Sorry, *the one* is not a real concept.

After too-many moral-numbing pints, while simultaneously hoovering up tequila shots like it was nobodies business last weekend, my friends and I had a post-night out cat-fight regarding the concept of *the one*.  The subject has since been bubbling and now I am throwing my two pence into the mix.  I do not think, for me, the one is a permanent fixture.  It is, instead, an ever-changing, ever-adapting state of mind.

Whether you are curled up on a sofa, secretly kissing your friend under the covers in an almighty rush of forbidden lust, drunkenly slobbering over one of your work colleges in the middle of a nightclub dance-floor, or are happily four-years deep into a loving, monogamous relationship – aren’t they all instances of the one?

The one at that moment. The one you are giving your body, mind or heart too at that very time. The one who holds your attention the firmest at that present period.  The one you want to rip the clothes off, or the one you want to grab a Sunday dinner with.  You physically and mentally grow every damn day, and so do your likes, your dislikes and everything in-between.  So does your version of the one.

So, why are we so hell-bent on *the one* being that single human being who we are going to spend the rest of our lives with?  Why is there so much pressure for every boyfriend, every girlfriend, every person’s genitals you ever put your lips too, to be *the one*?

I have fancied a truckload of people, too many to even remember.  I have yearned for some of them, been down dark alleys with some of them, and simply admired a lot of them from a distance.  There are humans whom I have been hung up on for months (clicking online/offline on MSN still did not get them to notice me), others who have been a story to tell my gal pals the morning after and ones who will forever stay sacred and secret.  There are those who remain lodged in my head, and those who are gone with the wind.  But at one point, they were all the one. 

For me, personally, the one is fluid.  The one means a whole host of things.  The one who was the best companion, the one who was the most supportive, the one who could still snog well when they were drunk (my intoxicated kisses will never fall under this umbrella), the one who lights up my life, the one, the one, the one… 

The one is a concept I have been fed my whole life and frankly, I do not believe and I do not concede.  I have a boyfriend who I adore, I have friends who I would die without, I have celebrity crushes and I have those that got away.  They are all the one.  Some of them won’t always be, but at some point, they were my version.  Ever-changing, ever-adapting – the one is never static in my eyes.

4 thoughts on “Sorry, *the one* is not a real concept.

  1. ‘The one’ to me means ‘flavour of the time’. The one can come and go or can stay forever. ‘The one’ is the favourite at the time – at the cinema a new film can be ‘the one’ until.the next nrw film you enjoy is released! Then that one becomes ‘the one’. The only thing in my life thst will continue to be ‘the one’ is my hubbly bubbly hubby. Righto thats enough. Chow for now xx

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