Posted by Daisy
I ONCE got turned off a guy when I discovered he had an electric blanket. And I knew there was something fundamentally wrong with a 7-year relationship because my boyfriend didn’t eat cheese. I discarded another man after one date because he told me he wouldn’t wear socks that cost less than €20. And dropped another man because even though he drove a gold BMW, he consistently hung back at the bar, waiting for me to buy the first round. At the cinema, he bought the tickets and then told me he was on a diet and refused to buy popcorn. I met a very nice man on a blind date a few years ago. Nice, except that his two front teeth were black. Fed up, I rang my sister (my Voice of Reason) to find out if I should meet him again, even though I wasn’t attracted to him. She told me never to compromise on oral hygiene. Another man was gorgeous, with blue eyes, tanned skin and a perfectly faded t-shirt – but he told me at length about his addiction to spinning classes and an obsession with calorie counting, while scanning the bar for attractive women.
I spent two years dating a lovely guy who had no job and no intention of ever getting one. I knew we had no future, but every time I called up to his house to break up with him, I would be seduced by his rude good looks. My most recent ex-boyfriend loved telling me long, rambly stories – I’d simply tune out and gaze at his tattoos and muscles instead.
I’m renouncing good-looks, muscles, motorbikes and danger. The next man I date will be short and bald – and going out with him will make my cheeks ache from too much first-thing-in-the-morning laughing in bed.
I decided to test my brains-over-brawn theory last weekend. So I kissed a guy for the first time since my break-up three months ago. Instead of choosing the handsome, designer goatee’d man in the tight grey, slightly girly, cowl-kneck jumper, I opted for the fun, generous guy who looked like Vagn from The Killing. He spun me around on the dance floor, made me laugh and bought me drinks while keeping a suitable distance throughout the night, allowing me to have fun with my friends.
He sent a lovely text the next morning, and in my hungover state I answered semi-sarcastically. And never heard from him again. The next day I felt guilty and texted him to say so. The reply I got was ‘Who’s dis?’ Seriously.
I read Niamh Greene’s ‘A Message to your Heart’ snuggled up in bed with tea and chocolate on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. On the Chick-Lit O Meter, where Marian Keyes is at the top, and Cecelia Ahern* is at the bottom, this book fits in somewhere in the middle. It’s a flighty book about lost mobile phones, a heroine who works too hard, a dead girl, a grieving Italian mama, and an affair with a married man. But there’s also a good portrayal of San Francisco, a curmudgeonly author attempting a second novel, an Italian restaurant and a good-looking hero. Everything works out in the end, which is what I want when reading chick-lit.
My give-away this week is ‘A Message to your Heart’ – all neatly wrapped and ready. Leave a comment and it’s yours.*I just haven't liked any of the books subsequent to 'PS I Love You', which I loved.