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) O
nly 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. 
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 cr
oss 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.
It’s not our fault. :0)
It seems, to the ignorant eye, that sexual fluidity has become extremely ‘fashionable’ recently. For one, what does that even mean?! Fashionable?! Bugger it, I’ve been wearing cardigans since I was 10, but I thought I’d ditch that boring idea because my fashionably fashionable friend wears a mental bomber jacket from TopShop and she looks cool. And like everyone else. That’s fashion.
Imagine if I waltzed, nose in air, up to someone who is extremely passionate about Zoology and knowingly raised my eyebrows exclaiming, “Ha! Zoology, eh? That’s not really a subject at all is it? Pah, you’re clearly only doing it because it’s fashionable.” Somehow, I fear I may either get an angry poke with some sort of biology rod (which I’m sure they have to hand at all times. Um.) or suddenly be a victim of a brilliant amount of spiel about the Natural World. Again, -angry- tones. Perhaps even both would happen simultaneously. I don’t know, but I do know that particular person would not be at all amused.
Why then is it suddenly all okay to tell another person that the way they are living their life is actually a lie? It’s not. What gives any human being the right to decide a)What people are actually feeling and b)Whether it exists at all. Frankly, these people need to get into a lions cage and tell the hungry little Lion; “You can’t possibly eat me! It’s not the done thing in this day and age. And it’s certainly not fashionable. So there!” I’d like to know how long the Lion contemplates this before instinct kicks in and shouts FOOD.
We are the same as the Lion. Humans rely on feeling and emotion, we’re not wondering whether it’s more fashionable to feel one way rather than another. It isn’t a choice. 
This now leads me onto my actual point, as hinted to in the quote above; Why is bisexuality wrong to (some) heterosexuals AND homosexuals?! It’s understandable that some straight people are going to oppose bisexuality as they probably don’t agree with anything remotely LGBT etc. But homo’s? It makes no sense whatsoever banging on about getting equal rights to then turn around and say; “Oh except you guys. That is just plain weird. Go away.” I fully appreciate that this is, by no means, ALL homosexuals. I actually only mean a minority of us. However, it keeps seeming to crop up lately and I feel very strongly about it.
For example, I am hugely scared of telling a girl I like (whom I know to be a lesbian) that I am in fact bisexual. I’d probably get past the first date and then never hear of them again. Why is it such an issue?! Just because I’m bi doesn’t automatically mean that I’m greedy.My morals are going to be exactly the same whether straight/bi/gay, if I fall for someone I wont cheat. Fact. The bisexuals seem to sometimes be seen as the ‘dirty’ group.
This therefore makes it extremely irritating when you genuinely really like a girl but you know if you tell her that you like both sexes she may run away screaming GREEDYFLIRTATIOUSWIERDO. Or something of this sort. Which makes me sad. It’s so hard to gage someone’s reaction to this tiny, minuscule piece of information when you’re dating them. So you either don’t do it, ‘what they don’t know can’t hurt them’, right? But surely that’s morally wrong on some level, and when it comes to the time when they find out what happens then? They will probably feel really hurt and it could now jeopardise your whole relationship. Or you risk it for a biscuit and tell them outright, hoping to [insert what you believe in here] that they aren’t concerned.
Have you ever had this problem when dating? How do you feel about it? I’d even like to understand what lesbians who are a little like this have to say, what’s the issue for you? Is it fear? Or something else?
I know have decided to throw caution to the wind and say it outright. If you have a problem with it you’re clearly not the sort of person I wish to spend the rest of my life with. So,
Desperately Seeking Lesbians
When moving on, finding new beginnings and setting off on new adventures we never really think about how much the new environment and people that inhabit it with us will effect our lives. I for one have just moved to London to start a belated course in Drama. Now, before I moved here I would travel up and spend a lot of my time here anyway, for gigs, for friends, for lesbian and gay bars and company that have always been so thriving in London! So, when I found the perfect course for me at Kingston University of Southwest London I ofcourse jumped at the opportunity.. LONDON! The endless pit of gorgeous girls and me, the willing candidate for all of their experimental needs, this is going to be a great 3 years! .. Or so I thought.
True, it’s been just under two weeks and that’s not really enough time to explore and sus everything and everyone out.. find all of the places where I can get my fix.. feed my addiction.. find some bloody lesbians! But this is getting tedious. I’m not used to going this long without any gay company or attention, it’s quite hard really. I found myself still awake and still a little tipsy from a night out with friends at 6am saturday, crying in my bed feeling like a little lonely and ashamed lesbian again. I rooted through a bag of leaflets from the freshers fair i had attended earlier that day, desperately trying to find the LGBT leaflet i’d picked up in the hopes that there would be a contact number on it, someone to talk too but with no success. I settled, quite stupidly, on phoning an ex.. awkwardly crying down the phone for a few seconds and then hanging up.. I then continued to BBM her and invited her to come up and stay.. probably not the best of ideas.. Well done you silly little confused lesbian. Perhaps I need to make a poster, maybe some accompanying flyers and litter them around campus ‘Desperately seeking Lesbians – Contact: 07777777777′ – You didn’t REALLY think i’d put my number out there for all of you naughty little lesbians to call me at all hours for a little chat did you? .. Wait.. perhaps I should? You see? I’m loosing my cool! I’m literally coming on to my computer screen, this needs to stop.
How do you cope in situations like this? What would you do in my little shoes? Hold out, enjoy the beginning of uni and hope that the signals your sending out will be picked up on the universal gaydar and your prayers will be answered? I guess that’s the sane thing to do.. right? Although, whoever said we, the human race, are sane? We are merely mis-shapen balls of clay, every one of us, holding out for the perfect pair of hands to come and help mould us into the beautiful, shiny pots we were destined to be. But I will say this – thank GOD for online dating sites such as this one. I’m not sure how I would have coped these past two weeks without my beautiful online girls too converse with over the WWW. Always know that in times of need – there will always be singles warehouse and if you can’t find anyone on there, you can always revert back to this here blog I have just written with my lonely little lesbian hands and remember: Atleast i’m not that crazy fruit-loop, sitting there salvating over her own computer keys.
5 Reasons Why I am alone; because I am a nutcase
It occurred to me today that it would be an ingenious idea to explain to you beautiful people why I am single. And thus, this will help you. It will help you because by telling you all what drives potential no-pants-dance-partners away, you can basically do the complete opposite to this.
Number One: I’m creepy
Yes, I am a self-confessed creep. Now, it’s not like I intentionally go out and leer at people, unfortunately it is not something I can control. It has been a very long time since I had any intimacy with another human being (7 months, 3 weeks and 2 days – but who’s counting?), and I am afraid I may have become a virgin again. Can that happen?
Anywhooo, so as I am sure you can all understand, I am literally hard up, most hours of the day. Even in my sleep I have filthy dreams, then wake up to realise I am alone with half a cat laying across my face, and a bit of last night’s pate on my chin (Not literally half a cat, I do not keep dead animals in my bedroom; I mean half of it is on me, and the other half not.) And as you can imagine, I get rather excited if a pretty girl with a cracking cleavage bends over in front of me.
Now, obviously, a lot of people would have a little gander at the goods that are clearly on offer. There is one thing have a cheeky glance, to full on staring, with a creepy as f**k look on my face. Now, I will not lie- I look like a sexual predator. Who wants to date that?
Number two: I’m a size 8. #cough size 12
Okay, so, this particular reason may not have a direct effect on my ability to hold down any kind of relationship. However, it does affect the ratio on whether I pull on a night out to whether I manage to scare most potential partners away screaming.
I do not seem to understand my figure. When I look at myself in the mirror naked, I hold back the vomit and settle on the fact that I am just that repulsive. However, with clothes on, I think I am a lot thinner than I actually am. Therefore, I wear clothes that do not suit my massive child baring hips and thunder thighs. Thus making me look like a bag of sausage meat.
Number three: Epic failure at chat-up lines
Now, I am not going to pretend that I am the only person to ever suffer from what I call what-were-you-thinking syndrome. However, the lines that produce in my mind and spill out between my wine stained lips are something else. My confidence in the line at the beginning always starts very strong, and then begins to fade. So, I am in turn, just simply mumbling the rest of the line, which obviously is not an attractive trait. Some of my beauties;
‘So, you have some shoes on? How…How are they working out for you?’
‘Get your pull, you’ve coated’
‘Roses are red, violets are blue, I’d quite like to be on you’
Or, another route I oh so often take, is a fairly immature one. I tend to basically bully the person I like, making every effort to insult them in any possible way. I think this goes back to when us girls were all kids, and our parents blindly told us that if a boy is mean to us; it means they must like us. Thanks Mom and Dad, thank you for not noting that this would evidently rear its ugly head in my later life, and make me repel people, because at the end of the day; individuals are not interested in people who abuse them psychologically.
Number four: Lack the instinct to commit
Now, it’s not that I like to fling my pantie-hose at everyone and anyone; quite the opposite actually. What I find hard is the understanding that someone is voluntarily, willingly and wanting to spend a good deal of time with me. Not to say that I am rubbish, I’m rather awesome – if I do say myself. But really? I annoy the crap out of myself, why are you still here? So, I tend to panic and split.
How do I ever stand a chance when I struggle hopelessly with committing to a new brand of fabric conditioner. See, what happens if I don’t like the smell of it on my clothes? I have just committed to at least a month or so of fabric conditioner, I can’t take it back if the smell is too strong. It panic’s me to say the least.
Number five: I am just not cool
Ok, I am shoving this out there like a hormonal woman stuffing tampons into her bag. I am just not cool. Try as I might, my efforts to maintain a cool and mysterious allure, breaks as fast as a pair of shoes from Primarni. OH, another use of overtly descriptive language. You are welcome my beautiful possums. Thank you. I am just simply; a neurotic, selfish, slightly attractive withthelightsoff, cat obsessive, over-thinker.
Oh hello, what sort of lesbian are we today?
Everybody acts differently around different people, it’s Human nature, but how far can you go before it turns into a case of hiding who you are? Especially in the gay society we feel we have to – not so much hide but.. reserve our sexualities around certain people, whether it be out of respect, uncertainty or even fear. I’m not a person that is afraid to share my sexual preferences with anyone and everyone, educate, humiliate and fight my corner but even I sometimes feel the atmosphere thicken and think twice about my loud and confident approach when the topic rears it’s head. I’ve been paying extra close attention to my many different Lesbian personalities over the last week or so and I’ve noticed the following.. (Beware, I’m going to name them.. after Disney princesses)
1. Snow White.
Snow White is my standard, everyday lesbian personality. She is cool, confident in her sexuality and likes to have a little perve on the lovely Ladies as she walks through London town (where she now lives.. Oh yes!) She doesn’t mind talking about this and sharing an occasional ‘Oooh look at that girl’s bum!’ with anyone that’s interested. She likes to think she’s in control of her other personalities but she is fooling herself, what a silly little lesbian.. she tries to avoid the little men that stalk her asking for kisses and apple pie on a daily basis.
2. Belle.
Belle is my excitable lesbian personality, she appears after Snow White has consumed a few of those naughty potions that are going around. She’ll fall in lust with anyone and anything, no matter how beastly, as long as they show an interest in her.. sometimes even if they don’t. Belle is overly confident about who she is, she’s not afraid of public displays of affection, likes to get dressed up and flaunt all that she is for the world to see. She’ll kiss you for no apparent reason and attempt to rip up a dancefloor with you.. even in a library if you fancy it. She’s quite strange really.. probably brought up by a crazy father.. named Maurice.. *moff moff* I’m such a joker.
3. Ariel.
Ariel is the personality that’s not so sure of herself.. ‘Do I want to be a lesbian today? I’m not so sure.. that guy’s quite nice looking.. perhaps I’ll live a sheltered life with him instead and forever be something that I’m not.’ She is easily swayed by the atmosphere around her, she can be straight for the night if you’d like her to be, just take her voice away and she’ll flap around awkwardly and silently like a fish out of water (get it HAR!), but she’ll be anything you want her to be.. anything as long as you don’t feel awkward.
4. Pocahontas
Pocahontas is completely and utterly hopeless.. She wants nothing more than someone to share her little lesbian life with, someone that she has things in common with, not the usual, acceptable bores that are the normal round her parts. She doesn’t really like to talk to anyone about these feelings so she’ll sit and talk to things such as animals and a willow tree instead, for they will never judge. Pocahontas loves to explore and go on adventures, sing beautiful little love songs and hope that, one day, you might notice her, come and save her from the lonely little world that she doesn’t want to be in anymore. Even when Pocahontas thinks she may have found this person it seems the world is against her and many a challenging obstacle are put in her way. But she will find love.. eventually.. and with the RIGHT person.. not that twat Pocahontas goes off with in the second film. Slut.
Everyone is a little schizophrenic.. a little wary to be completely themselves at all times, we all need lesbian princess personalities to fall back on should we need too. But who are we without them? Better or worse people? Each little aspect of each personality is me, but how much of it has been manufactured to make other people feel more comfortable? Should we be so worried about what other people think? I’m quite lucky in how proud and confident I am, but with even me falling back In to the reserved ‘Ariel’ from time to time, I worry about the young girls that are wanting their lesbian personalities to shine in todays forever judging society. I think it’s time for some lesbian princesses stories to be heard, don’t you?
Little bit homophobic, are we?
Being someone who likes the same sex, I have never really understood other people’s incomprehension, and sometimes downright anger, at the LGBT community. Just as much as I cannot, for the life of me, understand racism. Really? Is this actually what you’re wasting your chauvinistic, bigoted, narrow-minded breath on? Get out of my face you idiotic excuse for a human being, you’re blocking my view of a young lady’s peachy bottom.
I tend to slowly cock an eyebrow and remain silent for an extremely long time when I encounter such people. Whilst slowly grinding my teeth, I’ll casually think up images of me doing some serious damage to their metaphoric face. Grabbing hold of his ludicrously bright tie and yanking it, hard, possibly? Or perhaps, finding the closest bible and deliberately clouting them, bishbosh, over the head with it? Oop, even that brick’ll do.
Although I guess I’m just the same, but the other way around.
For a start, I tend to never believe straight girls when they say ‘Oh yuck! I’d never get with a girl! *exaggerated shiver*’. Come off it, surely you would just for a little experience? A woman’s form is far lovelier than a male’s surely..? How is a ‘humiliating rod of flesh jutting out of your body’ even remotely appealing. Especially this “throbbing member” business that all the old, perverted novelists used to use. I think I just did a little bit of sick in my mouth…
So when I arrived back from Australia looking like a big butch lesbian, I think I may have caused a bit of a furore. The fact that I like girls seemed to pop it’s running shoes on and whiz the length of the Cotswolds in about 24hours. I’d be at the pub and people I hardly even knew were saying things like, ”Oh so I hear you..err.. you know.. spread your butter on both sides?” Umm, no I don’t, because that would be STUPID. You’d get sticky fingers and just have a general buttery malfunction. ”You knowwah! Bat for the other team..?” Do I look like someone who does anything that sounds remotely like sport? I don’t think my arms even know how to hold a bat. I’d probably use it to roll out my pastry mix or something.
Why do people have such an issue with saying it like it is. I’m sorry but you’re offending me far more by using ridiculous aphorisms. Then adding insult to injury by flapping your hands in my face, thinking that the action acceptably establishes my sexuality. Bugger off, will you? One of my close friends even came up to me and said; “Sorry but I don’t like it. I just don’t like it.”
Okay, fine. I fully appreciate it can be a bit of a shock and it may take time to adjust to it. Of course, you are perfectly entitled to your own opinion, but was it really necessary to righteously claim that what I feel is not allowed by your standards. Sufficed to say, this particular friend now has no issue at all and I love them.
Yet still, I feel uncomfortable in certain situations. Even when I’m with My Bestest friend, who is straight, I feel a bit odd. As though I shouldn’t mention any girls that I like even though she’s gabbling on about her latest love affair. Even when she asks me outright I sort of brush over the subject, just let out a pathetic ‘merrr’ and move on. I know that she doesn’t particularly want to talk about it because I know it makes her slightly uncomfortable, which makes me more uncomfortable which in turn makes the whole shebang pretty pointless and unenjoyable. So I may as well not say anything at all.
I was out and about t’other night, having a lovely evening with a beautiful chica who, bless her, was buying me more drinks than I was able to consume. We were in a local, so a lot of people I knew were hanging out there (including My Bestie). I seriously felt so awkward holding her or kissing her in front of people I know, even though I’m sure they all know that I’m into girls. Which is nonsensical, really.
How do you feel about these sorts of situations? When you take a lady out on a date, how do you feel about your surroundings? Do you not care, happy to kiss them in front of people, it’s their issue? Or are you a bit concerned with how to act? Are you worried about how open they are about their sexuality? Or do you just not do it, regardless?
Let me know ;0)
You’re gay? I don’t believe you.
So, after spending plenty of time scraping the metaphorical barrel in my small town, for beautiful lesbiansexuals, I excitedly searched further afield. I ventured out to the next biggest town, with my token gay male friend, filled with the expectations and hopes so high I could have wee’d with the anxiety.
I had not been in the dingy so-called Gay Bar an hour; and I had already been rejected by the only straight girl in there, almost punched in the face by a psychotic who was convinced I was trying to get with her girlfriend, oh and been shunned by someone else because they refused to believe I liked women.
Now, what else could I have possibly done? What is it that you lesbians want from me? Must I shave my head and wear men’s underwear to be considered a lesbianacle? Really? Really? Had I not been very new lady lover I wouldn’t have really cared. However, I was, I was overcome with the sense of shaving my head and wearing baggy chino’s. So much so I kind of lost who I was myself. I became rather wrapped up in looking like lesbian, talking like one and acting like one, basically trying to recreate an L Word-Shane-like-exterior.
Then, it suddenly hit me; like a wall of self-loathing, I look like a right douche. I do not look like a mysterious mess of a lesbian, what I actually in fact look like, is an over-sized mafia dyke-Not the look I was aiming for.
My hair will just not fall in the right places, to make this wispy fringe that hides my mental eyes, my hips are not like a small boys; they do not jut out, they are in fact good old fashioned child bearing hips (thanks a bunch Mom), and my boobs are not able to look attractive unsupported.
However, now I have grown up slightly (only in age, not in maturity levels, I assure you), I have accepted the fact that I will never achieve the look of Shane McKutchin. And instead have absorbed the idea of wearing random pretty little charity shop dresses and the odd black vest, however; I will admit sometimes the baggy jeans creep out of the closet. Don’t judge me!
After the huge disaster that was not even being able to pull in a gay bar, I have resorted to heavy breathing and pining over women on dating sites. The almost anonymous world of dating, where you can pretend your thinner than you are, attempt to convince people your ever so unique and creative, and spend hours traipsing over profiles until you find one you like; but you are so intimidated by their photogenic beauty, that you just sit and dribble, and make no intention to message. Then in turn, get thoroughly depressed about how unattractive you are, and cry to you cats. Ok, just me then?
So, how is the whole experience treating me? Well, dating online has definitely been an interesting one. I actually met my last girlfriend online. I messaged her something highly creative like ‘Your eyes are massive. Well done.’ And for some mad reason she replied, maybe she felt sorry for me. SO, after a few casual messages, she told me where she was from; a small village in Worcestershire. I can only say I was gob-smacked when she told me, because I was from that same tiny little excuse for a village.
And there was me thinking I was the only gay in the village!
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#SWEvent and a Whole Lot of Silliness
Last Thursday I saw myself battling my way through the dingy hot London Tube stations with about fifty million bags. Ok, well, that was clearly a little bit of an over exaggeration, or we could just believe that I am some sort of super-hero. I’m rather inclined to promote the latter, because it’s cooler.
After about 45 minutes of feeling slightly molested and invaded by a large percentage of London’s tube-goers I finally fell out of the right station. Surprisingly, still with all my many bags. Once I had got over the fact I was able to actually breathe again, I went into a sudden panic. You know when you’re out, and a girl, and you have completely forgotten what time of the month it is and you get a wee bit warm. Yeah, that. So I was hopping around panic buying tampons, getting decidedly angry at my baggage and the fact they were making me even more sweaty than I already was.
I didn’t want to look horrideous the first time I met the Singles Warhouse gang! I wanted them to think I was calm, collected and exceptionally suave. Yeahhh, that didn’t happen. I toppled out of the shop, frantically trying to stuff tampons into my bag and sporadically jerking my hands out to catch falling bags. Oh yes, it was a sight to see. Then I got the wonderful compliment from Mr Singles Warehouse himeself, “Ha! You look like Harry Potter!”
I wont lie, that did kinda make me a a little a lot happy on the inside. Then I realised that this would perhaps not be the case for a normal, sane person and decided that I should be a little bit cross. But that failed, all that came out of my mouth was “Awesome.” and I nodded to myself knowingly, forgetting that he probably didn’t mean it in a good way. I was also quite impressed when we got to his house and there were spaceships from Star Trek on the walls. Not as much as @CharisAmy though, she started naming them.
We then all sat round the table like civilised peoples and had a meeting-type-majog. This was pretty fun, we got to get to know the background of Singles Warehouse and the other sites linked into it. We could get excited about future plans and happenings which was all very ‘citing! At about 4 we began to make ourselves beautiful and party-ready for the Singles Warehouse and WGirls event in aid of a great charity, Bliss.
All three of us girls (@DirtyKnickers_, @CharisAmy and I) settled our little bottoms down and waited, wide-eyed for the top totty to waltz around to be bid on. I have to say, the women’s group had far better looking people in it (lucky for me) they were sassy and pretty. But then men! Dear, dear, I did feel sorry for this whole room full of straight people. Although I have to say one of the most amusing parts of the night was @DirtyKnickers_ face. Much to her dumbfounded surprise she realised it was her who had been frantically shaking her bidding baton up to the skies for a particular man. Ah! What alcohol fun alcohol can be! So now she gets to go ice-skating or some-such activity involving embarrassment with a lovely chap.
The whole charity bidding experience was an extremely funny one and I enjoyed every part of it. Also, the fact that I was able to share it with the Singles Warehouse Team seriously added to the hilarity, we are a ridiculous bunch in the best of ways. I will most definitely be looking forward to another SWEvent and I hope that you guys can join us in all our glory!
If Anyone Asks, We Met in Morrisons
Written by @Anxious_Crayon
I am going to have to be brutally honest with you. I have been on various dating sites over the years. There I said it. Its out there. Now, I’m not in the delusion that I am God’s gift to both of the sexes, but I do see myself as quite a good catch, that either Adam or Eve would be interested in. For some silly reason, I thought it would be a great idea to get myself on one of these romance murderous websites. And after the initial hilarity of witnessing some rather unique characters; who clearly have issues with their mother and enjoy sniffing potential partners knickers, I began to enjoy the attention from people.
Top 5 Typical Lesbian Cliches
We all know they’re out there, engraved into peoples minds. Everybody, upon meeting someone new, judges. Anyone that says otherwise is a liar – simple as. Now, I am not one of these people that carry a chip on their shoulder, far from it, but I have noticed just how much people believe and judge based on the typical lesbian cliches put out there, and i thought i should educate you and lay them to rest in the form of my ‘Top 5 Typical Lesbian Cliches.’ Enjoy.
Typical Lesbian Cliche Number 1:
The U-Haul
Why is it that everyone thinks that Lesbians are some sort of crazed, desperados in need of first-date commitment? There is nothing worse then a clingy partner, it’s the one quality in a person that puts me off most, so if all lesbians are like this then I must have been dating straight girls all this time, surely somebody could have warned me? We also don’t bring a turkey baster on the first date either.
Typical Lesbian Cliche Number 2:
The Boxer Shorts
There are two pairs of Boxer shorts in my collection. Two. One that I received free after taking a chlamydia test in my local wetherspoons (They were offering freebies, I was drunk, why the hell not?) and another that I wore home from an Ex’s after staying the night. Never in my life have I purposely gone out and bought a pair, sure I love a woman in Boxers, who doesn’t? But I certainly don’t feel the need to wear them at all times. ‘Hey! Is she gay?’ ‘I don’t know, ask what underwear she’s wearing.. A thong? No way. Straight as a ruler.’
Typical Lesbian Cliche Number 3:
The Pervert
Ok, this is the one that annoys me most. When I first came out to my classmates at the tender age of 13 it was like a flipped switch, suddenly every girl HAD to automatically be the object of my desires. ‘Be careful, don’t get changed infront of Forsythe! She likes girls you know! What a perve.’ I don’t care how good looking you and society think you are, I do not fancy your orange little ass, please get over yourself.
Typical Lesbian Cliche Number 4:
The Stereotype
From what i’ve been told, when most people think of Lesbians they think of a girl with short hair, in mens clothes, basically masquerading as a boy. You couldn’t be more wrong. I for one have long hair, i wear dresses, heels, make-up AND woman’s perfume – SHOCKER ALERT! The same as any straight woman. There are so many different types of lesbians we could be here all night describing them. Butch, femme, Lipstick lesbian, chapstick lesbian, stone butch, Boi, Futch – and the list goes on.
Typical Lesbian Cliche Number 5:
Lesbians Can’t Have Sex
Woah there my friend, what’s that now? I can’t count the amount of people that have sat and quite bluntly asked me ‘What counts as “Lesbian sex” then? Because, I mean, you obviously CAN’T have sex.. it’s just foreplay isn’t it.’ Sounds like the most boring thing in the world to me, i can do that all by myself darling, do you really think that mutual masturbation is all that we can come up with? Oh please. Lesbian’s most certainly DO have sex. Oh and, while i’m at it, we also don’t just strap one on and pretend to be a straight couple all night long either.
I’m not going to insult your intelligence, sit here and dispute them all, of course not. Sure, there are Lesbians that wear boxers, that move way too fast and sport the ‘Butch’ look. I am simply letting you know that we are not all clones, we are every bit as varied as any straight person you’ll ever meet. Nobody is defined by their sexuality, and nobody that hasn’t explored said sexuality can possibly know what goes on when living their lifestyle. I hope i’ve given you some things to ponder about.. Naughty. Here’s a little Video you should all watch, should you wish to know more but also, mainly because it’s just hilarious - Lesbian Cliche Song
Fleeting, falling but never ending.
Fleeting romances. We’ve all had them. We’ve all played a part in, or been a victim of, the fleeting.
These whirlwind romances serve to be the most thrilling, heart aching and devastating of all, and
yet we know we won’t resist if another presents it’s tempting little head.
Now there are, i believe, three types of fleeting romances and these are as follows:
1) A romance that takes your breath away, leads you into thinking ‘This could be it! The one!’ only to find out that you were the only player in this game of fools and, alas, they flee.
2) The opposite, a romance that you so truly want to believe in, god knows you’re attracted to the person or maybe there’s just something about them. You give it a go and you have fun with it, but in the end you know it’s not for you, So you flee.
3) The romance that comes in two parts but with the same point:
i) You both feel it, you both crave it, you both live for it and don’t see how it could ever not be. The romances that, for some reason, just can’t be. Whether it be distance or circumstance, It must be mutually fled from. *Insert sad face here*
ii) You both want it and enjoy it, it’s thrilling and heart-warming but never meant to be more than a fling.
The overall rule being, of course, that they are all brief.
I have been.. Unfortunate? No, I don’t believe that is the correct term, for romance in any state is a beautiful thing. I have been.. oh, we’ll let you decide what fits in here, like when you get to decide what happens at the end of a movie, ooh! How exciting! Anyway.. back to the point. I have been *blank* to experience all 3, as i see them and, although being inlove and in a steady relationship is lovely, it seems to always be the, as i call them, ‘fleeters’ that stick in your mind, especially the heartbreaking number 3. Wouldn’t you agree? Perhaps it’s because they are more interesting, more ‘Novel worthy’ yes, i think that’s it.
Now romance number one was a standard ‘boy meets girl, girl falls for boy, boy just wants to get his end in’ story. Except we had known each other for 6 years previous, we went to the same secondary school see, he was prom king, I was the dark girl that wrote poetry and listened to MCR. (They weren’t considered ‘popular music’ back then.) Anyway, i blossomed, he showed an interest, we whirled, i fell, he fled. End of story.
Romance number two is, of course, a very different story for i played the part of the ‘flee-er’ think i just made up another word there? On a roll. So romance number 2 began rather recently, Christmas eve just gone in fact. A beautiful girl, the essence of ‘Shane McCutcheon’ pouring from her and engulfing the room. I had seen her and spoken to her before, we knew we found each other attractive, but the first night I’d hung out with her she ditched me for a massively hot, siren-like pole dancer (Honest to god!) but this night i had her full attention because it was her that wanted to see me. We sat, we drank (not alone at any point i might add although we may as well have been for noone else mattered) and just soaked in everything we loved about each other until we became dizzy. I thought this would be it for me for sure, this girl was everything I’d dreamed of, i even thought about how comfortable I’d be introducing her to my parents.
The night ended in many kisses, a naughty fumble in the back of a taxi and an open invitation for a relationship from her lovely lips. But, after that night, i never really felt the same for her again. It was like I’d achieved what i wanted, the most unobtainable and alarmingly attractive girl in our parts, and that was enough for me. Terribly selfish i know, i tried, god knows i tried because I knew what i felt that night was real, and i longed so much for it to happen, but the heart never lies, and my heart just wasn’t in it. I still fancy that girl today, i still think of her, i see her out and want nothing more than to take her home. (I did recently, big mistake, selfish mistake.) But i will never regret it happening. She captured a little of my heart, not quite enough, but that little bit will always be hers.
And then number 3 shows it’s pretty little face. The first girl to hold my heart. This romance was very fleeting, one day and one night in fact. The night that it all happened. Now, the first thing i must point out about this girl is that she is by all means straight, with the acceptance of this here story. I fell for this girl the first time i kissed her at the tender age of 14, a dare ofcourse, that ended in us kissing a few more times through sheer enjoyment. I hadn’t really seen her since and had forgotten about it until the night i saw her again and she drunkenly pushed me up against a pool table and whacked one on me. This was nothing more than an innocent ‘Hello, I’m drunk and want a smooch and i KNOW you’ll kiss me’ sort of thing.. but it developed into much more.
I had my first lesbian sexual experience that night. And it was awesome. We slept in each others arms and spent the next day together but it was made very clear that we couldn’t be together, she was straight by society. She’d never felt anything for a girl before and, although she enjoyed it (believe me.) we decided to just call it fun, beautiful and unforgettable and fleeing we did do. We still exchange a kiss, smile and talk when we see each other now.
Well my point to all of this is that even the most fleeting of romances are worth the experience. Romances will tear you apart, drive you insane and make you act a fool, but there will always be another romancer that will put you back together, take the wheel to give you a rest from the drive and make the foolish acts seem worth it again. All love and romances help us to evolve as people, and we wouldn’t be the same without them. So, no matter how bad your fleeting experiences, never give up on finding your fellow fleeter and fleeing from anothers arms right into each others.
Well, wasn’t that uplifting? Now, get on and find some lovely lady company you beautiful people.
Expect a Shane. Get a Miranda.
Dana: I don’t get it. I mean, what does Shane have that I don’t have?
Tina: It has to do with her attitude…
It’s confidence okay? I’m telling you… it’s because of her nipples.
Dana: What do you mean it’s because of her nipples?
Tina: She has the best nipples in town and she knows it.
Alice: Oh my God. You’re so right. She has nipple confidence!
As I have stated in a previous post (and am now painfully reiterating the fact) I’ve never been on a date. ‘Surely not!’ I hear you all cry in sheer disbelief, ‘How could this stupendously fine specimen of humanity have been overlooked by the many male, and now female, sets of eyeballs?!’ Utterly ridiculous, I know. I would have thought there’d be ques, at the very least!, for a taste of this intelligent, beautifully baked tin of biscuits that is me. If I do say so myself. Which I very much do.
Now, I sincerely hope we are all firmly grasping the idea like an unexpected pair of boobies, that I am indeed being blatantly pompous and conceited for a reason. I would never actually think say this. I’m not a complete cretin. Generally speaking.
What I wanted to have a natter about is confidence. I’m slightly lacking in that whole area. I don’t know whether it’s for that reason that people don’t seem to think me worthy enough for a date. Then even if someone does have the balls, so to speak, to waltz up and say ‘Hi’ I go all shy, silly and will probably end up running away. I can’t seem to switch on the ‘Shane’ when I’m out and about meeting new people. Or I can do it for about 5 minutes and then I’ll guffaw wildly like some complete maniac, probably throw a snort in there, and job done. Everyone in the vicinity will experience an unexpected wine shower and be permanently put off.
Therefore, this is when I decided to heartily join a few dating websites and avoid that awkward moment of face-to-face introduction. You can happily type away to your little heart’s content, pretending to be all wonderful and self-assured. But, again, that’s just it, you can’t very well lie. If I want to go on a date, I’m going to have to meet them as some point. That’d be embarrassing wouldn’t it, “So I saw you came third in the javelin competition last year?” You might end up demonstrating with bread sticks or something just to ‘play the part’. This could all go terribly wrong, culminating in an angry date with a bruise on her face and a pulled muscle for you.
I would be so worried that I’d turn up and ‘The Date’ would take one look at me bumbling through the doorway and skidaddle out of the loo window. It’s one thing to look at someone’s profile and actually meeting them in real life. On the internet I am able to take ten million pictures and pick that one photo that actually makes me look good. I seem bubbly and fun and pretty cool. Which is great, until you meet this slightly bemused, idiotic, nerdy, red-faced rambler-when-nervous. I’m so scared of being a disappointment I just don’t bother. I’d ruin my already non-existent reputation in one foul swoop.
So If you’re thinking of asking me out, please take heed and fully understand I am not going to be your next Shane. I’m not going to be all suave, sophisticated and sorted. For a start Miranda Hart is my idol. And that says a lot, doesn’t it?
Screen-Confidence
‘I do what most lesbians do, stare at women hungrily and pray that somebody else will make the first move.’
I find that quote is all too relevant in my sorry little, pathetic excuse for a love life. Why do we find it so hard to simply approach a beautiful, smooth, sweet-scented woman? Well, therein lies your answer! They ARE beautiful, they ARE (I certainly hope) smooth and they all smell so sweet, in what dimension would they want a dewy-eyed desperado like me strolling over to them and slowly stuttering out a simple ‘hello.’ ? And that’s not the only problem, we find ourselves under huge amounts of pressure to make a good impression: ‘Is my hair okay?’ ‘Does my breath smell?’ ‘Oh god! I wish I’d changed out of my work clothes!’ And, for some reason, even when simply asking a girl to join us for a drink (which, I think, is a rather good gesture in itself, no?) we are made to, and indeed make ourselves, feel like bloody massive perverts! It’s as if we’d wandered over to a woman and asked if she’d like a quick, dirty fumble in the toilets, ‘You won’t regret it lass, I promise ’. There MUST be a way around it.. a way to start a conversation with someone and not feel like your going to trip over your own shoelaces and flat on to your bright red, blushing face in the mean time!
What’s that you say? There is?! – Yes! Fear not my beautiful ladies – for this is where online dating comes in! Yes, it’s true. There IS such a beautiful world where you don’t have to worry that you’re wearing your, less than flattering, work clothes. Nor that you may stutter out an accidental insult on how short her skirt is and get a glass full of whiskey thrown in your face. You could be wearing your battered old dressing gown and eating corn flakes for the third consecutive day for all that matters. The welcoming world of cyber dating means we can be ourselves, comfortably, in our own environment and not risk the possible humiliation of ‘God your frightful, please restrain from ogling my breasts!’ Come on! Just me? If you say so.
However, from online dating, it has become very apparent to me that most women feel this way. We’re all shy and insecure in one way or another, whether it be that we hide behind layers of make-up, wear a low cut top to take the attention away from our gaping nose, or simply sit in the corner avoiding all attention – we could all do with a bit of safe, cyber interaction to give our nerves a rest and actually enjoy a conversation without the added pressure.
I know what you’re thinking, ‘Dating sites are full of perves!’ and while not disputing that I indulge in the occasional ‘perving’ activity (who doesn’t) I can safely say that you can put your mind at
ease on that one. I have become acquainted with some of the loveliest people through dating sites and chat rooms,and even know couples that have met through them and are still going strong today. I mean, sure there is the occasional person that wants to ‘see your bountiful breasts in action’ etc.. but don’t tell me you don’t enjoy that just as much as I do? It’s nice to have a bit of excitement and complimentary banter every now and then, give it a go, you may surprise yourself!
I like to think that perhaps even, one day, I may get the confidence to approach a beautiful woman in person, without 10 JD and cokes in my system, and be successful in doing so. But, for now, there’s always my trusty online dating sites, and the beautifully fascinating women that inhabit them to keep this hopeless lady-lover company.
Mini Mouse, Bad Spelling and Vegetables.
I don’t understand. Why is it only ever complete mentalists or dirty old women who view my profile?! I get a little thrill of excitement when I open my e-mails and it says Ilikeolives has sent you a private message. The forefront of my brain is whizzpopping with excitement and images of beautiful women writing poetry on top of mountains, the wind gently flowing through their hair.. eating blueberries.. with sandals on.. Oh! Hem, not really sure where I was going with the sandals..
Anywho! You get the drift. At the same moment this is happening and I’m frantically trying to get a glance at my future wife whilst having issues with pop-up blocker, the back of my brain knows. It just knows I’m going to click on the link and Margaret from Hull, 39 will burst into vision wearing a Mini Mouse suit made for an 11 year old.
I’m sorry, but when is it -ever- acceptable to send a message to someone saying; “Hey gorjuss, come chat wiv me and mayB we can get down n durrrty.. eat me owt.” It didn’t get much better when I clicked on her profile (Well c’mon! You’ve got to have a peak at the unfortunate losers on this planet. Okay I spend too much time in intergalactic web space.) There was a picture of her in a thong perching a knee atop what I can only assume is one of those exercise balls and I quote;
“when i not working love bein in bed, with alsorts of ppl, maybe 1 than 1 at a time, any age. nver wear tights or socks. music make me so horny. love to dress up i what ever requested to”
Okay, you clearly deem this a suitable response to the ‘About Me’ section, but I madam do not. For the reasons I will now explain…
1) Learn to spell. If there’s one thing I canNOT tolerate it’s people who feel the need to batter and beat the English Language into a pulp of ‘wivs’, ‘dats’ and numbers. Now, there’s using ‘Text Speak’ when one really needs to make sure we don’t go over that 72 character limit per text because we’re poor. But for everyday use? I think not. Get out of my sight you ludicrous, confused bag of scrabble letters.
2) Why are we speaking Pigeon English? Do you think your Tarzan? Well first of all, if you did it probably wouldn’t assist in your cringe-worthy situation in the slightest. I’d think you were a crazy person and run away anyway. There is something called sentence structure you dim-witted fools. Use it.
3) Maybe 1 then 1 at a time?! Pardon? Perhaps there was supposed to be a ‘more’ in there somewhere. Silly.
4) Would you say this in real life? I sincerely hope not. You’d probably get a restraining order and be told to seek advice. Or you would at least get a frightened young girl boshing you over the head with their newly bought high heels. Either way, you’re not winning.
5) Your naked physique isn’t really helping. Not being rude or anything but is it –really- necessary for me to see you nude? Why did you do this? I didn’t have much choice in the matter for starters, your boobies just popped up all enlarged upon my innocent screen. You’re now obtuse and exposed. Wonderful.
6) You’re weird. Stop it. I can’t imagine any sane sort of person actually choosing to click on your profile. (Aside from people like me of course, who are just doing it so we can have a laugh at someone else’s expense… Awkward.)
It also really concerns me why it seems to be appropriate for middle aged couples, heterosexual middle aged couples, to contact a 20 year old girl. They seem to be under the impression I would be more than willing to go and have a three way with people and/or vegetables I don’t know. I kid you not, vegetables. Sounds positively enthralling doesn’t it! Let’s all have lots of fun, oh! and while we’re at it throw come cabbage in there! Or maybe stick a red pepper up your bum’ole?.. Well, I don’t know do I!
Whatever next? I dread to think.
‘Oh, sorry, is there something in my teeth?!’
‘Oh, believe me, nobody is interested in dating me either, but these fears just serve to keep me from even trying.‘
So, i have a question. Why are we never satisfied with the way we look?
A simple enough question, yet noone can really answer it.
I know there’s that age-old saying ‘How can you ever expect someone to lo
ve you if you can’t love yourself?’ And, yes, i agree with this to some extent but it simply can’t be helped. However i do find it rather silly that I worry about such things when i find near to ALL human beings ever so attractive – throw someone in to my life equation and I will find SOMETHING that makes me want to jump their bones that instant. The world is a beautiful place really, and who’s to say I can’t fit in to that glorious mass of beauty? I am, And therein lies the problem.
Too many people think like this, and it quite upsets me, i find myself wanting to shout at my friends ‘There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with your bum/face/stomach! It is so perfect i can’t even begin to explain! And i would KILL for it!’ And so on and so forth. Where does it end? In love i suppose, that comfort of knowing that person will love you even if you eat the whole cake or decide not to put your make-up on this morning. So, i guess putting myself out there and dating is the only solution? But then the confidence issue kicks in again.. What do i wear? Should i just order a salad so they don’t think i’m a heffer? Should i wax every single hair from my body incase something happens?! Even with online dating, when you become so comfortable with each other, when you discover you have so much in common and finally decide ‘Nothing can go wrong here, i think you’re amazing, let’s meet up!’ Oh, the excitement! But we still find ourselves going through the normal, panicing routine – ‘Will they still like me in person? I said i was 9st2 on my profile! I’m 9st4! Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea.’ This, in my case, has always resulted in me declining any and all offers of dates, Becoming too scared and making up excuses. I wonder why people chase me when I am constantly running.
These are just some of the typical things i fear will go wrong if i embark on a date:
- I spill food down me, or get it in my teeth or on my face,
- I don’t NOTICE this spillage/new addition to my teeth and go the whole night looking a complete mess.
- I fall flat on my face whilst in their company or sight of vision
- I say something utterly stupid or accidentally insulting.
- I hate them/ they hate me.
- My credit card gets declined whilst attempting to be all sweet and pay for dinner.
Now, I know i’m not alone in thinking like this, so, you see it really is a problem, how much we worry about these things. You wouldn’t never enter the sea for fear of being stung by a jellyfish or never try a piece of chocolate incase you’re allergic, so why say no to a simple date through fear that your own fears of yourself will get in the way? Remember, it is not what you think of yourself that really matters in these situations, but rather who you really are, and, believe me, you are wonderful – and if you don’t think so, why not come on a date with me? I’m sure i can convince you otherwise with my fanciful ways.
So, fellow love-lusters, it is time to slow the pace, to let someone finally catch us, to give them a chance – even if it does result in us running, even faster, in the opposite direction. Let’s meet up with the gorgeous girl we’ve been chatting to so often online. Let’s accept the offer of a date from the stunning girl at the end of the bar. Let’s finally hang up our running shoes, dive into that big slice of chocolate cake and throw the constant buggery of self-loathing out the door, even if only for a little while.
Who’s with me?
