I'm Happy with Being Left on the Shelf. There's bags of Room and it's Bloody Peaceful!

Did you know the word 'Spinster', comes from the 18th century? Unmarried women who had nowhere else to go, were sent to spin houses a type of workhouse - to spin yarn. As a result they were called Spinsters and, eventually this came to be the term used for unmarried women.

I'm a spinster. Having reached the age of 38 with no wedding band to prove to the world that I got a man, I often wonder what I would actually be like as a married woman. Having to put up with some one hogging the bed space, farting, leaving pubic hair in the bath or even worse listening to their woes and having to be a reassuring shoulder for them to wipe their nose on. I can't imagine being patient enough to sit there and console the sorry son of a bitch. I got enough to deal with without being remotely interested in how they are feeling. Of course some women just can't live without a man, someone to cuddle up too or be wined and dined by. I'm okay with that, great for an evening, any longer would mean committment.

When I was about 18, I did get engaged, not that any wedding date was set, the fact I had a ring to flash was enough. My boyfriend at the time only did it to shut me up. Romantic images of bridal gowns fogged my judgement on the reality of actually organizing the event. How could I save when my hectic social life needed attention?

I had my son when I was 24, reality check. His dad and I talked about marriage but then when I realised what a loser he really was,theconversationturned to howexpensive Mothercare was becoming. This led to further heated discussions of why he should have such opinions in the first place, since he never contributed anything anyway. Exit door left.

I've raised my son alone, been hard but I've done it. With no contact for the last 12 years from ex Mr not so wonderful, I know that things can be acheived if you put your mind to it. So many people whinge about the silliest of things. I say get a grip. My days are busy enough organizing my son, making sure the housework is done (!), studying and drinking coffee. I don't even have a lot of time to pamper and preen myself, not that I am the type anyway. For those that know me, have seen the hairstyles I've attempted. One step outdoors in windy weather results in the 'dragged through hedge backwards' look. I cant be asked anymore. My son's comment just this morning. 'You're not going out like that are you?'. One look in the mirror confirmed it, perhaps I should get the straighteners out again. Or employ a staff to do it all for me, like Victoria Beckham does.
I held this thought for about five minutes, before saying 'Sod It', let em take me as they find me. They can f*** off if they dont like it. I'm happy with my 'Spinster' status. I'm in a routine that pleases me, one date I went on recently just confirmed it. After telling him I had a son, he recoiled slightly, 'Oh I don't mind really', he said. 'That's okay then', I replied, sipping the naff red wine he'd bought me. 'I can't take him back you see'. 'Back where?', he looked confused. 'To the hospital', I said. 'They don't do refunds'.