Friday, July 8, 2016


As the wise ranga, Ronan Keating once said, "Life is a rollercoaster, just gotta ride it". Well thats all well and good for someone featured on the Notting Hill soundtrack, but for others, namely single folk it takes a rather nasty turn on the uphill slope and sooner than you know, you are careening downward into a gin and tonic fuelled shame spiral accompanied by Netflix binges and ordering $45 worth of Chinese food because Menulog is a dirty thief and you are fat, alone and fucking hungry.

After wafting through the delicate and ugg boot filled fields of a relationship, you become thrust into the stark light of single day and dear god, you do not look pretty. There are definite levels of singledom that we undesirables go through, and I am here to spell them out for you in horrendous glory.


You have broken up with your love and you are feeling bruised, battered and a little bit horny. Grief does that to people, just watch any primetime drama featuring Sigrid Thornton or the like. As a way to ease your pain, you hit the town in nothing but your kitten heels and smile on your stupid fucking face. ANYONE will be yours tonight. You hit Tinder so hard that your little thumb begins to crack the bottom half of your phone and take on whoever and whatever. Even Toby the 35 year old tradesman with reflector wrap around speed dealers and a southern cross tattoo can have a go.

You fuck losers with small dicks who have gel in their hair and they treat you like shit and you STILL want them to call you the next day so they can talk shit about how they got a flaccid promotion and how the chick at work who get her ass pinched by them is a lesbian. The dudes you fuck after your last relationship are fucking putrid and for some reason make the rejection even worse. Probably because they sleep in a king single and they talk shit to you about how amazing they are in bed only that when they go down on you they act like they are yelling the chant of their swimming carnival house. For shame.


Usually after this slew of dickheads you are feeling a little bit raw and jaded. Can't blame ya. You contemplate becoming a nun or a priest, you wonder if you can actually become a virgin again, when lets face it girl, your pussy is done. You wonder if Tinder was constructed by the devil, and therefore each time you go on some shat date that the dark underlord reaches into your soul and rips a part out to sprinkle over his fettuccine carbonara like that pre packaged rancid parmesan you get at Coles. You will be spending a shit load of time at Coles.

After many weeks of sighing and furious masturbating to Chet Faker, you finally decide to let another prick tease take you out on a watered down date only to have a measly excuse for a human being wearing a cut off denim vest insult you by calling you "unarousing". You don't know how you got here. You don't know how to get out. You go home, eat a quarter pounder, and don't make anything any better for yourself. If you aren't able to arouse a stiffy out of your male counterpart, then what fucking good are you woman? You might as well be a fucking kitchen house appliance and cook the man some fucking toast with your udder tits and big mouth.


You have now reached pinnacle single. You have come into the golden era my friend. You walk triumphantly from the shops holding a 24 pack of toilet paper, winking at the bearded gentlemen who are just trying to eat their labne coated eggs in peace. You no longer give a flying fuck about the title that is "single". Your self esteem grows like a silent STD, festering until you are glowing behind those eternally hungover eyeballs.

Fridays were once spent tying cherry stems at bars with bewildered bartenders silently calling security over, and now they are solely reserved for dancing around in your undies while simultaneously eating warhead spray and getting high off your own supply. Instead of feeling rejected, you feel sympathy for the men you have left behind and start off on your own path of discovering how to make the most perfectly timed popcorn bag as you sit down and reminisce on that time when you used to give a shit. 


Disclaimer: These levels do fluctuate and repeat constantly until the fucking end of time.

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