This weekend, I’ve been having what can only be described as a meltdown. And the lucky recipient of my wailing and teeth-gnashing is none other than poor old Uni Boy.
Every now and then, I’m held hostage by my capricious hormones (ladies, I’m sure you know what I mean) and everything looks as dark as squid ink: I’m 35, single, living in shared accommodation and working alone and for myself – possibly the worst career move ever for someone who’s highly sociable and neurotic about financial instability.
Now, most days, although I may not be filled with joy about my circumstances, I can at least sweep aside my concerns and look on the bright side, burying my head in the warm and welcoming sand of coffees, dinner dates and parties with a vast – if slightly motley – array of friends, colleagues and associates.
But when the hormonal maelstrom strikes, all optimism goes firmly and swiftly out of the window.
The worst of it is, I never see it coming: since my own little set of hormones is as erratic as a frog in a jar of jellybeans, I get sideswiped – and dumped upon the dark sands of despair – each and every time.
Of course Uni Boy, being, by his very nature, a boy, is somewhat perturbed by the sudden downturn in my demeanour and is convinced that it’s all due to the nature of our rather unorthodox liaison.
Whilst it’s true that our “come here and let me kiss/hug/ravish you but don’t forget we’re JUST FRIENDS” arrangement isn’t exactly what I’m looking for long-term, it usually provides me with comfort and solace, not to mention a bit of fun and excitement.
But today, despite the gorgeous sunshine outside, everything I survey is cast in shades of grey: love, life, the universe … everything.
To give him his credit, even though emotional meltdowns are definitely not what he signed up for, Uni Boy rises to the occasion – cooking me lunch, hugging me, kissing me and smoothing my hair patiently, even though he’s probably looking for the nearest exit and the fastest road out of town.
I’m infinitely grateful for his soothing company but, despite his patience, I can’t help thinking that this may be the last I see of Uni Boy for a while. Sigh.
Anyway, it seems that the day is fertile ground for crises.
Once I’ve done sniffling on Uni Boy’s shoulder, I make my way home and find a message from the Darkly Intriguing. He’s having a crisis all of his own, and is calling into question everything about his existence – from his job and his health to his life in the UK and the wide world that awaits him. And in his case, it’s definitely not the hormones. Poor guy.
The next day, everything looks brighter. At least for me.
I’m back to my standard perspective, and the looming shadows have shrunk back to their rightful size. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the clouds on my shoulder have rolled back out of sight.
I’ve surely cemented my lunatic status with Uni Boy, and thus have become more single than ever, but at least I’ve got some sunshine in my heart.
And, given the circumstances, that’s about all I can ask for right now.