pauline

Pauline looking vex. (www.mirror.co.uk)

It’s Valentines day and in the words of Catherine Tate, I aint’ bothered. I do however, love a good love story. I do also love an awkward love story, even if it ends in failure. Actually, I love watching awkwardness in any situation.

Which brings me to this First Dates clip that has gone viral. First Dates is a TV show where they film people having blind first dates – I guess the title is fairly self-explanatory. I’ll tell the story for those of you who haven’t watched it. Are you sitting comfortably?

It’s the end of the date. Aunty Pauline is sitting there on national television, her grey afro looking tight because she made sure she had a shape up and creamed her foot before she came to the date. Because she has broughtupsy (that’s a Jamaican word for manners and home training). Someone’s ashy Uncle (we’ll call him Errol) is sitting across from her. Bubbly waitress walks over and hands Errol the bill,  with a smile of course. He looks at the bill, raises his eyebrows and says with a snort “I ain’t got this” (because he has no broughtupsy). Aunty Pauline smiles and raises her eyebrows. Waitress looks at both of them like “Giirrllll, I can’t”, and leaves them to sort out this relational disaster. Errol then says, “So we’re going dutch right?”. Fair enough. Pay day hasn’t happened yet. She smiles again, in shock, but puts some money on the table and says “Is that enough?”. This mess of manliness peers over the table and then proceeds to use the good oxygen God has created to give us life and strength to say “Hmm…put another tenner in”.

If your mouth has dropped open at this , close it quick before the horseflies catch your tongue.

I don’t know what happened after that, but all I know is that if I had been sitting across from Uncle, the story wouldn’t even have got that far. This would have been the scenario:

Him: “I ain’t got this”.

Me: “That’s unfortunate”.

Him: “Are we going Dutch then?”

Me: “Sure. Here you go. It was nice to have met you”.

I would have then proceeded to leave the restaurant. There would have been no time for an extra tenner, fiver, or even another goodbye.

The end.

I fail to understand why she didn’t tell him about his life  and everything that was disastrous about it there and then. He needed it. Some people can’t understand why this is an outrage. Feminism, equality, you guys wanted equal rights now you have them, why should he pay if he wasn’t feeling her, maybe he didn’t like her afro bla bla to the blaaddy bla. You’re all missing the point.

It’s not even the fact that he tried to split the bill live on national television. I’m sure men before him have done it and I’m sure men after him will. It’s the way he did it.

I’ll very plainly state that I, girlwiththafro, girlwiththabraids, girlwiththaweave, girlwiththebougieattitude, whatever you wanna call me,  will not, shall not, have never, and does not intend to, go halves on a first date. I’ve always offered to out of politeness, but I’ve always expected the man to decline my offer and he always has. That’s because in my fairly conservative Christian circle ‘dating’ doesn’t tend to follow the same pattern as one might expect for the average 20-something.  So because I tend to date men who have the same ideals as me about gender roles I don’t ever really envisage a situation where a man would expect me to go halves on the first date. If in some strange alternative universe it did happen, I would smile politely and pay, but he would never get a second date.

The rules are very simple and very fair. They aren’t biased against men in the slightest. Whoever asks for the date pays for the date.It’s basic etiquette. If you’re a woman and you’re in the habit of asking men out on dates, then don’t be mad when he expects to split the bill. I don’t know if you should even be mad if he expects you to pay for it all  (although most people’s ideas of gender roles would  mean that he would probably at least offer to split). Therefore, if a man asks you out on the date  then he should pay. Regardless of whether he doesn’t like your ombre weave, or thought you were more boring in person or thinks your breath is a little funky. If you can’t afford to date, stay in your yard and play chess with your friends or pull out your inner artist and get creative. Picnics in Hyde Park are free.

For the sake of argument though, this was a blind date. He didn’t initiate or pursue this woman, he was just set up with her by some person at Channel 4. IF he was the kind of man I appreciate, he would have paid for the date despite the fact that it was a blind date or despite the fact that it didn’t go well. But he wasn’t. It still could have played out very differently. Firstly, before he got the bill he could have said ” Are you happy to split the bill?”, as the waitress was getting it. He would still have been a cheapskate in my eyes, but not as ashy a cheapskate. Then, when he got the bill, he could have simply looked at it like a normal person instead of acting like someone had asked him to pay his whole mortgage in one year. Then, when she put in her half and asked if it was enough, he could have been like ‘yeh, sure’.

Basically Errol wasn’t just a cheapskate, he was ashy about his cheapskateness. He had no broughtupsy. He’s the kind of man who expects you to give him some sugar him on the first date even though he’s only taken you to Nandos for a quarter chicken wing. Here is the basic lesson:

Avoid the Errols of this world, remember what your mother taught you about broughtupsy and make sure, like Pauline, your afro is always tight. Goodnight.

pregnant

Yesterday, or more precisely around 2:30 am this morning, I had another one of my many awkward moments. This one involved me, a male nurse, a full bladder, and a disabled door toilet that I thought I’d locked but I hadn’t.

It was the end of a long but productive shift. I’m a lot faster than I was in the beginning, when I would take about 2 and a half hours trying to decipher what exactly was wrong with the sweet little elderly lady with dementia who had a carer with her who had only just come on shift and consequently, knew as little as the elderly lady about what happened that evening.

I strolled out of the bay, tired but satisfied. All my prescription charts were written, I had handed over safely to one of my colleagues and none of my patients had made it to resus. I ended the shift with a well deserved loo break. View Post