Why You’re Single – An open letter to myself.
Beauty and strength are synonymous; surround yourself with beauty and you’ll be strong, and when you’re strong you’re beautiful.
The correlation between you and a pig majestically swimming through water, passing by interlocked lovers, is worrying. As such, I’m going to offer you advice, with varying degrees of importance and accuracy. If you don’t want people to look at you as though you’ve got a cluster of tiny disfigurements before urging you to go back to your precious bell tower and ring the bell, then please read on. Don’t feel that you need the help/advice? Oh, right. Well, can you please tell me a little bit about your relationship with your left hand? I thought so. Let’s continue. Your expectation of dating is so low that the most common bit of advice you hand out to a friend about to go on a date is ‘don’t get murdered.’ To you, that would constitute a good date: Your limbs remain attached to your body and you don’t wind up in the meat freezer of the guy who, only hours before, bought you a caramel macchiato at Starbucks. You like to remind friends that there are guys out there (and women of course) who are waiting to turn them into a lamp shade. Their skin, specifically.
There are various-types of nice-guy serial killers, you like to warn. I’m not a psychiatrist, although if you added up the amount of therapy sessions I’ve attended I’d say I was more than qualified to be one, but I’d say your dry, humorous approach to love is a way of defending yourself. You like to execute borderline sociopathic behaviours in a bid to fend off any form of happiness. Someone comes along that threatens to make you happy and you flee like a vampire before garlic. Whether this behaviour was born from a string of shitty relationships in the past, or a by-product of your parent’s divorce I cannot say. Either way I would advise that you place the tiniest crumb of human-compassion on the fat free muffin of sociopathic detachment that is your love-life and see how it tastes. Otherwise you’ll end up that creepy old guy on Grindr that greets people with flaccid dick-pics and is shamelessly forward about wanting to sniff your trainers.
You have been given a lot of unsolicited dating advice, mainly by people of a gender you don’t date. This is ridiculous as everybody knows gays are a different breed; we are a law unto ourselves. Breeders don’t know nothin’ ‘bout our ways, nor about our unprecedented, sometimes seedy, mating rituals. Just like you don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ no babies. The advice received from people of the same gender is just as bad, because you’ve probably had some-form of sexual encounter with them; thus, rendering their opinion on any romantic matter null and void. Thinking about it, you’ve been given more dating tips in life than you have job and career advice – which paints a self-explanatory picture of why your life is currently at a standstill…on a blisteringly hot summers day…whilst you’re wearing a parka…and being chased by a hoard of zombies. Despite this heavy serving of advice, you’re still starvingly single. The first slice of advice I will offer you, or rather us, is that sometimes you get particularly enthusiastic about guys that made it painfully obvious they aren’t relationship material. I would strongly suggest you not become that person who calls eight times on a drunken night out and embrace the fact that the guy is not interested.
The next is that you should also speak your mind. This tip-toe-around-honestly policy you’ve got going on isn’t working. If you aren’t into it, say. It’s not fair to jerk someone around like a love-sick marionette purely because he makes you feel safe. There is nothing wrong with not feeling the same vibe back; just be honest. And kind. Always be kind. If you are into the person, say, but in a low-key non-psycho themed way. I’ll a lil lunatic at times. 26 missed calls and 49 messages? Dial it back. Also, don’t put out. Nobody wants to buy a cow if they can get the milk for free. Also consider: you’re not a cow and nor do you want to be bought.
I will also advise you to be weary of how much bleach you slap onto your head and implore you to never cut your own hair again. I would also suggest frequent if-not-obsessive use of facemasks to stop you from breaking out before you go anywhere with any guy. Nobody wants to kiss an oily face. Other tips: Don’t keep a condom in your wallet, because it will fall out at the most inopportune moments – like that time in H&M at the cash desk in front of that six-year-old girl whilst the sales adviser just stood there in a state of shookness. Don’t be offended when the guy doesn’t call you back. Books over boys any day of the week. Moisturise but don’t be harsh on your skin. Also moisturise your neck, otherwise it’ll get wrinkly. Side note: It is bad-news when you find someone attractive and learn he’s eight years younger than you. Furthermore, I’d strongly suggest you don’t be a ho. Otherwise you will be greeted as though you’re a witch or a jezebel at your local clubs – ironically by guys that are much bigger, actual sluts. If you’re going to go on dates, you cannot ask for references. Perhaps if people started treating Tinder like the Airbnb app then this would be a lot less complicated:
Thom comes very highly recommended. Very clean, clutter free. Minimal knives. I would say he owned an appropriate number of knives, none of which he waved at me. My only critique is that he wasn’t overly zealous about his appearance and that he could have been more cautious to the smear of Nando’s sauce across his face. Other than that, it was pleasant enough. 7/10 would visit again. If none of the above works then I offer my deepest apologies but it’s probably because you’re bat-shit crazy. Like, Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction level of crazy. You’re the sort of person that after a potent heartbreak would seek redemption by murdering a small child’s animal – but on the plus side, you make a great rabbit stew.
Love, T xo