I’ve finally realised something that I’ve been trying to put off for some time, and that’s the fact I’m getting old. OK, being 35 isn’t the end of it all, but when your own mother says, “Oh, you’ve started going grey” it’s hardly something to jump up and down and start celebrating now is it? Another thing I’ve notice is the explosion of hair growth in my nose, so much so that you could almost call it a small coppice. I’m sure during the night I can hear a babbling brook echoing somewhere in my nasal cavity.
It’s something I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about for a while, and perhaps that’s one of the reasons why I’ve started searching for my soul mate (plus a better job with more pay – but that’s a completely different story all together). I also suspect that my hormones have rallied around for one last push before they decide to call it a day and retire to Bournemouth.
I’ve also noticed that a large number of women on the dating site put their cut off ages as 32 or 34. Now, I’ve never felt the forces of ageism before, but that certainly hammers home my advancing years and it won’t be too long before I’m wearing an orange overall and working at B&Q. Still, I guess my few grey threads may make me a little more distinguished and appealing as, judging from things so far, it’s hardly what I’d call a successful venture.
Oh, and as for an update. It’s currently 108 rejections and counting. Right, time to send a few more messages before I put on my slippers and have a cup of hot chocolate. Oh-oh…
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