From the moment I saw Patrick Swayze declare “nobody puts baby in a corner” I’ve been a hopeless romantic. You name any poorly made, clichéd, romantic-comedy and I’ll tell you that I’ve seen it at least three times. Whilst I’m aware that I’m no Jennifer Grey, and the men I meet don’t possess snake hips and a charming accent, I can’t help but feel slightly disappointed that I’m still not having ‘the time of my life.’
I’m often told that one of the main reasons I’m still single is because I have standards that are too high, which no man is ever going to be able to match. I’m no Scarlett Johansson but I do consider myself to be a funny, intelligent, interesting woman and I need to date someone who also possesses these qualities.
When did narcissism become a concept with such negative connotations attached? Is there an appropriate amount of love I should feel towards myself to ensure that I still appear attractive and non-threatening to the opposite sex? Should I settle for men who ask me whether I’d like “an anal adventure” to prove to those around me that my expectations of men and dating aren’t too high?
Ryan Gosling probably isn’t going to appear at my doorstep with a bunch of flowers and a dinner invitation anytime soon, but until then I’m happy to spend the evening with the best alternative: me.