What a difference a year makes – what a difference a few weeks makes – what a difference a day makes…
This time last year I was single, about to embark on my first cycle of egg freezing, and was generally an emotional wreck.
This time a few weeks ago I was single, and bitching about my generally poor dating prospects.
Today, I’m still single, but I’ve got 14 frozen eggs in a freezer somewhere, and feel pretty positive about my life.
(And it’s not just because in the last few weeks I’ve been on two dates Continue reading
This is going to be a very short post, but something happened the other day that was so almost foot-in-mouth horrific, yet simultaneously laugh-out-loud hilarious, that I spent about five minutes waiting for my heart rate to go back to normal. Plus, when I told my friend, N about it, she said “You HAVE to blog about this.” So… Continue reading
Honestly, I didn’t used to. I think she’s a good comedy actress, but she wasn’t on my list of ‘People I Think Are Awesome And Would Like To Have A Drink With.’ OK, that list doesn’t actually exist, that would be weird. But you know what I mean, she was just an actress who didn’t make much of an impression on me.
And then she’s interviewed in Allure magazine and she says this: Continue reading
I’ve not written for a while because I haven’t really had much to say. But there are a few things that sort of made me think I should put pen to paper, finger to keyboard, word to screen.
The first was my monumentally unsuccessful dating life. I online date, I have done for years. I do a job where I’m unlikely to meet a wealth of single straight men, so it makes sense to me to look online. I met S online. I hardly know anyone who is single who isn’t online dating.
But there definitely seems to be a wrong side of 35. And I’m definitely on it. It wasn’t like this a few years back when I was doing it – I had more dates Continue reading
I think I’ve touched briefly in this blog on whether, if I don’t meet someone, I want a child enough to try to get pregnant using donor sperm. It preoccupies me more than it should. Or maybe not more than it should. I found myself lying in bed the other night trying to work out how much money I would have to earn in order to put a child in nursery so that I could work to look after us both.
I know that I’ve been at kids’ birthday parties and watched them blowing out the candles on their cakes with both their parents, and wondered whether, Continue reading
I REALLY didn’t want to write this post. To be honest, I didn’t see what I could say that would actually add anything to the reams of newsprint and fuck-tonne of pixels that have already been devoted to supporting/denigrating her and her argument – and my view on that hasn’t really changed. But it’s just not gone away. Nearly a week later and people are still going on about it. Sigh. So I thought I’d write something.
If you’ve been living in the mountains of Tibet, or Jupiter or something, you might not know that last week Continue reading
As I think I might have said earlier, one of the reasons that I wanted to write this blog was because I didn’t feel there’s any information out there for the likes of me. Which seems mad. Because I’m not the only person in this situation. Many of the friends that I have told know someone doing the same thing, but nobody’s talking about it. (Alright there is a woman talking about – she’s even written a book about it – but she’s American.)
I suppose what I mean is that, with the exception of a few Americans who are donating eggs, most of the women in the world currently injecting Gonal-f or Cetrotide are women who Continue reading
This isn’t an existentialist – or biological – question but it is a bit navel-gazing – literally. Because that’s the question that I was asking when I found myself 36, single, sitting at the kitchen table with a syringe in my hand, gazing at my navel, before stabbing my stomach with follicle stimulating hormone. Vignettes like that tend to prompt a little bit of self-questioning…
I’ve never been one of those women who were desperate for kids. In fact as a teenager I always thought I didn’t really want them – I used to joke that they might end up like me and my sister and who’d want that? I don’t think we were particularly difficult kids, but equally, my mum didn’t make it look particularly easy – or fun.
Then at 26, the boyfriend I’d spent six years with said Continue reading
I’m 36, single and I live in London, but apart from that, I’m anonymous. Why? I suppose it boils down to the fact that I don’t think that this is anybody’s business but mine. (To be fair, my parents don’t even know that I’m doing this so I’m certainly not about to broadcast it to the rest of the world.)
My sister knows and a handful of my friends know – the ones I can trust, the ones who I know will get it, and will support me without patronising me, or pitying me, or making me the topic of their gossip.
Maybe I’m doing a lot of my friends Continue reading