Rom-coms set bar for dating too high
A fascination with watching romcoms can be quite detrimental to a dating life. Tinder dates simply don’t live up to the standards set by Hollywood’s leading men, as Jill Poulsen has found out
SOMEONE asked me what my most memorable first date was recently.
After running through the faces in my head and a quick mental recap of the hours (upon hours) I’ve spent on dating app Tinder, I remembered.
It was the one with the nice English chap and it was just like that famous scene in the movie Notting Hill.
Where Julia Roberts says to Hugh Grant: “I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love me.” Almost exactly like that.
Except I was just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to lose my number.
I’ve spent more time than I care to admit watching romantic comedies.
Much to the detriment of my dating life and the poor blokes, who constantly fail to live up to the standards set by Hollywood’s leading men.
My penchant for watching this wonderfully unrealistic rubbish has me expecting first dates to be serendipitous encounters and kisses in the rain.
Only to find out in reality they’re mostly fake laughing and awkward conversations about who should pay the meal we endured during all that fake laughing.
The online banter with Nice English Chap was exceptional but from the minute we laid eyes on each other in the flesh it was clear we were thinking the same thing: thanks anyway, but I’ll keep browsing.
Things got off to a bad start when I arrived about twentyish minutes late.
I’d sent an apology message and thought that would be the end of it until I saw his eyes zipping from the face of his watch to my face right up until I put my hand out to shake his hand.
If time management was one of his “non negotiables” I knew it was going to be a long wait on the chicken korma.
But alas, there I was standing in front of quite possibly the most anal man in the southern hemisphere and the chicken korma wasn’t going to eat itself.
“Busy day at work?” was his opening line. Before I could answer he pushed me through the door because we were terribly “late for our reservation”.
I didn’t catch the reason why we needed a “reservation” on a Tuesday night to a restaurant that seats about 600 people because I was too busy answering questions about my blood type and citizenship status.
I tuned out when the pappadums arrived but I think he was having some sort of visa problem, and it started to make sense to me why he was so incensed at my tardiness.
Time was quite literally running out for him to find a wife.
Still, I wasn’t completely off the idea of entering into a marriage of convenience – especially if it meant having my very own Big Ben.
That was, until he brought up the sleep apnoea mask.
I completely understand sleep apnoea is a real, very serious condition.
I know a lot of people over the age 98 who have it.
Which was all I could think about when he asked if the “hum” of the machine would bother me when sleeping.