The kind of success I want now
Mumsie and I have found ourselves simultaneously single, which is most strange, not because I’m riding the solo train, but because Mumsie is a total husband magnet if ever there was one. Unfortunately, a couple of years back my step-dad was taken by cancer, so she found herself single by default, unlike me, who claimed the title through more traditional means, namely a series of childlike tantrums followed by a final storming-out.
We’ve both held this status for a few years now and often discuss the tribulations of being the eligible, well-to-do broads that we are. Such a situation clearly requires strategy, and so on many occasions we’ve broken down various game plans for catching ourselves future mates. None of these have yet breached the impenetrable walls of long-term commitment. Worse still, my own siblings have backed my mother’s ability to bag a third husband over my ability to secure a first.
“I’d put money on Mumsie being the next in our family to get hitched,” my older sister Rach announced, followed by a nod from my younger sister Jess, and finally, the reluctant agreement of my own head.
Despite Mumsie’s undeniable man-drawing supremacy, as someone who has trudged along single lane for far longer, I felt obliged to share my wisdom.
“For God’s sake, woman, put yourself out there. Men need things spelled out these days,” I told her, not at all gently. To further assist, I spelt it out for the wider male population too, with the words SINGLE TO MINGLE printed across the front of a T-shirt, and her face plastered on the back.
Bribery and relentless encouragement ranked highly as tactics, as did the idea of gently suffocating prospects into submission with the emotional pressure of a Spanx suit.
For a while, Mumsie took to these words like a fish to water.
Realising the odds were now firmly stacked against me, and unbeknownst to Mumsie, I decided to broaden my market. Alongside hunting a partner, I began pursuing my dream job as a full-time creator. Much like my romantic endeavours, I attempted to force momentum. Inflating bios. Padding credentials. Pushing for outcomes.
Initially, this expansion brought a sense of relief. That was until Mumsie arrived home one afternoon with news of a new man friend.
“We’re just going with the flow,” she said, laughing like a schoolgirl. “Seeing where things take us. We are exclusive though.”
None of the strategies she mentioned appeared anywhere in my carefully constructed game plan, which made me wonder whether I’d been going about things all wrong. How, exactly, does one allow something to grow naturally, rather than through determined pursuit?
After a run of bloke-snagging setbacks, I decided to trial this gentler approach with my creative work. And, surprisingly, within a week the results were noticeable. Without the end result as my primary focus, ideas arrived more easily. I still planned and strategised, but there came a point where I began allowing movement and change rather than attempting to control them.
Although I’m yet to launch my small business or make my first sale, this approach feels far less exhausting, and I’m hopeful it might gather a more sustainable momentum. And given the promising results so far, I can’t help but think that when I eventually unleash these superior wrangling tactics on the male population, I might finally give Mumsie a run for her money.
