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'I'm The Life Of The Party But Inside I Have A Crippling Fear Of Dying Alone'

Photo credit: Zoya Kaleeva
Photo credit: Zoya Kaleeva

From ELLE

'Tell us another story.' Last year, I was sitting at a friend’s hen do in a bar when she introduced me to the group - none of whom I knew - as the wild one with the great sex stories. I spent the rest of the night making them laugh, sharing embarrassing tales of failed dates, drug-fuelled parties and crazy trips abroad.

Like a comedian taking the stage, I dug into my repertoire. This happens almost every time I meet friends of friends, or join a big group at a party or in the pub. It’s an unspoken role in my social circle; I am the confident, cocky person expected to divulge anecdotes that will make others gasp.

Photo credit: .
Photo credit: .

It’s exhausting, but I play the role, entertaining the masses with detailed accounts of the time I had a threesome in my kitchen, had an affair with a married man (I’m not proud of it, but it happened) or share one of the many recent romances I’ve had.

I’m also known for being fiercely independent, and confident. I have clawed my way up in a job that I love, I live alone by choice and I like spending time in my own company. I pay my own bills and I can count on one hand how many times I’ve asked my parents for help in the last 12 years. I’m a workaholic, and I’m good at my job.

Outwardly, both offline and online, I look like I have my shit together, but the painful truth is that inside, I’m terrified - of dying alone and of having no one to share my life with.

Most of the people I know are in relationships, so there is added pressure to show off how fantastic single life is, especially since we’re in our 30s now and society’s view is that women over 30 must have a ‘gives no f***s attitude’ and successful career, because otherwise, what are we doing with our lives?

Don’t get me wrong, my friends are lovely people. They simply don’t know that what they are looking at is a ‘persona’ that I have put together to protect myself. They don’t know that I use outrageous stories or do wild things - like that time I flashed a nipple to a bartender for a shot (he gave me two) - as a coping mechanism. They have no idea that despite my independence, all I want is someone to share everything with.

People in my age group are moving into phase two of their lives; they are getting married, having kids, buying houses, saving for their pension and settling down. And while part of me loves my life, the freedom and my job especially, there’s a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me I’m falling behind.

And that if I don’t hurry up, it will be too late.

Photo credit: .
Photo credit: .

I also feel a sting of jealousy every time I see photos on my Instagram feed of friends going to weddings or having fun on couples’ holidays. Social media can be the devil. I crave the companionship they have, the shoulder to lean on, the Netflix movie nights, but no one would ever imagine it. It all makes me feel incredibly lonely.

Almost every day, panic grips my chest at the thought that as we grow older and grow apart, my friends’ priorities will shift.

The voice in my head whispers that I am fundamentally unlovable and that everyone will move on, while I am left with nothing but great stories to keep me company. And since I don’t want kids, I am but a jump, skip and a hop away from hanging out in an old folk’s home, going months without visits from loved ones. When I think about that, I can barely breathe.

I even have panic attacks about it, made worse by the fact I suffer from anxiety, but I feel like I can’t tell anyone. Because if I say it out loud, then it might just become true.

It’s not funny and it certainly isn’t what anyone wants to hear from the ‘jester’ of the group.

The alternative to being the hilarious story-teller, the woman who appears to be completely comfortable in her skin and happy with her life - which I also am online and among strangers - is to watch pity grow in people’s eyes. And I don’t want the pity.

So instead I bring out the comedian and continue with the show, silently hoping that one day, I’ll meet someone too.

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