"I'm a little perplexed by dating habits (if you can call them that) of British men. Here I thought all British men were Colin Firth/Hugh Grant types who learn another language and spontaneously fly to Portugal to ask their lady loves to marriage them. It's like the movies aren't real or something."
Vi, as usual, has hit the nail on the head.
I'm very proud of the fact that my blogging means that WWBD? is international. But this comes at a cost. I have to ruin the Colin Firth/Hugh Grant/Mark Darcy/Mr Darcy dream. It doesn't exist. At all. Or rather, they don't exist, at all. Oh the accent exists. But when you hear it you automatically think 'snob' or 'public school'. Public school over here is not a good thing. Public school types are conceited and arrogant and not in the good Mr Darcy type way.
And now for the dating habits of British men. They don't exist either. A guy over here has NEVER asked for my number. I am forever jealous of Vi's emails where she mentions a guy who asks for her number and then, actually calls. Reference: Popcorn Man. This is how it works in the UK:
* Guy and girl meet in bar
* Copious amounts of alcohol is consumed
* Guy and girl start flirting
* Some type of physical action occurs
* Numbers are exchanged
* Congratulations! You know have a boyfriend / girlfriend. (This may only last for a few hours)
Sometimes you meet up again and then start getting to know each other. There is no (sober) interaction involving friendly chat and then the guy takes your number. I'm sure there is the odd occasion where this does occur- I've yet to witness or experience it.
It's extremely frustrating. I would love for a guy to ask for my number. Even if I wasn't interested I would just like it to happen. I would also like to try the American way of dating. Yes, I'm sure it has its pitfalls, but it seems a heck of a lot better then the system we have over here.
What makes it even more frustrating for me when reading Vi's emails is that I like American men. I don't get the appeal of the British guy (except Mark Darcy, but he is, sadly, a literary figure), they're scrawny and have a severe lack confidence amongst other things. But an American guy? Yes please! You may disagree but they do say that the grass is always greener.
You may think that my opinion on American guys is unfounded and I'm not cutting British guys much slack. So it seems only fair that I conduct a social experiment - and I have a degree in Sociology so I can conduct social experiments. This time tomorrow I will be on a plane heading to the US for the first time in 10 years. Not only am I visiting the wonderful Violet but she has said, nay promised, that I will get to meet lots of cute American men. I can chat to them, see if they really are the confident and funny guys I think they are. I can also see if they actually do this asking for your number thing I hear so many things about (obviously not mine as my weird accent will give it away I'm not from those parts, but I could observe it happening to others).
So I will make the effort to talk to cute guys and report back to you all. It's all in the name of WWBD? Not for personal enjoyment or anything. And I am sorry to ruin the 'British Man Fantasy'. Really I am.
Showing posts with label Colin Firth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Colin Firth. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Mars and Venus and Serendipity
I'm fine. Really. While I appreciate the concern, I'm not tempted to jump off a bridge or even lock myself up in my room. I haven't even lost my appetite.
That doesn't mean that I didn't lay in bed this morning entertaining fantasies of the Dark Horse telling me how much he misses me, and me telling him that he had his chance, now get lost. That doesn't mean that I didn't spent my afternoon in comfy pants, a fuzzy alpeca sweater with fringe (not only does Fenella know what I'm talking about, she owns one too!), glasses on, eating nutella with a spoon while watching Love Actually. (Because, Colin Firth, all I want for Christmas is YOU!) That doesn't mean that I wasn't so distracted that I went for a run, not realizing until after I started running that I had forgotten to put a sports bra on. It turned into a walk. And the shower I took after that walk, was the first I had taken since before Friday night's Christmas party. But remember, I'm feeling sorry for myself this weekend. Tomorrow I'm scheduled to get over it.
I have thought about what the Dark Horse said, though. That part where he went on and on about how amazing and wonderful I am, but how that's not quite enough, and the bad-timing bullshit. And I've realized something. For men and women, the search for The One is a completely different process. For women, it's all about the person. You may not even be looking for someone, but when you find that someone, you change your plans. It's not every day someone so right walks into your life, so when it happens, you have to go with it.
Men are completely different. With men, it doesn't matter how awesome or wonderful or beautiful or funny you are. With men, it's all about the timing. When men decide It's Time and that they are ready for a serious relationship, they have one practically immediately. But if they're not looking, don't even bother. Because no degree of awesomeness will persuade them to change their mind.
This is something that I can't quite grasp. I don't want to live my life with Regret. I don't want to turn someone down over timing, then think to myself months later, "Damn, he was perfect. I really fucked that up." I mean, is there ever a good time to turn your life upside down? Screw timing.
This makes me think two things:
1. "Bad timing" is polite-talk for "I'm just not that into you."
2. Men are stupid.
3. All of the above.
It also makes me wonder how people ever find anyone. To find that someone at just the right time is pure serendipity. I thought that my meeting the Dark Horse at random times in random places was itself serendipitous. And even though it won't work out, it still was a bit of serendipity. Because I don't have any regrets. I'm glad he happened. We never had anything but fun. (Except for those two times he delivered crushing disapointment. Both while I wasn't wearing pants. This is a pattern I really need to break.) Hey, if I'm going to be a singleton, I may as well have some fun while I'm at it.
That doesn't mean that I didn't lay in bed this morning entertaining fantasies of the Dark Horse telling me how much he misses me, and me telling him that he had his chance, now get lost. That doesn't mean that I didn't spent my afternoon in comfy pants, a fuzzy alpeca sweater with fringe (not only does Fenella know what I'm talking about, she owns one too!), glasses on, eating nutella with a spoon while watching Love Actually. (Because, Colin Firth, all I want for Christmas is YOU!) That doesn't mean that I wasn't so distracted that I went for a run, not realizing until after I started running that I had forgotten to put a sports bra on. It turned into a walk. And the shower I took after that walk, was the first I had taken since before Friday night's Christmas party. But remember, I'm feeling sorry for myself this weekend. Tomorrow I'm scheduled to get over it.
I have thought about what the Dark Horse said, though. That part where he went on and on about how amazing and wonderful I am, but how that's not quite enough, and the bad-timing bullshit. And I've realized something. For men and women, the search for The One is a completely different process. For women, it's all about the person. You may not even be looking for someone, but when you find that someone, you change your plans. It's not every day someone so right walks into your life, so when it happens, you have to go with it.
Men are completely different. With men, it doesn't matter how awesome or wonderful or beautiful or funny you are. With men, it's all about the timing. When men decide It's Time and that they are ready for a serious relationship, they have one practically immediately. But if they're not looking, don't even bother. Because no degree of awesomeness will persuade them to change their mind.
This is something that I can't quite grasp. I don't want to live my life with Regret. I don't want to turn someone down over timing, then think to myself months later, "Damn, he was perfect. I really fucked that up." I mean, is there ever a good time to turn your life upside down? Screw timing.
This makes me think two things:
1. "Bad timing" is polite-talk for "I'm just not that into you."
2. Men are stupid.
3. All of the above.
It also makes me wonder how people ever find anyone. To find that someone at just the right time is pure serendipity. I thought that my meeting the Dark Horse at random times in random places was itself serendipitous. And even though it won't work out, it still was a bit of serendipity. Because I don't have any regrets. I'm glad he happened. We never had anything but fun. (Except for those two times he delivered crushing disapointment. Both while I wasn't wearing pants. This is a pattern I really need to break.) Hey, if I'm going to be a singleton, I may as well have some fun while I'm at it.
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