I recently came across a few old writing exercises from my schoolgirl days. It’s been a while since I tried my hand at creative writing, so I thought I’d try to oil some of the old gears. Feel free to chime in.
Dating is like jogging on a treadmill with no readout. You’re not sure how fast you’re going or how much longer you have to go, but you keep chugging along because you’re told it’s good for you.
Dating is like Apple’s sweatshops in China. Nobody likes the process, but they’re cultishly obsessed with the results.
Following dating etiquette feels like wearing white only between Memorial Day and Labor Day. Nobody is really sure why the rules exist, but you follow them because they must be of some benefit to mankind, or maybe because if you don’t someone will call you a philistine.
Dating is like dropping a brand new dark wash denim skirt into the washing machine for the first time. If you aren’t careful, it’s going to bleed all over the rest of your life.
…K, maybe that one needs a little more work. So does this next one:
Becoming a couple is like becoming a vampire. You have to be pretty sure that’s the route you want to take, because it’s not an easily reversible process.
Going on a first date is like kissing a frog: you might get a prince, you might get a frog, but you will definitely get curious stares from the neighbors.
You know it’s time to stop dating someone when it feels like reading Fox in Socks to a kid at bedtime: fun the first time or two, but increasingly exhausting with each repetition.
Talking about dating with friends is like the inverse of looking at their Facebook profiles: suddenly everyone seems to have a more miserable life than you do.