Never Been Kissed, Fifty First Dates…Voluntarily or forced, we have all watched movies noted for there overwhelming slap in the face topic…finding love. These films come out three or four times a year and give is an introspective look into the complex system we have of dating. In our minds, we see a guy, who likes a girl, and asks her out. We are deluded, it rarely happens like that, so where has this idea/ideal come from? It isn’t a lie, of that we can be sure. But the dating process does not happen in this land. It isn’t a case as some think, that we have changed old fashioned words such as courting and pairing, we have jut thrown the motion of dating out of the window, approximately the moment Bacardi Breezers were invented.
So where has dating gone? More importantly, where is it happening? We all want a piece of this – finding love over the phone or hunting down a girl/guy you saw on platform three whilst sipping your mocha choca latte. It comes down to three things:
Behaviour,
Discretion,
Confidence.
Dating is like playing a game of poker, you have to show a few cards and keep a few cards to your chest:
‘I’m punctual and employed, but I’m holding obsessive and sexual deviance.’
It isn’t a lie not to tell your date everything, but you have to pick and choose what information you give away about yourself.
It is incomprehensible that the Americans and Australians are able to find themselves able to get on a date every week if they want. They speak the same language as us, but they engage with each other in a completely different manner. They have such love and joy about everything and anything, especially meeting new people and taking a genuine interest in them. I stayed with my family in Melbourne over the summer, and got absolutely ridiculously drunk one evening. Despite the fact I wanted to take my shirt of and go dancing, in a self-induced ridiculous frame of mind, my Auntie just looked on with love and pride, seeing me flawed and faulty being lifted to bed on my Grandma’s Stanna chair lift. Beautiful. If this had happened in England…. ASBO. We are victims of pettiness and misery fueled by our cynicism about each other, lover or not.
Our American and Australian friends are excelling in every aspect of personal well-being; good health, a balanced work/home relationship. This has lead to less single people, an increase in marriages and a decrease in separations. And it started with a date!
We don’t date anymore, because it involves us presenting ourselves as perfect, soba, like we're saying, “Do you want to mate me, I think you do?”
We want to present ourselves on that date warts and all (well not warts…that might be a bit awkward) unlike Australians or Americans they meet, they go for pizza or coffee, but not us. I’m not talking about seedy one night sex, I could be talking about the love of ones life, but we can’t present ourselves without going over to someone completely hammered, numb and mauling our way through some incoherent ramble. I wish we could have a slice of the Americans confidence.
“If I like a girl I ask her out, even if it’s lunchtime, who cares?”
Try that with an English accent and a British bulldog guy asking the question;
“Jackie, do you wanna go for some pizza on Wednesday?”
“Back of Dave, that’s a little bit rapey.”
The Prince and Princess fairytale scenario is seen as too drippy and nostalgic now. If we have trouble going to the ball, it is not for lack of a dress or transport, it’s because we’re too pissed to get out of the front door and the taxi is late.
Girls from eleven to fifteen are proof that we are the most radical, sinister creatures on how relationships with the opposite sex should be. When a girl is eleven all she wants to do is sing and dance for her Father, she is Daddies princess. By twelve she is just about interested in dancing for her Father and lining up her Barbie’s in age order.
Then, Thirteen, first boyfriend, over the park, Chlamydia. DEPRESSING.
We have to start to ask more from each other, and expect more of ourselves. Valentine’s day has come and gone, and if like me you were drinking bottles of blue nun and taking rohipnol like they were smarties it is time to make a change!
This year is a year to date. So build up the courage to ask out someone who you would only dream would hit you with baseball bat.
Finally, I can leave you with ‘Dear Deidre’ letter I had a few weeks ago, because sometimes dating does go wrong.
Dear Chris,
I went on a date with a guy at work, and now he keeps sending me emails telling me he wants to give me something that will drive me wild and insane, I don’t like him what shall I do.
Well, I wrote straight back to her and said it could be rabies or thrush so it was right to keep clear of the psycho. Don’t let some clerical assistant ruin your weekend love, save it for the boss.
Chris McGowan
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