As I'm sat here relaxing on a Friday night, waiting for my fake tan to dry, with freshly painted nails ahead of a hen do weekend followed by a girly getaway to Ibiza, I'm feeling really quite happy and content.
It's just me, the cats and a bottle of Pinot Noir. Peace, quiet, and tranquility. And I feel extremely lucky to have it.
At the age of 36, I've had quite a few relationships and endured a pretty disastrous marriage.
I was with my now-ex husband for 7 years; married for just one of them before I realised that marrying him was a mistake and we split. Back then, I didn't have much self confidence, belief or worth. Which unfortunately meant putting aside what I truly wanted and needed.[instagram]https://www.instagram.com/p/BE1d-r-i0i_/?utm_source=ig_embed&utm_campaign=loading[/instagram]
But eventually I grew sick of getting home from work at 10pm and having to cook dinner because he couldn't be bothered. I was tired of paying more rent than him, and constantly lending him money. I hated cancelling plans with my friends because he didn't want to socialise with them, which ended up alienating me from my social circle.
And I'd absolutely had ENOUGH of the jealous and possessive behaviour he exhibited, almost always without foundation.
I'd kept my feelings secret for almost two months because I was too afraid to address them. When I eventually did it, it was hellish. I felt defeated; I'd lost my job and my grandmother within weeks of the marriage split. So I let him back in, and gave it one last shot (another mistake), but I was vulnerable beyond belief.
We split for good, so I moved, by myself, to the South Coast for work.
Fast forward to 5 years later and here I am: divorced and single again, after an 18 month relationship with a man eight years my junior. He was the opposite of my ex, a breath of fresh air and a lovely guy, but immaturity got in the way.
Most of my friends are either getting married or already are, with a couple of kids too. Of course, I'm extremely happy for them. But I'm also extremely happy to be on my tod.
It's a common misconception that if you're a single woman in your 30s, you must be miserable. 'On the shelf', like no-one will want to touch you with a barge pole. But the way I see it, that couldn't be further from the truth.
I have a wonderful career as a radio presenter and blogger, a group of friends that I adore, and a family who are ruthlessly protective of me no matter what. Sure, my life is far from perfect, but in terms of my relationship status, being single is totally right for me at the moment.
There's no arguments, disagreements or typical other half habits that drive us all insane. Plus, I don't have to deal with any man coming home drunk, smelling like a distillery and proceeding to snore loudly next to me. I definitely don't miss that. I can sleep DIAGONALLY now, and I don't have to wear earplugs for the first time in years.
I can't tell you just how refreshing it is to be able to come home, close the door and enjoy my own company. Maybe it's selfish, but it's right for me right now.
And I'll find the right person when I'm ready, but I won't hurry myself up because society's telling me to.
It's 2016. Things are radically different now. Single girls in their 30s are NOT carbon copies of Bridget Jones. We don't sit there listening to miserable power ballads, nursing a bottle of Chardonnay, stinking of cat pee (we clean it up before it starts smelling, obviously) while being destined for a life of wallowing in self pity.
We have exciting careers and social lives, the no bullshit attitude of Madonna, and we smell expensive. We feel and act younger than our years because we can. And why not? Men have got away with it for years. Move over lads, it's our time now.
We don't have the same insecurities as we did when we were in our 20s. We have enough life experience to know what we want and what we don't want. We're more secure and confident than ever.
So why's there such a need to make us feel like crap about it?