The Day I Discovered 'the' Book....

It is no secret to my friends and family and anyone within earshot that I have an obsession, all be it a healthy one, with Dawn Porter.

In 2008 I had my first encounter with her. It was whilst sitting comfortably with wine on my sofa, my little kitten Morph snuggled up next to me. I was happily watching The Man Tester on Balls of Steel, which saw her testing men in bars, by chatting them up and then challenging them in various ways that would often see them running away screaming with their hair on fire. My favourite being when she offers some poor unfortunate individual a threesome with her boyfriend, who then turns up in a full gimp suit. 

I was hooked this woman meant business and she intrigued the hell out of me.

Her various documentaries such as Dawn Gets and Dawn Goes, were for me some of the foundations of my understanding of what women have to deal with in their early twenties (a lot).....For me it was a complete minefield of debauchery, diets, why does he never call me, what the hell is fashion anyway, no I dont have an obsession with buying lingerie, oh my god I have no career, do I really have a drinking problem, why is my purse always empty, where did this curve come from, what's this line on my face, I have nothing to wear in this wardrobe and simple lostness and plenty of "oh bollocks" moments. 
I myself was a lost little sheep wondering around in my fresh green pasture of dating, not having a clue why the only magnetism I appeared to have was for wolves rather than friendly rampant rams. I had no doubt the prick in the shiny suit with the sword on the white horse, was more likely to be riding a three legged donkey (badly), wrapped in a silver thermos blanket, carrying a dustpan and brush!

It was not until I discovered her book, Diaries of an Internet Lover, that I really found my own little tour guide complete with reference to all the sushi outlet delights London could ever possibly wish to offer me. It is by all accounts falling to bits and is read thoroughly every year about 5 times (it has also been leant to many girlfriends who have all agreed to its excellence). It has travelled to Israel, Denmark, Malta, Marbella, Cyprus, Australia and of course Ibiza (6 times). It has also been in and out of my handbag more times than I can count (it claims more of my attention than some of my store cards). There is no doubt in my mind that I shall never get bored of it and it will forever sit happily beside my favourite writers such as Lauren Weisenberg and Helen Fielding.

In my bible is an array of dates that Dawn goes on, some good, some great and some down right bloody terrible, all described with the utmost articulation of sarcasm and dry humour. Her detail is paramount and the fact she's not afraid to admit that woman sometimes just need to have a good shag and that it is not a crime for us to actually enjoy a healthy and varied sex life, is thoroughly inspiring. 
She describes one evening in New York having to frantically masturbate, after writhing around like a horny cat on her bed when an insistent horn took over her whole body. Another chapter sees her visit a sex museum and in another she has a threesome with a couple. All this described and detailed without fear of shame or loathing, which unfortunately is still attached to the words '"sex life" and "woman" which is utterly ridiculous in a modern society. 
I remember mentioning the word masturbation to a girl my age at a party, she looked at me utterly horrified and said "isn't that something only men do?" needless to say I looked back at her equally horrified, at the thought someone could be so naive. Why does this attitude that it's wrong still exist? Open mindedness surely is much more fun and less stressful?

Picking from Dawn's various horror stories, she describes one of her dates as the "big bambino" a man clearly mothered far too much, who ordered and sent back her wine several times when there was nothing wrong with it (much to her dismay), acted like an oversized baby, farted in her face during an incident that involved trying to climb a fence and then proceeded to cut his hand open (which was shortly followed by varying degrees of crying and wailing). This complete disaster of a date was only finally completed when she dropped him off in A&E! 

It was so refreshing to hear that other woman do indeed have bad dates, one such for me, being the time I fell out of the taxi that I was trying to board (badly), the date watched on in horror as I basically sat on the pavement completely drunk with no possible means of getting myself up. This delightful occurrence was due to the sinking of two bottles of bordeaux (evil strong stuff), the poor man had endured 2 hours of vino induced garbage being force fed into his right ear, problem was he was so boring the temptation to sit and down "makes everything more interesting" liquid was far too easy to indulge, funnily enough I didn't see him again.

Other beautiful delights that occurred, included the wonderful episode whilst in fits of giggles, when the entire contents of a martini glass was thrown not just all over the table (no that would have been mildly acceptable) but the poor unsuspecting date as well, who then sat opposite staring in disbelief, that he would now have to walk around wearing my cosmopolitan for the remainder of the evening. 
This I realised does actually happen to other people!! It is amazing I AM NORMAL and everybody has those horrendous moments when all you need is a JCB to come along, dig you a nice big hole and then be awfully kind enough to pick you up in the bucket and deposit you straight in it.

So there I was at 23, thrown into London like a mouse being sent on a field trip to the Cats Protection League, as ever looking and longing to find 'the one', which I now know is some evil fairy tale, told to delinquent hormonal teenage girls in a bid to fool them that dating is all about finding prince charming, I now want to sacrificially burn all my Disney videos! 
I am in no way saying dating isn't about finding the one, but when so much emphasis is edged on such tight guidelines it makes an already tough journey through your twenties that little bit more challenging right? Surely you should be able to freely enjoy dating and also being single! Who needs a stinking rule book anyway, and why is that concept even valid? Who even knows the RIGHT way to date anyway, show me the expert and I shall show him where to put his rule book.

At 24, I was on a daily basis being continually jostled by the bullying big city of London and with a new job to contend with, the thought of having to navigate the dating scene alone and in a still fairly new city that no way resembled a home yet, was fast becoming a vomit inducing thought process. But as I sat on the tube every morning, practically digesting the book and eagerly gobbling up its pages full of insight and loveliness, I began to realise that actually having fun dating is a possibility and there is nothing wrong with saying "I'm single, but that is ok", plus I now had knowledge of Nobu and Roka so obviously I had to find myself a willing chaperone! 
I spent the next few years enjoying my new sense of self freedom and discouraged the usual routine and self doubt, analytical bullshit and down right wailing "oh where is he" moments and I can honestly say I spent the rest of my early twenties in pure enjoyment and relaxation in the full knowledge that I wasn't missing out on anything just biding my time and staying happy along with it.

Dawn today is now in her early thirties, engaged, thinner than ever, highly successful and appears by all accounts to be very happy and here I am now at 28, no longer single, but happily coupled up with a gorgeous new man and about to embark upon a brand new city adventure to Manchester. I have only just returned from a beautiful holiday, where I again merrily finished my favourite book, whilst I lay enjoying the sun's kisses. Arriving home with my favourite piece of literature tucked into my handbag, I sadly placed it back into the gap left for it, where it now sits proudly on my bookshelf until the next time I feel the need to read it.

Thank you Dawn Porter, you really are someone I will continue to be inspired by and I hope that my book will continue its travels into the various friends handbags and overseas to be placed carefully next to my sun lounger or in my handbag should the time arise when I feel the need to dip into its tasty contents.