Somewhere in the middle of this year, I turned 31. As we all know, this is around the age that an unmarried, childless woman’s vagina enters an advanced period of fossilisation due to misuse and apparently high expectations.
Science teaches me that somewhere around my 35th year, the whole vestibule could take on the gnarled and horrified expression of a petrified rock. Perhaps it shall simply crumble away into dust at the slightest touch (accidental of course), like an abandoned sandcastle whose dreams have drifted out with the tide.
Of course, I’d only have myself to blame. Tabloid newspapers and conservative commentators have been warning women for years that our wilful independence might cause us to miss the boat. Some (all) of the problem is that women don’t know how to act like ladies anymore. Our heads are filled with these fanciful ideas that we might have some kind of autonomy about the relationships we want, if indeed we want them at all. But that’s because we’ve been infected by the Feminist Conspiracy, one purpose of which is to undermine and emasculate all men, ever. We turn down perfectly good men – men who could make us happy, if we weren’t so shallow as to want them to have jobs, or friends, or not live in their mother’s basement. But who are we hurting really? That’s right. Ourselves. Ourselves, and the unborn children floating around the heavenly atmosphere, just waiting to be chosen.
Someone who knows all about this is ‘Jack’, contributor to the academic archive known as the Herald Sun letters page.
The Hun’s letters are full of useful of advice, ranging from all manner of issues such as the environment, romance, Australia being the greatest country in the world, Prime Ministers whose names start with J and end with ULIAR. The list literally goes on.
But whatever the topic, you’re guaranteed to stumble upon an expert within that hallowed double spread. And why not take their advice on board? After all, as a great man once said:
So I thought that we might take a moment today to consider ‘Jack’ and his thoughts on modern love. Here, ‘Jack’ addresses the etiquette of courtship.
“To all girls, when a man asks you out, there are only two answers: “Yes, that would nice” or “No, thank you”.
To demonstrate how easy it is, I thought I’d run through a few courting scenarios my friends and I have been lucky enough to experience. In them, try to imagine how much easier they would have been to handle if we’d had ‘Jack’ helping us out.
1. Orbiting the Earth
“I had a guy who I met at the car wash who I gave my number too. That was the first sign something was wrong. Later that evening he texted me to see what I was up to (he was out with his friends). I told him I was dancing at a club called Earth, he said he'd like to come and I said that it wasn't necessary as I was about to head home and entry was around $25. Not long after there he was, standing in the background, sometimes awkwardly dancing, other times just watching. When I got back to my phone I discovered he'd sent numerous texts about the size of his erection. After replying and asking him to leave, I eventually had to wait for a security guard to let me know he had left. He sent me a text the next day to apologise because I had 'made him crazy', told me his dream was to be just like Peter Petrelli from Heroes and asked for a second chance to take me out.”
2. A fish and a bird can fall in love….
“I'd been chatting to a guy at a party for quite a while and he'd made vague references to getting a drink sometime. I thought he was just about to ask me out properly when he said "You know, you'd be really hot if you were normal." [I have a disability.] I said "Oh my god, thanks! You know what? You'd be really hot if you weren't a total c*nt."”
3. A Whole New World
“Whilst wearing a bright paisley type pattern top (lets just ignore how bad the top may or may not have looked) a gentlemen approached with the ice breaker, “you look like a magic carpet, can I take a ride on you?"”
4. The eighth stage of grief
“An ex of mine once used his father's terminal cancer to try to guilt trip me into sleeping with him to help him deal with the pain of it all.”
5. For a healthy root
“I once told the random unwelcomely drooling over my shoulder on the bus home that my name was Alicia and that I'd prefer to be left alone. He followed me off the bus, of course, calling out: ‘Alicia! Come back! I want to come in your hair, Alicia!’"
6. Two ships in the night
I had a homeless octogenarian lean out of half a car and offer me his penis. But I was seeing someone at the time.
So there you have it. If you’ve previously been confused about the call and response nature of dating in modern Australia, your can allay your concerns. No longer do you need to wrestle with vocabulary, trying to find the pitch perfect tone with which to address a gentlemen’s request that you enter a moving vehicle to generously fellate him while his friends watch.
Simply round your shoulders and, in a clear-yet-sweet voice, inform him “Yes, that would nice” or “No, thank you.” Remember, you’re a lady – you might not want him to send you home covered in jizz, but there’s no need to be rude about it.