WHY I GAVE UP PLAYING IT COOL
Columnist Fearne Cotton on the virtues of being keen
I am not cool. Sure, once in a blue moon I might do some ‘cool’ things: go backstage at a gig or stay up past 11pm. But underneath, I’m still an overly enthusiastic kid from the suburbs with no idea of how to ‘play it cool’. I just can’t do it. I’ve always been too bloody excited by people, too eager and willing to please every new person in my life. I vividly remember sitting on my mum’s bed and using the house landline to call a boy I had just started ‘seeing’. I knew the unspoken rulebook meant that I probably shouldn’t be calling on day one of our relationship, but I just couldn’t contain the need and desire to connect in some way. Of course, a monosyllabic and painfully awkward chat followed, during which I willingly asked all the questions. After four very long minutes, I put the receiver down feeling drained and discombobulated. Even so, it all seemed somehow worth it just to get that fix of initial contact.
Later down the line, the emergence of pagers and text messaging meant that I could seriously unleash my inner over-communicator. No more sneaking off to Mum’s room for long landline calls, no more saving pennies to use the phone box at the end of the road after school. I could get in touch with the chosen one whenever I pleased. With this should’ve perhaps come a little discipline or an air of ‘cool’ to keep the heartthrobs interested. But my lust took over and I texted boys enthusiastically and far too often.
By the time I met my husband Jesse, I was tired of the dating scene, and purposefully gave up trying to play hard to get. I didn’t care if he thought I was undesirable or less intriguing because I would text back immediately or whenever I wanted to. Luckily, he had a similar mindset. Our relationship was a game-free zone and we had some heartfelt, honest conversations straight away. Relief! Finally, I had met my uncool match. After seven and a half years together, we still have little desire to play it cool with each other, and my compulsion to be too keen has also wheedled its way into the new friendships in my life. Meeting a new friend in your 30s can almost feel like a mini love affair – a connection out of the blue that opens up new parts of you. And that’s wonderful, but yet again, I always end up being the one who texts too many times. I reply punctually because I genuinely enjoy the banter and connection, and can’t understand why people forget to text back. Like those who forget to have lunch. What?! How?! I’m thinking about lunch the minute I finish breakfast. I also always take it personally when I don’t get a response or a conversation is left open-ended. It makes me feel like I’m dangling off a cliff edge.
What I have learnt from these moments is this: we all think so differently. I’m a classic Virgo so am prone to promptness and overenthusiasm, whereas others might be so preoccupied with other tasks that my long texts are the least of their worries. It doesn’t mean that they like me any less; they simply don’t have the same need to communicate that I do, and that’s okay. Part of getting to know myself better has been understanding that I’ll never be cool – and that’s okay, too. I’ll rarely forget to text someone back or be the one to leave a conversation unfinished. And I’ll certainly never forget to have lunch. That’s just who I am.
‘I texted boys enthusiastically and far too often’