woman, jumping, carefree, happy

The joys of self-dating

Stood up for the third time by some bastard Tinder idiot, the lovely Laura Bull decided to turn the empty time available to her around in her head; “put on a pretty dress and some lippy and took myself on a date… a self date,” she tweeted.

A self-date, which she has both coined and demonstrated, is not the same as getting your nails done or going shopping. It is romantic. As romantic as being with another person except better than a Tinder-shot-in-the-dark because you actually know and like yourself. At least a bit.

Laura and her pretty dress took themselves off to a food market where she nibbled on bits and pieces (presumably worrying neither about garlic nor about tooth schmutz), then she went to the park to listen to some live music before pootling off to the beach where she stripped and swam. A couple of fish nibbled her date-ready pedicured toes proving that she is actually irresistible to the universe. On her way home she stumbled, unaware, upon a nudist beach where there were “boobs, bums and willies everywhere.” None of which she had to have a close encounter with.

After marvelling at a beautiful sunset she went to a restaurant and asked for a table for one. “The waitress looked at me like something from the Exorcist,” she tweeted, “my head must be spinning around as I levitate while projecting green.”

Let’s self-date. A curse upon everyone who has ever stood anyone up last minute. More tables for one. More romantic sunsets for one. Single, hooked-up or married, self-dating can only ever put good stuff out into the world. Buy yourself flowers and proceed. Here’s the thing: you might just be the one.

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