It's All Groovy, Baby

I'm entering my shagadelic era and no-one can stop me

Have you seen the start of Austin Powers?

If you haven't, I'll be brief. Austin, a highly renowned secret agent, and International Man of Mystery, has just been defrosted after having been cryogenically frozen for the sake of the nation 30 years earlier, lest his nemesis Dr Evil ever returns. And he is thrilled about it. Not the freezing part, obviously. Sounds chilly. The defrosting bit. It's 1990’s London and the getting is good. He is 10 movie minutes away from meeting an extremley young and busty Liz Hurley, and he is having the time of his fucking life.

He asks the world at large: “Do I make you horny, baby?” and, you know what - he DOES.

Women want him and men want to be him. Soul Bossa Nova plays as, buck toothed and full of the joys of life, Mike Myers as Powers parades through the streets with carefree abandon, absolutely dripping in animal magnetism and clothed entirely in blue pin-stripes, hob-nail boots clickity-clacking confidently on the sun-soaked pavement, before he somersaults into an expensive open-top car and is driven away by a beautiful women who he will presumably have incredibly athletic animalistic sex with.

Yeahhhhh, baby!

International Woman of Mystery, I am not. My love life is on the internet for all to read and I primarily split my time between London and Kent. Hardly very international, or indeed mysterious. Yet bespectacled, and fond of a necktie and dancing ebulliently in the street, I am. And recently, also much like the promiscious British spy, life has been going incredibly well for me. Movie-beginning well. The sun has been shining, the birds have been singing, and God - it seems - has been very much on my side.

Queue Soul Bossa Nova.

Channelling my inner Austin Powers on the dance floor

Yet, I had a brief moment last week where I questioned myself. Things have been going well. REALLY well. And the anxious side of my brain decided to pipe up, like the rat-bastard it is.

‘Are things going simply too well right now?’ it asked. ‘Isn't this a sign that something is bound to go horribly, terribly wrong?’.

Nooooooo. Bring back Austin Powers, dancing in the street, and sex with Liz Hurley! I knew the good spirit couldn't last.

And the good in my life, as of late, has been across the board. In the early stages of dating if things are simple, if they are easy, this is - more often than not - an extremely good sign. And this has been the case over the past month and a half. The person I am seeing is not only very handsome, but also intelligent, charismatic, stimulating to be around and, most importantly, extremely kind. Not to mention jaw-droppingly sexy.

Likewise, a recent job offer was better paid than I had anticipated, in a good location, and full-time in the office - which is something that is important to me. Added bonus: it is a role that I find incredibly exciting. And yet the good fortune persisted still. The place I am living in is affordable, peaceful, and surrounded by lots of greenery. I am seeing my friends regularly, going to exhibitions and shows that excite me and, on a personal note I've never felt more confident. I have also never felt sexier.

But that morose niggle at the back of my brain persisted. It was almost as though, the better things got, the more a tiny part of my subconscious wanted to convince me that it wouldn't last. As anyone who has struggled with self-esteem knows often, even when we are at our most happy, our past insecurities can be our worst enemy.

It would be easy to wait for something to go wrong. To indulge that little, sad, internal voice. To feed its anxieties with doom mongering and pessimistic prophecies. Twenty-something life by it's nature is unstable: dating, job-hunting, finances, living arrangements, self-image. None of these are set. So when things do go well, it's easy to wonder when the next unstoppable change will come, and which arena it will come in. It would be easy to stand on the rug and constantly wonder when someone was about to pull it out from under you instead of simply enjoying the texture of a very nice soft rug underfoot.

However, although it does come with all this rug-pulling potential, being in your twenties is also the most exciting time ever. We will never be this young and hot again. Full of wonder for the world and running head first, full-pelt into each new opportunity with open arms, eager for the adventure.

So, I'm leaning in. This is my Austin Powers era, and I simply won't let anyone stop me from being my most shagadelic self - least of all, me.

Life is groovy right now (baby), and I'm just going to sit back and enjoy it.