Hairdresser wait times. They are a particular timezone all their own, it seems. You’re warped into a bend of time where it starts to crawl so slowly that reading anything becomes acceptable just to make the clock run faster. Even….. Cosmopolitan (or some shitty how-to-be-a-woman magazine of a similar category).
And as I sat there yesterday, I made the distinct mistake to pick one up and….-gasp-….open it up to read. The tantalizing title ‘Would you date yourself – a one question guide to true love‘ drew me in. And boy. Was my life changed (albeit not necessarily for the better).
The article posed that in order to become the perfect candidate for a healthy relationship one need do only one thing:
Ask yourself whether you would date you.
(fuck it, that’s just as unbelievable as those one ingredient banana pancakes I still managed to fuck up).
Answered no to said question?
Their solution was simple:
Fix what isn’t working for you on yourself – and you’ll be up and running in no time.
No shit – Sherlock!
Now – I’m all for the theories of self-love and ‘becoming your own person‘ before taking on another. So instead of flinging the trashy glossy to the wall – I gave it a serious go. Because honestly, what better things did I have to do while sitting there, anyway.
Would I date myself?
I delibered honestly on all of the red flags I usually consider when debating dateability – in the context of me.
And out came a humongous flag in the brightest of reds. Hells no, I friggin wouldn’t. In fact – I would run for the hills screaming with the particular hue of red I add up to.
In all honesty – I DO have a lot of dateable qualities, if you ask me (and I WAS asking me, after all). So after my initial snarky inner response of ‘I’m just not that into girls‘ I ran over my checklist anyway.
On the whole I feel like I’m a pretty complete person, with a full life and her shit in order. Totally dateable. Doing the professional work thing, not living with da parents or sticky roommates, own set of hobbies to avoid excessive clingyness and a drawer of lingerie ensuring that bodily cravings would be well attended. A solid full package, in most terms.
Plus, I scored myself arrogantly high on the merits I look for in others as well – humor (god, how I laugh at my own jokes), ambition (tons of it!), honesty and transparency (brutal levels of it, even). So all good in that department.
But then…oh then…
Then I got to the part where I find most men similarly lacking. (Emotional) maturity? Better yet….emotional availability? Or the even more powerful ’emotionally stable’?(Starting to see a pattern yet?)
Commitment readiness? Openness to others? Willingness for compromise
I realize that I have a tendency to overexaggerate (really, don’t take ANYTHING at face value round here) and am generally in a lot better state than I let on through my writing here (a bit of drama just reads better, don’t it) but on the whole I’m definitely not in a dateable zone in that regard.
Emotionally I’d score myself an F on all the fronts that would make a person a good candidate. Red flag paradise. And I fucking hate Cosmopolitan(-esque) for rubbing my nose in it. Because if there’s one thing that’s a fucking pain in the ass, it’s working on yourself on an emotional level.
And suuuuuuuuure – I suppose not being hung up on an ex, and being actually willing to open up to new people and eventually wanting to commit to a person instead of forever keeping a safe distance MIGHT help in yaknow….finding love…
But I didn’t need a magazine to tell me that.
I could’ve lived happily in denial, blaming everyone but me, for quite some time – thank you very much.
Why couldn’t the one question have been ‘Would you share your food with him?’ (Because when answered with yes instead of a fork to the hand, that’s a pretty telltale sign of potential) or ‘Would you not cut his tendons so zombies would eat him first and allow your escape in case of a apocalypse?’ (which in light of corona might become true soon enough)? THOSE questions I can at least give answers to that would ensure that I end up NOT an old spinster.
Now instead I got all this crap I need to work on before I can blame the inner workings of Tinder and the male brain again. Damnit.
PS. My ventures onto other blogs tell me that, if I want to be successful, this is where I end with that same open question to you all: ‘would you date yourself’? But honestly. Who am I kidding. You probably don’t wanna hear that answer any more than I did 🤪🤐.