This morning I saw six pairs of shoes in the hallway. They weren’t neatly lined up, but they were together in a group, possibly talking about me but I can’t be sure. Regardless, I quickly realised that I lived in a community of people. Somehow I have gradually been sucked into a cohabitation/ commune situation and I wasn’t sure that there would be a way out.
I know that what I’ve described isn’t the exact definition of cohabitation, so perhaps I should elaborate. I’m surrounded in my current living situation, by couples upon couples upon couples. That’s three times the couple in case your math is terrible (as mine is). Now this is not a bitter rant; I’m a champion for love’s young dream and all that, but nothing quite reminds you of your single presence than that of a happy couple who also share your bathroom and kitchen utensils.
The shoes felt like a metaphor for life; eventually we all want a second pair beside our own, or something more profound than that. For me more shoes besides more shoes, usually means I’ve spent too much time online convincing myself that my feet are not fully satisfied with the twenty odd pairs of shoes I already own, and I must purchase more.
But I digress (what’s new?). I started thinking this morning that maybe this is just where people my age are at in their lives now. People are pairing off, like it’s the final dance of the night and everyone has realised that they don’t want to end up being the only one stood against the wall trying to look cool. And I seem to have missed the memo. I usually pride myself on bucking the trend. but this time around the result has meant I’m surrounded by the trendsetters and I am very underdressed for the occasion. See how I’ve slightly mixed up my metaphors? Yeah, I’m clearly thrown.
The fridge this morning also felt like a metaphor for my living situation, where food was crammed into it as it bulged to contain it all, and I could no longer tell what was mine and what wasn’t. And it occurred to me that I HAVE TO GET OUT.
Like I said, I’m happy for all you people in the throws of passion and coupledom, but that could not be further from where I am right now. And being constantly reminded of it every time I step into my kitchen / living room / hallway, is not as much fun as you might think. It’s the outsider feeling that it tends to bring to the fore more than anything else, which I have become accustomed to in life but not usually in my own abode as an adult.
So I’m searching for a way out of being constantly reminded of my own relationship ineptitude, because although I’m not that concerned about it on a daily basis, being exposed to that shit regularly can really play on some deep-seated doubts you have about yourself.
But I feel like the immediate moral of this story is simple; I just need to buy more shoes.
Image credit: Visual Glow from the Noun Project