The Big Dream and The Get-me-out-of-here

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There is a pandemic sweeping the lives of the late-twenty-early-thirty-something year olds who don’t have children, might have fur-babies and wake up one day asking themselves WHAT THE FUCK.

If you are reading this and taking a big deep breath because you realize you are not alone, you are welcome. If this awakens a long dormant sleeping dragon of thought that you suspected existed but you couldn’t fully recognize, then I apologize – because shiiiiit I am about to justify every niggle you ever felt.

We, the unsettled settled are out there and we are hungry, we are stubborn, we are restless and we are bursting out of our skins. Indulge me in self indulgence all you traditionalists.

Over countless coffee’s and beers, I’ve had the same conversation over and over again. The “I am stuck in a rut and I don’t even know how to get out because I’m too damn tired” one, where educated, hardworking, passionate people, lament the thought bubble we are stuck in. We were told we could have it all. So where is it? Cookie please!

The new normal is that we want to have jobs we like, we want to travel the world, have a couple babies, maybe get married and be able to afford it all while the job market around us is like “JK bae, 10+ years experience, no benefits, $38k pa and you cool with working unpaid overtime and weekends? Holla at me!” and the dating scene is a revolving door of fuckboys and girls who can’t make eye contact with anything but their phones. The news is going: Don’t even THINK about getting on a train/plane or congregating anywhere in public in case of shootings/bombings/knife attacks and our parents are getting older and more dependent. That isn’t depressing. No siree.

Believe me, I’m aware of how lucky I am. I’m writing this to you from a first world country that I am allowed to live in because my parents were born in the right place and got me a “good” passport. If I sound articulate or intelligent by any stretch, it’s because I am also educated thanks to that same birth place, and the guidance of two excellent people who poured money into my brain (via the veins of formal instructional institutions). I’m white, which means I hopefully wont get shot for no reason in my car, and I’m female, which puts me at an advantage or a disadvantage depending on who you talk to, and so long as I’m not running for president.

And listen, I’m the first person to call people out on #firstworldproblems. Believe me. I’ve walked on the sidelines of poverty, I know that there are deeper issues at play in our world than the demented cries of a person who can’t afford the new iPhone.

But if there is one thing I have learned over the last few months of the ups and downs, it is that you can’t just push away things that you feel, and you can’t panic or beat yourself up because you feel them (thanks Mum) or because you are so preoccupied with keeping up the pretences that you have your shit together on social media. We know you don’t have your shit together…we’ve been to your apartment.

I feel it and I’m calling it out. The transition from hopefully graduate to slightly more jaded adult is not that fun at the moment. It’s not cute any more that we feel directionless. This isn’t Sex and the City where our lack of partners is because there is just too much dick to choose from. Our parents are sitting us down telling us they’d “like to see us get on the property ladder” and we’re agreeing with them whole heartedly as we open another letter about our student loans and wondering if we’ll get scurvy if we eat no-brand frosted flakes five nights a week for dinner.

We all started out with such big dreams! We went to school and we played along and we were encouraged to day-dream about what we “wanted to be” when we grew up. And then half of us fell off the wagon somewhere after high school and shrugged and realized that our job’s maybe don’t have to be our careers. Then we split up again when some of us realized that we’d give up that dream job for the security of that paycheck, or the option to travel with work. Those of us that have stayed the course  are more often than not slamming our faces into our laptops in the public library when we are on the hunt for the next job or big break AGAIN, thinking about escaping through English teaching in Asia or “how much DOES selling your *insert body part or fluid* really pay?”

I don’t have the solution to the twentythirtysomething malaise, and no matter how I google it (or Bing it… just kidding The Bing is dead, long live the Bing), no advice post or computer filtered answer can make my decisions for me (though I’d invest in the app that could).

All I know is that personally, I live happiest in the carnage and constant movement of work and sensory overload – when there are TOO many plates spinning in the air (because when that happens, how could I possibly have time to turn inwards). That lifestyle doesn’t really jive-turkey with the expiring “rising-of-the-ladder” career trajectory theory, and I’m tired of trying to be a square peg in a round hole.

Success is measured in many different ways, which is a topic for another day.

But for today – for those this resonates with, just know that you are not alone, and I’ve come to know, for myself anyway, that is the door doesn’t open, I’m just going to have to buy a sledge hammer. The coffee is on me when it comes to these conversations, because maybe if we stack our thoughts and idea’s one on top of each other, we’ll find a way to climb out of these ruts.

 

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Things that are Gross about Childbirth AKA It’s my Birthday! Yay!

I’m so glad I was born.

I’m not sure how I would have come to exist if I wasn’t, but I’m definitely not thankful enough that my parents decided to fuck around with their birth control and then actually have me. Cheers you guys!

Pregnancy and Childbirth look kind of revolting and terrifying from where I’m standing and in recognition of the day I was ejected into the world, I thought I would compile a short list of the things that look the grossest from over here in singleton (population one).

Enjoy

5 Things that are Freaky about Pregnancy & Childbirth

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1. There is a person…inside you…and not in a Saturday night way
I always thought it was weird watching movies (and…I guess in real life) when an expectant mother is like “hey put your hand over here. You can feel the baby kicking.” What. THE. Fuck. A baby is kicking you in the stomach…from inside your stomach. Why would I want to touch that!? Why aren’t you freaking out?! Lets think about that for a second longer. Your child is living inside you. That is his or her house. Near your organs. Am I the only one that thinks thats a bit fucked up? I get it. Thats how babies are made (I took year seven sex ed thankyouverymuch and I’m pretty sure Australian babies are stored the same way as other babies…just upside down). I don’t want a person to live inside me! In todays society we get so little personal space in big cities, and you’re telling me I have to share my insides.

man thats whack.

2. Mood Swings … You in?
Sometimes its hard to know when something is just a you thing or if it’s an everybody thing. Like PMS for example. It is generally understood that most women suffer in one way or another from PMS. Angry/crazy mood swings, feeling sad, feeling fat, feeling paranoid, crying for no reason at all. I can get a handle on that, most women I know are somewhere on the crazy scale at all times. We get it, we’ve been there, maybe we’re there right now. NO I’M NOT! *cries*

Now I’m trying to imagine being pregnant. It’s likely just you (and your new pregnant friends that you made at some weird class where you practise giving birth or something) and your mood swings. You feel like you’re being crazy and going through this alone…yeah pretty much. No body understands what your going through…well other women who have had babies probably do a bit, but they aren’t actually with you in the moment right now. So… you clutch that watermelon and cry. You go Glen Coco.

3. and Stretch Marks…
Oh man, what’s not sexy about stretch marks?

4. 5Childbirth
I hate needles. I fainted in thailand after I had to get two shots after some freaking monkeys attacked me. Giving birth to a child seems like it involves a tonne of needles. Pain blockers (obviously) drips (uhhhhnooo) tests, surgery if it’s a C-section. They will cut you open or your child will rip you open. Decisions, decisions.
We all know where I could go on this topic. But I’m not going to go there. Mainly because if I start typing out all the things that are on the tip of my tongue, I’m going to start imagining them, and I’ve been trying really hard not to throw up at work today (so far, success!)
But lets all just agree that Childbirth looks painful and messy, and I don’t know how people did it before all the drugs that can take you off to a happy place. Props ancestors. Props.

5. Now what?
Now you have had your child and then…now you are responsible for this creature…forever. My mum just posted a thing on Facebook about how she can’t believe how fast the time has gone now I’m at the quarter century mark. And she’s still not rid of me. I’m going to be drink dialling that woman for the rest of her life. Hope you enjoyed those brief 19 years where I wasn’t in your life demanding attention and care every single day. Golden days.

Happy birthday to me, and to my parents who had me (not you Dad, you just got to stand in the room) and raised me and stuff.

I guess having a baby must not be all bad because people keep doing it.

And hey, I’ve thought about doing skydiving, so probably one day i’ll be crazy enough to think reproducing is a great idea.

Hopefully by then there will be some kind of technology where you can just put all the bits together into a holographic microwave type machine and then a baby just kind of gets made.

That or pull a Nicole Kidman and just pay someone else to have it.

End Rant.

 

Annoying shit I do that nobody has called me out on, but they definitely should have.

God I’m annoying*. Seriously, have you met me? I am a pain in the posterior to hang out with. And you only have to see me like once every now and then. I have to live with me all the time.
It’s awful, and loud, and sometimes vaguely unsettling.

Nah, don’t worry.
I like me! (enough of the time anyway) but I guess sometimes I have these moments where my Changnesia wears off and I’m like…wtf am I doing? Am I seriously every cliche in the book?
I read those Buzzfeed lists about annoying people on Facebook & Things you do that you probably shouldn’t  (watching surprise engagements videos on Youtube is INSPIRING OKAY! Stop judging me Brodie!) and I’m like…holy shit. Why hasn’t someone saved me from myself?!

Hey Everyone...come and see how good I look!

Hey Everyone…come and see how good I look!

Taking Pictures with Bottles/Alcoholic Beverages
Who the Fuck do I think I am? And why am I pointing at these items? Do I think you’re stupid? “Heyooooooo, see that? Yup. I drank it! See this? That’s where the liquid came from. And now you know. Awesome.” *Then I Highfived myself in the face.* Wanna date me? I am surprisingly available.

Posting Annoying Links to things on Social media sitesUntitled3
Hey have you liked my blog today? Did you like my blog? If my blog was a desert island and you could only take one of my blogs with you, which one would you choose? Have you shared my blog? hey look over there! What’s that!? It’s my blog!!! Blogblogblogblogbloglikelikelikelikelike, raaaaaaar. Then I stab you….okay that got out of control…lets move on.

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Posting Way to many photos to online area’s
Mainly (apparently) of myself holding food and drink items (see above) or artfully taken photos that show off how skinny/fun I am. HAHA we are having SUCH a great time, without YOU! Lets all take a totally natural picture of us and share it on a public forum.
MmmmJeaaaalousbitch?
Thoughtso.

Talking about how I’m such a unique individual all the time because I am an Expat Brat
Oh did you hear? I’m an Australian living in Canada. yeahthatsright, so I’m technically better than ALL of you. And if that wasn’t enough, I also grew up in Asia. Yeah thats right. I’m interesting. WHATEVER, i’ll be in my trailer writing my blog about how interesting I am, which you can totally like later on Facebook. There will also be photos of me drinking. No big deal.

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Constantly updating you on my burgeoning (hahaha-suuuuure) Film and TV Career.
Oh hey guys, just a casual photo of me interviewing some people on TV. It’s cool.

Annnnnnnd Finally

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Saying/Doing/Texting inappropriate things while under the influence
Yeahhhhh I get that it isn’t cute or funny any more that I ate all the ice cream at 3am, or that I texted you something that made me delete all the messages in my inbox, or that I broke your shit with my flailing ungainly arms. And what with my quarter century mark coming to pass next week, I think I’m going to need to go sit in a dark corner somewhere and think about getting my shit under control.

From now on, feel free to call me and (other sufferers) out on this shit.

Thanks!

*This blog is written kind of in jest. (Duh, I’m awesome). If you can’t poke fun at yourself sometimes, then lighten the hell up. What is it that Jane Austen wrote in Pride and Prejudice?

“For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors, and laugh at them in our turn?”

Things I wish I knew before I did my Masters of Creative Writing AKA you should have spent your money on shoes

Hey Past Paris, how’s it going? So adorable that you just turned 21 and that you’re finishing up your Bachelor of Arts degree. It’s a miracle you passed every subject (hey…a 51 is still a pass OKAY) and that they’re ACTUALLY going to let you graduate when you were supposed to. All those last minute assignments you handed in (some that you began the DAY they were due and were mostly just made up sentences that you hoped made sense because lets be hungover…you drank 7/7 days of the week) were totally worth it, and now, because that 3 years went by in a flash, you’re thinking you’ll do a Masters Degree because you aren’t quite ready to join the real world? That’s sweet, and a great idea considering Australia has this Higher Education thing where you don’t have to start paying back your student loans until you make over a certain amount of money (don’t worry – you’ll flee the country before that happens/at this rate – you’ll never make more than that minimum amount anyhow!).

Except a Masters today does not hold the currency it used to, dear old past me. They’re handing those out like free condoms at the walk-in clinic, and by the time you’re twenty two, you’ll have yours, and everyone will assume you’re a genius in North America (because they make them do like four year degrees or some shit) but we all know you’re just a chicken who applied for the program the day it was closing, and who nearly didn’t make it because you forgot your passport, so you had to use your feminie wiles (and your tears) to convince the dickhead at student services to process your application.

And that Masters in Creative Writing (dear god why didn’t you do something like marketing or business-y so you could actually find a real job?!) is going to be a great talking point… but here are some home truths:

More Valuable than your Masters, is the Interning you do:
The Master’s contact hours I had were a joke. 7pm-9pm Monday-Thursday. Sure there was a lot of writing involved – but I did that ANYWAY because I love writing. SO to fill my time (and feed myself) I got a job doing shitty admin (this is what  has led to more jobs in the future, so thank you universe!) and got stuck into interning for free at a Television Production Company 3 days a week.

This is where I discovered my true passion and the career path I had vaguely known I wanted all along. Turns out  I am a WHIZ at juggling people on set, in a production office, PR people, people I need to get things from (like permission to film for free on a set) 20 year old reality “stars”, major networks and crew. Turns out I thrived on the drama, and learn’t more in 8 months interning (and then being hired and paid!) than I did from sitting in a classroom analyzing the screenplay for Scar face.

Get used to Temping/Retail while you look for that foot in the door:

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Truth be told, had I stayed in Australia, I would have worked on a bunch more shows by now. The production company I interned at loved me (the feeling was mutual!) and they would have found me another position (in research or production). But I knew I’d get stuck in the Australian industry. And hot off the press from a breakup and the completion of four years in one place (I get claustrophobic when I stay still too long) I decided it was now or never to try somewhere new. And so I found myself in a new market, starting from the bottom all over again, networking and having to re-make contacts. SO retail and Temping is what pays the bills and allows me to keep trying to be as fabulous as I can be. It isn’t glamorous but I am damn thankful for it, and it is pretty crazy who you may meet when you’re in a new office/talking to customers. If you are genuine and people are interested in you – they will do what they can – you’ll be surprised to discover who wants to help you/the connections they have if they know what you are trying to do.

You need to learn how to use multiple coffee machines/how to effectively stack a dishwasher:

A run-on from the Temping thing. Mostly what I’m asked to do in a day could occupy two hours out of eight. Answering phones, creating a few fedex orders and crafting a couple emails. Mainly you’ll be unstacking/stacking the dishwasher and making yourself fancier and fancier coffees (mainly due to boredom and or your secret mad scientist sensibilities and not due to your love of coffee).
Maybe you should have gone to Barista school and not got a Masters. Just saying. You’d probably be making more money by now.

Mostly what you’ll write is your blog:
Without those deadlines and people breathing down your neck, it’s going to take a lot of will power to finish projects. Sure you’ll go through writing frenzies, but to actually complete something… yeah not so much. But adorable that you thought you’d be a novelist by now. Uhhhh-dorable. *sobs*

People who did boring degree’s will have way more money than you and/or actual grownup lives:

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That girl in the year below you at college who was studying chemical engineering that you stalk on Twitter and Facebook? Yeah. She just bought an apartment, is engaged, has a pet bulldog and makes 5x more than you did last year (yeah but her tax rebate was probably nothing so HA!). If you wanted to be rich you should have listened to your parents and done a degree with the name of a job in it (hey… Writer is a job…).

The good news is, you’re chasing your dreams and will probably not hate your job (when you get one) and will not just be living for the weekend.
The bad news is, while you’re chasing those dreams you’re going to be eating baked beans on toast at least 3 nights a week.
Yay for Creatives. *Hugs self tightly and rocks*

People are impressed you did a Masters of Creative Writing, because they always figured themselves a Writer… but it’s not going to get you hired…yet:
The number of times interviewers have been impressed that my Masters is in Creative Writing… well it’s a lot. The number of times they’ve been so impressed by the fact that I hold that degree and thought “we need to hire this ridiculously awesome girl!!” is not many. Scratch that. Maybe it’s none. (Pretty sure the interning thing is what has gotten me hired in the past)

There is a difference between people being impressed/jealous of the degree you got, and the way they figure that that degree equals revenue in their business/justifies your salary.

I’m sorry, I thought this advertisement was for an amazingly hilarious Australian girl who grew up in Hong Kong, can stack ALL of the dishes in one tray. is really good at Facebook and can make you an exquisite blend of hazelnut latte and hot chocolate. No? hmmm. That is strange. Anyway while i’m here i’ll just drop off my Resume…

You will probably think a lot about doing a more relevant degree/PHD:

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There is no way in hell I can afford international student fee’s here in Canada, so if i plan on getting further education – it’s back to Australia I go. And while that wouldn’t be so bad, I’m not sure I could handle being a full time student again. I may not be rich now, but i’m hella richer than I was as a student AND my parents were still helping me out at the time.
But I have thought about it. Two guys I’ve dated in the past got their MBA’s and people are doing the PhD thing now. I feel like, if I hadn’t done my Masters right after my BA, I would have appreciated it more (although moving off campus made my results sky-rocket and put me at the top of the class!)
But knowing me, i’d probably just want to study something fun and creative again, like, get a Masters in Stand up Comedy, or a PhD in Blogging.

 

I don’t live my life with regrets, and not for a second would I change my Masters degree, because I loved it, met some awesomely inspiring people – and got to do what I love.
I think i’d just make sure I had less lofty aspirations. Cos… like… I’ll be 25 in a month and I haven’t won an Academy award yet…

But there’s still 30 days!

OK GO.

31 Things I care more about than who is in Government in Australia

Classy former Prime Minister/Ranga

Classy former Prime Minister/Ranga

31. How many Twitter followers do I have?

30. How long is too long to go without changing your sheets?

29. Will my Roommate notice if I steal a bit of her butter

28. How can I get more views on my Blog?

27. Who got voted out of Big Brother USA this week.

26. Would I be skinnier if I became a vegetarian?

25. Is Breaking Bad as good as they say?

24. Should I be more concerned about the environment?

23. Whats the cheapest way to get drunk?

22. The amount of sugar in Sprite and whether or not I’ll become a diabetes patient if I keep drinking the amount I do.

21. My socks and why I keep losing just one of each pair.

20. Will I get wrinkles if I always leave my makeup when I go to bed due to laziness/waterproof indestructible makeup?

19. Dim Sum, and how to have as much of it in my body at any one time.

18. If my hair looks nice today.

17. What does KCCO mean? (I am so uncool)

16. Why doesn’t the wifi always work in my room?

15. Who really shot Kennedy?

14. Shoes.

13. Is that guy looking at me or the girl behind me?

12. One time I sprayed my JLo perfume on something that was damp and wore it and now every time I wear that perfume I get that sensory thing where it reminds me of wearing something damp. Should I chuck out that perfume?

11. Keeping my room clean.

10. Do I instagram too much?

9. Animals.

8. Reddit.

7. Ninja’s, and how I can reasonably become one with little no effort.

6. Is Facebook like, so over?

5. Getting a Job.

4. Scrubbing the bath tub.

3. Why do people keep thinking I’m British?

2. Will Amy Poehler and Will Arnett ever get back together?

1. Who the American president is.

No but seriously. From what I can see (on my Facebook feed, because that is as far as my research will go on this matter), Australian Politicians are a bunch of Juvenile babies who bicker and stab each other in the back. It’s like a more boring version of a soap opera I wouldn’t watch even if I was in a hospital with both my legs and arms broken and had no way to change the channel (I could always just stop breathing.)

Australian politics feels very far away from my perch in Toronto and I think it is bizarre that I am being forced to vote for people that I feel don’t really have any governance over my life (okay technically the dooooo).

The only issue that elicits any depth of feeling is Marriage equality, and sadly, it seems that is a long way off.

Vote or we’ll fine you. Proud to be an Australian

My Gay brothers are better than your Straight ones.

I have two younger brothers, 23 and 19 and among their many fantastic attributes, (including courage, intelligence, amazing good-looks, and the fact that they get to be related to me) they both happen to be rainbow spewing, Homosexual-types.

I’ve written in the past about how I struggled when they first came out. In middle school and high school, I was guilty of using words like “gay” in a negative context (“that’s so gay”) and it was really my ignorance and youth (although that’s no excuse) that made me think this type of thing was okay. I was tolerant of Gay people, I just never really thought there would be some in my family, and I didn’t really think about their rights. Being the selfish young adult I was at the time this was all happening, I thought that I was somehow affected personally when they came out.

Certain issues don’t strike you until they become personal, and you have to shift the way you think. When somebody close to you that you love, suddenly announces that they are different than the person you thought they were. It can be kind of hard at first. It would be like if I told my parents I was converting to Hardcore Judaism after being a pretty mellow agnostic/atheist my whole life. They’d be like… this is different…can we still have Christmas?

Being Gay in my family is pretty much less of a big deal than being religious. In fact I think my parents would prefer it.

Seriously, you want to join my family (no you don’t, we’re crazy).

So this Shenagantics (thats shenanigans and antics for those of you not vibrating on the same frequency as me) in Russia has got me to thinking.

Why are we so afraid of people who are slightly different from us?

My Gay brothers are better than your Straight ones.

1. Have you ever been to a gay bar? Seriously, it is the best fun you can have with most of your clothes on.
Sweet music, hot guys, nobody groping you (well…no guys groping you). I want to go to a gay bar every night, and guess what? I can, because I have gay brothers and I’m allowed. So, no big deal, enjoy your lame sports bars with your lame straight brothers. Bring on Madonna!

2. My brothers are never going to impregnate a girl by accident and stress my Dad out.
We’ll leave the accidental pregnancies to yours truly.

3. Honest appraisals of my boyfriends .
Would NOT bang. Really? Yeah yuck. Sigh-Okay. “Hi, it’s Paris. My brothers say you are fugly and we need to break up now. Yup seriously. Cool. Bye”

4. I’m learning so much about men – from men.
You do what-now with the where-now??

5. My brothers will never bring a girl home to steal my only-girl-in-the-family status.
Sure you may be the Queens, but I will always be the Princess, and therefore, I can do no wrong, nor be compared to any sister-in-law.

My brothers are tolerant, open-minded & politically aware.

I have never met someone with such a capacity for accepting others like my baby brother Angel, nor someone with such a strong sense of self as my brother Kip. This blog, like most of my blogs, has a tongue-in-cheek element, but the truth is, I learn from my brothers every single day, and I love them more for the fact that they looked this world (which can be cruel and harsh and a struggle) right in the eye and said “bring it, this is me”.

They aren’t perfect, and I would still punch them as hard as I could in the arm if they tried to change the channel when I am watching my secret favourite show “Say yes to the dress” (then I would run away because they are both over 6 feet tall). They are the boys (men now) that I grew up with and I am so proud of them every single day.

It’s hurtful to read articles about what’s going on in Russia, or about Hatred towards people who are just getting on with their shit same as everybody. When I read ignorant blog posts or Facebook status’ or see evidence of injustice and intolerance, I am sad for the people who obviously don’t have the love or intelligence to see that we’re all just people.

They obviously haven’t met my brothers, who are amazing dudes that just happen to like other dudes.

I don’t think it matters who you’re taking home at night, so long as you are happy and they are happy and somebody is buying my brunch.

No Freedom until we’re equal, you’re damn right I support it.

PHT

 

 

 

 

 

 

Flirting Fails: A guide to my life AKA 6 things you are doing that are turning the opposite sex off…forever

pick-up-line

 

I’ve been in and out of mid-length relationships for the last 10 years, which is surprising really, because I am a HORRIBLE flirt. Maybe that is why I am such a bad flirt. I missed all those years of getting that adolescent awkwardness out of the way, and now I’m as good at flirting as Lindsay Lohan is at not snorting Cocaine. *Bazinga! – you may applaud my pop-culture reference*

Truth is, I’m 24 and 4 fifths and I got no game.

No no friends, don’t try to console me and say:

“Paris, what are you saying!? You’ve got plenty of game!” because you see me talking to dudes.

Because what you are confusing for game is tits. Tits, my friends – will only get you so far.

These aren’t all about me BTW (mkayyyy most of them are) but if you’re doing the below, you’re probably alone and single and crying softly into one of those Japanese arm pillows I know you have.

6. Oh you seem to like me? Let me overanalyze ever word of your one word text with 15 of my closest friends.
It took me two hours to craft the response “good thanks, you?” when you asked how my day was going. It’s cool. I have a Masters of Creative Writing you know.

5. You’re texting me asking me how I’m “doin” at 11.37pm and I reply with a really long wordy response. (Also are you secretly Joey from Friends?) 
I’m so glad you texted guy I met one time at a bar, because I was really looking to offload and couldn’t get to sleep. Hey! Why aren’t you writing back? You did ask.

4. Hey, let me hit on with a really off-colour joke/sexual proposition as my opening line.
What? Why are you making that face and walking away? It worked like, 2 years ago?

Tinder Fail

3. I’m a bit drunk and I’m pretty sure at this point I’m the best dancer in the room. Check out my moves.
And pose, and pose and double dream handssssPOSE.

120910_double_dream_hands_t

2. We’ve been on like 4 dates.
Aren’t we dating now? Let me text you 50 times so you know I have no friends AND no game.

1. I drunk dialled you waaaaay too soon before it was cute. Whoops-giggle-hee-hee
Seeeeeeeyou never bitch. Delete.

Men (and women) of the world, be patient with those of us that seem like we should know better. Maybe we do and we’re just awful people, or maybe we haven’t had much practise and this is us attempting to become more worldly/better game players*.

 

* I should point out that I think playing games during dating is stupid and Juvenile and should be avoided. AhhhhnnnnnND that is why tonight I’m paying for my own damn dinner.

Happy Friday