Not my cup of tea

I went on a blind date last week with a really nice guy. Nice like a cup of luke warm tea. Nice like a garden salad, no dressing. Nice like fat free, sugar-free yoghurt... You get the point. This was someone who was really good for me on paper – kind, gentle, smart, healthy. But after talking to him for about three minutes my mind drifted to how I was going to get home and what length of time constituted an actual date. I tried. I really tried to find him interesting. The old me would have thrown in the cocktail napkin within minutes, but the new, improved me gave it two and a half hours. That I’ll never get back. Ever.

At one point desperate to get conversation flowing, I pulled out my fail-safe ‘man card.’ Though I had no desire to launch into a chat about England’s brave, but average, performance in the Ashes series (sorry my lovely Englishes) or the highly anticipated upcoming Rugby World Cup, I had strong desire to break the awkward silence. So I asked the question... “Right, uh… do you like sport?” He paused for a moment, “I’m glad you asked that” said he, “I’m actually really into golf.” Great. I know nothing about golf. I’m pretty sure that it isn’t even technically a sport. I’m sure I get just as much exercise as golfers do from a successful shopping spree – and I carry my own bag. Just saying.

I tried to hide behind my humour – which, to be fair, is an acquired taste – and mentioned my shopping-golf analogy. He didn’t crack the faintest of facial movements. Not even a pity cackle. Nothing. Somehow we got onto the topic of football. Phew! I played a bit of soccer when I was a kid. I was confident I had the conversation back under control. I smugly declared that I knew the offsides rule and that he should test me. Score. He took a polite pause and then even more politely informed me that “most, or perhaps many, people (careful avoidance of gender stereotypes but he was practically screaming “women”) aren't aware that it's changed recently”. Not so smug.

After we finished our first round, he asked if we should get more drinks. “Sure” I answered, even though I was considering propping up my eyelids with ice cubes. He didn't budge. He was being a feminist. When I realised this I jumped up with a little too much enthusiasm and played fetch. Now, call me sexist, but where I come from, guys collect the drinks. If the woman you're with is balancing two glasses filled with ice and two bubbling bottles, stumbling through a crowded pub in heels, you have failed at life. So this weird shift in gentlemanliness left me slightly perplexed. I mean, this guy seemed so well mannered, so well brought up.

On returning from the bar, I downed the drink – I earned it. Then I announced my departure. He waited for me to pass him and as I reached the door awkwardly pushed past me and then clumsily let the door go. It swung back almost knocking this maiden over. At which point I was pretty sure he had no interest in me either. Things got weirder when he gave me the odd cheek peck thing and stated "it would be good to see you again." That’s when I did the swivel and dash. Shamelessly. I practically sprinted up the cobbled high street in heels. It hurt.

So it wasn’t a good experience, in fact it wasn’t even an average one. But I’m glad I went on the date. Because it was good practice. It took me out of my comfort zone and introduced me to a bunch of new things on the list of what I don’t want. Sometimes through experiencing bad, we get closer to identifying good. We learn more about what we truly desire – the right job, real friends, meaningful adventures, the perfectly imperfect partner. Maybe it’s ok to fail at small things, so we can grow and build towards getting the big things right.

After many little moments of wrong maybe one day I’ll meet someone right. Someone who sweeps me off my feet for the right reasons. Who appreciates my weirdness. Who connects with my self-deprecating, warped sense of humour. Who fetches the drinks. Who knows?   

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Drinks only, please

I’m of that age now where people keep reminding me to get on with it and settle down. “Maybe you’re being too picky” I’m told, “You’re not getting any younger,” “If you’re thinking of a family it’s time to sort that out. It’s now or never.” I get some polite insinuations and then some direct stabs about my ‘choice’ to be single and alone.

The thing is… it’s not a choice. Finding someone who fits your lifestyle and your heart when you’re set in your ways, living to work and no longer out partying with the entire population of your age group (who also happen to be single), is near impossible. 95% (possibly not a completely accurate statistic) of the good guys/gals are taken. You’re left searching for the remaining datable 5% who were focussed on their careers, on travelling or on dating the wrong person and who now also happen to be on the hunt. There are plenty of fish in the sea when you’re twenty but when you’re thirty and above you’re fishing in a puddle.

I may be single, but I’m not alone. I’m surrounded by amazing friends, supportive colleagues and a very loving family. I recently had a flashback to a time long ago. A time when I felt most alone. In this memory, I was lying on my bathroom floor, door locked, crying hysterically, half engaging with the drunk, raging words coming from the other side of the door and half wanting the world to stop for a moment, so the psychological warfare would cease. I was feeling hopeless, powerless, terrified, trapped, lost. In a relationship but so tremendously alone. I slept in my bath that night. My wash basket of clothes emptied into the bath and two towels laid neatly on top. It was surprisingly comfortable. The next day I would try to continue my life like everything was ok. But it wasn’t.

It’s been a long journey since that day. And I’m now able to tell a great relationship story, one about how I learnt to love myself again, to set my dreams free and make better choices about who I include in my life. I’ve seen some great people and I’ve been on some hideous dates (which taught me plenty in retrospect and have given my friends hours of entertainment). I’ve also let go of some lovely guys and missed opportunities with others because I wasn’t ready to open my world to someone else yet. I have no regrets about any of the things I’ve done or haven’t done. They’ve all helped me stitch closed some deep wounds and find an inner sense of peace.

So, here I am. 35 and (drum roll) single. I have no children and nor am I convinced that I’ll ever have children, which is ok.  First dates are so nerve-wracking to me that I can barely eat – so I always opt for drinks. On one first date, after much wining the gentleman thought it (justifiably) a good idea to do some dining and ordered everything vegetarian on the menu. He had no idea what I’d like (because I’m a foreign and vegetarian). I was absolutely horrified when tray after tray of food arrived and I could barely nibble on a piece of halloumi cheese without feeling nauseous. We didn’t go on second date, but I was truly touched by the way he tried so hard to impress me. While I was sitting opposite him feeling all those things insecure people feel – ugly, fat, stupid – he was finding me funny, interesting, attractive. I thought he must be an idiot!

Perhaps we judge ourselves most harshly. Which is possibly why we should lay off the criticism of others. You don’t know my story, my hopes, my fears, my dreams and I don’t know yours. How about we give the judgement a break? As the pressure on me increases (it’s clearly not going to ease up until I’m passed childbearing age) I’m just going to carry on doing the things that are right for me. I’m not going to settle for someone who isn’t right for me and I’m not going to enter into a bad relationship – just because it’s the right thing to do. I might not have a great love life, but I have a brilliant relationship with myself and with the wonderful people who populate my world. I believe I’m very lucky.

Sole mates

“We should go out again, we could be sole mates” said the text. No, no we couldn’t because 1) I have other mates so you’re not the sole one, 2) we’re not feet or shoes, and 3) I’m not a fish. As most of my friends know, poor spelling makes me nasty (sorry), as does bad grammar. But I often ignore the rules of grammar and make up my own words when I write. So I’m basically a complete hypocrite. Still, if I bumped into McDreamy in a crowded bar and he wrote ‘hear’s where I’m headed, wanna meat their?’ on a napkin, I’d dry a tear of disappointment on that napkin before tossing it in the bin.

I’ll admit, there are far more important things to have at the top of the ‘no-go’ list. Like ‘shouldn’t have anger management issues’ or ‘mustn’t be a stalker.’ As if dating after your twenties isn’t hard enough, many singletons I know seem to have created these elaborate, mostly stupid, rules. Some of my girlfriends won’t date men who are divorced or have children – fair enough, if that’s your rule, but you’re in your thirties/forties no matter who you meet they are practically guaranteed to have a history and some kind of baggage. When I open my suitcase, it may not be filled with a messy divorce and soiled nappies, but it certainly has a few pieces of dirty laundry that could do with an airing out, if not throwing out. No one’s perfect.

Since I’ve been back in the dating game it’s been fascinating to see how people play (or don’t) into gender stereotypes on dates too. My guy friends seem to agree that a gentleman pays on the first date. It’s always the first question the lads ask when they want to know how a date went. From my perspective, this is not something that I lose sleep over – I’m quite happy to share the bill, or travel up to neutral ground to meet. I think it’s fair to meet halfway in a world of equality. We all work just as hard as each other. But if a guy pushes through a door in front of me or blurts out a string of expletives before we’re well acquainted, I’m out.

I’m beginning to realise that I’m actually rather old fashioned. I appreciate a little chivalry. It makes me feel respected. But this is not an area of agreement in my generation. A lovely guy-friend of mine recently dashed through a door in front of me and then mumbled “I’d have stepped back, but I know you women of today can take care of yourselves.” It was a loaded comment and after a little digging I found out that the last time he held a door open for a lady she shot him an angry “I’m perfectly capable of opening a door, I’m not a weakling.” Oh dear me.

Many of us ladies of today are establishing ourselves as independent, self-sufficient, ambitious equals. This is fantastic – go girls, uh, I mean ladies. But at the risk of losing popularity, I must admit that I’m beginning to think that in some ways we’re losing who we are in the process a little. Surely being equal means being equal as a woman. I sometimes think we’re trying to match masculine stereotypes (which aren’t necessarily true either) – sexual liberation sometimes becomes reckless promiscuity and expressing emotion makes us feeble so we repress our sensitivity. I could be completely wrong, but surely as equals women should make their own rules rather than strive to reject everything ‘weak’ associated with our gender?

The more I meet new people, date and socialise, the more I realise that there is so much confusion around what’s acceptable and how we should behave. It leads to much awkwardness and a good few giggles. Though it seems like it’s mostly us ladies who’ve rewritten the rules, which must be pretty confusing for the gents. I accept that some would argue we should move beyond gender expectations and should stop socialising young people – but that’s a separate, very complex, conversation. I suppose that’s the beginning of the point though – we’re all individuals. In a world that’s a collision of cultures, genders, beliefs and more generations living together than ever before, letting people know what your expectations are and making an effort to understand theirs, is important.

As I continue to live in another country and as I meet new friends, colleagues and possible suitors, my challenge to myself is to be a more open about accepting others’ expectations and faults (including typos) and be clearer about who I am and where I stand. By being a little more accepting without compromising what’s important to me, who knows, I might even find my sole (romantic) mate.