Alone.

One glass of wine is enough to get me all emo these days.

It always starts with gourmet dinner, which I cook for myself (I call it self love). But then, instead of being in the moment, I think about how sad it is that I am having the meal alone.

Today, as I am eating, I am listening to Rihanna’s Love On The Brain, I am singing along every time she says “What do I gotta do to get into your motherfucken heart?” It’s basically a mess.

Fuck! I feel this girl.

“It beats me black and blue, but it fucks me so good and I can’t get enough.”

Honestly, I frequently feel defeated. It’s over. When you first meet me, I am this strong, well-put woman who has got it all together, but love manages to fuck me over all the time. Love definitely beats me black and blue, curses my name but I cannot get enough of it. I am always like a toddler at the ice cream shop when I smell love.

I always seem to love the wrong person; it’s like I am addicted to not getting what I want when it comes to love.

My friends always celebrate how “strong” I am because I never stay in compromising situations, but, I’m actually tired of being alone. I don’t know why I feel this way. I am only turning 26 next month; am I being too emotional?

Isn’t it too soon to feel this way? I haven’t even made enough money to buy myself a car yet, but I am already imagining myself as this rich sassy and sexy independent woman who enters her apartment sarcastically saying, “Honey, I’m home.” Besides the fact that there is no honey – what constitutes a home? Is it a home if you are the only person living in it? I am so afraid of becoming this woman because all the women I love (who remind me of myself) and who I look up to are single or are the “other woman.”

Argh, let me just continue with my wine; I actually can no longer enjoy even this moment of sipping now because my mind is cooking up all sorts of evil.

“Call him.”

“No…. Wait, who?”

“Him.”

“I’m not gonna do that, whoever ‘him’ is, because I know for a fact that there is no idle man in my life right now who’s available, who I actually want to fuck or cuddle.”My savage self always does these things to me. Asks me to call up men who are more harm than good in my life. And, besides, I don’t want to call someone for the sake of sex because I’m gonna get attached – I almost always do. Actually, I don’t. The problem is I can never sleep with someone I don’t have “That Thing” with, you know? That chemistry thing. But now, the problem with the ones you have chemistry with is that those motherfuckers capture your heart and literally the next morning, you want to get married to them.

I should really be happy and grateful – I have a job in Cape Town, I can pay rent, I eat whatever I want. So, when did all of these “lonely” emotions begin? When did my being single define my entire mood after drinking wine? When did “single” translate to “thirsty”? I want to say I am “alone” not “lonely,” but I’m not sure I know the difference between the two anymore. I mean, what title works for a girl in an empty apartment drinking wine and stalking her exes on Facebook?

There’s still only one who has my heart. He is tall. Intelligent. Nice. Dark. Handsome. He’s . . .

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