My approach has always been softly, softly. Like standing on the edge of a 1950s dance hall, waiting for a chivalrous hand to lead me to the floor, I’m never one to initiate an encounter. Call me old fashioned, but I believe the man should make the first move. Chasing is unbecoming of a lady.
But does that mean that nice girls are finishing last?
If Miley’s chart topping film clip is anything to go by, brash is back. Perhaps I should take heed: plenty of times have I left a night out disappointed because a guy I fancied didn’t make a move. Maybe if I’d been more forward I’d have snagged a date. I’m not shy, not socially retarded; I’m just not overly a fan of having to pursue someone for their attention.
On one particular night I did make the first move. The end result? My first (and last) one night stand. Being forward is not my forte. I always feel, well, so tawdry.
I currently have a crush. I speak to him. Email even (serious stuff). But I’m so petrified that I’ve mixed his signals that I’m scared to even add him as a friend on the old Facebook. What if he is legitimately just looking for female friend. Whilst strutting around in flesh coloured underwear and gyrating on mechanical equipment might make my intentions pretty obvious, it’s not the usual way to go about the courtship thing.
For now, I’ll just have to hope he enjoys the chase, because I’m not running in his direction.
The old saying often goes that, in relationships, timing is everything.
Right man, wrong time.
In another lifetime.
If only I’d met him when I was single.
But I think it’s more than that. More than simply meeting someone when you’re open to the possibility of love. It’s also a case of not fucking it up. See, I’ve met plenty of eligible guys during my (many) single years. Nice, charming, relatively funny and relatively hair-free guys. But often it’s that final moment, the leap of faith, the take off – where I fail in flying colours.
Courtship is easy. Flirting is second nature to most humans that haven’t lived under a rock or been home schooled. However making something out of nothing is the hardest. So many times I’ve been on the cusp of a relationship only to falter. I’m not sure whether it’s the fear of commitment, or thinking (often mistakenly) that something better is just around the corner. Whatever my problem; I’m a serial dater, which is only a couple of rungs up the ladder from a serial killer. I know plenty of girls that are always in a relationship, and jump straight from one long term monogamous partnership to the next. I envy that. I can’t fall in like that easy.
Maybe I’m fussy, although I prefer the term discerning. It often feels, as Haim so eloquently sing, right. There is no fault that I can put my finger on. Doesn’t matter: ill slink away from a potential relationship faster than Miley Cirus’ dignity. Maybe I’ll be cursed with being on the brink of something awesome, and never truly realising the potential.
Always keep your heart locked tight
Don’t let your mind retire
For now, I’ll be OK anyway.
The AB x