On the hunt for my Beau-tie

It’s started: wedding fever. Unfortunately not mine. This would have been a very short-lived dating column if it was!

Over the last few months two very close friends of mine have got engaged to their boyfriends, and both have their weddings planned for this summer: one weekend after another. The invitations arrived just before Christmas and the dates are firmly in my diary. I am so over-joyed and happy to see these two people I love get married into wedded bliss. I also love the chance to get dressed up smart and pop on a trendy bow tie.

But even with all the smiles and celebrations, there is one tiny thing that has been nagging me: neither invitation contained the offer of a plus-one. The weddings are in July, five months away, so surely there is every chance I might have met someone by then? I could meet someone tomorrow and fall head over heels in love and want to bring them? I could, couldn’t I?

I mentioned this predicament to a few colleagues in the pub after work the other Friday night. They have been serial wedding guests over the last few weeks, so I was sure they’d understand my point of view.

‘Well why would they offer you a plus-one’, my soon to be ex-friend slurred with a gin and tonic in hand. ‘You’re the party boy, Dan! You’re there to get the party started, to get drunk and try and snog the best man. I mean, it’s not like you’re looking to settle down or anything, are you?’

I paused for a moment. I smiled off the statement and nodded in full agreement, whilst feeling anxious inside. Yes, I attend lots of parties through my job, and never say no to a night out; but do I really come across as a ‘party boy’? Do people really assume I am up for anything and not looking to find a relationship? More importantly: is this the impression I give men, and thus am I tarred as unsuitable boyfriend material?

To keep the conversation flowing and stop my inner monologue doing a Carrie Bradshaw with tourettes, I laughed off the statement and joked at my inability to hold down a relationship. Such fun. Not.  I haven’t been in a serious relationship for 18 months now; not a ridiculous length of time, but still enough for me to have substituted the time I used to spend in a relationship with parties and booze.

The other weekend I happened to attend the fifth anniversary of some dear friends of mine. They filled the upstairs function room of a cute pub in Greenwich with friends, laughter and love. It was perfect. They both gave heart-felt speeches, sharing their love and happiness for one another with the rest of us. It was beautiful and meaningful and I felt so honoured to have been a part of their day. I was, however, slightly overcome by a desire to do a Thelma & Louise if I’m still single at their tenth anniversary.

After the party I joined a few of the fellow attendees for a big gay night out. All good looking, single men up for a dance and a drink. Fellow party boys you might say.  We were out drinking till the early hours and I walked home as the birds were waking up. It had been a night of laughter, booze and bouncing. But as I walked home I realised at no point did I particularly think about chatting anyone up. I didn’t encourage any advances or flirt or dance with the blokes in the club. I was content having a few drinks with my friends. I didn’t need anyone else.

Is it a sense of independence, or am I building up walls to stop myself getting hurt again? All I know is that another month has gone by and I’m still going to have to attend these wedding without my beau-tie.