When you have three twenty-something women sitting around a table, chances are there’s often going to be three twenty-something men to analyse. One is inconsistent with a supposedly crazy ex, another is a lovely guy who is just SO busy, and the last is a familiar fuckboy who just really might be different this time. Three confused women, three uncertain men, one mocha and two cappuccinos later, and they all point to one thing… he won’t commit.
A broken record at this stage, I have lost count of the pink gins thrown back beside fleeting flings. Instead of entering new relationships with butterflies now, I often ponder how this new guy is going to ruin my life. And of course, they aren’t getting any more creative. The inability to commit has become the norm, and the excuses they give us seem to be read off a script… one I can probably recite beautifully if anyone would like to hear it?
Many of them seem to be romantically traumatised, yet they didn’t think to consider this before texting us compliments until 4am, going on romantic dates for six months, or getting frequently frisky. You have Hollywood’s entire film history watched together, they’ve seen you in worse angles than your front camera on Snapchat, and then they inform you of their true intentions, which I don’t actually believe any of them are quite so certain of anyway because I’m not so sure many of them really know what they want. DO THEY??
And amongst the broken records, I’m definitely not clear about one thing, where are all the women who are apparently romantically traumatising these men when all of the women I speak to all seem to be dating men who are just SOOO BUSY?