going backwards

I thought about going backwards for a long time but I really really don’t believe it’s the way forward (hoho). But it’s summer in London and sometimes I find it gets boring if I’m doing the whole wine is my boyfriend thing and not dating another string of awkward 20 somethings like myself… Because the sun makes everything better in my experience. I thought about Tinder (twats), about DoingSomething.co.uk (what if I don’t actually want to DO anything?) and even recently, after my boss’s suggestion, Match.com (after the initial awkward shame that my boss thinks I need to join a dating site). But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. No matter how difficult actual real life human interaction can be in this day and age, I was determined to find love, or even just lust, by my own accord, without the help of social media.

However, I soon realised this business was a lot harder than first anticipated. And I stumbled upon the past again. So there I was, ready to go backwards. I scanned my little black book for an unsuspecting victim. Once I ruled out those who had broken my heart, and vice versa, those who are seriously unstable (but semi unstable was not ruled out), and anyone who had taken drugs in the past week. Well, I was left with a small pool of two. So I chose the one who worked closest to me because, well, that’s how you should make all of your dating decisions.

I always thought that going backwards is pretty dangerous territory because there’s usually a reason why they are in the past. Perhaps he was really really cool, but told a cryptic racist joke that one time. Or perhaps he had that weird fetish in bed and tried to poke it in your ear. Maybe he had a girlfriend (usually quite a big obstacle in your love story), or perhaps you just HATED HIS JACKET SO MUCH YOU COULDN’T BEAR TO GO ON A SECOND DATE (not that that has ever happened to me).

Anyway, the reason this one was in the past was that last time around he really thought that I wanted him to be my boyfriend and was SO against the idea (clearly I thought that choosing a guy who didn’t want me as a girlfriend the first time around was going to be a successful decision…) I mean the guy’s a catch but you know, so am I… Not that it’s a competition or anything, but nobody puts baby in the corner. You know the age-old saying, treat em mean keep em keen? I have always believed in, treat me keen, ok bye. So, when I realised that was the situation, that was the end of that … Fast forward three years and I find myself being told (reminded) that JEWISH BOYS JUST CAN’T MARRY NON-JEWISH GIRLS, SO THERE’S NO POINT TRYING. I mean, I love marriage talk as much as the next unstable twenty something but I did feel a slight twinge when I was told that my heritage was standing in the way of what was clearly turning out to be THE ROMANCE OF THE CENTURY.

I arrived to our (second) first date forty minutes late and about ten minutes before he was about to leave thinking he had been stood up. I would love to say it was because I was trying to test his intentions but it was really because I had had a nap, dreamt about Ryan Gosling and had totally overslept. I had to admit that when he turned round and now had slicked back Shoreditch/Essex boy hair and a pink shirt my heart quivered and I realized my “type” had taken a turn for the worse ever since that night in Shoreditch where I made eyes across the dance-floor with an Essex boy.  And then when I saw that he was reading the same Russian novel as me I did think in my head that we were meant to be and surely not being Jewish is just a small hurdle (by the way, it really isn’t). But if he’s reading this I promise I’m kidding… Maybe he had a point in the first place after all…

And that’s the problem with me going backwards. I forget that there’s always a reason it didn’t work the first time around. One, I am not Jewish. Two, I am still crazy. Play it cool? My self control won’t allow it.

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