Currently Crushing On

28.1.15

My Single Self

As I bask in the warm glow of romantic bliss its easy to forget about my turbulent singleton days. For a period of around 18 months following the end of two very long-term relationships and I mean long-term; there was "ring-chat." I found myself single and carefree at twenty-one. With zero dating experience and having spent the winter alone living on a farm in deepest darkest Cornwall drinking Gin and writing a lot of bad poetry I decided it was time to throw myself into dating before my season of solitude extended to full blown spinsterhood.

I purchased a matching underwear set, read "The Game" by Neil Strauss and practiced my "Negging" technique on emotionally repressed army commandos before embarking on the most stressful, terrifying, hilarious and enlightening period of my life. A time during which I wish I had known these things;


PoF is a bad idea




I was somewhat naive about the whole PlentyofFish.com endeavor. I assumed that dating someone online was just a means of fact checking your witty replies before you chucked them out into the ether. Plus SATC had led me to believe that internet dating was stylish and chic.



I entered the world of internet dating as a social pioneer, studying cyber mating rituals from an anthropological angle hoping to engage Mr Right by discussing deep and intellectual shared interests. Instead I just received a lot of very graphic sexual messages from unseemly individuals demanding that I supply photos of a more nude and gymnastic nature. I also received several invitations to take part in group sex activities and what, in hindsight, was probably a recruitment pamphlet for an evangelical cult. 



Next came the resulting succession of disastrous face-to-face dating endeavors with suitors of the decidedly UNsuitable variety. In retrospect I now recognise that PoF is a place a great place negotiate dubious sexual encounters, not the place to find a nice boy to take home to your mother. Mainly because I did indeed take one home to my mother and he was quickly judged to be "a waste of space dickhead."





The "Friendzone" is prone to escape attempts 



The term "Friendzone" is defined by the Urban Dictionary as:


"Male status attained after you fail to impress a woman you're attracted to. Usually initiated by the woman saying, "You're such a good friend". Usually associated with long days of suffering and watching your love interest hop from one bad relationship to another"


And that's pretty much the situation I found myself in on a few occasions. As much a men seem to moan and commiserate with each other regarding being placed in the "Friendzone," please take a minute to appreciate the poor women who put you there. Trying to remain friends with someone who maintains a relentless campaign to have sex with you is tricky, especially when you suggest distancing yourself from them and they state that to be worse than the original act of friendzoning. Basically you're a bitch whatever you do. So if you want to stay friends with someone who is secretly planning your wedding in their head then just make sure you don't get tricked into;

A. A "Platonic" Cinema trip where you'll have to fend off the age-old "arm around neck" situation - personally I was more suspicious of a rohypnol in Diet Pepsi scenario
B. Dinner where you'll be mentally bullied into letting them pay and then labelled "A user" for relenting
C. Any situation where you might fall asleep near them giving them free reign to sniff your hair, touch your hand or just generally stare at you uninterrupted









You will not have to "fix" Mr Right





FYI young Milly, the guy you settle down with will have been cheated on in the worst possible way and will still miraculously remain a thoroughly decent person in spite of this. He'll also never once use it as an excuse as to why you aren't allowed to wear that mini-skirt you like or why you can't talk to your childhood friend because he happens to have a penis. 



I spent quite a lot of time during my late teens and early twenties adhering to rules regarding my dresscode, appearance and even who and who was not deemed to be suitable friends by partners who were quick to bemoan their cheating exes for the their controlling, dictatorship behaviour. Guess what? Being cheated on by an ex doesn't justify jealously controlling your future partners. If someone can't keep their legs closed it's more of a morality issue and not letting them wear fake tan or stay out past 11pm isn't really an going to change that. 


In the same vein I would also like to say to my single self;

"Please stop entertaining Dickheads who stay over, eat all your Special K and then disappear off the face of the planet for weeks afterwards. They are not vulnerable or emotionally damaged they are just plain old-fashioned Dickheads, no matter how many exes did the no pants dance with their best mate."

I have witnessed numerous friends making allowances for men who have blamed their shitty behaviour on being hurt by an ex and therefore justify treating said friends with total disrespect. Ladies if this is sounding familiar please do not put up with it, there is no excuse for treating someone badly because you were hurt. Remember: You will not have to "fix" Mr Right.







Going on Three dates in one day won't be fun 




As someone who now counts a 12 hours sleepathon as the "ideal Saturday night" I have absolutely no idea how I managed to date in the abundance that I did when I was single. Dating to me meant one thing, no not that. I'm on about free food and usually wine too if I could wangle that. My graduate salary usually only stretched to 20 Richmond menthols after I'd paid my bills so dating seemed like a nice sensible way to avoid malnutrition. I usually started to get a bit peckish by mid-afternoon at work and so a templated text would be rolled out to interested parties. This also at one time led to an awkward accidental group chat incident when I forgot to copy and paste to suitors individually, an error which made me put my head down on my desk cringe so hard my boss actually asked if I was poorly and needed to go home. Nope thanks just dying of awkwardness. 


Being as fascinated as I am with human behavior and social boundaries and having noted the bleak contents of the fridge 3 days prior to payday I once decided to attempt to go on three dates in one day. I think the rationale was that I hadn't heard of it being done and had taken it upon myself as some sort of self proclaimed dating pioneer to test the waters for my fellow single ladies. Guess what? It turned out to be a really really bad idea. Aside from the geographical aspects of a round trip to Torquay for breakfast in a car with decided dicey brake pads. The lunchtime aquarium date was so awkward and uncomfortable that I'd more or less decided to cancel the evening one and just chuck myself into Europe's largest shark tank then and there.  The evening date did somewhat redeem the whole endeavor, due more to the novelty cocktails then the company and I excused myself early due to exhaustion and the dawning realisation that dating wasn't as fun as Carrie Bradshaw made it out to be. 








What would you tell your Single Self?








Photo Credits to: http://iheartsexandthecity.tumblr.com/

4 comments:

  1. Epic! I love this! Even though I'm not single! 💖

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I definitely don't miss my single days!

      So much admiration for the girls out there in the scary dating world

      Milly

      xx

      Delete
  2. This was hilarious!
    I keep telling myself I'm single purely because I don't have the time for a boyfriend. I hardly have time for work, friends or netflix. A boyfriend too? Just no, I'll have molecules thanks.

    Rachael at broomfie.blogspot.com

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Haha! Your reply was hilarious "I'll have molecules thanks" PMSL

      Milly


      xxxx

      Delete

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