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The film script romance

Posted in About Me, Rantings with tags , , , , , on August 23, 2011 by randomintermissions

Before you get too engrossed, this isn’t going to be a detailed analysis into the subject of how T.V. and film is ruining romance for the masses, more of a personal rant. Should the former be your bag, then I am sure a quick Google search will reveal what you are looking for. Merry hunting.

Gone with the Wind

Anyway, recently I tried the whole being set up thing again, not entirely sure why baring in mind each previous attempt at this has ended in failure (I am not sure whether my friends just have a really poor perception of the type of girl I like or whether they are simply doing it to be cruel) but I figured what the hell, it can’t hurt, right?

Now, the first thing you should be thinking is “When has the expression ‘It’s can’t hurt, right?’ ever been uttered when in some way shape or form it hasn’t in fact ‘hurt'”. None as far as I can recall [if you have experienced this, then feel free to correct me].

Asides aside, the first date was rather nice, very ‘clicky’ and chatty, got to know each other reasonably well. There was a little pressure with her having children, but quite reasonably I was not expected to be involved with them, not at least until I long way down the line and for that I was grateful. I am no where near ready for my own kids, let alone starting to integrate myself with others.

Now obviously having children is a huge responsibility, and I would never take anything away from that, least not from a single mother. Juggling baby-sitters and free time must be an absolute nightmare. So when I enquire as to a second date on a weekday evening, I didn’t go in with high expectations and sure enough she’s busy. No harm, no foul. I set about making other plans, working late and possibly a drink or two. But then a text, she’s has managed to get someone to watch the kids. Great at first glance, but oh shit, I am working late… working late + Ben = bad mood. Oh well, it all was very late notice, I’ll just let her know and we can sort something out for another time, be a little bit more organised. Oh how wrong could I be?

Four hours of being accused / shouted at for “messing her about” later, followed by discussions you would only expect the long married and bitter to have the classic “Please do not contact me again” text has been received.

I long for that fairy tale romance: Boy meets girl, they go on a crazy, random exciting adventure, fall in love and live happily ever after (of course I mean more Doctor Who than Disney), but life just isn’t like that.

Having written all this out, there appears to be no point or drive to it other than to vent my frustration. I hope I haven’t bored you too much dear reader, but I do have one simple request for you; if you know someone you think would be ‘perfect’ for me… right now I am not bloody interested!