Theresa was drowning in regret. The man who invaded her dreams, the man who had induced in her multiple inner swoons as soon as she clapped eyes on him, the man unlike any other male creature walking the Earth had turned out to be a sleazy, non calling the next day player. Ouch. Double ouch when she realised she was one of many ‘victims’, and he had in fact seduced two of our other friends the same week. Triple ouch that she had tried to send a friendly text only to be greeted with stone walled silence, and quadruple ouch when she came to hear how his friends had been treated to every single detail. “I wish I could turn back the clocks” she lamented. “I’m just a number”. As I considered and related to her cringe factor, it got me thinking, there wasn’t one of our group of friends who hadn’t, at some point, suffered at the hands of a creep ridden player. However, were any of us ‘victims’? I looked around the room, and thought, despite the occasional bout of misjudged idiocy, we were a pretty rock solid bunch.
Recently airing was web based comedy “Dating Rules From My Future Self”, which features a girl who receives advice from the future, via text, to stop her from making mistakes in her love life.
It got me thinking, would I rather cringe about something I had done, or regret something I hadn’t? I asked myself, if I was given the option to improve my love life by heeding warning texts from my future self, would I opt to receive these nuggets of foresight? After much debate, I’d like to think the answer would have to be no. I would rather not know and experience the full on cringe. And that includes incidents high on the cringe richter scale, such as the love letter I sent to my teacher, and being rejected by my piano teacher, and still having to take lessons. Looking back, there isn’t a single dating mistake I can recount that hasn’t in the long run improved my judgement when it comes to future relationships.
Theresa’s experience happened in college. Since then, she met and married a wonderful man, who wasn’t the alpha, hunter type she used to go for, but the open, sensitive type who made a great husband, and fantastic Dad to their two year old daughter. I wonder if close encounters with the wrong kind is necessary to re-jigging our tastes in men, and preparing us to embrace the kind of men that actually deserve a place in our future.