You Are Single

Ah, you’re single. OK. There are different shades of singledom, is the thing: that sharp red-raw smack of New Single, of crying in your room and lying on your side (always your side?) watching Netflix, of scrolling through your exes’ Instagram to see if they are having fun, of feeling like you have a wad of tissue in your mouth at all times and that is the only weak cork-seal that’s stopping all of your emotions pouring out like vomit; and then there’s that quite good singledom, Settled Single, single as an identity, just as happy shagging a random off Tinder as you are getting up weirdly early on a Sunday and taking yourself for a coffee and a brisk walk by a canal, you’re reading a lot more books, now, you started making your own juice. And then there’s the post-post-single, Doom Single, when the sting of New Single has worn off and the charm of Settled Single has lost its lustre and now you’re just like: it would be nice if someone who knew my middle name would take me for a pizza (this stage of single almost always coincides with the first time someone from your old school sends you a wedding invitation). Anyway, pick your poison, you absolutely loveless loser: