London is a man’s playground.
Single women will understand this.
One of my friends just moved in with a fab guy – and the rest of us are like, Pru, how did you do this? Her theory is pretty golden:
“You need to get them before they have moved into London (or newly moved to London, they are all over Bumble). Then they think you’re the best thing since fried cheese and will adore you and do not have the time to find out what really happens on the London casual dating scene” (cue sex, drugs, more drugs, wine, some work).
I had this opportunity once by the way, with a fresh meat from outside of London. Country boy. He had just moved into London, he had a good job and best of all, he was 6 ft something. And I am like, great, great great ‘WOW’ (Owen Wilson) our babies will be tall (WHY AM I LIKE THIS?). He was younger than me, which at the time I was like… uhhhh but, let me give it a go. Upon review, I know, for sure, that I like older men for a reason (nothing less than 10 years my senior please, but I will draw the line at 20 years my senior). Freud would have a lot to say about this but I don’t even care.
Back to the country boy story.
He was nice enough, bought me a lot of chocolate (I gained 3 kgs). We ‘casually’ dated for approximately 4 months sometime last year (I use the term casual but what does dating even mean these days?) and then BOOM someone told me they saw him on Tinder (I mean Tinder, AT LEAST HAVE USED BUMBLE- have some class for God Sake).
He was also quite patient, let me give you an example, one night my house mate proceeded to have EXTREMELY LOUD sex for around 2 hours it was horrendous and lets not forget – I work in the actual porn industry.
There is nothing WORSE than listening to other people have sex. I mean, when you load porn, you know what you’re getting. Hearing it through my floor boards, when I have NOT signed up for it was bloody nauseating.
And shame for him I am a prude so I wasn’t putting ANYTHING out that particular night.
No amount of Stilnoc could have saved me on this dire Saturday.
Anyway, I am getting side tracked – lets go back to the Tinder story. When I asked him about this, he told me the reason he was on Tinder was for his ‘lads chat’, and I quote “to see who has the best pick up lines”. I was like…are you okay hun?
After calling him out, he contacted me 2 days later and told me:
‘Ellen, I mean, I just cannot deal with this responsibility’ (date older men Ellen!)
The classic male defense.
I should have known it was nearing the end a few weeks prior to this event – as we had attended a party together and I had to take him home after sometime because he was well, rather intoxicated (found him having a WEE outside – mortified, even as a South African). Bundled him in the Uber and off we set off home (around a 20 min car ride). Half way through the trip home he saw a pub and tried to JUMP OUT OF THE MOVING UBER (can we just go back to the bit where he did not want to deal with ‘responsibility’ – mate should have et ya jump out of that car then).
To be honest, I didn’t care about the fact that he had tried to move out of a moving vehicle with Abdul driving so peacefully, I was more concerned about my Uber rating.
Yes people, I rate myself on my Uber rating. People think I am mad, but this is important.
This is a real thing.
I have an IMPECCABLE Uber rating – at the time was 4.7! 4.7! Imagine such a life achievement.
After he had tried to jump out of the car (maybe he realised he was coming home with me and was attempting suicide? Who knows…) the next day my rating decreased to 4.6. Life is a competition and I need to win. Even with my Uber ratings and I can’t be with someone who just didn’t quite get this. #important.
I am like, HELL NO. I sulked for a week.
To add a cherry on the top, he had managed to lose his wallet (I assume it fell out when the door of the Uber was opened MID RIDE or, I might just have stolen it – you never know with the South Africans).
It was fate really, that we were not meant to be.
My theory is that once upon a time, the creators of men came together and sat around a big cauldron. The event took place on a Saturday because, Saturdays are for the boys.
They decided they would add the following things together to create the male species:
- Paco Rabanne 1 Million cologne (an overdose of it, maybe 5 million liters of it.
- Various defensive mechanisms.
- Lads group chats.
- Saturdays being for the boys.
- The idea that hairy balls are great.
At this point, they were EXTREMELY pleased with themselves (as men are – they want applause after they have made 1 cup of tea). Might I add, that they did not clean up the cauldron but rather left it out for someone else to clean.
Fast forward bajillions of years and Saturdays might still be for the boys (in their brains), but Monday through to Monday are for the girls.
And in the modern day I am happy to report, after ‘Saturdays with the boys’, once you get home from the party don’t ring us and don’t wait up. No sexy pajamas wait for you and neither does a home cooked meal.
But if you get the scissors out, you might get a cup of tea.
Keyword: might, so don’t get excited.