Eliza Doolittle – Skinny Genes “Sometimes I fake that I hate you and make up so you wind up next to me.”
All girls are different. Every single one. Some of us are even ladies. This inevitable difference obviously includes our attitudes to relationships, but if I factored the ‘we’re all unique’ thing into each post then my every blog entry would essentially just say “…OH, NEVER MIND“, so I’m going to make some sweeping statements based on recent observations. Deal with it. It’s a woman’s prerogative.
Like many girls, I’m essentially an amalgamation of sequins, gin, poorly-executed Beyonce dance moves, mildly witty pyjama-top slogans (“I need my beauty sheep” and a picture of a lickle lamby – OH, OH, I GET IT AWWWWW)… and about four tons of pure unadulterated crazy.
Oh yes, as soon as we smell a hint of man from Mr. Right, or at least Mr. I Kinda Like Him But I Don’t Know If He’s The One, we ladies like to pretend we’re just bundles of bright ideas, hairspray and plucky free-spiritedness stacked one on top of the other atop the least practical shoes we can find, but that’s only because – as my friend Kat once put it – “You’ve just got to hide the crazy. For at least six months. Then he’ll have to see it, but by then it’s too late.”
Oh yes. Feminist or not, I have to admit we can be crafty bitches when it comes to hiding the crazy. But six months is a long time in a relationship these days. And that crazy – it’s there, and it’s hungry. It feeds off our infatuation and our insecurity, but most of all it feeds off our boredom.
You see, it has come to my attention that too many of the women I know decide at some point or other that a relationship is going just a bit too well. And we decide “Yeah, okay, he’s still complimenting me and not just in a ‘That’s a pretty dress, can I talk you out of it?’ way, yeah okay he’s still texting back faster than it takes me to think up a suitably will-make-him-think-I’m-irresistible reply, and yeah sure rather than flowers or chocolates he just bought me a vintage teacup after I mentioned once that I quite like vintage teacups, but WHY HASN’T THE SELFISH BASTARD LET ME STORM OFF SO I CAN SEE IF HE’LL CHASE ME YET?”
The answer to that is probably ‘because you don’t have a reason to, you bonkers pile of insecurity’, but that doesn’t appear to stop us. Recently, my friends have been saying things that are more ridiculous than all of the names of the Beckham children combined. Yes, THAT ridiculous.
>>> Things like “I finished with him after two weeks, and then asked for him to ask for me back, just so I could be sure he wants me, you know? And he just got mad and decided he didn’t think we should get back together. Can you BELIEVE that?!”
>>> Things like “It took him too long to reply to my text one day, so I sent him a really long angry email. Then I sent him another email telling him to ignore the angry email. And he DIDN’T IGNORE IT ENOUGH. So now I’m not talking to him.”
>>> Things like “He woke me up by calling to tell me he loved me while drunk. So I banned him from coming over to see me.” Then, two hours later, when she received a huge box of chocolates at her work, she was actually DISGRUNTLED that he hadn’t let her be outraged for long enough to make it really dramatic.
This is what explodes out of our heads when our relationship has the cheek to be too bloody sturdy. And it’s because all too often we just love the drama. We panic when our relationships aren’t like something out of The OC or Love, Actually, because we resent the fact that if they’re ordinary then we are cheated out of the great big romantic gesture that makes everyone envy how hopelessly into us our manfriend is. Or we feel like by being perfectly reasonable, the boy is selfishly getting the easy way out of proving he wants to be with you. This, menfolk, is girl-logic.
TV and films teach us that if we don’t get to have spark-filled apology kisses in the pouring rain with mood-lighting and at least some kind of landmark nearby (and it’s not ideal, but I suppose we can just imagine the sweepy crescendoing music in our heads), then he’s simply not working hard enough. Why can’t you just be a twat and make it up to me like everyone else’s boyfriend? Other people are so lucky to have partners who utterly fail them at regular intervals.
This love of drama – despite mostly being fuelled by some twattery or other we saw on a screen – does have relatively sound roots. We all want to be loved, but it’s not enough just to have a solid relationship: we constantly yearn for reassurance. Obviously, it’s a bit unreasonable to expect your boyfriend to staple himself to you or fashion some kind of harness that lets him suspend himself behind you and spoon you 24/7, so we decide to go down the completely fine and not a bit batshit mental route of creating some massive bust-up out of the way he didn’t actually weep because of how pretty you are, or the fact he only signed his text with two kisses, or how when he blinked just then he seemed to do it in a way that said “I probably disagree with something fundamentally important to you.”
Okay, so a little spark is good in a relationship, and some guys love the cat-and-mouse as much as the girl (the promise of amazing make-up sex probably helps), but too often I’ve seen relationships – my own included – go into total shit + fan overdrive, all for the love of drama. The films don’t show you this part, but some men won’t stick around to get cried at for no reason whatsoever. I know. Shocker.
So, when you eventually push that person too far and it backfires on you so you lose them for good – you can look forward to eating entire multipacks of custard out of a tin, sitting in your witty sheep pyjamas watching endless DVDs of the fictional berks on the screen that got you into this mess in the first place, and you can have a nice laugh about how ironic your life is. (Ahem, or so I’ve heard.) After all, the films and TV shows tell us this part is quite fun too – in a cathartic, endearing, keeping-Ben-and-Jerrys-in-business way that usually ends with an amusing montage where they make themselves all better again – and the films and TV shows never get it wrong.