Everything these days is so fast. There’s speed dating, speed housemating, speedy broadband, speeded-up immigration controls, and lord knows what else. But in these times of pedal to the metal, are we giving ourselves time to love and mourn, or should we be evolving in our ideas of sex and breakups too?
I love Taylor Swift. Gorgeous, stylish, ballsy – and I fully subscribe to her philosophy on honesty post-split. Secretly crying and pining and gaining a stone in Haagen Dazs is so passé – let’s tell the world what a douche he is. For obvious legal reasons, names must be changed. We live in a world where litigation is almost too easy. But with the introduction of such technological and legal advances, the game has been changed both in terms of keeping things quiet, and also about how long, if at all, you should wait to get pelvic.
We all know the story, and know how it ends. Boy and girl meet, boy and girl date, boy and girl have sex…. And then boy messes girl around. He says it’s that he’s busy, lots on, bla bla bullshit. But when you’ve gone from hours of texting in a day to a hey, sorry my phone died, been busy, my nan’s cat’s flea died of a broken fingernail…. Not what the great love stories are made of.
My recent working theory is that once he has orgasmed and ejaculated, he no longer desires you or tries to chase you. That’s it, the race is over, he has won and you are no longer a goal to achieve. Could it really be the case that men are as simple and easy to programme as that? Evidently in the case of McHometown, it is.
But as well as using it as a powerful lesson learned and a warning to other women that I think Lauren Hill may have had it right (if you cant remember, stick on Doo Wop That Thing), I’m going to remind myself that in fact starting long-distance relationships probably aren’t a good idea. The Cosmos is reminding me to have fun, enjoy myself and to let myself be wooed. The fact I’m still thinking ‘bugger being played for a bunch of bananas’ means I need more time before settling down to monogamy. Because as my friend pointed out – once you’ve chosen one, you have to stop dating. And thus far, 2013’s ones have turned out to be, well, better than the previous ones. But I’m not actually sure how much I’m grading on a curve here…. I guess it just means I have to go back to being prudish – and buy a super-size pack of Duracell.
So ladies, do remember, and heed my tale of woe, that it wont last as long as you’d like if the second date ends in a blow (job). And if indeed he does subsequently turn out to be a twat, take heart from Taylor Swift and I and let the world know he is just that.
In a completely non-bitter and non-suable manner of course.