1. 1. Itchy index finger.
My right index finger travelled left to right. Choosing shallowly the people who could and could not talk to me. What a world we live in. I'd constantly be uploading photos of myself so people knew I wasn't fake/ a sausage hoarder (a whore) carefully selecting ones that complimented me the best but also ones where I appeared to pour out my personality. The hardest thing about the internet is that it's all based upon looks and what you enter into your 360 letters only box.
I am 5ft 6, slim frame, dark long hair and the most personable person in the world! I would constantly ask myself why me? I had been single for three years due to finally-well to be quite frank- not taking anymore bullshit from my ex boyfriend who decided to cheat on me a good 3-5 times throughout the relationship.
The past three years were spent dating, dating? what a word. What does that mean to you now a days? What do guys class that as? What do women?
Well to me it was trial and error. It was a selection process where I would meet up with someone- whether it be dinner or drinks, some occasions both. In order to find the one. For me it wasn't about where we were- even though sometimes I was whisked away to some beautiful restaurants, the surroundings faded into the background as soon as I engaged with the person sitting in front of me.
I was like a horse with blinkers...