Issue #73: I'm in my ‘Hey, Bridge, how's your love life?’ era
Why this question makes me want to invent a long-distance boyfriend.
In one of the opening scenes of Bridget Jones Diary, which takes place at a Boxing Day turkey curry buffet, Bridget is asked by her Uncle Geoffrey: ‘So... not married yet, eh, Bridget? How's your love life?’. This is echoed later on in the film, in the now-famous dinner party scene where Bridget finds herself plonked at the end of a table of couples. ‘How’s the love life, Bridge?’, she’s asked by someone’s husband, a question followed by another: ‘Why are there so many single women in their thirties these days?’
This film came out in 23 years ago, and yet it’s eerily reflective of my own, present-day experience, as a 2024-edition single woman in my thirties. From friends-of-friends to distant relatives to my manicurist to the guy in the shop selling me Adidas trainers yesterday, the questions are the same: Are you seeing anyone?, How’s dating?, Any nice single men on the scene?
I get it; at least, I think I do. Romantic love is at the theme of many great novels and films. Dating is a microcosm of that. It gets even more interesting when you consider the phenomenon of modern dating, which in theory allows you boundless choice over your perfect partner, selected via a series of slidey-bar filters and left/right swipes. There’s a genuine curiosity. There’s maybe (whisper it) a bit of ‘What if?’ mixed in there, on the behalf of those who’ve never had the pleasure of browsing Hinge.
These questions are by no means asked as a personal attack. They’re often well-meaning; I get that. And yet, I feel myself getting prickly at the question, in a way I don’t love. I feel vulnerable, and not in the way Brene Brown says I should be.
Maybe because it’s been a while since I’ve had a good answer. I feel the conversation whizzing forward along one of two sets of train tracks…
Say I’m dating someone. The early stages of dating feel precarious, especially in London – anxiety intermingled with joy – and revealing any details to a near-stranger feels ill-advised, hubristic even: setting myself up for failure. A friend once joked that the minute she bought nice underwear for someone, and/or mentioned him to her parents, that relationship would implode.
Say I’m in a phase of not dating. That’s somehow hard to justify, too. No fun dating stories! Why am I not putting myself out there…on the apps?! Then I panic, wondering how to steer the conversation away from why I’m not dating, reluctant to host a pity party about the last guy who ghosted me. The nearest related question is, ‘How’s your relationship?’ Yet, that’s off-limits in polite small talk– justifiably so (and yes, I think single people would benefit from the same grace from near-strangers). So it’s a conversational dead-end, one I’m still struggling to find a way to come back from. And I write this as someone who interviews for a living.
We probably have a lot in common! I want to say, still recovering, before scrambling for shit examples. Oh look, we both have black bags! How funny! Did you, er, watch Baby Reindeer? What about differences! Differences are interesting! What’s your Myers-Briggs type? If you could be a stop on the Tube, which one would you be?
Perhaps I’ll just invent a long-distance boyfriend named Sven, in much the same ilk like everyone at school claimed they’d had their first snog during a family holiday in Mallorca.
I used to feel in my element at parties. Now, if I’m totally honest, I feel less so. There’s a social anxiety that wasn’t there anymore. Will I be the only uncoupled person in the room? Will there be anyone to flirt with? 1. Possibly, yes. 2. Almost definitely not.
Sometimes, I don’t know whether I have a problem with being single, or a problem with how it sounds at parties. But the reality is, these are two separate issues. And as for the latter, that’s something I have to work out for myself. To stop being the victim of my situation and become the heroine of it, even if I have to rewrite a Richard Curtis script to get there. Maybe that’s what Bridget Jones, circa 2024, does.
Or perhaps I concede that, as a single woman, I’ll rarely have the time of my life at an engagement party, but I did hike a mountain in Lisbon last month, followed by spontaneous tacos and margaritas with strangers-turned-friends, just because I could. Every life stage has its pros and cons. And even though I (spoiler alert) would quite like to be in a loving relationship, I know that it would create as many challenges as it solves.
Because I’m far from the only person getting asked dodgy questions at parties. So many of us dread ‘What do you do?’, for instance. Couples get asked: 'Are you getting married? When’s the baby? When’s the second? Then there are the classic bloopers: Have you lost weight? Why don’t you have kids? Do you own this house? So, in fact, maybe I’ve found it: the thing that divides us all, rather than unites us.
Right now, I take solace in the fact that, no matter how alienating my Bridget Jones era feels, it’s an experience so widespread that it was chronicled in a movie 23 years ago – one we can’t stop talking about. Still, maybe someday I’ll have the pleasure of experiencing a different set of annoying questions at parties. I’m looking forward to it.
Trying…
Ten points for capitalism: it turns out that premium shampoo really is worth it (and economically-viable if you consider how concentrated it is). I suspected this, but I was compelled to make the switch recently after my hairdresser openly shamed me for my budget shampoo choices. Anyway, take it from a woman who can’t stop stroking her newly baby-soft locks, Pureology Hydrate shampoo & conditioner (recommended by Sarah Jossell in The Times) is the daily/weekly/whatever treat I’m glad I finally invested in.
Consuming…
A bank holiday feasting lunch at Coal Office in Coal Drop’s Yard: Sunday lunch reimagined with brisket, hispi cabbage and a mountain of padrón peppers. I also wanted to share the weird-and-wonderful side dish of snake beans that I cooked at my friend’s housewarming last week. Snake beans are a yard-long legume I first tried in Tel Aviv and recreated with this simple, delicious recipe after discovering them at a local greengrocers. They tasted delicious – but what was even more fun was how engrossed my friend’s six-year-old son became, playing with the raw ‘snakes’ before we cooked them.
Listening…
Podcasts-wise, this week I’ve been loving the No Stupid Questions episode on, ‘Can You Change Your Personality?’, together with If Books Could Kill’s deep-dive into Michael Lewis’ ‘Going Infinite’, a book about ex-crypto poster boy Sam Bankman-Fried’s rise and fall.
When I started writing online twenty years ago, it was a personal blog called Tired of Men (and Other Things That Drive a Twenty-Something Around the Twist) 😆 I often felt like a bad date clown that friends, family, strangers and colleagues wanted to perform at all manner of social occasions and every day moments. It enraged me that, every Monday, my boss would interrogate me about my love life. It eventually stopped when I pointed out that I didn’t ask him about whether he’d shagged his wife at the weekend. I got tired of the head tilts, people asking ‘Why are you still single?’, and being asked, each time I spoke to my mother, ‘Have you met anyone?’…even though we might have spoken the day before. It’s scary how little things have changed in twenty years!