Sick of hearing your parents and relatives query you about your lack of a partner? Well, do what I did, and make one up.
The partner I have is everything I could have imagined. She’s imaginary. But don’t judge me until you walk a proverbial mile holding her proverbial hand. You see, I’m part of a dating trend that has unfortunately been labelled “fauxbaeing” – or, as I prefer to call it, lying to those people who can’t leave well enough alone.
The realities of the situation are thus: This year is my 37th. And as my thirties may be closer to extinction, the questions about the location of my partner live on. To be honest, I don’t know. The holiday break just gone pushed me over the edge, and I blame the smug crinkled eyes of Aunty June (twice divorced) who lectured me on the dangers of entering my forties single. So, frankly, I decided to go out and get one.
Why? Aunty June and the rest of her cabal do not subscribe to is the will to wait for the right person, or indeed, if that person never arrives, choose no-one. In her world, everyone must be paired, and as far as June knows, that female forehead on my Facebook profile is my partner. And no, I wouldn’t say that I love my new beau, but she goes alright, hey.
According to a quick Google, around 20% of men polled has noted the presence of a mystery man in the social media of someone they knew to be single. Which I totally get.
For those curious, the owner of the female forehead belongs to a friend of mine. Fortunately, my friends know the score, so there are no comments that risk it, or more importantly, mistaking my close friend for my lover. Same hairline, sure, entirely different person.
According to a quick Google, around 20% of men polled has noted the presence of a mystery man in the social media of someone they knew to be single. Which I totally get. The warding off of relatives and fuckbois are close cousins.
Frankly, if you’re keen, enter a trial phase. Try it out. Take it slow. There’s no risk, no commitment, no chances of hurt feelings or not getting your stuff back. Yes, it’s a lie, but it represents a window where you’re not actively confronted about your romantic failings. The only thing you have to navigate is the next seasonal family get together, and that’s eleven months away. That’s an entire year of a relationship that doesn’t exist. Eleven months of credibility.
Moreover, when you’re finally able to end that relationship (in the week before Christmas), you’ll be able to do it on your terms. You’ll be able to say that you did the breaking, that you got what you wanted, and she begged me to stay, but I cast her off. Because I’m cool like that.
Why, yes, I will have more punch, Aunty June, how’s your love life?