A Nightmare Dressed like a Daydream

Blank Space

Dating is like getting a pap smear: uncomfortable, invasive, and for the modern woman; unfortunately necessary. I hate the performance of it all. The attempt at the Baywatch like hair flick, only to look like I have nits, laughing at all his mostly stupid jokes – but hey, it least that means I have a sense of humour and it’s not because I’ve said anything witty and hilarious, wearing stupidly high heels that give me blisters, and pretending to be the “cool girl”. (You know those “down to earth” girls that wear midriff tops, drink cider and don’t mind where they go?)

* *Ummm, yes I do mind because I don’t want to walk very far in these heels, I want to go somewhere where I can actually eat something and I’m highly organised, so more than a few hours’ notice would be super. Thanks.

But I can’t actually choose a location or text back straight away…god forbid if I come across as forward or demanding or the worst mortal sin in the dating world: high maintenance. I like to keep an up-to-date diary, sue me. It’s the constant up and downs that are exhausting: the ego boost of securing said date, to the “ugh, why did I say yes?” a few days before, to finally working myself up to a point of being so nervous that all my “nice clothes” are on my bed in a panicked fit of “I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR”. (I’m actually quite capable of dressing myself in a tidy fashion for any other occasion, so I don’t know where this comes from). And not forgetting after the date has finished; the feeling of being, well… whelmed. Not overwhelmed or underwhelmed, just whelmed. Like you feel in Europe. (If a guy said that on a date, I’d have to laugh at his hilarious 10 Things I Hate About You joke).

We’re always told to “just be yourself” on dates, “what can go wrong!” Getting friend zoned, that’s what can go wrong. So I thought I’d give this “just be yourself” shtick a go on a recent date. I was friend zoned quicker than I could say, “my social life revolves around the footy season”. Another point on this passion of mine which I like to talk about a little on dates, because you know it’s a passion of mine…If I have to explain one more god damn time the difference between rugby league and rugby, or what rugby league even is – I’m starting change.org petition for government funded tutorial sessions. You’re an AUSTRALIAN MAN. Pull yourself together, you’re embarrassing yourself. I don’t expect you to be passionate about it, or even like it, just know what it is. Please.

The Rules of The Dating Game are next level. However, my biggest gripe is that I don’t understand the idea behind not messaging back straight away (well I do, see earlier point about being perceived as desperate), but we all know that we all keep our phones on us like another limb. So, respond to my message in a timely fashion, thank you. Shockingly, I don’t have time to wait around for three days for a generic “yeah good, what did you get up to this weekend?” I also don’t think it’s too much to ask for a simple “great meeting you, I hope you got home ok” message the next day after a date. I feel it’s the polite and gentlemanly thing to do. Or is the done thing not be polite and gentlemanly? I’m obviously in fantasy land.

It wasn’t my intention to come across as all Blank Space or Fatal Attraction (pick your pop culture reference) but good intentions always seem to be misplaced. I just find the whole Game cumbersome, boring and largely a waste of time. But I have been told that dating can be fun, so I’d love to hear any fun stories….or horror stories! I invite you to comment below.


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