As a female, I feel like I’m genetically inclined to say that I’ve always dreamt of a Prince Charming who will whisk me away for a night on a gondola, whilst he plays John Mayer on his acoustic and arouses all of my senses, whilst feeding me calorie free champagne and cheese.
Don’t get me wrong… I totally wouldn’t say no to that, but chances are, after we made average sex I would lay awake wishing I was home cuddled up in bed by myself and a good Audrey Hepburn movie. I would leave without leaving my number, unless he was amazing – then I would be all up for the booty call, but if he was average… I’d leave without a trace and be sure to take my glass slipper with me.
The truth is, maybe three years ago, I was the girl who dreamt of getting married and having ten beautiful ginger babies, and riding into the sunset on a golden chariot. But as I get older and some what wiser, I become a lot more cynical. I also realised that my chances of meeting the one who would put up with me are increasingly slim.
I tried dating again at the start of this year, and actually haven’t been on a date since about February .. which would normally be a sin for a single girl, but to be honest, it hasn’t phased me at all. After going on a couple of pretty average dates, it made me question why we bother dating at all?
I mean, why spend $100 + on food, drinks, movies just to figure out if this person is worthy mating with?
I don’t even know if I want to reproduce, or if I even should – let alone if someone else wants to make babies with me – Ultimately that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Searching the world for a soul to make you feel less lonely at night.. and to .. reproduce with.
No one wants to be alone, but I feel pretty secure with my puppy, friends and family around me so don’t really feel that I have a lot of space for some stinky, sweaty, man bear to invade my bed and snore all night. So why would I bother dating when I’m not even ready for the progression of dating to a relationship? Why would I bother wasting my time… But for arguments sake, say I decided to actually go on a date with someone.
If I want to date someone I’m in two different mind sets; part of me wants the all out romantic candle lit dinner but the other part just wants pizza, a movie inside and couch sex. The thought of having to get super dressed up, spending hours on hair and makeup and then crying when I realise I can’t fit into my favourite LBD any more, sometimes is just the start of the traumatic evening. While the thought of staying in just eating pizza and watching a movie, is good – it can get boring and tiring very easily (not to mention the amount of weight that’d be added). Sometimes I want to be in public and I want a man to shout me food and drinks and make me feel like he only has eyes for me, even if Miranda Kerr walked right by. Unfortunately, I don’t even know which mood I might be in by nightfall, just ask my ex, so chances are, whatever you pick will be wrong anyway, and I’ll probably just be wishing for the other.
So say I reach the point where I’m on a date with a guy (don’t laugh… it might happen again one day!) I can guarantee that I’ve already face-stalked them, Googled them and pretty much know everything about them (if I don’t do it, one of my girlfriends will… I’m looking at you Katie). Which is super fun when you’re trying to make conversation and what they’re telling you, you already know, or you accidentally let it slip that you know that their pet cat’s name when they were three was Mr Foo Foo Bear.. and the following day you have police coming to your house issuing you with a restraining order.
I find that I’m never really honestly myself on the first date or second date anyway. I mean, I am honest in my answers and conversation, but I have to bite my tongue A LOT to hold in the verbal diarrhoea, you know to avoid telling them about the time I scooped my own pee off the floor. However, this rarely works and I end up using little one or two line awkward jokes, like… “I feel like I need a dick to get any service around here..” which are never actually funny, usually involve vulgar language and add no value to the conversation.
After being brought up as a strong, independent woman and also dating a string of poor uni students living off centrelink, I’m so used to paying for my dinner or my share of the date that I do not know how to accept that a male might actually want to pay. So in the process of fighting for the rights to pay, I usually end up offending the poor soul or scaring the shit out of him because he feels as though I didn’t enjoy the date or that I am emasculating him.
Then we move on to the age old debates of ‘do you kiss on a first date’ and ‘how many dates until you get nakey together’. I’m really shit at reading body language and 9/10 times when a guy leans forward for a kiss I’ll mistake it for a hug and he ends up with a mouthful of my hair. On top of this, I enjoy sex as much as the next person but don’t really get a lot of it (by choice.. I swear). So if the date has been pretty shit, I’ll probably just want to sleep with them so I at least get something out of it… or if the date is really good, chances are I’ve had one too many red wines and I’ll want to sleep with them because hell, why not?!?
Yeah… back to the start of this blog.. I’ve decided it’s not that I don’t understand the point of dating – I totally get it and it sounds great. I don’t understand HOW I am meant to be capable of being ‘dated’. I’m just a relationship retard and dating disaster waiting to happen. However, practice makes perfect apparently.
So after almost a year of being happily ‘dateless’, I’ve decided to give it another shot… luckily, I’ve already told him the pee story (though he was too drunk to remember) and he is well aware of my verbal diarrhoea so hopefully, he knows what he’s in for.