For those of you who are lucky enough to not know who I am, my name is Orla.
Some of you might know me as TheOrlacle on snapchat which I started so I could discuss all things beauty. However, I have actually ended up talking about all things wine, boys and whining about boys.
When I was first asked to write this column I went straight to Brown Thomas, bought (tried on) a pair of Manolo’s, picked up my smoking addiction (which I never gave up) and tweeted SJP for some advice (she never replied). It was a really productive day.
Later on, as I sat in my room, dreaming it was a loft, I wondered… am I Ireland’s answer to Carrie Bradshaw? Can I get us single girls to marital status? Absolutely not. I’m not here to tell you how to get a boyfriend because if I knew?
I’d f****ing have one. And based on my aggression, it’s safe to say I categorically, do not.
I’m here to share my opinions and horrific stories of the dating world, because I am confident in knowing that we’ve all experienced similar situations in the past. And if you haven’t, well you can just laugh along at my misfortune, and possibly learn from my mistakes.
Today, I want you to figure out a little bit about me. I need to ease you in to the crazy. Writing you a tell-all for the first column is the written equivalent to sleeping with you on the first date and I won’t do that, because at this very moment in time.. I am sober.
One of my very few flaws is my honesty. I want you all to experience my nights out, my dates and my romantic encounters, no matter how fantastic or awful they may be, through this written journal.
From the awful decision to start pre-drinking at 6pm, down to the very last bite of my 5am pepperoni pizza, I want this to be our dating community where we all make each other feel better over my failures.
I’ve been single for over two years now, and apart from crying myself to sleep every night, I’m really enjoying it. But as much as I joke about it, I actually fucking love being single. I’ve been in two serious relationships, (you can find both of them on Facebook here), and the two guys I was with were fab. Punching, but fab.
Nevertheless, for me personally, being single right now is fantastic. I love going out, not knowing what’s going to happen, or, where you could end up. I can walk into a club and know that I could end up with any of these guys at the bar tonight.
I mean, that never actually happens because LOL, life, but I have the option…
And nothing beats the morning after the night before, when you meet up with the girls, order your weight in takeaways and discuss in length the absolute dread of your life after last nights antics.
I like to tell people on an ongoing basis that dating is hard, that dating is the worst. I would rather never shower again, than go on another date, which would ironically limit my dating options anyway.
Yeah, I like to get real dramatic about dating. But in all honesty, ‘dating’ is not hard. Do ya know what’s hard? GETTING A DATE.
And that’s where I think us Irish are falling behind. We are not a generation of dating. We are a generation that was introduced to romance by the phrase ‘will ya meet my mate’. We were always doomed for disaster.
And just when you thought we were maybe getting into the swing of things, thanks to Carrie and the girlos liberating us all with their Cosmopolitans, along came Gary Beadle to fuck it all up for everyone.
So we’ve plateaued on the dating scene, sticking to what we know best. The ‘I like them so I’ll just get locked and see what happens’ plan.
If there is someone who you’re interested in, you do not go on a date. No, no. That’s far too sadistic. Instead, you both arrange to go out that night with separate groups. You let each other know where you’re going so that you can end up in the same club together. The key however, is that this is a secret mutual agreement that must never ever be said aloud.
Then, you both get horrifically mortal, get up to all sorts of cringe activities and repeat the cycle every weekend in the hope it might lead to something down the line. Alternatively, when you wake up the next day, the fear kicks in, you dread him like a smear test and you never, ever, contact him again. It’s like a real life Nicholas Sparks book.
And the dread and fear can happen a lot, believe me. I have been absolutely crazy about guys until they’ve sent me one text that made me never reply to them, ever. On the flipside, I have also had absolutely zero interest in a person and then, after scoring them once on a locked night out, decided our kids will be going to a mixed school.
Why?…. I think it’s better for them to socially interact with the other sex and also because I’M F***ING CRAZY.
So am I the Irish answer to Carrie Bradshaw? No. I think we can all agree it’s more Bridget Jones, or Amy Schumer in Trainwreck without the happy ending.
Regardless, I have a feeling the majority of you will be able to relate to a 26 year old girl on the pull, through the medium of dating apps, bars and the full on desperation of Diceys on a Wednesday.
From Tinder and Bumble, to being dumped, or even worse.. ghosted (because who the hell needs closure right?), I’m going to be telling my stories, sharing my experiences, and hopefully, give you all a few laughs in between.
I think we’ll all find we have a lot more in common than you think.
I’ll be right here every Sunday,
Orla x
