Riding the Wrong Train

I knew during the break-up process that it would be good to be single for a while. I needed some time to try and figure out who Single Me was and if she was different to Relationship Me. Turns out that Single Me is a train wreck. Relationship Me was definitely heading down a better path. Single Me hasn’t cooked one single decent meal in three weeks. There may have been the odd piece of fruit, but in general, she will sit on the couch hungry rather than actually cook something. She has no idea what’s in the fridge or the cupboard. On the rare occasion she does bother her arse to cook something, it will usually involve frozen chips and gravy. Relationship Me barely knew what a freezer was. Clothes haven’t been washed, bins haven’t been emptied, the bathroom floor must be checked for underwear before visitors use the facilities. But the worst thing facing Single Me is The Dishes. I have always hated doing dishes. Always. When Relationship Me was living with Him, we had a deal -I did all the cooking and He did the dishes. Now Single Me is forced to deal with them…and is fighting every step of the way. Things got so bad last week that I had to keep the kitchen door closed because the dirty plates and cups were starting to smell. The next day, and less than an hour before I was to receive a gentleman caller, I stood in front of the washing machine for a good five minutes contemplating whether or not there were moral or ethical (or dignity) issues in hiding all the dirty crockery in the machine for the duration of his stay . In the end, I made a compromise with myself -I just kept him out of the kitchen. Relationship Me was an actual grown up. She understood the importance of health insurance and savings and eating healthily. Single Me just doesn’t seem to give a crap. I feel I’m regressing back to the middle of my college years and wonder how long it will be before I show up drunk for work. There’s an internal struggle where I pine for what I was, but love the freedom of where I am. I’m being ridiculous and irresponsible and the weight of Life has been partially lifted from my shoulders. Yes, it might seem that at 24 I should be moving forward instead of backwards, but feck it, I spent my early twenties trying to the A Grown-Up and look at where that got me! Grey hairs and stress-related IBS. So for now, I think I”ll enjoy the craziness and worry about tomorrow tomorrow (or maybe in a few months time). And until then, I’ll take a trip to Tesco and stock up on paper plates and cups….