The great Marilyn Monroe once declared – if you can’t handle me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best. Amen sister. Self confidence and female solidarity aside, this dating malarkey isn’t simple. I’ve decided to reactivate my subscription and do it right this time round – but with a major difference.
I am changing my profile to be 100% reflective of me.
The most common, but unfortunately trite, statements on profiles are:
‘I don’t know what to write’, ‘I’m new to this’, ‘my friends would say I’m fun’… Bla bla bullshit. This combined with a grainy, minute, 7 year old photo with your ex cropped out of it doesn’t quite convey the person and the complexities within. I love people. I love human brains. I love finding out how and different people tick, and learning from their experiences, opinions and politics. (except on a first date hearing all about the acrimonious divorce. Yeesh.)
So… What if we could put all our imperfections and bad habits out there to begin with, and then decide whether to move forward in whatever aspect of the mating game we are in?
A while ago I wrote about the ten questions you really want to ask on a first date. I know that I want a guy who is straightforward and intelligent, not about games. So if a guy can read the following and be interested enough to get in touch, I would know meeting up would not be an expensive waste of time.
I don’t always shave my legs. Occasionally I get bad skin. My morning halitosis puts King Kong to shame. I am well-groomed and stylishly dressed 95% of the time.
My favourite spice is jerk. I want to be able to eat it on a date – and kiss after. I always have breath spray in my bag.
I am sweet, curvy flirty and happy. I mainly flirt with guys I know and trust. Strangers tend to get moody face. Posh is my favourite spice.
I hate it when people stare at my boobs – I am so much more than a rack.
I like men in uniform. Or men dressed up in uniform. But it’s about the morals and sense of public service. Queen, country and Prince Harry.
My girl time is non-negotiable and I won’t drop my friends to see you.
Stag dos are a rite of passage; guy time is essential. I’m not bothered if you go to a strip show, but if you’re screwing me please dont screw anyone else. Unless we are not yet exclusive, in which case I probably won’t be screwing you yet.
I hate arguments. I am diplomatic and respectful, but don’t take that as a sign of malleability. When I’m right I’m right, and I’ll fight like a tiger to protect those I care about.
If I don’t want to talk to you, I won’t. Simple. Text games irritate me. I’m not a teenager, nor do I wish to date one.
My world is a katy perry-esque bubble. I believe in Santa, the pyjama fairy and the drumming Cadbury gorilla, but not the Easter bunny or the tooth fairy. My head isn’t in the clouds – I’m an optimistic pessimist. It’s nice to be frequently (pleasantly) surprised. Having pizza delivered to my office is romantic.
I am slightly addicted to experimenting with art on my nails. I feel naked without them done.
I love big thick woolly socks. Especially when curled up in an old leather armchair reading Dostoevsky. Or watching the only way is Essex.
I have a Russian attitude toward love and loss. This doesn’t make me maudlin, it means I am not seeking a prince on a white steed. I prefer chestnut horses.
No man will replace my first love – dancing. A man who cannot dance stands no chance with me – you can’t move them hips….. Well you get the idea.
I was raised a rugby fan and I do understand the game. I cannot stand football and will walk out of a room if it’s on. I’m fine with others enjoying it but it is just boring in my opinion.
Rugby and ballet ARE compatible.
I know roughly what I’m looking for in a man, and the more I get to know someone the more my libido awakes. I don’t do first-date sex anymore, I’m not at uni and it has no appeal for me. I’d rather be celibate than waste my time on a fool. I generally have bad taste in men so I’d rather take it slow.
Don’t even think about getting in touch if you’re in a relationship – I am no-one’s mistress.
Now let’s find out what type of guy gets in touch with a half-decent answer….
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