This is Stevie and me when we first started to live together, matching dressing gowns and pint cups of tea. We still have those mugs, but not the robes.
Unless you NEVER tune into social media and you live under a rock and you have a hermit like existence, it is unlikely that you have lasted through the last few months - (I just made that up, cos I have no idea how long a big herd of women have been debasing themselves supposedly in a bid to capture their Prince Charming), without hearing shit about 'The Bachelor'. It's on at dinner time and if I have been slack about changing the channel or indeed pausing the box altogether, it drones on as we shovel in food and even the sound of bones being chewed clean or carrots being crunched, or Dog begging for left-overs, is not loud enough to out do it.
I am completely over the bullshit. The trite, editor fed lines, the contrived situations, the banal leaping off of shit in a bid to fulfil advertising and sponsorship obligations, all give me the screaming irrits, but mostly it's the way the women behave that I find truly appalling. Yeh I know they are ALL just playing their roles, they are all doing whatever it is that their contracts require, but I just can't fathom how, firstly anyone believes it's real, and secondly WHY they carry on as they do. Perpetuating shitty female stereotypes is something we can all do without.
Dating used to be an exciting adventure, and if you were really lucky you'd be forging a relationship with someone who is equally keen and hopefully hasn't come straight from having their tongue down some other girl's throat.
But the rules have changed.
Recently I sat in a posh restaurant for dinner and just observed the other diners. Yeh I had my phone and my Kindle, but my entertainment for the evening was perving on others.
There were large tables of visitors who could well have been part of a tour group, cos there seemed to be a leader who spoke enough English and could translate and order for everyone. I had a wee giggle to myself cos they all asked for and were provided with, chop sticks even though it was not an Asian restaurant. I laughed because where ever I go I have to ask for a knife and fork or a spoon cos I am hopeless with chop sticks. Horses for courses and all that.
There was an old married couple (I presumed married to each other, but perhaps they were participants in a long term affair, in any case they were very comfortable in each other's presence) who enjoyed sharing a bottle of wine and talked nonstop about day to day shit, nothing intimate, just daily banality, as they enjoyed the food they didn't cook themselves.
And then 2 well heeled young fellas bounced on in. They ordered cocktails and because I suffer from stereotype overload, I sort of thought perhaps they were a gay couple, until they settled into a break down of their dating life since last they had met. So definitely NOT a couple then, and probably not gay either.
They looked at the menu and asked the waiter for the price of the lobster. '$360'
'Shit' I thought, 'Glad I am chewing up the prawns instead.'
The fellas were a little aghast but played it cool until the waiter went on to serve someone else. And then the bloke facing me was reminded of a recent date with a girl they both knew. Yeh the price was the trigger for the following story.
'I spent 400 bucks for dinner on our second date, cos I just wanted to root her.'
I choked a little on my Pinot G.
They were both being so loud and forthright about it all.
'Yes, she is quite a bitch, but very good looking.'
And so this is what dating in 2017 is like huh?
I didn't listen to any more. I dragged out my phone and played 'Find a Word'. They told the waiter they weren't going to eat at all, just drink. I presumed he wasn't best pleased, but he did bring 'em another cocktail.
So if this is modern day dating, then perhaps 'The Bachelor' is not far off the mark.
Sophie Monk's 'Bachelorette' starts soon and I suppose given the huge amount of wonga that has been stumped up, she will do quite a lot of doing as she's told and I guess the fellas will do the male equivalent of bitchy back-stabbing, whatever that is, and if there is any love to be found, I imagine it will be between one of the fellas and someone on the production crew, but that will all be kept very quiet.
I doubt I have the energy to date even one bloke, let alone keep a dozen of more clear in my mind.
All I can think of is that I hope no-one has a cold sore, cos this place would just be a herpes' paradise.