I am reading a self-help book.
WORSE! I am reading a dating self-help book.
WORSE! It was given to me as a gift, which is actually worse than buying one for one's self as it seems to suggest some underlying issue of denial.
It all kind of came around as a bit of a joke. Sister Dearest gave me a copy for my birthday (Pretty brutal, right? My birthday. I mean why not a nice fragrance? A stick of celery? Even a poke in the eye with a blunt stick would have felt better) of Zoe Foster and Hamish Blake's Textbook Romance. I still harbour a secret suspicion that she just wanted to read it herself, but she pulls men all the time so I doubt she's having any trouble with her own tactics.
Anyway, the book lay dormant on my bookshelf for a few months which is unusual because nothing lies dormant on my bookshelf for more than a few days. Truth be told, I was avoiding it. I was reading everything else but, even re-reading books I've re-read a hundred times before. But the time came last night when the mountain had to be conquered, so I opened the blazing red cover.
Firstly, I mean come on, Zoe? What were you thinking picking a cover THAT red? It's not exactly the kind of red which goes unnoticed when you're reading it on the train or it's simply poking out of your bag. This thing is seriously red. Alarm bell red. The kind of red which screams "Look at me! I am red! AND I am a self-help book AND a DATING self-help book to be exact! That's right! I belong to the lonely, pathetic, emotionally-crippled hermit who's currently trying to hide my bright red cover behind a copy of Sydney's MX as she travels home from work!" Seriously, Zoe? Like my ego isn't taking an all-mighty bashing already and you had to go and make the damn thing red.
Anyway, I managed to get over the red cover issue and began reading. At first, I was unimpressed. It seemed all Zoe's theories about 'how to attract men' revolved around concepts which I found completely anti-feminism. But two hours later, it was almost midnight and shock horror! I was still reading. I've read Pulitzer Prize nominees I've put down sooner than that. I wasn't sure what it was, but something in the book was beginning to make some sort of sense and the more I read, the more sense it made.
Men are not idiots. They're actually kinda savvy - who knew? Yes, they make stupid choices and say stupid things and generally act beneath a guise of general stupidity, but really, it's just that. A guise. Beneath all that macho-man-rubbish, they've got it worked out. They know what they're looking for (hint: it's us) and just like we have our dream white knight outlined in our little heads (tall, blonde, preferably a musician, likes the same parts of the paper as me and won't be afraid to tell me I'm being an opinionated git) they have a their dream Princess Peach built up in their little heads and they'll stop at nothing to get it. But the point is: you're either it or your not.
But just because you're not 'it' to one guy, or maybe five, doesn't mean there isn't someone, somewhere who does think you're it, who considers you the bees knees. The cat's pyjamas. The dog's tuxedo. Who thinks you're the best freaking thing since sliced bloody bread. And isn't that worth waiting for?
And while you're waiting, who isn't to say this isn't the best time of all? A time to do all those things which are so deliciously single, which you can only do when the only person in the world to love is yourself?
I'm only half way through Textbook Romance and but look what I've learnt - how to become more selfish! No really, I know it's a whole lot more than that. And if I was to say, accidently drop the book into a meat mincer, have each page folded into origami and delivered to my sister's office by a Singing Telegram or recycled into toilet paper to be stocked in a Port-A-Loo, I'm pretty sure what I've learnt so far will be enough to have a long and happy life... with myself.
Ciao for now. xo
Image Credit: Recordis Photography courtesy of Audrey Hepburn Complex
Hahaha toshpot! loved it! very witty :p
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