For some of us living in the 21st century, it’s considered to be ‘normal’ to pick someone up at a bar or sign in to various platforms of social media and apps.
Tinder, Grindr, eHarmonay, RSVP and Bumble have replaced the etiquette of writing and sending a letter in the mail and awkward ‘mix ‘n’ greet’ at our local Jewish synagogues and temples. This allows both sexes to experience The Good, The Bad and The F*cking Ugly with online dating.
- The Good: Those who are simply there to chat in hopes of getting to know you before plucking up the courage to ask you out on a date.
- The Bad: A step up from The Good but at the end of the day, you aren’t sure if you can
handledeal with the constant mood swings on his/her end. Cue the ‘cannot talk’ excuse.
- The F*cking Ugly: Two words: Train Wreck!
Beneath the curved muscles of man meat lies a dark, twisted person containing rude behaviour tendencies and one sided sentences of “We gonna f*ck?”. This would send any female placing a well deserved heel in certain places or making the faint hearted run for the closest Uber.
Like any good story falling into my lap, I find myself spinning and weaving parts of these stories into posts and very few times as a writer and blogger; do I find myself no longer in the drivers seat. Instead I become the reader and like you, am often left shocked. As for this story, it originally started at the end of my exam week back in 2015 as I was sliding behind the wheel, when my phone let off a little ping.
Checking my phone, I’d received a message from Lady Blacksnot III.
Not normally being left in a stump or shocked, the message I’d received consisted of the potential on children, marriage and adventurous sex. In our 9+ years of friendship, I’ve never given much thought of the future day arriving when a message from Lady Blacksnot III would state: “I’m going on a date tomorrow, with a guy.”
As a 21st Century and twenty something year old woman, I consider myself to not only be liberated but I can identify similar traits to Carrie or Charlotte from Sex And The City. Especially when it comes to finding a good deal on a pair of heels and idealistic views upon relationships, both emotional and sexual.
The day I received this message saying LBS was going on a date and a proper date at that; I experienced my first Samantha Jones moment.
It can said while experiencing my Samantha Jones moment in time, felt as if LBS had just announced her and Big were getting married and were expecting a child. Before capping off the double whammy with my bridesmaid dress having been created by a five year old, who decided to glue shag pile carpet in multiple colours onto a paper brown bag.
Like any true supportive girlfriend when hearing her friend is getting married and Samantha Jones moment, my brain and thoughts automatically turned towards Botox.
Having escaped from my claustrophobic car and collapsing against the side of it, I clutched my phone while waiting for the ‘just kidding’ message to appear. In this case, the little sh*t didn’t appear in my messages as I contemplated heavily telling LBS, I was in full support of her not going out and getting Botox instead.
For someone whose openly admitted to never seeing an episode of SATC and seeing what was appropriate to wear on a first date, did it actually click in my brain that LBS was 100% serious. It was in my second New York minute, LBS had done the ultimate thing every single girlfriend, cousin and distant co-worker admits to not only dreaming about. But what we don’t tell you as we help plan the end to your single’s social life, we loathe the idea at the same time.
My own Carrie Bradshaw who unfortunately doesn’t write a sex column or wear Manolo Blahnik shoes, went to bed one evening being a full time dominatrix lawyer and man eating bitch. To waking up, I suspect, the next morning with a complete brain change and now referred herself as Charlotte York.
I was afraid that in a very New York minute, LBS would stop talking about the envy she possesses for my breasts and the need for Botox to enter our lives when we hit our 30’s. Having picked and dusted myself off, it was this very New York minute that my life flashed before one’s eyes.
Images of lonely birthdays spent with my 82 cats, surrounding me as I peered out of my lounge room had me cringing. Conversations as twenty something year old women consisting of BDSM, anal sex, cocktails and large cocks would consist of endless hours of torture. Torture based on finding the perfect white dress, flower arrangements, ugly bridesmaid dressings and ‘perfect’ wedding diets for both the bride and myself.
The thought of having to introduce myself at LBS’ and Big’s wedding as “Spinster Scarlett” had me seeking out the comfort of the nearest and closest bar. Collapsing into my seat after walking up the treacherous Hill of Death at college; I sipped my double shot of courage and bitter taste of singleness. As my body accepted the double shots of coffee, my brain began shutting down at the thought/idea of LBS adventuring into the wide and slightly twisted world of online dating.
Few days later post My Big Fat Greek Wedding meltdown featuring Pinterest, a secret folder labelled wedding dresses and myself; I finally stopped being in shock. I put away the black clothes for mourning and what I mean by picking myself up; Lady Blacksnot III received a message stating: ‘If he hurt you, his knee caps have my name written across them and a meeting with my cricket bat’.
This way my version of an apology for having gone MIA when LBS required my help in picking an appropriate outfit and shoes for this date.
If it had been anyone else, they would have been touched at the sentimental thought of protection against morons and their lackluster affect. However as it is LBS we are talking about, I imagine she would have paused in the midst of raising that whip and raised a slender eyebrow instead. Before bringing said whip down on her
victim client for the morning as she barked her order of them getting back to work of licking her boots clean.
There may have been a possibility of something, maybe a ventricle, moving within the confinements of her cold and frozen heart. But like any foreign and unnecessary emotion, it would have been swiftly killed as LBS went about her busy day of conquering those below her IQ status level. While spending copious amount of time, trying to squeeze every single penny from her client’s soon to be divorced spouse.
Having sent my apology in a form that would be pleasing to both of us, without the messy fuss of saying “I’m Sorry”; I soon discovered 3 things never known about Lady Blacksnot III. These things are: