“I’m so tired of being alone, I’m so tired of on-my-own…”
I’ve always considered myself a bit of a music guru, well informed about all things lyrical, and not just deep but broad too, kind of like an amateur encyclopaedia. So you can imagine my shame when I heard The Rev for the first time, on Ally Mcbeal. There I was, self proclaimed lover of all things R&B and Soul, childhood graduate of VoK/KBC’s “Beat Time’, ‘Sundowner’ and ‘Late Date’, long time fan of John Obongo Jnr, of Pat Shange and Yvonne Chaka Chaka, of Quincy Jones and Freddie Jackson, hell I was making mix tapes before they invented the double deck player… I was the shit! At least I thought I was. Up until a skinny white woman (more accurately, the writers of a show about a skinny white woman) introduced me to Reverend Al Green . My life has never been the same since.
What I need you to do, if you haven’t already, is click on the play button on the Al Green track in the soundrack section to your right. Have you done it? Is it playing? Because this story only makes sense if the song is playing while you read this. Incidentally, if it refuses to play I apologize, technology is no friend of mine. Well, that and I got instructions on how to set it up online from some random Indian dude (not the Pakistani spammers, unfortunately), something may have gotten lost in translation. Moving on swiftly, is it playing? Good, let’s proceed.
I’ve been single for close to four years now and in that time I have oscillated between complete denial (‘I’d rather be alone than unhappy!’) and utter despair (‘I’m going to die alone!’), the severity of my mood swings and subsequent foolish actions depending on either:
- the number of engagement parties/weddings/anniversary dinners/happy couple events I’ve recently attended
- the amount of red wine in my system
- my hormones
- all of the above
But in all that time, at no point have I ever, ever said to myself ‘I’m lonely’ or ‘I need someone in my life’ or any other such like sad pathetic rubbish. No, I’m an independent woman, my life is full of interesting things and people, I have a (somewhat) successful career, I don’t need someone to…wait for it…complete me! Yes, I was alone, but I was never lonely.
That’s a complete load of crap isn’t it? Because if I wasn’t lonely, I wouldn’t keep trying to fill the void with a bunch of ‘friends’ I had nothing in common with, save for a fondness for cheap booze on Saturday night. Or chasing men I couldn’t/shouldn’t/wouldn’t ever have. Or getting slightly crazy over unsuspecting idiots who wanted nothing more than a brief fling, and there I was getting them fitted for morning suits (for the impending nuptials). Or constantly going back to the ex to find out ‘why it didn’t work between us’. Alone my ass! I was lonely, so lonely I was borderline desperate, but only borderline. Something had to give, and quickly, before I did something truly stupid, or reckless. And so I decided to look for a man, with seriousness, because it’s like The Rev says, ‘I’m so tired of being alone…’
That decision was made about 8 months ago. I went out and I met some men, some nice, some not so nice, all completely fucked up, but considering how I met them I can’t really say I’m too surprised (long story, another day), and besides, I’m not entirely stable myself, am I? I’ve met short men and tall men, skinny men and large men, blonde idiots and overbearing intellectuals, men so boring they bring tears to your eyes, men so pretty they bring tears to your eyes, religious men and at least one man I am convinced worships the devil… you name it, I’ve met it. Sounds great no?
Problem is, I’ve realised I was better off alone.
You didn’t see that coming did you? You thought I was going to sit here and wax lyrical about this one lovely man I’ve met who has made me…say it with me…complete. Ha! As if… No, I’m afraid the last few months have convinced me that I was better off single and not searching, because, and I need you listen closely here, being alone, and lonely, is much, much better than being fucked with. Don’t you agree?
Let me tell you about some of the men I met, then you decide…
Let me tell you about some of the men I met, then you decide…
There was the older dude who was so serious I constantly felt like I was taking an exam when I was with him. Seriously, I had to read all 5 papers daily, watch Al Jazeera Satan ). I realise its odd that I couldn’t tell the difference, but he really was very peculiar, and large, and constantly hungry, and he licked his lips when he stared at my bosom, not in a good way. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, I’ve already told you about disappearing dude (who just for the record is still being a complete twat), and I’m saving ‘no baggage’ dude for a rainy day, he was classic...
What’s my point? Dating in this city is difficult and tiring, and not entirely productive. I’m all for getting out there and meeting new people and such like nonsense, but where are all the normal people? I’ll admit, when I first began the search I had a list of unreasonable demands, sijui 5’10” or taller, professional career, no wife or kids, well read, likes music and good food, hates white shoes, blah blah blah… But once I got out there, I quickly realised that perhaps I was asking a bit too much. One chap actually told me that I shouldn’t bother asking for anything, I should be grateful for whatever I get. Idiot! Now, I’ve revised and adjusted and all I want is a man of slightly above average intelligence, who is not married and doesn’t smell too bad. Is that too much to ask? Stop nodding. Either way, I’m going back to my lonely hole for a couple of months, I’ll rest up, detox, try and shake off the crazies, and then I’ll give it another go. How much worse can it get right?
Assuming you read as fast as I do, you should be about 2 minutes into the song by now (if you read slowly dont worry, you can rewind, its not live). Stop reading and listen, this is where he takes it home. Brilliant no? Thing is, I used to listen to this track and get a woiyee twinge, I’d start thinking ‘I think I need a man…’, but no more. What’s changed? Well apparently The Rev wasn’t always The Rev, he only turned to Jesus after his married lover tried to burn his ass with hot oil, and then proceeded to kill herself, this after he refused to marry her. Yes, I’m tired of being alone, but not hot oil tired.
