“As we drive along this road called life, occasionally a gal will find herself a little lost. And when that happens, I guess she has to let go of the coulda, shoulda, woulda, buckle up and just keep going.” Carrie Bradshaw.
As an independent woo-mayn making her way through her twenties (YES, still twenties) one car crash at a time, I like to take some inspiration from unlikely sources. Sure, the Dalai Lama and Gandhi made some good points, but so have John Mayer (guitar God) and Carrie Bradshaw (totally fictional). I like to think that these two are the King and Queen of modern-day problemos, and for this reason I arm myself with their words in the stickiest of situations.
So today I am talking about the veritable minefield that is modern-day dating, and how at certain crossroads in your life you ever so slightly long to be your grandparents so you don’t have to worry about the are they/ aren’t they discomfort that people refer to as relationships.
I love to read posts by The Redneck Princess and Brooke and McKenzie about dating, nutters and loonies, and the ones that we sometimes happen upon that are actually worth the bother.
“After all, computers crash, people die, relationships fall apart. The best we can do is breath and reboot.” Carrie Bradshaw.
My friends have a metric to measure my interest in a man. They ask me “How is your boyfriend?” If I reply through gritted teeth that the particular individual that they are referring to is not my boyfriend then they know that I’m not particularly bothered, or will most likely lose interest pretty soon. If I seem a little more happy when I utter these words then it is assumed I actually don’t mind spending time with that person.
This was however, disputed, when I carried on saying “He is NOT MY BOYFRIEND!” until the week before I moved in with ex-boyfriend, when I had to concede he actually might be. And we all know how that worked out.
In olden days, dating was an easy subject. There was no awkward questions of exclusivity of how soon is too soon to introduce to friends, as you were only ‘courting’ one individual, if they were courting anyone else they were seen as a veritable cad, and the key to your chastity belt was released from the safe on the day of your nuptials, as you were passed from one man to the other. Thank goodness that’s over! And in times before that, you were clubbed over the head with a stone age baseball bat and dragged off to sweep the cave and arrange the pebbles so that the neighbours were jealous.
I recently read about a recognised dating technique adopted by the women of New York city. I’m not entirely sure how true it is, but it was called the Hob Theory, and the mentality behind it was that girls would have four different guys on the go. They would ‘move them about’ so that if one was a bit full on they would move him to the ‘back burner’, cooling things off and giving them time for someone else. I don’t know about you, but i find it hard enough to juggle my time to fit one lucky lad in, let alone have the energy, effort or bother to find FOUR eligible bachelors and fling them about the days of the week like a juggler. But then again, those girls have to cope with a lot in the city that never sleeps.
“Some people are settling down, some people are settling and some people refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies.” Carrie Bradshaw.
So people. here’s to 2012 – another year of walking down the streets that are all leading in the same direction, to Mr or Mrs Right. As I tell one of my friends, they might not be round the next bend or even within the next few miles, but one day you’ll be in the same postcode. And maybe you already are! Mr Right might currently be watching the football in your flat or Mrs Right might have cooked you dinner; wherever you are in your life, don’t take it for granted. Happy New Year!