One's company. Two's stealing my bloody quilt.

Hello World. Or part of it. Hello.

I would like to continue the discussion I was having with myself a few weeks ago that you were listening in on because you are nosey bastards. The one about how relationships come about.

So let's say that you managed to maneuver your way around the war zone that is the first date relatively unscathed. But not, I imagine without the scars, the night terrors and the profuse sweating. No one can escape that.

No word of a lie, I once had a haircut coincidentally booked on the day of a first date, and so I went straight home and washed it and restyled it to look more 'normal' so it didn't look like I'd 'made too much of an effort'. This is the sort of idiocy a human being has to deal with when on the hunt for a member of the opposite sex. Or same sex. Or let's just be honest. Sex. Or is it? Perhaps it is more a sign that I am a mental person. You decide. 

Anyway, so let's say hypothetically you have had one, two, God forbid three dates with another human who doesn't make you want to peel your own face off slowly and deliberately with a toothpick. 

What then?

Now it's the truly difficult stage. The 'Letting someone ruin your life' stage.

I'm not being melodramatic here. I couldn't if I wanted to. My cape is being dry cleaned.

Now is the stage where you decide that you are willing to surrender all of those things that make being single wonderful. 

Lying sideways across your massive bed. Dropping everything to go to the park with friends and wine. Watching whatever you want on telly no questions asked. No judgement. Eating chocolate spread on digestive biscuits for breakfast, lunch, dinner and elevenses. Not having to subject your body to the torture it has to go through to convince your partner you were just born this naturally soft, hairless and smelling like an ice-cream factory.

Is it worth it? Really? What do we get in return for giving up our precious spare time, and all that money for all those dull-but-let's-pretend-they're-super-fun-activities-until-we-have-been-together-for-a-year-and-then-I'll-admit-I-hate-bloody-theme-parks-and-horror-films?

Umm... Sex I guess is the obvious one, and cuddling, and umm.... help to build Ikea furniture?

I'm sure there are lots of things. Probably.

I suppose if someone is worth it then you let them crowbar their way into your life with their stupid face and the annoying way they chew.

I know a lot of you who read this are in relationships, and may sometimes feel a bit green eyed about the lifestyles of us singletons, and I'm not surprised, I have to admit it's a pretty fantastic life with no one to answer to. But I hope this also reminds you that you have met someone who was worth leaving that life behind for. And that's not to be sniffed at.

Sorry. I got a bit schmaltzy there. I don't know what happened. I'd best go outside and kick a puppy.

In the beginning, God created man. It went downhill from there.

Having been single for an extraordinary amount of time (the last relationship I was in, we had met at a party celebrating the remarkable discovery of fire) I have started to think about how difficult it is for a relationship to actually start. How do they come about? Anyone? I can't bloody remember.

Upon occasion, you meet a gentleman and he may ask for your number. 

Hurdle one - completed. 

Yes, this has happened, even to me, so I know it is not something that only happens in films. 

This is a nice stage, I am comfortable at this stage. I can sit and daydream about this guy and what our life will be like together. Sure, it might be a difficult life together with me having to try and work out what his name is, because I can't remember, I'm not sure he ever told me, I was too excited to be talking to an actual man, but a life together it will be nonetheless. 

Then you come across hurdle number two. The initial texts. What if he writes like a dick? Spells like a four year old? Or worst of all worses, he uses the term 'lol'?

Hai Bayby, u r hot ;-) wanna meet sum time? LOL!!! ;-) 

Yeah. That text is gonna get an 'I think you've got the wrong number, this is an STD clinic' response. 

So let's say, theoretically, hurdle two has been leaped and bounded over and you've had a few lovely, gentlemanly, grammatically correct text messages, with the use of only one smiley face when entirely appropriate. 

Now it's the horrific car crash waiting to happen that is the 'first date'.

Who invented this system? This shitty interview for the position of girlfriend?! Whoever it was, I would like to tie them to the back of a high speeding elephant. 

You spend, days and weeks, deliberating over what to wear. You realise you have absolutely NOTHING suitable in your four wardrobes worth of clothes. You are starting to consider cutting up a waistcoat and a pair of jeans to makes a sort of dress thing. Why are you even doing this to yourself anyway? He's going to hate you and realise that he should probably be going out with your sister. What's the point?! Then after nearly being sick with nerves, you have a couple of Gin and Tonics and you start to think about wearing the pyjamas you have on, because actually they look pretty sexy. 

You look goood. 

You stumble to the venue of choice.  And there he is. Now the fun and games begin, what do you order to drink? Nothing that makes you seem like the sort of lady who loves to end her evening in an alleyway, and certainly nothing that is prone to making you end the evening dancing on the table with your (or anyone else's) knickers on your head.


You take your seats and stare at each other for a bit. What if the conversation doesn't flow? Horrid stilted small talk -


'So, do you have any brothers and sisters?'
'Where are you from originally?'


It can all feel a little like you are in a GCSE French class.


How do we as human beings manage to get past these stages? And how do we decide whether or not we want to spend a little more time with that particular human?

Spark I think it's called. But how do you know if that's there under all the awkwardness and drink?  Oh and if it does go well, don't go home with him. Because even if he has fallen in love with you instantly and believes you are the woman he is meant to marry. It will change his view of you - because no matter how much we try to change things, apparently it is still the 1950's.


It's all a bit of a boiling pot of idiocy. You dip your spoon in and hope for the best really. I like to think of it as a sort of lottery. I guess if you don't buy a ticket you aren't ever going to win.


Still it's worth a try. And the one time it does work out, then it's got to be worth the hassle right?


Don't ask me. I have absolutely no idea.