The Emotional Stages of getting ready for a first date.

First dates
Having been on my fair share of first dates *cough* not THAT many...ahem), I thought I’d write all about the varying emotional stages every girl goes through when they get invited out.

You’ve been chatting for what seems like eternity making pun-tastic small talk (always a winner when they drop in a few geeky yet adorable references, preferably to Harry Potter) and it’s finally turned into ‘So, do you fancy going for a drink sometime?’. VICTORY.

Stage Two: Sometime? When the hell is sometime?
Do I suggest a date? Is suggesting a time in the next 24 hours keen or spontaneous? What about next weekend? But will I look like a loser for not having plans? Oh Jesus, help. Cue group whatsapp.

Stage Three: He’s suggested a date. Now, outfits.
What do I wear? If we’re meeting at 7pm on Tuesday, what does that mean? Everyone around me will have been drinking from 5pm straight from work so will I look stupid if I dress up? OK, smart casual. I can do this. Skinny jeans, top, blazer. Oh and flat shoes as everyone knows guys up their height on dating profiles.

Stage Four: The day of the date.
Must not eat anything that will offend my breath. Must spend the whole day drinking peppermint tea to reduce bloating. Must not eat anything unhealthy as I need to feel that my body is a temple and I’m 100% accepting of it. Oh, it’s someone’s birthday and we’re going out for lunch then having cake for afternoon threesies? Go on then, it would be rude not to.

Stage Five: Getting ready.
Outfit check. We got that sorted yesterday. Oh my god, I’m the most organised person in the world, I’m rocking this, I definitely could be in Sex and the City. Wait, why the hell is my hair so static? What am I going to do?! *Googles life hacks*. Smoothing a tumble dryer sheet over your hair actually works? Who knew. But make-up – do I wear red lipstick? I want to look sassy but what if we kiss? What if it puts him of kissing me as it will smear over his face? OK, let's go a bit more subtle. Done.

Stage Six: TAXI.
Uber is the best thing ever, a taxi to my door in 3 minutes? Perfect. Shit, I have 3 minutes, my phone is on 30% as I forgot to switch the charger on at the wall and I just chipped my nails.

Stage Seven: En Route.
Calls at least three people to tell them where I’m going and that if they haven’t heard back within half an hour to send the FBI. Taxi driver is likely to offer some insightful life advice about how in the good old days you could only ring your date from the telephone at the end of the street and that he was married at your age. Cheers, now I'm pissed off.

Stage Eight: Oh shit I’m early.
Being late is disrespectful of someone else’s time don’t you know. What do I do now?!

Stage Nine: Oh shit I’m late.
OK, I went to Boots. Well what do you expect? A counter girl asks if you’re going anywhere nice (outfit is clearly on point) and suddenly 20 minutes and a makeover have gone by. Oh well, late but looking fabulous.

Stage Ten: Time to meet.

Which one is he? Shit, have I been stood up? Oh God I hope it’s not him. Why was this a good idea again? Maybe he went home and thought I stood him up?! Oh no wait, he’s there. Thank God he looks like his photos. And breath.

So, can anyone relate? (Please say yes and I'm not just weird).

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