Now I’ve been single for ages. And that’s ok because I really just wanna concentrate on me and my rap career right now…
I have recently dipped my toe into the world of dating and discovered that it’s hard. Really fucking hard. And it’s oh so brutal! Apparently the way to win someone’s affection is to pretend that you don’t fancy them at all… because game playing is a HOOT! (said no one except that dickhead you’re pretending not to like even though you want nothing more than to French kiss them right now!)
I like to think that I’m tough… but my defence system when it comes to rejection is as weak and confusing as Andrex puppies having a dance off against the Evian Water babies… on roller skates. And my bravado of “I’m fiiiiine! No really I am! Let’s get drunk and eat fajitas fiiiiine!” is as ‘tough’ as a sandwich of squishy Haribo fried eggs.
Alas… despite all the signs telling me I am not cut out for the quest of slaying the dragon and rescuing the princess… and Cupid is pissing himself at my efforts of wooing anything with a vagina, I still would like to try. Even if I fail miserably then I wanna have a crack at smashing this dating malarkey with a giant fireball to the face!
Because for the first time in forever, sharing my time with someone nice doesn’t make me wanna soil myself with fear quite as much as it did… and that has to be a good thing… right?!
So as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death… Here are the 10 stages I had to navigate when I decided to mix it up and set about the mission I like to fondly refer to as… “OMG I'm so embarrassed but I really don't wanna die alone or end up marrying a taxidermy hamster for companionship.”
Gross! Dating? How very dare you even suggest such a thing! I’m an independent woman! I don’t need anyone to validate me! **insert numerous Destiny’s Child/Beyonce anthems here** It will happen when it happens. Dating/relationships/love sounds like effort. PLUS, the bitch will only cheat on me with Becky with the good hair… and then I’ll have to write an obscure slightly aggressive visual album about it.
Ok… so lemme just see what happens if I download this dating app real quick.
Wait – they need to verify my account via Facebook. Hell no… that’s another level of commitment right there. That’s surely a breach of my human rights... or something. I’ll just leave it and distract myself with food.
Ok get a grip. I’m signed up! I feel so brave and empowered! All these filter choices for my profile pic make me look like Aaliyah circa 1996. I’m so hot that I’m embarrassed for everyone else and their mediocracy.
Why is no one ‘liking’ my profile. I REFUSE to make the first move. It’s been at least 7 minutes. I’m over it! Pass me a jar of Nutella.
No seriously – what’s wrong with me?!! Why am I so repulsive. Why does everyone hate meeee! Maybe the filter that made me look Caucasian was a touch too far?
Shit – someone likes me and my ego has exploded. She looks crazy sexy cool! Bear with me as I overthink this and find all the reasons why replying is a truly horrible idea.
Aaargh – I’ve just replied! Cue eighteen panic attacks and setting my phone on fire due to irrationality and possibly too much Nutella.
She's got great banter and we’re off on a real life date! Stay cool…. Don’t be awkward and don’t fill the silence with panicked outbursts or racist jokes. I’m freaking myself out but once I’ve stopped throwing up with fear… I’m sure I’ll kinda like it.
Wake up next day confused, elated, hungover and anxious. Did I fancy her? Did she fancy me? Was it really necessary to leave my tongue in her mouth for such a prolonged period of time? What does it all mean?! I receive a text message… It’s her!
“You’re really fun… You make me laugh… BUT…”
I feel horrendous. Cue a meltdown of epic proportions likening my failed first date to ISIS and Ebola. Promptly delete dating app, Google cat adoption agencies and order a meal deal for 1.
Screw you – I’m an independent woman. I don’t need anyone to validate me!