After taking a sensibly long hiatus from the world of mind fuckery and early morning walks of shame, I’ve found myself back in the dating game.
A lot has changed since I was last playing the field, I now live in London and here my Australian accent is considered well…exotic (in a Paul Hogan goes to New York kind of way).
Writing about dating is what I do best and while this little blog entry isn’t about me, it does come from my posh inner circle.
Now kick your heels off, pour yourself a glass of red and let me tell you a story about…
THE GIRL WHO CRIED D*CK
It was a cool Friday afternoon in Paddington and three girlfriends chatted about life, love and sex over a bottle of champagne. One girl appeared to be very distressed as she buried her pretty face in her perfectly manicured hands.
“What’s wrong?” her friends asked, concerned that this was becoming a regular occurrence.
“I’m just so sexually frustrated” She cried producing actual tears from her glassy blue eyes.
The friends had tried everything to console her, they suggested dating apps and even a cheeky trip to Ann Summers but nothing could replace the weight of a man.
The thing is, men, think that women can get laid anytime they like but rarely is that the case, even for Miss Glassy Blue Eyes.
Eventually, the girls said a tearful goodbye and went about their busy London lives.
On Sunday morning they were united by a WhatsApp picture message from Miss Glassy Blue Eyes, who was now rocking misty bedroom eyes in a man’s king sized bed.
The group message erupted with “OMGG!!” and “WHO??” and “HOW, YOU NAUGHTY THING??”
To which Miss Glassy Blue eyes replied. “Two words…My ex.”
Oh no she didn’t!
When it came time for their Monday morning debrief in a little coffee shop in Chelsea, Miss Glassy Blue Eyes walked in sheepishly.
Despite her outwardly deflated body language, she was glowing, like she’d just gone six rounds with a British Hercules.
As soon as she sat down, she burst into tears.
“The sex was so good” she sobbed.
“So, what’s the problem honey?” The girls asked, secretly thinking that maybe their friend had gone completely nuts.
“Well…I drunk dialled him on Friday night and then we must have had sex six or seven times.”
Sex with an ex is tricky business because you know it’s going to be good. It’s easy to experience maximum pleasure without the awkwardness of having to get to know each other.
But then as soon as the alcohol wears off and you plonk your little bottom down in the back seat of the Uber, it’s almost impossible not to want to neck yourself.
The friends hoped that once the initial shock had worn off Miss Glassy Blue Eyes would be glassy no more and in fact she was. The next day she delivered a million dollar pitch and charmed the board with her initiative, her tactfulness and her radiant, glowing skin (thank-you Hercules).
You see, there are two types of single girls in the city – Girls who are crying for it and girls who are recovering from the blow.
I can’t tell you how to solve this problem but I can recommend a good waterproof mascara.
Here’s to the dates, the thrills and the girlfriends who never judge us no matter how mad we are (and we really all are just as mad as each other).
