I can’t even be bothered to blog about dating, it seems

I firmly believe that sometimes you can learn as much from what people don’t say, as what they do.

I have a few choice theories about why dating in your forties is such a shit-storm, and perhaps when I started this blog I imagined I might pontificate on the subject. I find that I have not, in the main, and am curious why that is.

I think it’s because I just can’t be arsed. I’m bored with the whole subject. Currently I am, for the first time in my life, thoroughly happy to be single and have no desire to actively do anything to change that, nor even be open to any possibilities that might cross my path.

Partly, this may be down to the disastrous, brief, relationship I had at the start of this year which culminated in my abandonment in the middle of a Welsh field with no convenient means of getting back home (this was far from the whole story, but it sums it up). It has made me seriously question the sanity of the whole endeavour.

This may not be entirely rational. Like the stock market, previous performance is not a reliable indicator of investment returns in the future. Whatever. I’m just not interested any more, and have plenty of other things going on that engage and delight me in equal measure. I’d rather focus on them. I’m also in the process of a number of other rationalisations, centred on the idea that my concern for what other people think has pretty much dive-bombed to zero.

People that have known me a while may be raising their eyebrows at this novelty. I have not actually been single as such for any period exceeding 6 months in the last 24 years. We shall see how this pans out.