They occupy a relationship that is stable and commitment filled, they laugh together and have unrelenting amounts of respect and care for each other. They have never been overtly romantic but my sister and I have always known that they love each other. That is just the way it is, and unfortunately for me, I think I strive for exactly this, in a world that is consistent in throwing any old heartbreaking and time-wasting shit into my life.

This isn’t a pity party by the way, so if you have purchased presents, do get a refund.

Now listen, because bouts of Billy can severely affect my ability to get up in the morning and live my life as normally as practically possible, it can make dating — something that literally requires me to function pretty well — a little bit of a challenge to deal with, on even the best of days. Dating also of course, means allowing yourself to be vulnerable, to risk disappointment and rejection. Dating when you’re struggling carries the added burden of figuring out when and how much to reveal about yourself to the person you’re dating. To tell or not to tell. Dating is already very much an emotional minefield on a good day. None of us are exempt from that rush of nerves and excitement, elation and rejection, from the moment you swipe right or catch each other’s eye, to the agonising wait for that post-date text. And I guess sort of weirdly, I used to and probably still would get a massive buzz out of it. But when you’re affected by a mental health problem, those highs and lows can be all the more intense. And intense is an emotion I am desperately trying to avoid.

So… can you see why I may be trying to avoid it right now, and why the whole being on my own thing is working out quite well? I do believe that things happen for a reason and that I will find someone or not find someone when the time is right, I am meant to be on my own for however long I’m meant to be on my own for. But I do desperately wish that people would understand more, and that the whole “I miss being single” or “You’ll find someone” phrases would be extinguished. I don’t need pity, mate. Whilst it isn’t my choice, its also not really too much of a big deal. I do really want to be a Mum and believe that one of my life purposes is to have children. Unfortunately for me, that’s not quite going to happen until I do find love, but until that time, what’s the rush I guess? When it happens, it will happen, but I have plenty of other things to occupy my time. I am on route to spend my weekend with the platonic loves of my life and am feeling extremely satisfied and excited about that. Happy Love Day, to all of you, love however you want today, because to be honest… what has romantic love got to do with it, you get me?

Hang in there.

Ellen on the Edge xx