Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Psychopath

Recently, I have been doing some talking, and one topic that has come up time and time again is women in relationships and our bizarre behaviour. Now, whilst trying to give a male friend some advice on why women behave in this way when in relationships, I did have to gently remind him that I hadn't been in one for a while.....

And then, whilst I was wiping the blood off my hands I got to thinking and here are a selection of my views...

Scenario number one. 

A boy is at a wedding. He is chatting to a pretty girl all through dinner, they are getting on very well, laughing, flirting, doing whatever it is young fools do at a wedding when there are wine and suits. Then it comes to the evening and they are dancing. And not just any dancing I mean Patrick Swayze (God rest his soul) style dancing. She had put down her watermelon and was giving it her all. He was thinking 'yabadabbadoo' 'yowzer' 'flibbertigibbit' and 'blimey'.
He was then informed, by a brutha from anutha mutha, that he needed to 'watch his step' this lady had a long-term boyfriend.
These are the questions that arose, why didn't she tell him? Why was she behaving like a slut-face? Did she want to split up with her boyfriend and get with this fella she had just picked up at wedding? I doubt it. It's an interesting one. I think in this case, attention. We girls like to think that we are sexy and desirable, and obviously lavish any attention we get especially if it is an attractive guy giving it.
 

There is a school of thought that flirting outside of the relationship is beneficial to the relationship itself. It reminds the person that they are attractive and sexy, boosting their confidence, which, of course, brushes off in the boudoir.
It doesn't go on to say how the poor sap feels who has been used and has been left to go home and watch soft porn on channel five because his internet connection is down. (I don't know this to be true - I don't know the guy that well).
All in all I would say that girl sounds like a bit of a prick tease. Why is it acceptable to rub yourself up against a man's love stick, only to go home to your man at the end of the night? It is not. It is not acceptable. Dirty Girl. Bad Dirty Girl. Go to my room.

Scenario number two. 

A couple have had a nice meal. Everything is lovely. A romantic atmosphere, good wine, a twinkle in each others eyes. They are walking home. The girl is quiet. Very quiet. 

The man asks 'is everything ok?' 

She replies 'fine'. 

More silence. 

'Really darling, something is obviously not ok' 

'I'm fine' 

'You're not fine, obviously. You haven't said a word' 

'Honestly. I'm fine.'
 

They go home, brush their teeth, get ready for bed, in complete silence. The man is in agony. He has no idea what he has done. Is she going to leave? Has she decided she hates him? Has she met someone else? Is she dying? Or worse, pregnant?!

Then they are lying in bed and she says, 'Actually it really pissed me off that you told the waiter we didn't want a dessert. How the hell do you know I don't want a dessert?! You think I'm too fat for ice-cream don't you?! You were insinuating that I had already finished off an entire plate of salad and that if I had a dessert I'd just be a pig who is already too fat and is going to end up looking just like my mother and that I make you sick to look at me!'

This happens with us women all the time. We are psychos! We let a guy sweat and sweat and sideline him with some pointless, stupid, petty argument that is generally about how insecure we are.
 

I know I do this. And the worst thing is while I am doing it I am having some sort of outer body experience. I am hovering over myself shouting 'WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! WHY ARE YOU BEING SO DIFFICULT?! THAT DRESS LOOKS AWFUL!' etc....
 

And yet I can't stop, I just can't, we know where it's going and yet we want to cause more hassle. Why? Why is this in our nature?
 

I think this shows that women would make good spies. We store all our information away from the Russians and then at the very last minute when they are exasperated we confuse them with questions like 'Do you think my mother is attractive?' or 'Have you stopped respecting me because I do your laundry?' thus throwing them into such a state of confusion that we are able to bring them down with our stiletto knife heel.

Or something.

Breasts, jugs, buzoongas and over the shoulder boulder holders.

Ah, the weekend. My favourite of the end family.

So I was chatting to a guy last night who has a beautiful girlfriend. Talented, lovely, amazing figure and big boobed. What could be better than that? Nothing. I thought. Well, as it turns out, to his own admission, she has no sense of humour. He was saying that he enjoys his times with the lads because he can actually let go and laugh. Which is something they have to 'agree to disagree on'.

I think that's dreadful. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying they need to split up right away. That there's no hope. I mean they are a lovely couple. But, is it not important that the person you spend most of your quality time with makes you laugh? I mean, currently I spend most of my quality time with me, and I'm hilarious. But not everyone is so lucky. What happens when the sex slows down? (not literally, I meant over a period of time) When, the boobs go south and the wrinkles set in? Although I guess laughter lines aren't really an issue in this case. Isn't laughter essential? Is that just me? Shouldn't you want to spend all your time with that person because they light up your life? Maybe that is just me. I guess people have their lives lit up in different ways. Perhaps laughter is just something that I look for. But I hate the thought that people would rather go for looks than fun. But again this could just be a personal preference seeing as I shine in one area and not in another.....

 

But now on a serious note. Yes that's right. I'm getting a bit serious here. Warning!

 

So I'm driving along and I'm sat in traffic. Pulling up next to me was a van, driven by a man who was sat looking over at me and leering. Properly leering. With this disgusting grin on his face. I tried not to catch his eye. As the traffic moved forward, he stayed level with me for about a mile. There were no cars in front of him and he would stay level with me and gawp. Smiling and laughing.

At first I was annoyed, but that turned into angry and intimidated. I feel sick thinking about it now. 

I have always had a lot of comments as I walk down the road 'big tits' etc... My sister and I were having this very conversation a while ago... in regards to my frontal globes, but where do you draw the line? At what point does it go from a comment to harassment?  

What made this guy or any other guy think that that is acceptable behaviour? He gives neanderthals a bad name. What did he think I was going to do? Get them out? And wibble them a bit?

Now I know that none of the fellas who read this would dream of this sort of behaviour, they may think 'check out the jugs on that' when a well endowed young lady walks by. They may even lose control of their eyeballs as they become magnetised towards the north pole that is the lady bazoongas. But they would never, ever say it out loud in such a crass manner. I don't think....

But gentlemen you are our buffers. You are the ones that have a gateway into a fellas psyche. So, think a bit. The next time you hear a guy talking in a way about a girl in your company that is unacceptable, or would make her feel uncomfortable, let him know it isn't cool. It isn't nice and we don't like it.

 

 

If she's out of earshot, let rip. After all, she does have bloody lovely jugs.

 

In my day, we were lucky to get a kick in the face....

I was listening to the radio today and was appalled at the music on it. And not just in a 'what awful rubbish music the youff of today listen to. We were lucky, we had the Spice Girls and Aqua' type way....

I mean at the messages in this music. Take for example the first song that got my fictional goat. Dancing on my own. By Robyn. An absolute pile of trash on it's own, but you know, the young, hip and trendy like it enough to have got it into them there popular music charts.

If you haven't heard it, or your ears were being raped too much to hear it properly here is an example of some of the lyrics

I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her
(Oh, oh, oh)
I'm right over here, why can't you see me
(Oh, oh, oh)
I'm givin' it my all, but I'm not the girl you're takin' home

(Ooh, Ooh, Ooh)

I keep dancing on my own

These lyrics might as well be

I'm a sad pathetic mess, because you've rejected me

(Oh,oh,oh)

Look at me, for God's sake notice me

(oh, oh, oh)

I'm drunk and my mascara is running down my face, where are you going?! Come back!!

(Ooh, Ooh, Ooh)

I just threw up in my mouth a little bit

I mean this is the role model for young women. Have some back bone! Jesus. Are we telling teenage girls, if a guy doesn't fancy you or has decided he had quite a nice shag but has now moved his attentions elsewhere, well then, just go out, put a nice dress on, go (preferably on your own) to the place you know he will be with his new girlfriend and make a twat of yourself. It is the woman's way.

What happened to the strong women of the world. The Madonna's? Even, dare I say it, the bloody Spice Girls? Girl power and the like. The women who say 'you don't like me? Fine. Next!' The woman who don't have time to be F'ed about men and are more than happy to stay single till a decent one comes along because there is more to life.

So I was even further incensed when the next song was a song by an idiot, who blatantly does not have enough grasp over the English language to spell his own name,  Tinie Tempah with a shitty ditty called Frisky

An example of the lyrics are

If I told her I’m a boxer, would she let me down her knickers…
I wanna pick her up, and put her down.

I'm on a mission I don't even wanna kiss her

Honey I won't even miss ya when I'm done with ya eh eh

I just can't stop the feeling, don't seem to go away.
So if I hurt your feelings, don't blame it all on me.
I just can't stop the feeling (nothing else to say),
And now they have to stay.
So if I hurt your feelings (don't take it the wrong way),
It's just because I'm..

Oh la la la la, la la la la la
Oh la la la la, la la la frisky

I cannot even tell you how angry I am by this. So just from these two songs. I have gathered that men, are fully entitled to sleep with women, have no respect for them at all, in fact they have no control over it. I mean after all, he does apologise. So that's okay. Meanwhile, we women are supposed to then follow them to a club where they will be grooming their next victim and cry about it.

I think, ladies and gentleman I have unearthed the problem with today's society right there - in two very badly written songs.

It's not all bad though. There's still Mumford and Sons. they'll make it alright.

Hair of the bitch

You don't want to be subjected to the ramblings of a hungover wreck so I will avoid this. But I would just like to point out that whilst it is completely my own fault that I am in this mess (along with the aid of the lovely people at the friendship fund for supplying me with wine) I think it is entirely unfair that I am sat next to a girl at work who is also hungover who keeps running off to be sick and whining that she sent a guy that she has slept with once, who then told her that he had a girlfriend, a picture of her boobs last night. I don't need that. Maybe I will kill her. I think this is the only option available to me.
I'll do it later. After lunch. I can't be bothered to get up right now.

So today I was going to discuss hope. Not in an entirely broad sense. Like a philosophy student. 'We can't touch hope does that make it real?' 'Is it hope that sets us apart from the animal kingdom?' If you have ever eaten a bag of crisps in front of a cat you would know that that isn't true for a start..... silly cat. You won't be getting any crisps from me. Now go and make my dinner.

I met a man. A lovely guy, a friend of a friend. We had a nice long conversation about his new boyfriend. He has waited for so long, 5 years, to meet someone he likes, ney, loves who likes, ney, loves him too. To have that feeling of happiness, ecstasy, sickness and fear that love brings. And to know that the other person feels the same. His new boyfriend is a handsome doctor. As an actor that is of course brilliant news for him! And I was warmed.  Warmed and delighted to hear this tale. It is so rare to hear it. So often I come across 'I'm seeing someone, he's quite nice' or 'I am seeing someone, and it's going quite well' or 'I am seeing someone, possibly, I think, well when I say seeing, I mean he knows who I am' And it makes me wonder, why? I mean sure it's nice to have someone about. And we all like a little bit of sex, but if that person doesn't make you want to laugh and cry and dance and be sick and scream all at the same time, then what is the point?
Speaking to this guy, gave me hope. It made me think, 'oh yeah, that's what love feels like' I'd forgotten. You do. In the whole, Ok, this guy is quite attractive, he has a good job, he makes me laugh. I'm sure I could spend some time with him. You forget that that isn't love. It is a fake sudo-love. A sort of love placebo. And what is this bullshit about how you can learn to love someone? Or how love grows over time. Bollocks. Sure it grows, but it has to be there to begin with otherwise, that is fondness. Or alcohol.

So I was pleased. Thrilled. Full of hope.

I was.

Until I was informed by the friend who introduced us, that this guy 'falls in love all the time'. Ah. ok, that's fine. Maybe not so hopeful.
But I still think it exists. True love. I've seen it. I've felt it. So many of my friends are lucky to have found it and I am so happy for them I could burst. Sorry. I've gone a bit greetings card.

On the other hand. Anybody who thinks that any sort of relationship is a good idea, should watch revolutionary road. Bad idea. Bad bad idea.
After seeing that film I was quite happy to eat my meal for one, and stretch myself across my double bed and think 'Thank God'

Yours, probably still drunk, always.

I'll give you something to smiley face about...

Anyway, enough about me....

Only joking. It's all about me.

I did the unthinkable. I D&T'd. That's right I drank and texted. Now, in my defence, this wasn't a fella that had been sat on my mind (or anything else) for a while now. Not someone I think about on a day to day basis. But I was out having a rather jolly time with a very good friend of mine. And maybe it was the headiness of all the giggling, the mix of wine, Kahlua and the dodgy pizza I had for dinner, in a rather fun stomach cocktail or because the moon was aligning with Leo, whatever it was I decided it would do no harm. 

I am an idiot.

This very good friend of mine had introduced me to a whatsapp on the iphone, which I fully recommend to anyone who has one. It is a free messaging service for anyone who has an iphone. And possibly a blackberry. I don't know. Or care. With this app you can instant message people and it costs you nothing. Fun.

This service instantly tells you of other people in your phonebook who are also using this service. For me, there were three. One was he. Mifty mee. Didn't even know he was still in my phone book. So this conversation with (let us call him) Mike went like this

me - hey

him - hey :) alright stranger ;) 

Now I'm sure you'll agree, already too many smileys to be a message from someone who isn't a dick

me - hows it going?

him - I'm good thanks hun - still single. been working in Essex, Southampton and soon Birmingham Arrrrgh LMAO - So how's miss Jones.

so many questions starting with why.....

Why did I open this can of worms?

Why did he tell me he was single? Hardly relevant.

Why does a man in his thirties think it is acceptable to say LMAO, when I imagine there was very little laughing involved, let alone enough to cause his arse to remove itself from the rest of his body.

I can't of course judge this guy at all, I was the one after all who got in touch with him. And I don't judge him. But neither do I care very much. Which is a sign that I have grown up a lot. Specifically in the last two years or so I would say.

I liked Mike a lot. One hell of a lot. And he hurt me. He made me think, nay, he told me that he had fallen for me then he walked away. About two years ago it would have taken me a long time to get over that. It took me about two days. I read his text message (yes you read correctly - HE DUMPED ME BY TEXT) and thought - Ok, that's another one to dust off and walk away from.

I think as women, we can be fooled into thinking that if we hang about for long enough that maybe he'll come around. I hold Disney fully responsible for this. He will never come around. If he doesn't like you now, he will never like you. At least not until you have realised that he is a dick. Then he will be banging down your door begging for you to love him. Maybe because he is scared that you have discovered the well hidden secret that he is a dick, and will share it with the world, so he must marry you to silence the truth.

Now I am not painting all men with the same brush here, some women are also just as bad. And some of us are stupid. 

A friend of mine went on a date recently with a guy who told her he just wanted sex. He even said to her that if she didn't sleep with him that night she wouldn't get another chance. She walked away. And we all laughed about what a dick he was.

He texted her a few days later to say 'that offer expires at 9pm tonight if you are interested' Can you believe that?!! We all laughed about what a dick he was.

She slept with him that night.

What a dick.

This is exactly the sort of thing that makes him think that dickish behaviour like that is acceptable. It is not acceptable. A vibrator would have been a better choice. Jesus, even a muldy carrot would have been a better choice.

Anyway. I was working, doing a little bit of promo and I'm taking the details of a gentleman. A man of about 40. With long, tied back, greasy hair. With yellow teeth and yellow fingers. Bit of an odd fella. I was taking his contact details and then he said:

'I hope you don't think I'm being too forward, but I think you are beautiful. I really do. I would love very much to take you out sometime and you have my number now so please call me'

I mumbled something about data protection and about moving to Uruguay and took my leave.

I could have course have been flattered at being thought of as beautiful. I could have. But I am a woman. We do not operate this way. I was depressed. Depressed that this man considered me in his league. Thought that he may have a chance with me. Now this might sound quite a horrible, and quite frankly shallow thing to say, but think about someone you know who is particularly unattractive. Take a second to think of someone you know that is just a little bit gross. That you don't like to sit too close to. If you can't think of someone think about that person who is always on a night bus. Now if your best friend said to you , in all seriousness, 'I think you would make a lovely couple' Would you be flattered or offended? So am I wrong for feeling like this? I don't think so. Am I ashamed for feeling like this? Absolutely. Why do I have the right to feel better or more attractive than anyone else. Maybe I just have the smugness of someone who owns a shower.

I think that's reasonable.

My Lack of Security

Good morning Chicklets. I hope we are all well, surviving the January Blues.


I have been taking some time out to think about Singledom. This City I dwell in.


I was at a hen party recently. Quite a grown-up affair. A far cry from the learner plates, angel wings and sick-on-shoe type evenings that I am used to. By that, I mean hen-party evenings. Not that that is how I spend my spare time....


We managed to indulge in some frippery though. We managed to persuade a very very beautiful man to get his bum out for the event. I use the word persuade very loosely of course, I mean we paid him to do it, it was his job. Nevertheless.... Yum. I was fully in favour of this lovely evening with an hour or two of looking at a bottom so incredibly perfect I wanted to make a waxwork model of it and keep it in my kitchen.
The issue, was the other ladies in attendance. Meeting the all for the first time, I found them all lovely in their own way, sweet not pretentious, very easy to get on with. I was the only single girl there. One had just moved in with long term partner, one was pregnant, one was married, one was about to get married. Now, I have no issue at all with any of these things (maybe the lady doth protest too much), but I found it extremely difficult to cope with the fact that it was all any of them could talk about. Their men. Their relationships. It's like each of them had no personality of their own. They'd all been to drama school for God's sake! Was one of them acting now? Nope. Could I tell you what any of them were doing? Nope. But I could tell you their partners pet names, how difficult it is to get bedroom decor that both male and female like, and how men eat so much better when they are in a relationship. JE-SUS! I started to feel like a leper towards the end of the night. My god. If I'm not in a relationship then I am not a complete human being! How the hell have I managed to function for such an inordinate amount of time?! I had better do something about it, and quickly, before my clothes turn to rags and I forget how to feed myself! 

It was only upon returning home and seeing single friends, and indeed remembering that I have a lot of friends who are in relationships (a lot of whom are reading this) (possibly) (if anyone is still reading this) who are perfectly capable of having a life outside of the relationship. A healthy happy couple who don't swallow each other up into this abyss. It was then I breathed a sigh of relief and felt able to do up my own shoes in the morning.

Last week, I was on my way home and I see a man on the train. Not just any man. This was Mr Perfect.  This was I-am-having-difficulty-breathing-just-being-in-the-same-carriage-as-this-person. I began to think about how devoted I am to my single lifestyle and my plans to stay so for a good while. What if this guy walked over to me and said. 'Hi there. I would quite like to wrap you in my arms and make you feel like a woman'? (That's right this guy was from a Mills and Boon novel, what of it?) I thought, could I really say, 'oh I'm terribly sorry, I'm just not really dating at the moment, but thank you for taking off your shirt'? After thinking it through for quite some time, I decided that I had no idea. I didn't know what I would do. You just don't do you? Till it happens. Which of course for me, as you can imagine, is about twice a day. In which case I imagine you'll all be surprised and maybe relieved to hear that this guy didn't pay me any attention and got off the train. 


Probably to meet his boyfriend.

I did however face a situation fairly similar only the other week.
So I'm doing some work at a shopping mall and this very handsome security guard walks over to me. Tall, muscular but not too muscular, ginger hair and lovely green eyes. We talk for ages, he makes me laugh, I make him laugh, he asks me when I finish work? Four. Him seven. He asks for my number. I hesitate. My stomach churns. He's lovely. I tell him, I'm sorry, but I'm not on 'The Market'. He shrugs and says 'ah well. Worth a try' then wanders off to rough up twelve year old shoplifters. I can't believe it. How often does this happen? Let me rephrase that... How often does this happen to me? (Yes, as we've established - twice a day). I can't stop thinking about it. Am I an idiot? Then, later, in a different part of the mall I see him being quite intimate with his very lovely, very PREGNANT girlfriend!
If that isn't a sign that I am doing myself a favour then I have no idea what is! 

They've taken away my license to thrill

Ah Wales, the sun, the countryside, the two bickering annoying children, clinging on to me and screaming in my ear. How blissful. Anyone who feels that they want to go ahead with the whole 2.4 children thing, come spend a day with my niece and nephew after chocolate for breakfast. There'll be screaming, there'll be fighting, there'll be swear words (not all mine) and many farts. Yes farts. Not quite the stress free life you may be planning for.

I too, am a fine example of how even after 29 years, you, as parents will never be rid of the traumas that your children can bring. Reducing my father to tears by driving to Wales with no MOT only to get here and discover my license had been revoked, so shouldn't have been driving at all really.... What a well turned out young lady I have grown up to be.

What does all this have to do with a single ladies lifestyle I hear you ask? Or more I visualise you shrug in a really non-committal sort of way, because you haven't really been reading this properly. Not a lot. But here is some stuff that is...

Have you ever stopped to think how much women do in their daily lives that is singularly for the benefit of men (don't worry this isn't turning into a man-hating-nineties-comedienne type rant). But seriously, do we not dress nice, wear perfume, put on make up for the man in our lives, the man we want to be in our lives or the potential we might meet a man who might want to be in our lives? I guarantee that if this world was made up of women only, there would no way we would bother to pluck, wax, shave ourselves in the semi sadomasochist way that we are prone to now. Don't get me wrong I have every intention of keeping up with these things, I am not a monster. I am not Julia Roberts.

But recently I have taken a sort of delight in these activities. I put make up on for me. I have made my legs smooth and lovely. For me. The other day I showered, dressed, put a book in my bag in order for a day in the park. No chance of communication with another human being and before I went, I sprayed myself with some perfume. For me. No one else could smell it. I think these simple acts of love for my own femininity have made me feel happy. Dare I say it? I will. I am happy.

Apart from the nieces and nephews and license revoking.....

Can't win them all. But at least you can smell nice.

A Virgin Blogs

Hello World.


I have gathered you here today to discuss a matter very close to my heart. Men. Or lack thereof. 


I have once again found myself single. This is becoming as familiar to me as a pair of bed socks. Which aren't actually all that familiar to me in all honesty. I would never wear socks to bed.

Now I am sure some of you may be wondering, why are you broadcasting this? Well just because I am single, it does not mean I have to be lonely. I will be writing periodically, my thoughts feelings, adventures and misadventures along the way.

I have chosen you lucky, lucky people to be the recipients of this outlet....


Let us take subject number one. My most recent dip into the romantic sea. A sea which is for me turning out to be as fun as swimming through a sea full of hammerhead sharks, who've just been poked in the eye. And have found some rusty razorblades.


 For some reason I thought this guy I met and kissed might be worth pursuing. We had a fun evening and a cheeky (and very steamy kiss) I went home a chaste (and chased) woman. Yes, I thought that this was something I should pursue despite the very early warning signs. The most important of these signs you might say, the one with the flashing lights and the loud get-out-of-dodge siren, being that within one hour of meeting him, he sent me a picture of his penis. Yes that's right. Don't bother re-reading, it says what you think it says. But wait... don't bawk at this alone, for it gets far more delightful... he had drawn a picture of a smiley face on it. 




I kid you not.


Ah yes, and yet something within me didn't scream, 'run for the hills!!!', a tiny little voice inside my head said 'You can't blame a man for trying, he'd had a bit to drink, he could still be the one'


Then after a few weeks of back and forth banter, he claims that he is no longer interested in pursuing anything... WITH ME! Smiley faced penis boy ends it with me.


This is a new low. 


And this is the first adventure.


Thanks for joining me.


There will be more. I promise you.