Knitting is sexy.
No, really… it, erm… is?
Here’s the thing, I’m a single gal, looking for Mr Right. Well I would be, if I could be arsed, which, at the moment, I can’t.
I’m too busy, my house is too small, I’m quite messy, I can’t get the dogs off the bed, I’m a bit too independent, and to date me is a little like climbing a short, but awkward mountain. Oh, and, I’m always right, I’m a bit argumentative, and a little too forthright in my opinions. And when I use the words “a bit” and “a little”, I mean “quite” and “a lot”.
But, you know, I would like one. A Mr Right. One I accidentally stumbled across. You know, with no effort on my part, or anything. Because, in addition to the above desirability of me as a partner, when I tell someone that I knit for a living, I might as well say, “hey man, wanna date your grandma?”.
“You remind me of my nan” is a frequent utterance from passing menfolk if I’m knitting at Hut No.13. What I’d like to say is, “Do I? Ha! Well YOU remind me of …” no, I shan’t finish that sentence… instead, I simply smile sweetly, and say nothing.
So, I must conclude that men think of their grannies when they see me. Who says knitting isn’t sexy, hey?!
A couple of years ago, I went speed dating. As barrels go, they’d managed to find the last dozen, scraped the bottoms, and out of the dregs, had formed a dozen single men of a certain age. The disappointment on the women’s faces was visible… the sighing audible, the lack of interest palpable. Saying that I knitted for a living was a simple, and effective way of ensuring that they weren’t interested in me either. Win win. No hurt feelings, a mutual lack of desire. I didn’t want the bottom of a barrel, they didn’t want someone who knits.
When I have been in the early stages of a relationship, I have left the knitting out of sight. I do know that rule. I wouldn’t expect to be spending an evening with someone, only for them to get their job out of a bag and start working. I realise that you have to wait for complacency to set in before that can happen. When’s that then? Six months? A year? I think it’s usually sooner for men than it is for women. That may be a sexist statement, but I think once the first bottom utterance is excreted, the death of romance quickly follows, and the relationship is on a downward spiral into him wearing trackie bottoms and not washing, and that’s when, hurrah, us ladeeez can get the crafts out.
But it’s not “in the early stages of a relationship”, it’s “on the first date”. It’s not often that you’d have justification for keeping your profession a secret. Unless of course you’re a spy; or you’ve signed the Official Secrets Act; or you’re a pimp, drugs lord, arms dealer etc. What do I say? I can’t tell you what I do, because I’d have to kill you if I did. Great! Exotic, exciting, dangerous… But I don’t think knitting really falls into that category, you know, when he finds out the truth and all. I can’t even say that I’m a teacher, because they’d ask what I teach, and I’d either have to lie and say astrophysics, or the game is up.
I’m going to have to compare this to writing a CV. After all, I’m not going to write on my CV, “It’s my way or the highway. I’m crap at working in teams. I’m next level nuclear when under pressure, and most importantly, I never make the coffee or answer the phone” (ex-colleagues will happily concur, that all of the aforementioned is true – ah you guys! Love you!). What I say is, “A creative thinker, and highly motivated individual. Able to adapt to changing priorities, quick to learn and implement new systems. Highly numerate and literate, with a broad skill set” . Which is also true, and I have to say, a little show-offy, but isn’t that the point?
So… I either have to convince the world that knitting is indeed sexy, which might be a toughy; tell a downright lie, or use different words to describe what I do. When I first moved back to Kent in 2011, I worked for a kitchen and bathroom company. My job title was “Office Manager”, they chose it, that’s what they advertised, that’s what I applied for, and that’s the position I was offered. I dated someone during that time, who was asking questions about my job, and when he realised that office manager didn’t mean that I managed a team of people, he was disappointed… Well, imagine how disappointed he’d have been NOW! So, Shiona, what’s involved in Ovine Fibre Construction…? Oh, so you mean knitting… urgh.
Convince the world knitting is sexy then… I could wave photos of Marilyn Monroe knitting, or Scarlett Johansson. And yes, their menfolk would probably be too mesmerised by their attributes to have even HEARD the word knitting. Let’s face it, they could say they bathed in raw sewage for a living, and their beauty would still deafen the most hearing of ears. Unfortunately though, I’m not Marilyn Monroe or Scarlett Johansson, or any other beautiful or famous person who knits, so unless I’m willing to put in some serious effort to become a Hollywood superstar, I’m going to have to start thinking outside the box.
I don’t know if you’d been able to tell so far, but I like to think of myself as not poncy. I’m not saying I necessarily call a spade a spade, but if it’s a spade, why bother calling it a flat bladed digging tool? So when it comes to fabricating a job title, I’m a little fazed.
I think I’ll have to try illusive instead…
Imaginary conversation 1.
Imaginary Man: So, Shiona, what do you do for a living?
Shiona: Oh, I own a business
IM: What kind of business?
Imaginary conversation 2.
IM: Your profile says you’re a textile designer, what kind of thing do you design?
Basically, illusive or imaginative, it’s a flow chart, and all answers lead to knitting.
So my choices boil down to this:
- Find a man who likes knitting They only exist if it’s their Nan who’s knitting.
- Find a man who likes me enough to ignore the knitting thing Come on, keep it real.
- Stop knitting No explanation required.
- Become a Hollywood superstar No explanation required.
- Pretend to do something else. Tried that, all roads lead to Rome (AKA knitting).
- Remain single.
Ah… this may require further thought…