Being single, for many of us, is a gloriously peaceful and fun place to be – go easy on the matchmaking, please

Maybe leave single people with their snout in a crisp bowl alone to enjoy themselves – not all of us want to go into the ark two by two

Few people imagine you are single because you want to be (Getty Images)

The other day, having drinks in a garden at a friend’s house, a woman I had met that evening sidled up to me and said, “I hear you’re single, you MUST meet a friend of my husband’s. He’s single, too!”

I should point out that at the friendly gathering, I had been scoffing crisps and necking wine, laughing and having fun. At no point had I sunk to my knees and wailed, “I’M GONNA DIE ALONE” to prompt this bizarre assumption that I wanted to stop having a nice time in order to make plans with this woman whose name I hadn’t caught, to potentially copulate with her friend.

I asked, “What kinks is he into? I’m up for most things but not scat” (look it up). Turns out this isn’t a socially acceptable question to ask someone who has taken it upon themselves to arrange a marriage for you. The woman, slightly revolted by me, shuffled off with a “no wonder you’re single” look on her face.

Admittedly, she meant no harm and was just being a bit clumsy and insensitive, as we all can be. My deliberately inappropriate answer may have caused her offence but I was actually saving her from what I really felt which was, “I don’t want to meet your friend because I’m not a carefree sprite looking to fall in love, I’m a tired mum with a huge plateful, currently in twice weekly therapy and the absolute last thing I want or need is to have another human in my life who is going to leave his shoes in the hallway for me to pick up.”

Few people imagine you are single because you want to be. “But you’re AMAZING,” some shriek. “It’s a CRIME that you’re single!” say people who don’t really know you from Adam (who is also single now, I hear). You can’t really know if someone actually is amazing just from attending a barbecue which they are also at.

Now that we are slowly being allowed to socialise again with strangers, it’s a good time to have a little overhaul of socialising etiquette. Being single, for many of us, is a gloriously peaceful and fun place to be, so maybe leave single people with their snout in a crisp bowl alone to enjoy themselves. Not all of us want to go into the ark two by two, some of us want to remain untethered.

Besides, when someone has got a fair bit of mileage, it’s best to wait for them to tell you they are looking before you try and introduce them to your mate who is 48 and has never been in a long term relationship before. (It’s always those guys they have in store for you. Always.) You just don’t know what their situation is, what state their heart and mind are in. Maybe they are heartbroken and healing, maybe they are really happy being on their own and investing time in friends and family and don’t want a partner. Maybe they don’t want to be treated like a puppy in a rescue home, “We’ll find someone to love you and stop you from chewing your own tail! Just hang in there!”

We need to look again at acceptable chit-chat. All my life I’ve growled when I’ve heard “never ask a woman her age” because I’m a real stick in the mud about opposing the notion that unless women are young, they are of no real value (unless you need something to eat or need something knitting). We don’t all feel that way about ourselves. I love getting older. It’s very exciting to not be dead.

There are far more pressing questions not to ask. For example, never ask a woman if she has children. Apart from the massive intrusion into her life choices and circumstances, there is no need. If a woman has children, whatever age she is, she will mention them. I promise. Within a very short time of any kind of conversation. So if she doesn’t mention them, don’t ask. Putting someone in the position of explaining themselves to you is awkward, annoying and can be hurtful.

All that said, I’m finding normal chit-chat tricky to fall back into. Like most people, my world has got much smaller in lockdown and though at first I missed the glorious chaos of my previous life with its endless amount of new people to get to know, I am now terrified of going back into it all. When another dog walker asks me how I’m doing, I tell them. I’m not good at small talk at the best of times and even more frequently these days I walk away from a conversation worrying that I’ve overshared and if “how are you doing?” WAS meant literally and if the owner of the poodle really wanted to hear the complicated ins and outs of my colorectal issues.

It’s when I hear, “Ah well, it’ll work itself out, I’m sure. I’d best be off. There’s a patch of grass over there my dog needs to sniff,” that I think no, they probably didn’t.