Over the past year I have dived tongue-first into the quite frankly MENTAL world of dating while other normals my age are settling down with children and carpets and meals that involve actual vegetables and cheese as an ingredient not a food group or a topping for chips. Weird.
I’ve therefore documented my findings as an ongoing study of dating and the weirdness that it involves (i.e. the single male), and have thus categorised said recent findings into a handy check list of dating do’s and do not’s. Or okay, go on thens. But still, you get my drift…
The Toxic Boy
Ahh, the Toxic boy, also known as The Band Boy/ The Model/ The Tortured Artist. Number one on my list (and unfortunately in my life). God of Sex yet a total fuck wit. Identified by shag-me hair, Wayfarers and love bites from the last three girls he has been in love with so far this week. Generally distracted by shiny objects; may feel the need to ‘play’ you like an instrument, sketch you in a public place or write you a poem in their own blood. Semi-famous/ sons-of-band boys/ up-and-coming new wave dubstep poets will rock your world to it’s inner core… then disappear into a downward spiral of self discovery in the Cotswolds while you’re left paying the leccie bill. Annnnnnnd you’re back in the room.
The lesser spotted genuine geek
On paper he has quirky potential. In real life he is about as exciting as a hungover Sunday in front of Channel 5 eating cold pizza. May almost pass for ironic geek chic, but beware – behind those Rayban geek frames are actual NHS lenses. Occasionally worth it for novelty value but when the conversation turns from hard ons to hard drives it’s GAME OVER, my friend.
His idea of a lovely day out involves hair stroking, poetry, and if feeling daring a cheeky trip to Jack Wills. Usually found south of the river, usually near water with impeccably quaffed hair and excellent sunglasses but easily confused and may try to call you by your surname. Will treat you like royalty but will bore you royally too. Your mum would love him. Reason alone not to go there.
Ahhh, the ones who are cute/ funny/ gorgeous but WILL NOT LEAVE YOU ALONE. Jeez. Singing under balconies a la Romeo and Juliet – not in front of my flatmate, ta v. much. And I’m as mental as the next girl but flowers, two emails, six tweets, a text and a couple of ‘likes’ on Facebook to boot – all before the first date – is a little much, even for me. ‘Go offline…’ = wise words indeed.
AKA Mr Right Now, also known as ‘a proximity shag’. Anyone whose attractiveness increases with closeness to your gaff is probs not gonna be around in the morning to stroke your hair and spread your Marmite.
Boys found face down on the floor outside your tent at festival fits into this category. When it’s that close – it’s sometimes just rude not to (note for future reference: attempting a fumble in dark tent with a Barbour jacket is tantamount to shagging tarpaulin. Not highly recommended).
The God (but totally unattainable/uninterested)
Essentially the opposite of the afore-mentioned Desperate Dan. He’s gorgeous, heartflutterlingly flirty and his wit makes you ROFL all over him. And there’s the genuine, GENUINE connection. He just doesn’t seem to see that. Or remember how cute you looked when you saw him last. Or how funny your cheesy jokes are. Or care about you that much, really… You’re better off just giving him a call to remind him; drop him a text maybe; ooh – perhaps send him a picture – and a couple of tweets – and his Facebook status was SOOOOOOOO funny… Oh hang on, what’s that? He’s just gone offline… *ahem*
So, I’m DEFINITELY not in a position to give dating advice – believe me I’ve been beaten around the back of the head with ‘the bitch book’ more times than I care to remember, and to noooooo avail at all. And in fact, usually by the very girls that spend 2am on a Saturday morning screaming expletives into an answer phone to a boy who hasn’t texted back in the last two hours. Or convincing me (themselves) that the reason he’s gone off the radar for the last month is due to work/ nan issues/ cats intolerance to milk etc etc.
Instead then lets all indulge in a collective LOL about the fickle world of dating. The idiot boys and the mental girls (in this case, me) and hope that if nothing else we can learn from mistakes we make, or just realise that actually being a batty old spinster cat lady is a viable alternative to the plethora of buffoons currently on offer. And in fact- florals, clashing leopard prints, ponchos and red hats, do quite become me…
– A guest post by Amy Rycroft. Follow her shenanigans on Twitter