Mulled wine and an iPhone can really open up a girls’ eyes. Going out with just the boys is always fun – I’m encouraged to get hoooo haaad and I know I’ll always been taken home in one piece by a shining knight.
The last boy’s night sparked some interesting questions about the new Cilla Black –
Facebook.
So the conversation went like this:
Elle: “So you met her on Facebook?”
Si: “Hell yes, look how fit she is!”
Elle: “Are you sure you don’t mean easy? You have already practically sh***ed her!”
I was shocked. Was this the way single girls portrayed themselves online?! I could not work out whether I was jealous of how comfortable this woman was flashing the flesh, or a bit upset that Facebook had somehow taken the mystery out of dating.
Damo piped up: “I agree – I quite like getting to know a girl without seeing how trashed she gets at the weekend and a mug shot of all her Xs.”
In times when “dating” was called “courting” playing the game was more interesting. Imagine someone leaving you a love letter in your garden wall? Now the best you get is a virtual poke!
When I was at school, boys had to ring the house phone which made every call ridiculously exciting. Would my dad answer it and slam it back down? Would my mum answer and shout out an embarrassing nickname?!
Now everyone is in virtual control of their interactions with the opposite sex – that is until you get virtually dumped and find out after all your friends do.
Even the queen is at it with her own page. You can’t poke her but I wonder if she puts up pictures of her corgis or announces to the world that she has just eaten toast?
Maybe Facebook is helping us Brits become less stuffy and awkward. But I still reckon it can take away those early genius moments of discovery when you first meet someone.
The last boy’s night sparked some interesting questions about the new Cilla Black –
Facebook.
So the conversation went like this:
Elle: “So you met her on Facebook?”
Si: “Hell yes, look how fit she is!”
Elle: “Are you sure you don’t mean easy? You have already practically sh***ed her!”
I was shocked. Was this the way single girls portrayed themselves online?! I could not work out whether I was jealous of how comfortable this woman was flashing the flesh, or a bit upset that Facebook had somehow taken the mystery out of dating.
Damo piped up: “I agree – I quite like getting to know a girl without seeing how trashed she gets at the weekend and a mug shot of all her Xs.”
In times when “dating” was called “courting” playing the game was more interesting. Imagine someone leaving you a love letter in your garden wall? Now the best you get is a virtual poke!
When I was at school, boys had to ring the house phone which made every call ridiculously exciting. Would my dad answer it and slam it back down? Would my mum answer and shout out an embarrassing nickname?!
Now everyone is in virtual control of their interactions with the opposite sex – that is until you get virtually dumped and find out after all your friends do.
Even the queen is at it with her own page. You can’t poke her but I wonder if she puts up pictures of her corgis or announces to the world that she has just eaten toast?
Maybe Facebook is helping us Brits become less stuffy and awkward. But I still reckon it can take away those early genius moments of discovery when you first meet someone.
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