Faced with yet another single Christmas, I thought of all the ways in which my single status is actually an advantage:

Firstly, I don't have to splash out on expensive man-presents. Browsing the cashmere jumper rack at TK Maxx (no reason), I found myself glad of the money I was saving, especially being without a regular income at the moment. Whenever I have a boyfriend I spend far too much money on him, frequently getting him a present without receiving anything in return, or buying something much too early on in the relationship because I know he'd love it.
I like treating people I love, and usually have some good ideas about what to get for them- but I hate it if the boy, in turn, makes promises he doesn't keep, or turns up at my birthday without so much as a card.

KB kept promising me cashmere socks, but the only pair I actually received from him were an old and holey pair of his... Tall Boy turned up at my birthday with two cans of beer for himself to drink. Need any more proof that romance was buried alongside impressing a girl you haven't upset with flowers?

I know that if I had someone special to treat this Christmas, it wouldn't be a cheap December. I may be a bargain-savvy browser, but I also like to get more than one "special" thing for my beloved and would probably spend in the region of £100 on threads, smells, books and maybe jewelry.

The other good thing is that I get to flirt as much as I like. Despite a lack of work Christmas parties to go to in the absence of a normal job, there is generally a cheery atmosphere around this time, and a few invitations have actually flown my way. Such as Yacht Boy's dinner party last weekend (a bit uneventful, but I liked his friends and the food he'd made), and Tall Boy's upcoming office party (where, I suppose, we won't be able to help "coming out" to his colleagues).

What I will find hard, is being alone.

By that, I mean man- and childless.
At the shop job I am now doing in the run-up to the holidays, I find myself faced with "happy families" every step of the way:
A tall, green-eyed handsome man browsing for presents - his two-day-old daughter strapped to his chest, asleep. Then mummy comes around the corner of the aisle, loaded up with nappies and sporting a proud smile. I am surprised she is even up and walking! Good for her.

A glowing black mum with two adorable, curly-haired boys between the ages of two and four, she carries a third baby in a papoose, who is peeking out at me with big brown eyes.

Another couple with a cute little girl in pink, wiggling her toes at me from her pram.
Blonde-haired small girls in denim skirts and ponchos, holding daddy's hand as he whisks around the shop.

A baby boy held steady by his mum in a shopping trolley, unaware of his presents piled beneath him.

One of the supervisors at the store, six weeks from giving birth. "You must be so excited", I say to her, "is everything ready?". "The nursery is finished, my bags are packed", she replies, "but I am so not ready", stroking her expanding bump. "Is it your first child?" I ask her. "Yes, but my husband's second. He is much older than me, he's thirty". "And how old are you?" I ask. "Twenty-tree", she says.

Two little girls on the train home, singing "Alice, the camel" (who, apparently, has up to 7 humps) in cute, squeaky voices remniscant of the Chipmunks.

I count down the months on my hands. No way will I now have a baby before the age of 31. Not even close to 32 if a suitable candidate to father him or her doesn't show up on the horizon soon!