I bet Woodie Guthrie had a worse day than you did

...is what I was thinking tonight. I mean think about it, all those freakin dust storms burying the whole town, all that living through the depression, all that singing in a twangy (but soulful) voice. Exhausting. Makes my list of unanswered emails, my to do list unmarred by ticks, my shitty list of anoyances at the end of a tiring day, fade into insignificance. Almost.

Not that my day was particularly bad, in terms of terrible disasters. Sure, I left work exhausted and wondering how I'm meant to get done the last few things not yet done, that I don't want to do,so now face either working late tonight (ba ba - not likely) or doing it on my day off tomorrow, or tomorrow night, etc. Sure I felt cranky with myself for not having done some relatively trivial things I should have done but am not excited about doing. Sure I then wondered if in fact I'm any good at my job at all, since I haven't got everything done, and am working across so many areas I don't feel like I'm becoming an 'expert' in anything, and often stuff scares the bejesus out of me, even relatively simple things that I should be completely confident to do.

Don't know why, I've just been feeling really cranky and down on my self lately, in general. Have days where I just feel like I'm a total loser and my life doesn't amount to anything. Like I am just one of those social outcasts, who will end up old and talking to herself at bus stops, wearing woolly socks with polycotton sundresses and scaring small children with her general witchiness. No this isn't a teenage tantrum, or cry for help, I'm just being honest, offloading. It's funny, because when I feel like that I feel like everything is shit, and that I'm doing a bad job at everything. Hair. Clothes. Ability to get my work done. Ability in general. Social life. Love life. Not in that order neccessarily..! Although I do wonder if my earnest attempts to eschew hairdye in the name of being kind to waterways is really paying off, or whether those insidious grey streaks are freaking me out everytime I look in a mirror in a bathroom with good natural light. So maybe a haircut is a good place to start.

And, though I know there are pro's and cons of every situation, I have started to feel like being single is difficult when everyone around you are in relationships, not least because that kind of intimate daily chat and venting that you might otherwise do with a partner doesn't get so easily vented. Case in point - friend rang tonight to ask about borrowing our car space and - voila - I am bemoaning in detail my hair cut options and telling her about my visit to the dentist, and about *what an excellent patient survey they gave me*, just because I hadn't had the chance to talk to anyone about it since I went yesterday. I miss having people checking in on the details of my life. I miss having people to share the little things with. Living with a couple is proving challenging in that regard, as they have each other for that stuff, and I feel like the third wheel. So somedays I feel like I just drift between work and home and both are places for a brave cheery coping public face; neither feel like a place where I can be really honest and open to people who support me. Like everyone's booked up, everyone's busy, everyone's already filled their quota of intimate interpersonal relationships.

Plus, as an insightful older friend pointed out recently, this is potentially a challenging 'stage' (I feel like that means I'm about to get pimples or grow taller), because I'm a 32 year old woman who is not in a relationship, but is not feeling like doing all the stuff I did in my twenties. It's a funny space to be in when you really are not interested in going to bars/ student warehouse indie band venues with your very best shiny lipgloss on to jiggle your cleavage/ wit/ new accessories/ stories of how cool you are to impress, but are also plagued with the niggling inner Aunty Marjory voice that tells you that 'you're never going to meet someone watching a DVD and cutting out pictures for collage in your loungeroom on a Saturday night'. And I see her point. She is also of the firm opinion that unless you do meet someone who picks you for better or worse you're some kind of failure. Which I don't agree with, rationally, but it is easy to feel like the odd one out, and a little lonely, and wonder if she might have a point.

My friends are not overtly discouraging or preoccupied about it, at least to my face, but there are mixed messages about the importance of being in a relationship, or at least what single life should be like.

One friend suggested maybe I'll find myself a divorcee with children, as the first round of marriages break up and men become available again in their mid thirties. I felt kind of heartened and kind of depressed that I might end up with only those who had failed with their first loves and were old and battered around the edges. Although maybe that describes me?

One friend tells me about her plan, when she was 30, to have her first child by 35. Working back, she knew that this meant she'd need a year for having the baby, a year or two for being in a relationship with someone (so they could have holidays and get to know each other without children) and so, therefore, at the latest, she needed to meet someone at age 32. And voila! She did. And now they're happily partnered up with baby and house and a dog.

One friend is in a relationship but seems to be quite keen on single life, and is overtly positive if I 'go out and meet people' and less if I don't. I wonder if she secretly wants a place at the bar herself.

Another friend has said before that having children is the only way to not be completely selfish, and to hand on what you learn. Though she is reconsidering.

My mum doesn't say anything to my face, but told a friend of mine that she was worried about how I might feel now that all my friends are having babies. She's stopped saving baby clothes for me. She's suggested I come and live with them in their back room - 'it's lockable'. I have to tell her 'mum, 32 year olds aren't supposed to live with their parents'.

I have stopped going to things where I will be the only single person with a handful of couples, because I feel like I'll upset the balance. I feel like friend's husbands/partners endure me but would rather be catching up with other couples where they get a blokish person to talk to while the girls do girl talk.

So there you go. Just what you wanted. The complete low down on my shitty self esteem and insight into the psyche of some kind of dumpy yoga pant wearing bookish Bridgit Jones: fan-fucking-tastic.

And, to top it off, I think part of this is that I miss my cat. At least when I had my cat there was someone to come home to, someone who missed me and wanted me home, and who purred and seemed happy to see me. How lame is that?