Realisation of the condemned

What do you do when you realise your future is set? Perhaps there is no changing the inevitable. Not to turn this into Terminator Three (unfortunately that film did happen), but regardless of what you change, perhaps the outcome is unavoidable. 

I've come to the realisation that just maybe I'm not meant to find someone; leave aside the search for 'the one'. 

My last meaningful date was a little less than a year ago. It went well, or so you delude yourself into thinking through applying various emotional filters. And aside from personal bias, it did feel like it was a positive experience. But it died pretty quickly as my date prevaricated and concocted excuses to put off another date. 

There was only a year or two between us, but she seemed deeply shocked she was dating a younger man. Which, at our age, me nearing 30, her already there, seemed humorous. Sure when you're younger those years seem so much more vast, but after rushing through young adulthood, picking up responsibilities and dropping irresponsibilities, is a year or two such a mental block?

That was the last meaningful date. Since then it's not been as positive. I look back at my last year and wonder just what more I could do. Sure I could ask more women out, maybe even go to those manufactured networking evenings, but what if it doesn't matter. What if no matter what you do there is no positive ending. 

I've asked friends and family just what is wrong with me. I'm told I have a sense of humour, I'm polite and can be pretty good company. My peers say I wouldn't be a bad catch, but I have yet to be held.  

I  live my future single life every day; wandering around Waitrose at 8.30pm, shopping for dinner parties I never have anyone to invite to. And no, you never meet anyone datable at Waitrose. I did once see a woman my age picking up a microwave meal for one. I tilted my head and sighed at her complete lack of desire to cook something. Anything. Microwave meals are the final indication you have no hope. At least I enjoy cooking.

My sister has been going to post-30 singles events with other Indian girls depressed they can't find anybody to take them. Because it's still the 50s for these people. Tales of doctors, lawyers and other Indian professions float around London as romantic wreckage. 

This year is fast approaching its end, and happiness of one kind or another seems further away. I've changed my job, tried to be more positive and want to be out there just that little bit more. Maybe I'll bump into some of that wreckage.