Last week I turned 27yrs old, and am a single parent to my daughter Millisent 7yrs, aka Millie-Sent-From-Heaven, and Gabriele 2yrs, aka Angel-Gabriele. I’m such a goof with names and meanings, I know! Well up until a year ago, the thought of being on my own, unmarried and approaching thirty with two children would have absolutely shattered my nerves, and no doubt sent me on a desperate man binge; I’d have cried over chick-flicks, probably clutched old jumpers I hadn’t voodoo’d or burned already and reread past Valentine’s cards like a complete sap. But right here and right now I can honestly say I have never been happier in my entire life; and I welcomed my twenty-seventh year on this beautiful earth with a glass of fizz and a fat slice of calorific chocolate cake, with an extinguisher on standby for the copious amounts of candles.
So why am I suddenly capable to go at life alone now, when only a year and a half ago I was a sobbing fool at the breakdown of my engagement? Well twenty-seven isn’t an iconic milestone to many, it doesn’t carry any weight, meaning or severe responsibility as a number in itself, but to me it is my most life-affirming year yet. You see, just over a year ago, and most unexpectedly, my entire world was thrown into chaos and heartbreak when my fiance walked out without warning one evening. It was completely unannounced and unforeseen, as just hours before we’d done the weekly food shopping and stacked the fridge with sausages, eggs and bacon, none of which I’ve eaten in over twenty years as I’m a vegetarian. So I can’t imagine he gave his actions much thought that day, I was five days out of hospital following a breast reconstruction, our just-turned-one year old baby and his sister were tucked up quietly in bed, the house was immaculate, and the cat and dog were curled up in front of the fire snoring like two old men. I’d prided myself on being the ultimate stepford wife, juggling work and home life, raising two polite and respectful children, trimming the edge of the lawn with scissors and fluffing cushions whilst helping charities. I did everything with a smile to help those I loved and took the world in my stride. But I guess the un-scissor-trimmed grass elsewhere seemed far greener. Perhaps life was too perfect and too precise, and dare I say it, safe and boring? Perhaps in trying my best to create the perfect family home I had simply mothered myself an unwilling third child? And after almost 6yrs together, and with a face like a smacked arse, he looked straight through me and said “I’m leaving” and numbly I said “ok then”.
It’s a bit weird when a relationship comes to an end isn’t it. I don’t think either side actually wants to be the one to do the chucking, because there’s no sure-fire and easy way to do it. You set your goal on doing the dumping and being out the door without any drama, injury, fuss or comeback, but the other person is hell-bent on convincing you it’s true love and to give it one more shot. I’m totally in hysterics as I think back to the first time my heart was properly broken as a young teen, just a week before my ex’s birthday and I’d already bought him his presents. After bawling down the phone and begging him to see me one last time, I turned up at his house in a short skirt and boob tube, those were the days, convinced that when he opened his Armani watch, yard stick of jaffa cakes and card filled with hearts and sex toys he would realise what an amazing girlfriend I was and all would be forgiven. Alas I enthusiastically watched him uneasily opening his presents in front of me in silence, much like a victim being aware of his panting stalker behind the bush, his face was an absolute picture of despair and nerves the poor guy. The tension of not knowing what to say to me and the anxiety of his mum returning home from work at any moment to make his tea was tangible. And after seeing his gorgeous watch and still wanting to dump me, in all fairness he took my hands, stood me up and gave me a really nice hug, you know one of those wholehearted ones where you really bury yourself into somebody. And I stood there like a bit of a plank all rigid and awkward in my most impressive six inch heels thinking “So you don’t want to be with me but you’re now hugging me like you love me? What the hell?” I walked away without looking back and with a sashay in my heels and mini-skirt to show him what he’d lost, and then I parked up in a lay-by about a mile away and cried my eyes out for the rest of the afternoon. As you do. We went on to have an amazing relationship as friends with benefits and I later discovered he’d dumped me because he had a long term girlfriend who I knew nothing about the entire time. And that’s why you shouldn’t date in different area codes!
The first person I dumped was shortly after that, as I’d been seeing a guy for a few months, we were getting to know each other, going for dinner at Macdonalds and Pizza Hut several times a week and strolling hand in hand drinking alcopops through balmy summer evenings. I needed a memory card for my then mobile phone which was some kind of brick from the millennium and held a total of seven dark and grainy photos. He told me his friend worked at a local store and could get discount, so we took a drive over and upon greeting his friend he introduced me as “Tracy, my girlfriend” and my dinner almost left me standing. Yes I liked him, yes I fancied him and yes we were having fun, but where did that come from? We’d not even discussed the L-word, that’s love by the way, nor introduced each other to friends and family to classify what “this” actually was. And something inside of me just panicked that he was moving faster than I was ready to, I thought we were still getting to know each other, taking things one step at a time and seeing how it goes. And as I looked at him absolutely petrified he smiled back at me doe-eyed with our fingers entwined clutching my hand. Eek! That evening I told him we’d be better off as friends as I couldn’t see it becoming a relationship, and he hugged a teddy into his delicious six pack and called his mum to come over. Bless him.
And finally I thought I’d found love aged 18, I felt warm and safe and happy with somebody, we both shared the same sense of humour, sense of adventure and love of partying and we were so close and lovey-dovey in quite a sickening way to others I’m sure. But as time passed my feelings faded and he continued to be adorable and kind. I realised that he was putting far more into the relationship emotionally than I was, and it seemed so unfair for me to be there when I couldn’t match the same enthusiasm that he showed me. So I said sorry, and I told him I didn’t feel how I had once felt, as he deserved somebody to love him back unconditionally in return, and his words to me were “Nobody will ever love you as much as I do” and he was bloody right!
On the other hand I took being dumped very graciously this time and didn’t move a muscle as he made his exit, I didn’t instil any guilt or protest, I just let my ex go because that’s what he wanted. It probably helped that it wasn’t the first time he’d dumped me, as three years prior he’d sent me a text message from work one morning along the lines of “It’s not working out, I want to be on my own” before going straight off to pester another girl and spending each night after in strip clubs getting drunk with his mates or playing Call Of Duty in his pants at his parents. Wow, I’m entirely blind to a good man aren’t I, but how many other twenty-something year old guys are probably doing the exact same thing right now? Scary! At 24 I was upset but young enough to get over it and appreciate that life goes on, however a few months later, said ex declared his undying love for me and promised me marriage a family and future, so I stupidly took him back, and he was the only ex I have ever un-ex’d so to speak. I should have realised then that it didn’t work for a reason. Fast forward another three years and with his engagement ring on my finger and my breasts deflated from weaning his carbon-copy son, he was dumping me again. In all fairness, at least this time he had the guts to leave me in person, albeit without managing to make eye contact and having to call a taxi from outside the front door so he didn’t have to wait around and explain his decision. Because lets face it, that would’ve been pretty awkward sticking around.
In my opinion, from having been both the dumper and dumpee, I think I’ve come to realise how relationships work. When you start out in dating you have a huge heart with arms open wide, you only really have experience of your parents love which is pretty intense, unconditional and wholehearted, which makes you fall in love quickly, sickeningly and very over the top. From immediately saying “I love you” to speaking to each other a million times a day, feeling lonely without them and getting unrealistically upset or emotional about the smallest indifferences you both have.
The more times you break your heart, the more level-headed you get though, although it can easily sway to the point of not using it at all. You almost learn to disconnect your heart from your head and identify the Mr Right’s and Mr Right Now’s. This is when you realise the potential of being the dumper, to see when something is wrong and to decide to walk away rather than stay and desperately try to fix a sinking ship. I don’t blame my two ex’s for dumping me in the past, as I’ve been the dumper more than I have the dumpee and I can sympathise with both sides. At the same time you have to realise what doesn’t work and know when to walk away in order to appreciate and fully understand what does work in a relationship. Trial and error. Suck it and see. Ooh behave!
I’ve never fell out with ex’s, or at least never stayed fallen out if it ended on bad terms, as after the storm settles you come to realise that if someone wasn’t happy being with you then it’s unfair to expect them to live a life of misery and stay just to please you. They weren’t right for you, they’re not the one, so move on and you can both find true happiness elsewhere. Love isn’t a punishment, it’s a blessing and when you find true love you have to do all that you can to cherish and respect it. So as an unmarried twenty-something year old I now find myself observing other couples and it is the most fascinating thing ever. Facebook is hilarious for noting relationships and behaviour, and in a non-weirdo way, I very often find myself laughing in relief of being well away from it all.
It’s not my intention to please or offend anyone, as I’d simply like to share my observations on relationships with you so I will do so in a very general way. Anybody I know who may suddenly panic and think that I am speaking about them needn’t worry as it’s nothing more than a coincidence if you fall into any of these categories. You may also think that I’m incredibly close-minded and stereotypical, and you may be right. But each to their own, as we must all have an opinion mustn’t we? These are the main reasons why I believe relationships fail and why people find themselves single.
The Insecure / Ignored / Jealous Partner
So the first kind of person I would like to begin with is the insecure, ignored and jealous girlfriend. We’ve all either being one or known of one, and it’s such a frightfully painful box to find yourself in. Girlfriends can be jealous and insecure over many things, including those that don’t produce breasts. From a boyfriend loving his car too much, to going out too often with his mates, obsessing over the gym or apparently flirting with other girls, literally if it’s not us then it’s against us. You’ll find us doing the psycho girlfriend face when presented with a situation that we don’t like, this is either in the form of being incredibly stone-faced moody, looking hideous like a slapped-arse or imitating a bulldog chewing on a wasp and saying “I’m fine” a lot. When women get jealous we tend to be sharp with our answers, sarky, narky and aggressive and men can sense it like a hammer, or stiletto heel, to the head.
When boyfriends get jealous they tend to emanate testosterone like a peacock on steroids. Men are ridiculously territorial, even if they don’t particularly like the territory or partner that they have. But if they have it then they’ll sure as hell not let anybody else come anywhere near it. Like a vulture guarding a rotting carcass, they’d sooner piss all over it simply to deter other men rather than actually love, respect and protect it in order to keep it safe by their side. Men are just as bad as women at being jealous, and they show their disapproval and insecurity by acting enthusiastically uninterested when asking questions such as “So how was your night with the girls then? Was there a lot of you, all out in one group dolled up were you? Did you see anyone out we know? Did anyone ask about me? Did they all leave at the same time as you then?” They literally can’t shift the uneasy, fussy-nonfussedness until you talk them step by step through every aspect of your night out without them, because as men they know exactly how neanderthal and obnoxious they are themselves to groups of girls on a night out, and it eats them up to think that other men are doing the same to their girlfriend when they’re not around.
Jealous girlfriends often believe that giving their boyfriends a taste of their own medicine will show them the error of their ways, and they delight in flirting with their boyfriends friends, random men in the street, the postman, milkman, pensioners and salesmen embarrassingly in front of their other half. You can spot a jealous and neglected girlfriend a mile off as she’s often the one wearing a push up bra, with too much lipstick on her teeth, gallons of perfume and hellbent on receiving acknowledgement, compliments or admiration from other men. She’s probably fake laughing at everything anyone with a penis says, constantly looking for excuses to touch mens arms and thighs, and being almost antisocially attentive, even if it’s during a discussion about football or computer games. They normally look like burnt out Kat Slater’s and you can spot them a mile off as they are the only girl in the room that their boyfriend isn’t interested in.
Jealousy can also lead to your partner checking your phone, emails, pockets, car and genitals on a routine basis, which is why you should shower daily, take out contracts on two phones and always take a taxi. Or not. It depends on your pain threshold.
The Boa Constrictor / Under The Thumb
I’m going to put my neck on the line here and say that it generally tends to be the men in a relationship accused of being under the thumb. And when I say accused, I mean their jealous and immature mates feel left out and inadequate in their own relationships, so they try to make them believe they’re hard done by and should spend more time away from their girlfriends to sit and drink beer, leer over slappers and play Call Of Duty online with them on a school night. Men take being accused of being under the thumb with startling offence, similar to insulting the size of their manhood. In turn this leads to them treating they girlfriend with utter disrespect as they crave the approval of their childish male friends instead, hopelessly trying to prove to “the boys” that they don’t need to answer to a woman, and spending their free time sitting in pubs and swearing about shoes and floral wallpaper.
In reality the accused under-the-thumber seems cool and hard on the surface to his peers, but nervously clock-watches as he finishes his pint before his cock-sure mates, rushes straight home to his beloved missus and guiltily showers her with kisses, hugs and a possible motorboat or cunnilingus. He tells her how much he loves her as he settles down on the sofa to watch X-Factor, probably with a facepack, perhaps a block of low-fat cheese and certainly a glass or two of rose wine. Because the under-the-thumber knows that he isn’t under the thumb, as he has chosen his role as the helpless male, preferring his kind-hearted girlfriend to wash his socks, make his breakfast, pack his lunch, service his pipes and buy and wrap his presents and cards for his relatives birthdays that he would have otherwise forgotten. He needs his girlfriend far more than she needs him, but over his dead body would he ever let his mates know. He probably sniffs her hair when she’s sleeping and sings love songs to her on her voicemail at work to balance out his bad-mouthing guilt.
The Boa Constrictor on the other hand is the epitome of an arsehole, constantly snapping and talking absolute shit. The boa constrictor generally tends to be a partner nearing the end of a relationship or a freshly demoted ex. They believe that they are hard done by, that they have a right to make ridiculous demands and try their hardest to prevent anyone from being happy without them at all costs. From starting fights with people they believe to be potential competition, to controlling what their partner wears, where they go and who they’re allowed to associate with. They’re usually emotionally unstable, jealous, immature and make sad-sap excuses in order to guilt trip you and justify their ridiculous behaviour. Boa constrictors don’t tend to survive for long once fully grown as they either crush their partner to death or ended up carted away.
Best Friend / Breast Friend
It’s a pretty special and priceless thing to find yourself with a partner that totally completes you, you finish each others sentences, know exactly what the other is thinking, share the same sense of humour, taste in music, dress sense, bathwater and cutlery no doubt. You’re so happy as a couple that kittens probably skip over to you and lick your faces on a daily basis. But happy isn’t always sexy is it? It’s not dark, mysterious or dangerous in any shape or form, and happy can easily become bland. Being safe, secure and on track eventually pisses all over passion and fire, leaving a soppy wet mess in its wake.
The best friend that you once had in a partner can easily develop in one of two ways; you undoubtedly love either other as people but are no longer excited or actually still in-love with each other as a couple. Or one of you clearly puts more into the relationship than the other, which makes them end up as more of a parent figure than your lover. Hence breast friend. A woman wants to stimulate her man with her ample breasts, not routinely give him bitty instead of his dinner before bed.
Self Centred / Sun Damaged Sphincter
When the sun shines so intensely every time you bend over I’d imagine the delicate skin of the derrière could easily get quite tender and require the constant application of plenty of aloe vera, which is probably why the self-centred partner pouts and checks the mirror so much. There always seems to be that one person in a relationship that has ideas above their station, you know the one that looks like a 6 but wholeheartedly believes they’re a 10. Despite being in a relationship with a devoted and loving slave of a partner they’re constantly keeping one eye open looking for the BBD, that’s the bigger better deal. They believe they can do better, but simply stick around in their relationship in the meantime so as not to be alone.
They are inexplicably deluded and 99% of the world can see it, aside from the partner they are with who worships them religiously, suffering their health, bank balance and sanity all for the minuscule discarded tid-bits of their attention that listlessly falls their way. You can spot a sun damager firstly from the way they walk, like their arse has been damaged, in men it’s typically a swagger or false ape-like limp and in women it’s an awkward high-heeled teeter as they have no ability to walk in the neck-breaking height of their ridiculous shoes. Shiny sphincters also gather around shiny objects and mirrors, you’ll find them flocking in the gym taking selfies or posing in nightclub toilets for Facebook profile pictures.
The Peter Pan / Barbie Doll
This is possibly the worst yet most common trait in a potential singleton as it can easily stick with them a lifetime. We all know a Peter Pan, the boy who never grew up, they generally tend to hold their mothers hands and buy them Valentine’s cards or share a bubble bath. Nine times out of ten they have their mum and dad saved in their phonebook as “Mummy” and “Daddy” and prefer computer games, toy cars and ridiculous trainers to romantic evenings, a mortgage or raising children of their own. Afterall, if Peter Pan had a child then he wouldn’t get away with being 9 forever would he? They generally tend to fear responsibility, laugh like Bevis and Butthead and obsess over childhood and “bringing back the good old days”. Incapable of growing up and forever trying to have a laugh, their lifelong friends resultantly move on and settle down without them and the Peter Pan is left smoking / drinking himself to death on a park bench.
The Barbie Doll is frightfully intriguing as you can’t help but wonder how a person can be so incredibly shallow and false. You don’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry, to actually accept that they exist in this form or to take pity on their partner. The Barbie doll is a girl who has no clue about her life or identity, so she takes to the shelves of Boots to cake herself in copious amounts of foundation and false eyelashes until she can no longer move her face nor blink. You can normally identify a Barbie from her straw-like badly dyed peroxide hair with dark black roots and classy false French or neon pink press on nails which she buys in a bumper pack. Barbie’s generally tend to “play dumb” but the majority really aren’t playing, as they’d struggle to gather enough GCSE’s to rub together to start a fire in a B&Q carpark. They adorn themselves with cute bright pink outfits, mini skirts, perfume, feathers, small dogs and bright lipstick and generally speak like a mouse or baby because they think it’s cute. Barbie’s aim to be looked after, physically, emotionally and financially. A bit like playing Princess dress up as a kid but it goes on for the rest of your life. They are the initial trophy girlfriend that turns into a chewy toad as they age, and when their manufactured looks fade, as they always do, what’s left behind is nothing more than a hollow, helpless and confused child incapable of life and solely dependant on others. Barbie’s may be fun to play with initially, but wait until their hips break and their hair falls out and you’ll be glad she signed a prenup.
Taking all of these observations into account, at one point or another in my life I can recognise myself as all of these to a degree. So I thought I might ask the wonderful people of the world to judge me, from different genders, cultures, ages and upbringings from far and wide and to ask them to tell me why they think I am unmarried at 27 with two children. When I became a single parent I had a bit of a midlife crisis and went from a frumpy boring mother of two to an energetic, fun-loving bodybuilding female, which very quickly led to an online social media following of 600,000. As you may have noticed, I have filled this post with pictures and selfies from my Instagram of Tracykissdotcom, which is what people will undoubtedly use to judge me. So here are the very interesting uncensored results in all of their glory be them good or bad. What are your thoughts? Mine are in orange.
Someone as beautiful as you not to be married could mean your either fussy or smart @tracykissdotcom
-I’d like to think smart!
I think a husband would be jealous and not want his wife posting provocative pics everyday.
-Future husband, is that you?
You appear to have time for you a lot, ie no one else taking it up. Which makes me think yr single
-Perhaps I should post more pictures of my two children? I get about 6hrs to myself a week, usually past 9pm if I can manage to stay awake.
maybe your standards are too high… the guys who are attractive enough to catch your eye tend to also be assholes
-I have no partner demands or high standards, if anything I’ve always dated who I deem to be non-assholes for that reason.
It could be you’re high maintenance. Maybe out of your mind insane. Or you spend all your free time with family and working out, that you never go out to meet anyone. Being gorgeous doesn’t mean you get asked out all the time. There’s a few reasons maybe lol
-I have a lot of responsibility as a single parent and I don’t expect others to do it all for me. I workout to maintain energy and stamina to keep myself going at it alone, and as a single parent I don’t go out socially a lot to meet others. Very observant!
As a person of wisdom and beauty u know what type of person u are and have yet to find someone on the same level as u in every aspect of life. Or u so complete u don’t need another
-This made me smile incredibly!
Marriage is about 2 people looking after one another, now you come across on here as happy being independent as as someone else remarked, busy and content in your own world etc. Granted you’ll get plenty of dates, but a marriage ’till death do us part’ Well for that kind of length of time the man needs to feel some vulnerability from you for him to nurture.
-I’ve learnt not to show weakness, not to complain or weigh others down and be a burden. If a man helped me and looked after me I’d probably pass out!
Maybe you can’t seem to find someone that has few enough distraction to dedicate the time to you that you want.
-I don’t ask for much, a hug once a week and to say hello to me. It depends on what a man deems to be important in his life, and I don’t need to be the pinnacle of that, just a small part of it will do as I have my own life.