A good friend of mine, let us call her Sarah, has lately recovered from a broken heart (in fact, everyone I know seems to be recovering from a broken heart these days) and she is now venturing back into the world of dating.
Dating. Us Brits don't really do dating do we? Its very much an American thing. We're amateurs. We like the idea of dating but none of us really know how. We're awkward, we pretend it's not really a date, we avoid talking about why we're there, we get drunk, and either hop into bed or politely part ways.
Sarah met a guy in a cafe. He’s a waiter, he flirted, she flirted, he asked for her number, she gave it to him, texted back within a sensible, non-desperate time period, arranged to go out to dinner with him, made herself look pretty. When he came round, he came in, had a glass of wine, they talked, then he got naked and demanded a blow job. Naked! Demanding oral sex! Crazy naked blowjob man in her lounge!
Sarah is a girl with her own issues, but she’s trying to function and move on, and she succeeds most of the time (other than a rather odd dysfunctional friendship with her ex, the Heart Breaker himself, who calls her several times a day to discuss a funny cloud he just saw or some such nonsense, but doesn’t want to be with her, its just because he doesn’t have any other friends)...anyway for better or worse Sarah decides to give Crazy Naked Man what he wants, (she’s a liberated woman, right? she’s comfortable with herself and she likes sex) so she does, and he finishes, puts his clothes on, says “I have a girlfriend so we can’t do anything else” so she’s like, annoyed, obviously, but she says “ok well, how about we be friends?” and he says “no thanks I have enough friends”, and leaves.
We don't 'do' dating. We do random hook-ups which may or may not lead to more hook-ups, which may or may not lead to a relationship. Do you know what Sarah said to me at the end of this sad and sordid tale? She said “I was actually relieved, glad that it was all over in a few hours. Because that’s what all relationships boil down to, whether they last three hours, three months or three years. You withhold sex for as long as possible, because you’re essentially bribing him to get to know you in the hope that he’ll stay, then you give him what he wants, til eventually he’s satisfied and then feels free to act like a complete twat, puts his clothes on and leaves.”
Now there may have been some pointers that he wasn't a Good Sort - the inviting himself in, getting naked and asking for oral sex would be an indication - and I don't think hopping into bed together on date 1 was necessarily an ideal start to a relationship, so this is an extreme example. But it was her attitude of mildly unsurprised disappointment that shocked me. I have to believe in better than that, you know? I have to believe that some men are good, and kind, and honest, and have morals and don't use women or cheat on them. I just haven't met any yet. I think I shall shortly start dating again. (I met my last boyfriend online dating. As previously mentioned he turned out to be a cowardly swine. I am a glutton for punishment). When I do, I shall do so with far greater care for my heart than I had before. And I'll blog about it incessantly, natch.
Sarah is now going to give lesbianism a try. Seriously.
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