So many of you enjoyed my scrutinizing my selfies; you have no idea how happy that makes me! Cheers to that!
Anyway, today is another day and there’s another topic I’d like to discuss. In case the title of my post wasn’t revealing enough, I’d like to talk first dates.
The thing is, I really like going to first dates. As a result, this assigns me to a minority of deeply, yet only seemingly, masochistic people, who in contrast to the rest of the humanity who despises them, enjoy going on first dates. Or, maybe, I’m totally alone on that and I’m not yet aware of it.
You’re most likely about to ask, what do you know of first dates? Why would you ever write an article like that? Aren’t you in a happy relationship? Well, you’re perfectly right, but before my bf came and shattered all my lofty aspirations of becoming a full-time cat lady, I was a permament resident of the planet Singlus. The term Singlus derives from the English word “single” and the suffix “-us” (s. Uranus, Venus, Uterus, etc.) and it’s used to describe a previously unknown to most natural satellite of Earth. As planet Singlus orbits around the Earth, its inhabitants have the chance to shoot looks full of envy to the happily paired off residents of Earth, hoping and wishing to embark on the next spaceship heading over there.
As a result, the perks of dating have not escaped my attention. Going on a first date with a new person is like changing high schools in the middle of the year or amnesty programs for political offenders: One has the chance to wipe the slate clean and bury the past.
After having my fair share of dating, I came to a series of conclusions, which you should definitely have to follow in case you want yourself to experience the same thing that happened to me: Not many second dates. If the first date is such an exciting time, why spoil it by going on a second one?
- Just like Gerard (Butler, is there anyone else?) kindly informed us in the film The Ugly Truth, men are visual creatures. Therefore, here comes a piece of advice concerning first date dresscode: Wear something simple and neutral, a pair of jeans and a cute top. In this way, you’ll have the opportunity of scaring the hell out of him on the second date by going all the way with your vogue extravaganza – supersized hats, long skirts (still a maaajor issue for most men), bold patterns, statement jewellery, you name it. What could be more fun than giving the impression you’re perfectly normal, only to tear it apart on the following dates?
- Even though men insist women talk too much, way more than they do, that’s not perfectly true. Men love to talk about themselves, just like all creatures who are able to articulate their emotions and thoughts. As a result, I’ve resolved to mostly asking questions and nodding with interest during first dates. It has advantages for both sides: The man gets to express himself and you get to know him better. For example, he will mention one or two things that annoy him or that he despises, like musicals. In such cases, you can proceed and declare your genuine affection for musicals, don’t be shy!
- Arrive late. Like 5-10 minutes late, not an hour late. If you don’t, how are we supposed to maintain the stereotype of women being always late and needing too much time to get ready? In addition, do you really want to be the first one at the meeting point? I find it always a little awwwwkward.
- If you are a blogger, don’t mention it. At first, men act surprised but do not take you seriously at all, then they discover it, read it thoroughly and falsely suppose that everything you write is either directed or refering to them. Or in case you’re a successful blogger they might want to date you just because of that – it has never happened to me, but you never know.
- Last but not least, avoid BBQ sauce at all costs. It’s the devil in a bottle, one can never be sure what could happen when BBQ sauce is around. The first photo of this post is from my first (picnic) date, which was idyllic apart from the part where an evil BBQ sauce bottle exploded inside my favorite bag (ok, I might or might have not put on the lid properly, but that’s irrelevant) causing panic and despair. Now my reaction to it is similar to when you’ve puked after guzzling generous amounts of a particular alcoholic drink, let’s say, hmm, tequila. You just don’t want to see or smell it. Ever. Again.