Girl, I must warn you


Let me give you five very useful facts about life.

Fact number one – The population of the world is balanced at about 51% female, 49% male.

Fact number two – Girls are insecure. This means we need constant love and affection and to be told we’re beautiful. Preferably by guys. But lesbians will do. Any one who could find us attractive, basically.

Fact number three – No matter how beautiful or ugly a girl is, when she goes on a rant about how fat/disgusting she is you must never EVER agree with her. Else you will get a slap in the face, and possibly a black eye. Depending on the girl’s menstrual cycle.

Fact number four – Look back at fact number one. There are 6 billion people in the world, give or take. That means that there are 3,060,000,000 girls. And only 2,940,000,000 guys. 120,000,000 more of us then them.  

Fact number five – There are about the same number of chickens in the world as humans. But I don’t know the percentage of males and females for that.

If you’re a teenager, these facts will get you through the crazy debacle called The Dating Game.

Cos that’s all dating is. One big game, with a blurry set of rules, and an infinite number of players. It’s harsh, it’s brutal, it takes no prisoners, and every time you think you’ve won, you actually end up losing, painfully.

It’s great.

Like any game, every one playing has different tactics.

51% of the players are much craftier then the other lot though.

Luckily I don’t have to be crafty.

I have a boyfriend already. Freddie. We’ve been dating for 18 months.

He’s funny, sweet, good looking, sporty, smart, was my best friend for years, a really good kisser.

Oh yeah, and according to Jamie, he’s a brilliant shag.

Jamie’s my brother.

Jamie and Freddie, 18 months ago, announced to me they were in love.

It was an interesting morning.

However, Jamie didn’t want to come out as gay, and Freddie didn’t want to come out as bi. But to continue their gay love affair at our Catholic boarding school, they’d need a pretty good cover story.

Enter Gina AKA beard.

Begin the age of the fake golden couple.

Begin the age of hiding in my bathroom, while my brother and boyfriend have sex in my dorm room.

Begin the age of secret glances across the dinner hall, common room, corridors.

Begin everyone thinking I’m not a virgin, when actually I am, because although Freddie and I must kiss in front of people (not that I’m complaining) we’ve never been required to copulate in front of our friends to make our story plausible.

Begin the digression of my actual love life.

Begin the most complicated leg of The Dating Game ever.