The Games Girls Play (With Themselves)

I’ve known myself for 20 years and I’d like to think that I now understand my body inside and out.  That distinct freckle on my right wrist, the small box shaped scare just above my knee, the way I hate the sound of nails being filed and how I've slowly learnt to control my anxiety when I feel it creeping on.

However there have been situations lately that have made me question how much control I actually have over myself, in particular my emotions. Meeting a new guy is a trigger that takes the cake. You see you think you’re in control of your life until you meet a shiny, brand-new guy because as far as you know he’s the most perfect person on the planet. He probably flosses without thinking about it, tells the most hilarious jokes, would get along famously with your girlfriends and your parents, he sure wouldn’t hesitate to buy you expensive jewellery for your birthday not to mention a pony for your first anniversary. A new guy is as flawless as Celine handbag filled with hand crafted praline and nude polaroid’s of Ryan Gosling.

Of course we know this isn’t true, because on the first date he forgot to walk you right to your door- not just the front gate. And his nose is slightly crooked and the his watch is a nock off but compared to the other men in your life he might as well be Paul Walker driving a Maserati with your initials in his number plate.

It is the hours that pass after the first date that can be the biggest test for any woman. In my experience, all the things that he did wrong the first time you met start to fade away and no matter what you do you cant help but wonder what he thinks about you. Did he notice that pimple on your face which you spent hours squeezing, soothing then suppressing under copious amounts of concealer? Could he barely contain himself as you walked away from him flicking your hair to the left in one swift motion? And the most painful, annoying and frustrating question of all is- if and when will he decide to contact you again? 

This is the part when I start to question if I know anything about myself at all. Did I literally just turn my phone on silent, put it in a sock and then transfer it into a box and hide it in my underwear draw- so that I would refrain from checking it? Did I actually just fabricate urgent plans within the vicinity of my house so I could leave my phone at home yet not feel that I was far enough away from my phone incase I witnessed a murder and had to call 000 off the phone which is wrapped in a sock inside a box deep in my underwear draw? And did I really just write that sentence which makes absolutely no sense because I was thinking about checking my phone instead of monitoring my sentence structure?

These are all questions that force me to ask if I am a driven, sophisticated and together career woman or a raging lunatic that needs to be put in a mental institution.

The important thing is that we realise at the end of the day, how brave we are as single women venturing into the unknown in the name of love, or lust. There is a great possibility that if we like someone we will lose our shit once or twice along the way. Ironically, the truth is that- the intensity of the feeling you get when he does actually send you a "grand gesture" is in exact proportion to the amount of times you nearly threw your phone into the street while waiting for it. And well if he doesn’t call, its his loss anyway. In the words of the great Morcheeba: It’s all part of the process.