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It’s so easy being heterosexual. Isn’t it?

There is a certain way of doing things. A set of rules that these people adhere to and everyone, generally, knows where they are. There is a boy. There is a girl. The boy asks the girl out for a date. The boy courts the girl, so t’speak. Obviously in this day and age, any young lad wouldn’t be caught dead saying the word ‘courting’, but it’s nice to keep tradition alive. But the boy is expected to take the lead.

Boys aside; What happens when your have no tradition to abide by? What do we do? Who asks who? When you’re both of the same sex, there is no rule. How can there be?! It just becomes this confused, hesitant, even more embarrassing situation where neither have the balls (pun intended, oh I am witty) to ask the other. You could cut the sexual tension with an incredibly sharp metaphorical knife. Or any other sharpened sharp metaphorical object to hand. Just bloody cut this ridiculous horny haze quickly, before someone harms themselves on all of the beer bottle wrappings they are so feverishly ripping up.

Of course it’s easier, I guess, if you have an extremely forward and/or ‘boyish’ (if you’ll pardon the label) woman on your hands. You would perhaps think they would be the one to make the first move. Though when you’ve got two.. girls. Well! We just don’t know what to do with ourselves. That hetero-tradition has been drummed into us through our whole lives. Whether it be parents, movies, peers or media, it’s always there, in the background sipping it’s Earl Grey, being all conventional and conservative. There’s no guide book for us, the avant-guard collection of utter gaylords.

Then you may start wandering into that horrid wishy-washy, grey area of women, everywhere. How can you tell?! You think that pretty girl across the room is making eyes at you. You waltz that slinky bottom of yours over and proceed to have an incredibly intellectual and pleasurable conversation. For over ten minutes! ‘Wow. I’m in here.’ You smugly think to your little brain, clearly ignoring your Gaydar screaming “ABORT!ABORT!”

The moment is right. The candles are flickering. The music is slow. Your eyes are brooding. You nonchalantly flick your hair over your shoulder and say; “So, can I take you out for a drink sometime so we can talk a bit more..?”

And she looks at you as though you had just yelled; “You’re fit! Can I take you to the bog and jam my tongue down your throat like a rapist?” Or for the more respectable amongst you; “I think we should get married right now and have IVF treatment pretty much straight away to secure our baby and live happily ever after.”

However close to the knuckle you wish to be, you’re clearly trying to rub up against the wrong knuckle. There is no way back. You’ve decidedly stuck your whole foot into the ‘creepy lesbian’ crevice, and it’s inching its way up your Doc Marten laden legs. You can’t just timidly whisper “..as friends” onto the end of that silly sentence and hope it’ll all work out. Oh no. The best thing to do now is pretend you have an important phone call and toddle off. Sharpish.

Damn all you kind, friendly heterosexual sirens, malevolently attracting us poor folk like moths to a flame of disappointment. I think this situation is going to be a reoccurring nightmare in the sad land of my life for some time. Will I ever learn?

 

A moment on the lips; a lifetime of issues

Now I don’t mean to dig up old ground, and I understand that this is not the first piece of writing surrounding this topic, nor will it be the last. However; why is it we all find ourselves attracted to the love rats? What is it we are actually attracted to? The heart ache? The thrill of the chase? The thought we could be the one to change them?

And also, what do we get left with? We get left with a bruised ego, doubt in self, general self-loathing and a hate of all things male. That terrible could-barely-call-it-a-relationship has left you with such issues, issues that will last long enough to destroy your next relationship. Which leaves me asking, why not nip it in the bud?

We are generations of mothers, sisters and aunts; all of which have had their head muddled, hearts torn apart and morals ignored. And yet we still haven’t learnt. Apart from the constant stories of friends who have been hurt; there is still that MASSIVE flashing warning light and siren over the head of the guy, but still we fall for the same tired lines, lies and boring sentiments. We still cling onto those feelings of lust, passion, uncertainty, the fleeting feeling of being unsure of what will happen next – the drama!

I know it may be very exciting; to be flung from pillar to post. The thrill of not being called for weeks, the wave of excitement that surges over you when he tells you something about his childhood – ‘Oh he must like me, he is telling me such intimate things’..NO…Just because someone tells you something personal, sometimes just means they are very clever at getting into your Primark pants.

I could tell you right now that when I was younger I had a fascination with toilets, whenever I went round someone’s house, I always had to go and check out their toilet, have a wee, suss it out. Just because I have let you into that personal bit of information, doesn’t mean I now want to have a long term relationship with you. Sorry to hurt you and all, but it just doesn’t work like that; I don’t feel that way about you.

What makes this a whole lot more depressing is actually, when you really look closely at the douche bag you just can’t let go of, he is normally not that big of a deal. Take a good hard look at him, does he support you? Does he look interested when you talk? OR do his eyes glaze over when you talk about something you are passionate about? Does he talk relentlessly about himself? And most importantly, does he look smug? Do not trust a smug one!

Now, obviously I am not telling you to flounce out of a dinner date, leaving your date there, alone, with a bit of pasta hanging off of his chin, because he looked down at his plate when you were talking. But, just keep an eye out, don’t be fooled. And also; don’t put your balls on the table, unless you know the guy is worth it. And we can always tell if the person is worth it, by asking our urban family (friends), most of them will tell you straight if the guy is a sleaze.

Furthermore, we females are the most intuitive things, yet we don’t warn our fellow vagina owner! We just let it happen and help pick up the pieces when it all blows up in her beautiful face. But we could have stopped it. So, next time you see your friend getting wrapped up in some smug guy, just give her the heads up!

WARN A SISTER

I’m a ruddy big deal.

 

What do you do if you have found someone that you could stand being around for an extended period of time, and could possibly consider some kind of relationship with; but they just aren’t that interested?

Well, obviously if you are chasing them down the road, wearing a wedding dress, and they are running away; I think it’s probably time you moved on. Because he/she is just not feeling it. And of course; if they have literally said to your face ‘I do not like you, I am not interested in having any part of you’, then please it’s time to get your coat.

But what do you do if all the signs are there, words have been exchanged, and yet there is just nothing happening? Now, I am, I would say quite strong, I run a mile from someone if they don’t do right by me (relationship wise), and will not put up with any crap. However; sometimes there are just those douche bags that get under your skin. So, what do you do? Do you just act all submissive and let them pick you up, drop you back down whenever they want? Or do you pick up your nuts, and walk away? And at what point do you do this?

From my own experience; I find it hard enough to find someone I could contemplate seeing their face more than once a week, so when I do find someone that tickles my pickle, I do tend to go forth balls in the air, which, provokes them to run away; weeping and hysterically screaming. But for the few that stay, the majority of the time, nothing happens. I end up being the ‘friend’.

I receive shockingly pathetic sentiments like; ‘I love you, but you’re the one person in the whole world I just don’t want to hurt’ or ‘You’re amazing, you blow my mind, but I don’t want to lose what we have’ or ‘I like you, I just don’t want a relationship’.

Well, you tool, if I blow your mind, let me into your pants on a regular basis. And I’m not asking to marry you, I’m asking to see you a little more, and maybe be close to your face a bit more. I mean come on. What is stupid about this whole situation is that people are just not honest. If you don’t like me, tell me, so I can find someone who does. If you just don’t want to rip my clothes off, tell me so I can rip someone else’s off. It’s not hard; it saves time and saves broken hearts.

Now, I don’t really have a specific way of dealing with this situation, I have tried many, and at the end of the day it ends up with me, a bottle of wine, and general desperation. Now, the first thing to do is not to panic. The way I think about it is simply; if he’s interested, he/she will make it happen. So, my advice is simple; don’t hang on. Easier said than done I know, because of the confusing head buggering that’s going on. But, there is no point buying into it, and doing those silly little things we all do; like when you best friend turns around and says ‘Make him jealous, he will be like putty in your hands’…No..No he won’t, he will either not even notice because he isn’t interested, or it will make him annoyed. So, what’s the point? Why not spend your time finding someone worth your time and effort?

Okay, so what about the one’s that actually show you attention, you flirt with, you kiss, and maybe you even hook up with? Well, this I don’t think I can advise you on. I still don’t fully understand those types. Maybe, to put it bluntly; he’s just not that into you. It’s horrible to say, so don’t go for the bottle of vodka when I say this, but even though he/she maybe be showing you all the right signals, maybe he/she is just using you. Maybe not intentionally, they could just be a bit dense and a bit naïve, and not see what they are doing. Just remember; these people, as nice as they may be, are just not good enough. So, scoop up your balls off of the floor, put them back in your pants, and go and find a nice pretty one to distract you.

Sometimes you just have to look yourself in the mirror and say ‘I am beautiful, I have plenty of substance, slightly mad and have more issues than a Beano. But I am a ruddy big deal, and deserve someone who can stimulate my mind more than just blinding me with confusion

Have you had a ‘Flomance’?

What the hell is a Flomance? I hear you cry. Well, my virtual friends; a Flomance is a ‘fleeting romance’. Because I am frightfully clever and witty, I have combined the two words and aptly re-named this, The Flomance. I know what you are thinking; How on earth did she come up with that? Is she an actual real-life genius? I must bow down in awe of her utter greatness. I know. I am pretty extraordinary.

So, what I mean by a fleeting romance is the kind of romance that is in fact so fleeting it lasts no longer than ten minutes. Do you ever find yourself looking into the eyes of a stranger and for a moment, just for a moment or two, and you catch yourself falling a little bit in love? In that very moment; the person you are leering at is the most incredible person there ever was. Then one of you breaks the eye contact, and you continue on with your life. And you are left pondering whether that person, that random stranger, that happened to be on the same bus at the same time, could have been someone you could have loved? Now, this is of course a complete over exaggeration and after a few hours of your normal life; you have pretty much forgotten the guys face. But still; those few minutes are somewhat intense.

Picture the image; you’re sitting in a crowded tube, a book pressed up to your face; in order to forget where you are, and ignore the blurred faces that surround you. You look up to flick the page, and opposite you is a beautiful man, and he is looking right at you. You find this odd, as no one makes eye contact on the tube anymore; because we are all trying to suppress our angst of having that many strangers that close to us. You maintain the contact for a few seconds longer than what is socially acceptable, to ensure this man knows you are interested by him. In the minutes to follow, there is an exchange of lust filled gazes and passionate stares. At some points; you stare so hard, as though the harder you stare, the more you will uncover and the better you will know this perfectly formed being. Now, this may sound like a song by the likes of the overtly mushy James Blunt, and possibly on the cusp of being a bit of a stalker…But it happens.

These Flomances are so quick, shallow and futile, they are rarely remembered beyond the one day, but they leave you in a complete state of hope and genuine happiness. Now, I will admit I love the Flomances, and do it almost on a daily basis. Yes, I am a Flomance Whore.

My personal favourite sub-category of a Flomance; is the travelling Flomance. This is where you are on a bus, train, tube or plane, and you find yourself being immediately attracted to another commuter. It is, of course, completely skin deep, because you base your brief infatuation purely on what you like the look of. You connect however briefly, with a complete stranger. You get wrapped up entirely of the idea of falling for a randomer; being swept off your toes, and living happily ever after.

In your head, the person you are longingly gazing at could be anyone. That is the beauty of this wondrous relationship; you can make it up as you go along. The person, who has your every bit of attention, on a dull and boring train journey, IS whatever you want. S/he is a struggling artist; full of mysterious words and thoughts, s/he is a rich but lonely business-person; crying out for someone to understand them… Yes, you can literally turn your commute into a real life romance film.

This entire romantic engagement, though it may be fiercely enthralling; it doesn’t last. And the ‘come down’ after a Flomance high, is particularly low. Once the butterflies have disappeared, and the short-lived honey-moon period of around six and a half minutes has vanished, you go back to reality. Your pitiful, mundane, unromantic life; where people are not romantically intrigued by the inner workings of passing beauty’s mind, and the most spontaneous thing you have done this week, is had a mid-day poo.

I do have a point, somewhere….

 

Apparently, I did not get the ‘Dating is dead’ memo. Why is it that in this day and age, going out on dates with general strangers is a bit shocking? Now, I am unsure on whether maybe it’s just the area I am in or the people I hang out with…But most of my friends and people I have talked at (literally) about it, are generally shocked to hear how often I go on dates. I am not saying I take people out left right and centre, and am out most nights of the week. I mean, I’m not Carrie Bradshaw. What a tramp, COUGH. However; in the past three months, I will admit I have been on several dates.

This whole suggestion that the Dating Game is coming to an end saddens me somewhat. Because, in what other circumstance can you pretend to be totally awesome, without your friends sniggering, and saying ‘She’s lying again, what a douche’. And also; in what other situation can you pretend that holiday you went on last year, to Crete, was you travelling and ‘finding yourself’. And finally; it is the only time you can get drunk and get away with it on a week day evening. OH it was just nerves!!

What ever happened to the days of courtship? I am not saying I want someone to appear at my door, after having walked several miles; just to hand me a note to ask if they could accompany on my daily walk, in several days’ time. However; I am saying that maybe it would be good, for more people to get out their pulling pants and go out with a complete stranger for an evening.

It seems to me; relationships occur these days only on social networking sites, and one of those accidental relationships that happen with a good friend. The one where you are like; boom, I’m in a relationship – how did that happen? I thought we were just mates, but apparently I like you better when you’re naked. Why not mix it up a bit. What happened to the days when you could ask out a random person; during the day, whilst walking through your town/city? Let’s face it, what have you to lose? Nothing. But you could meet a fantastic human being and have a good giggle. Worst thing that could happen I suppose, is that the person is a creepy bugger, who looks like a convict. If this does occur; please find a safe place, call a friend, and get the hell out of there. Don’t be a mug.

One thing that we have to remember when venturing out on a date is that it is not going to be like a scene from Sex and The City, unfortunately. Sadly; there is a slim chance we will get swept off of our feet by a charming, rich Frenchman, and taken to a romantic candle lit dinner at an art gallery. That he has hired just for this occasion. However; you will be excited to learn that you might get sausage and chips in a basket, with a beer thrown in for good measure. Better than a slap in the chops with a wet mackerel I like to think.

After actually thinking about this whole situation further, maybe it is me who has it wrong. Maybe because I date so much, I am giving off a slightly mental desperate allure, which then in turn leaves me alone with my two cats, again. Or maybe I am becoming so interested in the whole dating game, that I am not giving the actual dates a chance, because I am far too busy planning the next date. It’s a fine line. Maybe I should revaluate my strategy here when it comes to finding Mr or Miss Right.

 

Fancy a bit of Rumpy-pumpy?

 

One night stands. Exciting, dangerous, erotic, disappointing, regrettable, fanciful little delights. Yes, we’ve all had them. No use denying it ladies, as you hide behind your cups of tea and your lovely flowing dresses – we all know of the naughty underwear and joining suspenders that lurk beneath ;) .

There have been many a name for the ladies that like to dabble in the naughty business we speak of. Sluts, whores, all of them degrading.. I like to call them normal.. human. Is it really wrong to participate in a mutual, enjoyable and consensual act of sex with someone that wants exactly the same? No, I personally don’t think so.. but what do you think?

There are many a kind of one night stands, the kind you pay for, the kind you regret, the kind you wanted, the kind you needed, the kind you will always remember, the kind you can’t remember and the kind you wish you could forget – yeah, you know what I’m talking about ladies, and so on and so forth. The most common three, I believe, to be the following:

1. The Lust-cake.

Good title huh? I’m here all week. So, this is the one night stand you find yourself having after a night out, or anything where alcohol may be present, or just with someone you know and fancy it with. You may meet or know a beautiful lady and you hit it off. Through your beer-goggled eyes and alcohol fumed breath nothing sounds better than a night of shared passion, why not? We’re drunk, we’re horny, we’re together, we obviously find each other attractive, how about a bit of rumpy-pumpy? And voila – a one night stand. Beautiful. No strings attached. FUN.

2. The Dumb-fuck.

Now this can come about from the same dangerous poison of alcohol or indeed the even more deadly.. emotional instability, but whatever the cause, it approaches.. like a lamb to the slaughter.. your drunken dumb-fuck. This could be with a total stranger or somebody you already know, perhaps you’re friends, perhaps you’re not but you know they like you.. you’re drunk and/or feeling emotional and they offer their sympathy/company. You jump on them, foolishly and voila.. a dumb-fuck and totally regrettable one night stand.

3. The Fantasy Fuck.

You should probably prepare yourself with wine, chocolates and a hideously depressing playlist for this one. This is the fuck you’ve always wanted and will forever regret. The fuck of all fucks to fuck it up. The fuck most worthy of the word.. could i say fuck any more? Fuck. Anyway, back to it.. this usually comes about when you find yourself in the company of someone you find to be too good to be true, beautiful, witty and completely unobtainable. Sharks circling the water just looking for their prey. They lure you into a sense of false hope with promises and compliments and “you’re different’s” but do not be fooled.. You’ll have your fantasy fuck and they will swim off in search of their next victim, leaving you behind without a care. Voila – Fantasy fuck one night stand complete.

So, yes, some one night stands can be completely torturous, but only if you let yourself fall in to that ever so tempting trap door. On the whole, if you go about it the right way, one night stands can be the pinnacle of pleasure, a welcome treat for both involved, an escape and an adventure. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of pleasure once in a while girlies, go wild, let your hair down, have some fun and don’t be afraid to do so! It’s the 21st century, and man am I loving it :)

Just don’t be yourself.

I was casually rocking out in someone’s kitchen to crazy dubstep beats by myself the other day and it suddenly struck me that I need to seriously assess my social behaviour. I mean, honestly! What kind of loser goes into an empty kitchen, finds a mini strobe light and starts fully jiving to dubstep?! May I also add that said kitchen has one enormous window overlooking a courtyard. Said courtyard had all of the normal people drinking and smoking and being generally socially adept. Said people were now all staring at me. It took me a long time to notice.

I just walked out of there all like

Though, I just can’t help it. Being weird is so ingrained into my poor little soul, I am literally unable to escape it. I finally think I’ve got it all under control, being normal.. being normal.. When out of NOWHERE my face will creep up to an unsuspecting ear of it’s own accord and proceed to bleat. Like a sheep. For NO REASON. I actually did that the other day. Yes, I concern even myself.

So, I thought I’d make a little post detailing exactly the things that I would do. Therefore, you should certainly NOT do. Under any circumstance. Unless you wish to remain single. For. A. Very. Long. Time. Let’s get started;

 1) Only try to be sexy if you know you can do it.

 For example, if you want to be all cute and slightly sexual you’re supposed to bite your lip right? Wrong. Something like that is never, EVER going to go to plan in public. In your minds eye is the lucious image of you, wind blowing through your hair, taunting your crush by having a cheeky nibble. You practically think you’re a porn star. Think again. You look like him. If you really feel like you need to make this move, please spend at least a month perfecting the whole thing. Trust me.

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  2) Don’t wear fancy dress on a date.

 You will only try to fulfill the ‘fancy-ness’ by acting like a blithering idiot. You mustn’t let people know that you’re slightly unhinged, so for the love of Pete don’t egg on your weirdness by wearing silly clothing. Take Tinky Winky here, I’m quite sure that if he didn’t have that tutu on his head, he wouldn’t have executed that particular ridiculous run-wiggle-point-flick. He would have walked to the door like a normal person. This could be you. Put the dressing up box down.

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  3) Don’t do anything that might take you by surprise.

ie. Don’t organise a date to any of these places/things; London Dungeons, Horror Movies, Fun Fair Scary House, Anything Next To A Ledge, Anything Involving Spiders  or Big Animals (Zoo). The list goes on. Much badness can only come from such places. You knock yourself out, you start to cry, you wet yourself. Or perhaps all three at once. It’s never fun for a date to have to comfort someone they barely know, who’s slightly damp and smells a little like wee. AVOID.

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  4) Don’t take them out to somewhere you’ve wanted to go for ages.

  You will be way too excited. They probably wont care. You will look like both an oversized child and a complete douche. You may well forget you’re even with them and waltz off between the isle’s of Harry Potter memorabilia in a world of your own. I assure you now, they wont hang around to watch you jousting with a fat nerd screaming ‘EXPELLIARMUS’ with some sticks.

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  5) If you need glasses or contacts, wear them. 8)

 There’s nothing more embarrassing than getting to the restaurant and having a slight panic because you can’t see the menu. One of two things will occur; Squinting like a crazy chinese man, trying your hardest to decipher what looks like somewhere a spider fell in ink and crawled across the page. Until finally, through her own embarrassment at the ugliness of your face, she begins to read the menu aloud. For your benefit. Or, you take a stab at any dish, pointing to it when the waiter asks and hoping to God they don’t say “So you’d like the Banoffee Pie for mains, madam?”

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  6) Don’t eat as though you’re an African child. Or talk with your mouth full.

  It’s never a pretty sight to look up to. It’s a total turn off, especially when you’re spitting bit’s of chicken skin at the unfortunate person sitting opposite you – YOUR DATE. I’m not sure how much they’d enjoy a chicken shower. They will most likely not be able to understand a word your saying either. It’s just bad news for all involved. You’re not a caveman.

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  7) Don’t try to be cute by skipping up to them.

  The only time skipping is allowed is when you’re around 5 and in the countryside. You’re going to be nervous and walking like a bit of a buffoon anyway, don’t add more complications. Creating a hop in the middle of a walk isn’t sexy. It doesn’t say; “Take me!” Always an error.

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  8 ) Get enough sleep before a date.

  You want to be fresh and bouncy and looking your best! You want to give off a brilliant first impression so that they don’t have any inkling whatsoever that you’re a complete moron. Falling asleep at the table/cinema/theme park ride will certainly make you look like an idiot. ESPECIALLY if they’re half way through telling you about their grandma’s uncle’s extraordinary pet vole. Keep on your toes!

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  9) Don’t be a keen beaver.

  Rookie mistake, and so cliché lesbian. Coming on strong on a first date is never acceptable. Well, it may be acceptable if you are actually Daisy Lowe. Hey, I would NOT complain. But, quite frankly, I’m pretty sure you wont be and I’m definitely not. This sort of clingy behaviour usually ends up with the date running hell for leather back to the safety of their home or.. No, no. That’s it.

In conclusion ladies, be as NORMAL as possible. (Although it’s quite ironic that I just accidentally put a ‘B’ there and wrote BORING.) You can show your true colours after.. well.. after a while let’s say. Once you know they love you back, be a madman. That’s what I’m planning on doing anyway.

Yeah..But I can fart overtly in bed

It has come to my attention that my previous posts have been somewhat cynical. So, I figure it’s time for a change; this post will be much chirpier, maybe. What I thought would be appropriate, would be talking about the positives of being a singleton. I have accumulated these few points over the past months; some of them are small, but very important to us singles. So, cough cough, pay attention!

Okay, so first and foremost, being well and truly alone in the bedroom isn’t all bad. Yes, obviously it can be a bit dull at times; however, you get first dibs on which side of the bed you want. And if you are as hard-core as me, you will endeavour to cover all aspects of the mattress surface. Which of course makes a well fun game to play with yourself. ‘How many shapes can I make whilst falling asleep?’ or ‘Can I stretch my legs and arms, and cover all the bases?’ Winner gets a cup of tea. Boom.

The next point about being single in the bedroom is of course sex. Now, we all enjoy a good bit of sexy time/no-pants-dance/getting down to it/the business/bumping naughty’s etc. I’m getting carried away here. Anywayyy, back to the point, the best part of this is of course being able to achieve sexual gratification whenever you want. You can make a routine of it if you wish, or you can be spontaneous with yourself. Surprise yourself whilst making the bed….Oh Cheeky! The great thing about this is not only can you reach the big O whenever you want, however you want; but also, you don’t have to shave or prepare in anyway. We don’t need to impress ourselves, because we think we are ace with or without the appropriate amount of bodily hair! So get them bear legs out! Woot.

Have you ever had those few moments, be it an hour or two, when you are just very angry and mad at the world as a whole? Maybe for no particular reason, but just because! I am sure we have all been there, you don’t want to talk about it, and you just want to be annoyed and unnecessarily angry towards most people. Now, the bonus of going through one of these manic moments and not being in a relationship means simply; you don’t have to justify your outlook on life, and have it analysed in every which way. You can just wallow in the feeling of general hatred, without explanation.

My personal favourite reason why being single is pretty ace, is of course the fact you don’t have to impress. I do not have to pretend I am really interesting and intelligent; I don’t have to claim to do really exciting things, because quite frankly I am about as interesting as a dead badger. We all know at the beginning of a relationship, we all put on this kind of invisible cloak, which gives us the ability to give off an impression that we are really cool, and that we think really profoundly and such.. When in fact all of this overtly interesting allure will wear off over the first few months of a new relationship.

It may not be a massive deal to some of you sexual people out there, but to me this is on par with being as important as having a fag with a coffee. Being in a relationship with oneself, inevitably means you get the last Rolo; every time. Yippy.

Finally, I would like to round off this beautiful little moment we are having together, by giving you one last little note of why having a loving, open relationship with your bad self, is not too bad. There is no one there to judge you when; you drink midweek, when you fart accidently whilst you cough, don’t wash your sheets, you eat far too much garlic in one evening,  when you watch back to back episodes of series like Glee or 90210 and finally; there is no one to walk in on you are talking to yourself like a mental.

 

Exquisite Eyes and a Nose Noodle.

  Have you ever met someone, or even just caught a glimpse of their knock-out allure, and literally wanted to rip their clothes from their body right there and then? Regardless of the amount of people in the crowded hallway, your stomach lurches into first gear and gets you ready to pounce. Obviously, after about 10 seconds you realise everyone is staring at your wildly gesticulating hands pointing manically at your crotch and decide perhaps that’s not the best way to win a woman over. Unless by happy circumstance you’re just as attractive them as they are to you. Highly. Unlikely.

I had a slight mid-walking sex-seizure the other day in fact. I was having a jolly little jaunt around my new university campus, cradling my Curry Pot Noodle like a madwoman, when out of nowhere someone hurtles at me from my right side. The force with which their little body flew against my shoulder was enough to cause a noodle to shoot up the back of my nose. Not even joking.

You know that terrible pain you get when food is lodged firmly where it oughtn’t be and your face demolishes itself into an unsightly Venetian mask of pain. Yeah, that. From somewhere in the back of my mind I heard a squeal, then a soft voice saying; “Oh gosh..I’m sorry! Your noodles.. your noodles, they’re everywhere..! Oh. Sorry. Um, you have a bit.. bit of orange stuff on your face..” I slowly opened my watering eyes for the first time since the nose-noodle palava, to then receive another bout of hysteria to the system. My gasp was so ungainly and sharp it dislodged the noodle, but sent me into a coughing fit.

She was just staring at me. Just staring. Silent staring. It was awful. Then to top off this Level 10 embarrassment, the stare was flooding out of the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. I finally did one last little Ahem and was able to actually speak again. Although I didn’t, she had to say something first. Well, wouldn’t you after 30 seconds of a curry-covered, deranged girl staring at your stare? Awkward.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry.”

What I Should Have Done;

“Oh yeah, absolutely fine thank you! Don’t worry. *smile* I’m sorry about that, I wasn’t looking where I was going. It was wonderful to bump into you anyway.” *Rearrange glasses, wink and saunter off like a cool, calm, sexy mutha’* She will then be flabbergasted by my utterly brilliant line and run after me as if I reeked of sexual pleasure. Tada!

Another Acceptable Possibility;

“No, no it was all my fault. Sorry.” *Smile, then make a speedy getaway before any more social torture is witnessed* She would never remember my face, for I’d be so fleeting and vanish in an instant. Again, tada!

The Horrendous Reality of the Situation;

“Mm.. no.. noodle… nose *points to nose*.. hahar.. painful. Hem. Hmm..”
“Right. You’re okay now though.. yes?”
Nod. Baring in mind I haven’t actually moved since opening my eyes. I still have orange curry sauce on the side of my cheek. My mouth is still pretty much hanging open, catching flies. At this point I think she is so terribly uncomfortable that she wants to walk extremely swiftly away from my ridiculous frame, but sort of feels a little sorry for my pathetic demeanour and skewhiff glasses that she doesn’t want to leave me. Maybe she thought I was mentally challenged. Whatever it was, she spoke veeerrryyyy sllooowwwlllyyyy next..
“I *points to self* am gooooing to gooo *thumbs in opposite direction* noowww.” I nod. Again. She gives me a faint smile, then steps hurriedly away and disappears into the library.

I wont lie, it did cross my mind to follow her in. Although I’m the type of person to wear mismatched, glaring clothes, thus easily recognisable. I discarded that thought. I was all dazed and confused, the sun beating down on my befuddled head making me perspire even more than I already was. Why am I such a douche?!  This is exactly the reason why I can’t seem to get a date. I am either inundated by equally moronic people who annoy me, or I set my sights way too high and jump head first into a massive crevice of doom. I think I need to rethink my position in society, realise I’m the most uncool person and probably set my sights a smidgen lower. Then, p’haps, I would have LOTS of amazing dates to retell to all you gorgeous people. Yes. I’ll do that then.

Peace out. Loser.

 

The Dating Rules; For Neurotic’s and Desperate Spinsters

It is said that some people are just quite good at giving advice, but suffer with the inability to take it themselves. I am such a person. After being called many a thing in my short life; Ice-Queen, Heartless and Completely Emotionless, and also having the privilege of dating some of the world’s turds, I have culminated a short list of things not to do if you plan on keeping someone for longer than a month.

Firstly; if you intend on keeping someone in your bed, or be it close to your face for an extended amount of time, do not, I repeat DO NOT, under any circumstances talk frantically about you’re ex-beau. Now, I am sure to most of you are face planting your hand, or biting furiously on your fist; like you just saw someone stub their toe. Yet, I have met many an ex-obsessed dater, and quite frankly they have more issues than Beano (quote taken from my sister, a Psychoanalyst; who says I have more issues than Beano).

Secondly; talking and communication is essential. I am sure my friend Jezza Kyle would agree with me here. For me; I am the worst communicator in the world, I struggle to explain how I feel; so much so I panic if someone asks me how the pizza I just had was.

Next; stop getting overtly excited about having something amazing. Life is not the Notebook; there is no Noah, or Ali. Your name is Stacey, and his is Dan. He will not build you a house, nor will he have floppy sexy hair. I am sorry to be the one to smash this bit of news in your internet face. I am not saying that those feelings do not exist, nor that these events or feelings cannot happen; but just don’t get your hopes up. I got laughed at for asking for such things. Just sayin’.

Okay; so you have the girl/guy of your filthy dreams, everything is fine and dandy. But the one thing to always keep an eye out for is alcohol and a new man or woman. Your mates might think you are hilarious when drunk; crying out in the bar toilets, panties down by your ankles, shouting ‘WHATS WRONG WITH ME? WHY DOES NO ONE FANCY ME?’, however; a prospective partner may not find this as entertaining as your tolerant friends. Now, the idea is to slowly introduce your drunk self to the new person. Let your mad and irrational drunk self out slowly. So slow, that the new love interest doesn’t notice. No one wants to see someone they have started to fancy; kebab in hand, singing ‘Ain’t no mountain high enough’ to their cat, with a bit of saliva on their chin from where they casually vomited on themselves on the way home, wrecked out of their skull.

To my fellow catty people; I know, more than most, how incredibly hard it is to go twenty minutes without complimenting your cat, talking to your cat about how fat you’re getting or telling someone else a story about your cat. Any other cat-lady, or cat-man, would appreciate these little stories, but normal regular people apparently find them rather dim. Personally, I think these people are pure pants, as I find singing to my cats the most entertaining situation ever, end of. So, ladies and gentlemen, keep the catty talk to those of us who want to know how your cat sometimes accidently leaves her tongue out. IT’S HILARIOUS. (And yes, this is a personal experience. Thank you).

My final, parting words of unhinged wisdom is to go slow. Many a time I have got completely swept up in the idea of finding that person who will lovingly hold my hair back when I chunder, that I have got lost in the moment, and before I know it BOOM I’m in a relationship. One that I am; 1)Not ready for 2)Not at all sure whether the person is right 3)And I am clearly not anywhere near being mature enough to think about anyone else but myself. So chill your beans you over eager little munchkin, cool your motor, calm down!

So, there you have it. Another rant from a confused, anxious cat-lady.

 

 

 

 

 

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