At lunch on Saturday, I was discussing with Laurie the first stages of dating. She’s engaged, I’m single, we’re both feminists who get into Facebook fights. It’s tough out here for a girl who just wants to be recognised as an equal and put an end to all the FB fights about ‘those darn feminists’ and ‘men are people too’! Anyway, segue aside: I’d forgotten that dating someone doesn’t immediately jump to the watching-series-on-the-couch-in-old-jammies-and-I-haven’t-washed-my-hair-in-a-week land. You actually have to impress people, at least for a little while. The shiny-I’m-not-a-real-person-phase? That lasts for…six weeks…right? RIGHT?
Right, pre-six weeks: I’ll make normal faces in photographs, I’ll even smile. My hair will be made of amazing unicorns and fairy tales. I’ll wear clothes that I washed on Sunday and I’ll even have on make-up (although sorely missing in this picture). My legs will be as smooth as butter. I’ll always smell awesome.
Left, post six weeks: Smile in photographs?! FOOL WHAT DO YOU THINK THIS IS?! A smile will be so rare you’ll be like, WHO IS THAT PERSON? WHAT’S WRONG WITH HER FACE? WHY IS SHE ALWAYS MAKING FACES? That jersey I’m wearing? Yeah, I’ve had it since I was sixteen. Yep, my nail polish is chipping and I think I washed my hair…at least sometime in the last seven days (curly girls will know my plight). I probably haven’t shaved my legs and I don’t really care if they’re bristley and scratchy. That smell? Yeah, that’s me. BECAUSE I AM A HUMAN AND I SWEAT. Deal.
Pre-six weeks: I’ll pay super close attention when I’m driving [hey mom, if you’re reading this, I ALWAYS do, mkay? stopreadingthisnow]. I’ll be super cordial and totally not swear. I’ll make sure the CD in my car is filled with only the coolest tunes, like so cool you’ll think ‘Shit?! Does this girl just have the best taste in music or has she been stalking my favourite bands on FB?’ (always the latter). I’ll be so cool and calm, hell, I’ll have written out directions before we leave and you’ll be stunned that I know exactly which building we’re going to (Google Maps street view, how I love thee).
Post six weeks: I’ll swear at least once every 5km, I’ll question (out loud) other driver’s intentions and where they are going and why they are doing it so slow and where they got their licences from and who their mothers are. You can bet the Biebz, TSwizzle or One Direction will blast out at some point and I WILL be singing along at the top of my voice (I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE WHEN YOU WALKED IIIIN). I’ll talk myself through parallel parking and question where the fuck I’m going. Out loud.
Pre six weeks: I’m witty, I’m awkward, I’m kind of charming. I read too many books and I know how to use big words. Generally I know where the commas go, I can spell lots of words, I don’t text speak in messages and I’m able to hold a conversation with people you want me to impress.
Post six weeks: I’m having conversations…with myself…about what I’m currently doing or need to do. I snort in laughter at terrible (tearable!) puns. I can spot a cat within 6 metre radius and am instantly trying to be its best friend. My overwhelming love for cats, pandas and unicorns (in that order) is apparent and you realise I’m really great at looking like I know what’s going on WHEN I HAVE NO IDEA. The cool façade is all but a distant memory.
These dating posts are kind of becoming spoiler alerts to dating me.
But for them to be spoilers, I’d have to have a date.