>Lament of the Loner (or Lonely)

>Alternative title:  One is the Loneliest (or most expensive) number

I need a break.  Not a holiday, per se, but a break. In other words: It doesn’t have to be additional time off work. It could be something I do in a weekend. And it definitely can’t be expensive… I’m watching every pence in anticipation of Moms and Harv coming over.  It doesn’t have to even be all that bloody interesting… just somewhere away for London for a day (or two) and then I can pretend that I “got away from it all” without breaking the bank, as they say.

So last night I went online and thought I would find myself a cheap weekend city break type deal. Of which there seem to be bajillions. Some of them looked awesome. Some of them I could afford. Some of the ones I could afford looked half-way interesting.  Some of them checked all the boxes on my must-have list of something to do this weekend (note: “all my boxes” = cheap, bug-free, out of London).

But alas, there was an issue with all the “deals” that I was most interested in (read: could afford). Sigh.

Don’t single people travel in this fucking country or what?

It really burns my potato that I had no issue at all getting transport and accommodation for one all throughout Asia but try to book one night for one person in fucking BRIGHTON and that shit won’t happen. What the eff, Britain?

The most infuriating were the “spa breaks” – almost all of them are for two people only. I mean, what’s the benefit to me? I get how you benefit, Mr. Hotel. But if I’m having a relaxing day of massages and shit I don’t want to hear anything but the sweet nothingness of solitude, you bastard.  I don’t want any gossip or other chitchat and I don’t want to spend the day in a bathrobe with a friend. And I don’t know how I would feel about dating a guy who was into going to spas. The jury is still out on that one.

The worst were the deals that were flexible enough to allow singles to partake in them… by tacking on a bloody £50 surcharge. WHAT. THE. EFF. It should be cheaper for one, a-holes. CHEAPER.

So, anyway. I ended up not booking anything. First, I don’t really know what part of England to go to. I thought it would be nice to go somewhere near the ocean (which I miss) even if it is raining. But I don’t which seaside towns are good and which ones are, in fact, abandoned movie sets for horror films that went straight to DVD.  Then, additionally, I depressed myself because apparently no one but me wants to (or has to) travel on their own.

Somehow I ended up needing a break from planning a break.  Maybe I’ll just get a bottle or two of wine and go get trashed in a park instead this weekend. I’d still get to indulge in some (semi) fresh air and forget all about the week. Right?

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