The Single One

I dreamt that I blogged about disliking being the single friend. And then I realized that I hadn’t blogged in a while and my dreams may be telling me about my secret desire to rant about this situation.

It’s more of a dislike then a hatred and a reason to stress myself out. But in recent conversations with the girls, I feel left out. They are my friends since grade nine and earlier so we will always have stuff to talk about, but now more then ever, the discussions are about the men in their lives. M has N, J has R and M has S. I’m always just listening to the problems, the laughs and the stories of sex. I can’t relate and it leaves me desiring a companion. I will express my desire for a companion, but want to stress that it is more so a desire rather then a need. I like being single; it’s cheaper this way and I’m not accountable to anyone.

I do however feel, that even though I’m the single one, I’m the favourite friend from most of the boyfriends. It makes me feel cool, and being the wretched third wheel isn’t that bad when the guy is excited to see me.

However, I am the single one, and at times it’s great. (More about that in a future blog).

And now I breathe.

My fingers dial the numbers that can potentially reach you. Unlike the last time I dialled your number, this time I wanted to talk to you. But it rings and it rings and it rings. And I wonder where you. I don’t care what your doing and who your with, I care not if your having a good time, or if your miserable I just kinda wanna know how your doing.

I feel you’ve made a voodoo doll of me. Sometimes, randomly, my heart sinks, as though I’ve lost everything I never had. She’s great, you tell her. Like the same lines you told me. I’m out of your thoughts now, and I feel the stab.

I breathe the same breath as I did a minute ago, and the same that I will breathe from now on.

I still can’t let go and my heart sits in content with this but I miss you and hope you pick up the phone soon.