I made a throwaway comment on Facebook/Twitter today:


“Who needs a boyfriend when you have Netflix?”


It was meant to be funny but actually, the more I thought about it, the more I think it’s true.  I can’t wait to get home to Netflix, it always makes me happy, it never lets me down (although Breaking Bad was a bit glitchy last night, but we made up and I forgave it,) and it’s just soooo much less hassle than actually dating.


Isn’t it a sad state of affairs that I am actually comparing the two?  Since when did my lovelife become so depressing that I’d rather stay home and watch TV?  (Round about 2012 I think.)


Dating is hard work.  It’s messy, it’s never straightforward and quite frankly, it takes an awful lot of effort.  I come home from work EX-HAUST-ED … and the last thing I want to do during the week these days is faff around with a dating site, making the effort to actually talk to men who invariably don’t ‘get’ me … let alone the whole getting ready and going out thing.


*sigh*  I blame the weather … and David Cameron (of course.)  These days, I’m actually quite happy having a bath after work, going straight to bed and reading a book or watching whatever my new boyfriend (Netflix) has on offer.  Having said that, I’m sure that once the sun starts to shine again I’ll be back on the dating scene hoping that my last relationship hasn’t completely destroyed my faith in men.  Again.


That’s the thing about me … I remain resolute that there is someone out there who is right for me.  But there’s no hurry.


In the meantime, Netflix and I will continue to get to know each other.  I’ll check its recommendations out and bask in the gloriousness of Orange is the New Black just waiting for my undivided attention.  Netflix doesn’t want anything in return.  It doesn’t talk about its exes, or snore.  It doesn’t bore me with stories of cars or football.  It doesn’t fart as it gets out of bed.  Granted, it might not actually ask me about my day … but I know it would if it could.


So, until I pluck up the courage to date again, it’s just me and Walter White (and Jessie.)  A perfect menage a trois.




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