Tag Archives: couples

27 things that happen to single people at weddings

It’s the noise every singleton dreads in the summer – that gentle thud on the doormat. Yes, it’s a wedding invitation with your name on it.

Even if you’re given the opportunity to take a +1 with you, flying solo at a wedding can be a harrowing experience. And at least one of these things – at least – is totally guaranteed to happen to any single person at a wedding.

1. You are seated next to another single person.
This person is boring.

2. You may even be lucky enough to be at an entire table of single people.
The bride and groom had a little chuckle about this as they did the seating plan, but they’ll be laughing on the other side of their faces once you’re all drunk and heckling the speeches.

3. You are warned not to catch the bouquet.
“It’d be a waste,” they say. “You haven’t even met anyone yet.”

4. One half of every couple thinks you’re out to steal their man.

5. The other half of that couple wishes you would steal their man.

6. A married man confesses he’s always fancied you.
You’re the third person he’s said it to, so don’t get excited. Continue reading 27 things that happen to single people at weddings


17 things single people do that make couples want to kill them

When you’re single, it is very easy to blame smug couples for all your ills. But, here’s a newsflash, you can be just as irritating.

And every once in a while, couples are dragged out of their loved-up reverie by their single friends who are, almost without exception, an absolute nightmare.

1. Arrive to every social engagement hungover.
Whether you’re making a beautiful lunch for all your friends, meeting for a few drinks for your birthday, or getting married, your single friend will arrive either drunk or woefully hungover. This is because they can.

They have no partner to tell them they’ll feel rough in the morning and nobody to give them the silent treatment if they ignore that advice. Before they’re even halfway through their starter, they will push their plate away and signal the waiter to bring them another martini and every couple around the table will dream of lacing it with arsenic.

2. Ask if you have any friends to hook them up with.
“Surely you must know some nice, single, hot men for me?”

3. Then get offended when you try to hook them up with somebody.
“God, I’m not that desperate. Don’t you think I can do a little better than that?!” Frankly, no.

4. Moan “I just want to meet someone” yet reject perfectly acceptable people for ridiculous reasons.
“I didn’t like his hair.”
“You should have seen the way he twisted the noodles round his fork.”
“She pronounces ‘bath’ like ‘hearth’ – it’d never last.”
Christ. Continue reading 17 things single people do that make couples want to kill them

Say no to couple envy

You’re in a half-empty pub.

Perhaps you’re waiting for a date, but more likely you are idling away the hours alone with some much-needed human company before going back to the stark solitude of the dungeon walls which hold up the roof on your supposed bachelor pad.

Suddenly, you feel a tingle. Someone in your vicinity is being romantic, you can feel it. Maybe you’ve heard the gentle, sickening slurp of a kiss or caught a glimpse of interlocking fingers out of the corner of your eye.

Whatever it is, you look up and see them, or it, if you think of them as a singular unit. They certainly do. They are your enemy, your nemesis – the beast that mocks your single status just by being. Yes, at the next table, you can see, in their natural state of togetherness, a couple.

They’re looking at a menu, you notice. They’re both doing exaggerated gestures as they slide their fingers up and down its offerings, making half-hearted suggestions and scrunching up their faces in mock disgust at the dishes they don’t like. One half of the couple, possibly the smuggest of the pair, will utter the standard line that comes in every Berlitz ‘Teach Yourself To Speak Couple’ phrasebook: “No, I don’t mind if you get the same as me. Go on, you like it. Honestly. You have it. Maybe I can get something else”. Continue reading Say no to couple envy

Valentine’s Day: Say no to romance at gunpoint

Thanks to the internet and snark becoming an acceptable way of life, moaning about Valentine’s Day and deriding everyone who gets involved in it is almost as big an institution as buying your beloved a bouquet on the day.

And it’s highly monetised, with cash changing hands for a billion think pieces on the death of romance.

We mock those who simply must book a romantic meal for two on February 14th, because either their partner will give them the silent treatment from the 15th until the end of March, or, more usually, because everyone else expects you to be doing something for it. And if you’re not doing something, they want to know why not. Welcome to the dictatorship that is Valentine’s Day.

I’m not bitter, though. I don’t care about commercialisation, tacky helium-filled balloons or bright red valentines imploring you to roger me senseless. I’m unmoved by special Valentine menus and badly  mixed ‘romantic’ cocktails named after cocks and tits. Lovers inspired by Fifty Shades Of Grey and throttling themselves with chicken wire? Up to you. No problem. All good.

What bothers me about Valentine’s Day is that it’s not a day for lovers to show how much they love each other. It’s actually a chance to show off, to not-so-humbly brag about how happy and in love you are. Like a really cheap annual wedding. If nobody else were watching, you’d be on the sofa scratching your arse and arguing over the takeaway menu like any other normal day.

My least favourite parts:

People getting flowers at work
If you have ever sent flowers to someone at their workplace: fuck off. Go on, just eff right off and don’t come back. You’re shameless.

It’s awful, beyond cliché, but people can’t help themselves. I know people (mainly women, I’m afraid) who have actively encouraged their beau to send a stonking great bouquet to their office. I can only imagine the devastation caused by Valentine’s Day falling on a Saturday this year, denying many 9-to-5ers their moment in the sun.

These floral deliveries serve as a massive “fuck you” to anyone with less considerate (or less easily manipulated) spouses, plus it has the added bonus of making all the single people – who we will come to later – feel even more fantastically inadequate, dreading the endless crowing about it all afternoon long.

The bouquets get bigger and more ostentatious every year, as everyone tries to outdo each other. We are probably about seven years away from someone just having done with it and Kew Gardens airlifted and delivered to Tracy on Reception. Continue reading Valentine’s Day: Say no to romance at gunpoint

17 things couples do that make single people want to kill them

Aside from the mindless shagging, off-the-peg hedonism and thrilling Uber rides to the clap clinic, being single can be something of a trial. Sure, you can do what the hell you like, when you like, but sometimes you long for the touch of another, for someone to care that you’ve left the fridge open, the thrill of orgasming with someone else in the room.

And as if all that wasn’t enough, you’ve got dickhead couples pulling this kind of crap all around you, reminding you how unloved, lonely and insignificant you are:

1. Share puddings.
“Two spoons, please” is a knife in the throat of any self-respecting singleton. And food-sharing is really unsexy. Especially if it’s a recently defrosted cheesecake in a Harvester.

2. Hold hands everywhere.
No, seriously, you’re in my way. I have to be somewhere. You may want to spend your days ambling dreamily hand-in-hand, but, guys, you’re in the middle of a really busy Tesco Express and I’m trying to reach the tenderstem.

3. Argue in Ikea.
The most boring, cliché, coupletastic thing any gruesome twosome can do. Even worse is boasting about getting round the entire store without arguing. Well done you. It’s a shop, not the north face of the Eiger. Continue reading 17 things couples do that make single people want to kill them

Why supermarkets make the singleton sad

The strangest things bring a tear to your eye when you’re single. You can sit through a weepie romcom with barely a flicker, connecting emotionally as you would to watching a lawn getting mowed, and the death of an elderly relative can bring a temporary heavy heart yes, but the real tearjerkers aren’t the huge sad moments or highly emotional events. No, it’s the little things that get you. Like supermarkets. Supermarkets make me sad.

Unless you’re unlucky to be partnered up with a congenitally lazy retail-avoider, the weekly shop is a team event. You do it together, from opening and closing endless cupboards to check stock levels, composing (and arguing over) the shopping list and trundling around the aisles with a trolley to lugging it home and unpacking, cursing at whatever you left behind amid the piles of carrier bags at the checkout. While wrestling with the grocery shop could hardly be called a fun activity, and as romantic as cleaning the toilet, it’s a shared experience all the same, with mutual benefit. It leads to cooking together, sampling a glass of wine and saying “Ooh, that was nice – we’ll buy that again”. It’s a bicycle built very much for two.

Venturing into the supermarket alone, unless it’s by choice and your only escape from a noisy family or irritating other half, is a joyless experience, reduced to a shadow of its former self. It is a grey, tasteless necessity rather than a gateway to an exciting feast. “Well, I suppose I’ve got to eat,” you’ll murmur yourself as you plod, zombified, from aisle to aisle with your basket slamming against your knee. And it’s always a basket, there’s no fun in a trolley any more. You’d never be able to fill it, and there’s nobody else there to take a turn in pushing it when you need a break or want to stroll off and squeeze some tomatoes.

Almost everything sold in the supermarket is aimed at an audience of two or more. Your hand hovers over the English muffins, packed in sixes. You’ll never eat six, not before they go stale. The only way you could get through six muffins before the mould hits is by having them for every meal for the next two days. You’re not eating as much as you used to these days, you see; you can’t afford the extra ballast and tucking into a huge meal alone feels like gluttony, an expression of sadness. And so it goes on, multipack after multipack; nothing is sold in quantities which wouldn’t very easily feed both an army and a wedding in one sitting. Your only respite is the odd individual pack or tin – soup, perhaps, or a ready meal. It will make it clear that it’s for those who don’t have any potential sharers to hand. “FOR ONE” it will scream on the packaging. Out of principle, you refuse to buy it, unwilling to be marketed at like you’re a hermit. Vegetables, prone as they are to rot as soon as you get them home, become strangers to you. You can’t bear the sight of those shrivelled leeks and unloved, slimy mushrooms glaring at you from the bottom of the fridge in memoriam at another meal for two you’ll never eat again.

But if a sting is yet to come to your eyes, look around instead at your fellow shoppers. Duos abound. Hands are held, smiles exchanged and light bickering takes place over whether to buy shop-brand soft cheese or Philadelphia (go for the latter; the former is never the same). Their trollies heave with all manner of goodies for the week ahead, yet a lone can of Baxter’s rolls around your plastic pannier. Your solitude takes over you, wearing you like a cheap scarf. You make your way to the checkout, your eyes glassy and your cheeks tingling as your throat constricts. Packing your carrier bag – no point in bringing a ‘bag for life’ for your few pathetic comestibles – you resolve to make a proper list next time, get some ingredients and make a big meal, and freeze some of them. A supermarket is no place to be lonely.

But before you leave, run back to the aisles and look and listen carefully. Squeeze by a couple’s trolley and notice one of them turn to appraise you. Then see their partner notice the distraction. The bickering turns from light to heavy in a matter of moments, but the argument isn’t yours, you can carry on unabated to the next aisle. Look again, then, at the contented tummies of the dynamic duos, the trollies filled to the brim with crap that they’ll shovel into their mouths and the booze they drink to bleach out the monotony of another night fighting over the remote control. So only soup awaits you for dinner. Your freedom is worth all the puddings in the world.

Oh the supermarket can bring on the tears all right, but they shouldn’t be yours. Dry your eyes. There are better ways to find an unexpected item in your bagging area.