I love finding well-written articles online that speak to me. This article is what I would write if I was 30 and an art curator living in London. Who knows.....the 30 part won't happen. But London is calling. The last paragraph is my favorite.
Reprinted from The Sunday Times, no copywrite violation intended
Single because ... I’ve been having too much fun
Francesca Gavin, 30, arts writer and curator
When I came out of the cosy quietness of my last long-term relationship, I became aware my party days were running out. There was only a limited time to play and do stupid things without looking like that ageing thirtysomething slurring at the bar. You’re only young once. And I was in no rush to find a new relationship.
I’m naturally sociable, and, while I was aware of the underlying superficiality of party life, I had no problem making the most of it. I’m very adaptable. I’m also freelance, and had no reason to force myself up in the mornings. And the invitations poured in. I dived head first into the art world, with its flow of openings, dinners and biennials. I spent days sunbathing by Shoreditch House’s pool, drinking passion-fruit chilli martinis. I went to dirty clubs in east London so often that a Hoxton cab company started giving me a discount. I wrote a book about creative people’s homes around the globe and spent a year exploring Tokyo, New York, Paris and Berlin, making friends and work contacts, having decadent nights at hotels and dive bars, kissing creative boys who looked cute, but were emotionally underdeveloped and on the young side. In short, the past couple of years have been a never-ending trip of hedonistic fun. Not surprisingly, I’ve remained single, bar a few flings. It is rather hard to forge a relationship when you are in and out of the country. I meet tons of men, but they’re the ones preoccupied with going out — who just want a good-time girl. And my life can sound ridiculous to a bloke doing the nine to five. When it includes drowning in prosecco at the Bauer Hotel, in Venice, before stopping in Paris, then heading to Basel, how do you respond to “What have you been up to?” without sounding like a show-off?
I’m beginning to rein things in, though. At heart, I’m rather old-fashioned, and would be happy to settle down. I’m tired of finding myself in inappropriate romantic situations. And I am bored with the hangovers and the worry of what all this fabulousness is doing to my health. But the grass is always greener. I heard a story about a 70-year-old Parisian lady in the Marais, going to bars in her furs and being escorted home by twentysomething men. It didn’t sound that bad a future.
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