As we enter a new year, Laura Reynolds looks at how the dating game differs from previous generations.
Laura Reynolds looks at the freedoms of festive singledom
Join Jason Rose for a peek behind today's door.
Lauren Tabbron writes about the difficulties of spending Christmas away from a loved one.
One time I went back to this girl’s place and when I woke up she’d made me breakfast. It wasn’t the best night I’ll admit. I went up to her at the bar in Gallery, she was ordering an Apple VK. I let her buy the drink before I spoke to her, not going to be one of those guys who buys a girl a drink and gets nothing in return. Anyway, when she got her drink I caught her eye and said “Do you work in Subway? Because you’re giving me a 12 inch right now…” So we went back to hers.
Anyway, not the best night. We were both a bit too drunk for it to be great, but hey, I got my kicks. But then, as I said, breakfast. Damn, some girls just don’t get boundaries. “Whoa! Did we get married or something? Step away from the frying pan. I like my eggs back in the box and back in the fridge, and I like my tea brewed in my own kitchen, thank you.”
Game over. I literally never eat with girls in the morning, unless it’s a kebab on the way home of course (although getting a takeaway with a girl you’re taking home is usually a bad way to start off the night of passion).
What can I say, I’m a man of the moment, spontaneous, I make things happen. But when they’ve happened, they’ve happened and that’s the end. I always know that the evening after, I’m going to get a call (which I’ll let ring through), sometimes followed by an answer phone message (which I’ll listen to for jokes and then ignore), or a text (which I’ll ignore), or worst of all, a torrent of soppy mush on my Facebook wall. That requires major damage control. Delete the posts. Delete the writer. Answer questions about who that random chick was writing on my wall. You get the picture.
Although, I must admit, that one time a girl didn’t get crazily hung up on me, I took a slight ego bruising. Just slight, mind. I soon found some other girls to ease the pain. “Last night was amazing, what are you doing tomorrow?” – that was all it took to rebuild my ego and get me back on track. It was that fresher’s walk milkmaid girl of course who didn’t want another go. I complain about girls trying to hang around, but she was aloof… bolted before I was even awake… which was great at the time, but then nothing!
I didn’t even hear a peep from her until the next term, when I saw her in Ziggy’s, when she bloody slapped me in the face. What the f**k? 99% of girls won’t leave me alone, and this one ignores me, and then smacks me in the face?
We got a taxi home together that night, and I can tell you that she’s the only girl I’ve ever left a club early with and then not slept with. She was really angry, drunk angry. I was really confused, and my face hurt.
Terrible. Please stop writing.
comment deleted by a moderator I bet most of the girls that read this will also slap you in the face if they ever meet you.
It's clearly fictional, but it's written in the exact same style of "The Frisky Fresher", probably the same writer, and it's all just generic, boring sexcapade nonsense. All these articles are pretty poor.
And the Hero of the Year award goes to... the Teenage Dirtbag
Step away from the frying pan, genius
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