In the beginning, God created man. It went downhill from there.

Having been single for an extraordinary amount of time (the last relationship I was in, we had met at a party celebrating the remarkable discovery of fire) I have started to think about how difficult it is for a relationship to actually start. How do they come about? Anyone? I can't bloody remember.

Upon occasion, you meet a gentleman and he may ask for your number. 

Hurdle one - completed. 

Yes, this has happened, even to me, so I know it is not something that only happens in films. 

This is a nice stage, I am comfortable at this stage. I can sit and daydream about this guy and what our life will be like together. Sure, it might be a difficult life together with me having to try and work out what his name is, because I can't remember, I'm not sure he ever told me, I was too excited to be talking to an actual man, but a life together it will be nonetheless. 

Then you come across hurdle number two. The initial texts. What if he writes like a dick? Spells like a four year old? Or worst of all worses, he uses the term 'lol'?

Hai Bayby, u r hot ;-) wanna meet sum time? LOL!!! ;-) 

Yeah. That text is gonna get an 'I think you've got the wrong number, this is an STD clinic' response. 

So let's say, theoretically, hurdle two has been leaped and bounded over and you've had a few lovely, gentlemanly, grammatically correct text messages, with the use of only one smiley face when entirely appropriate. 

Now it's the horrific car crash waiting to happen that is the 'first date'.

Who invented this system? This shitty interview for the position of girlfriend?! Whoever it was, I would like to tie them to the back of a high speeding elephant. 

You spend, days and weeks, deliberating over what to wear. You realise you have absolutely NOTHING suitable in your four wardrobes worth of clothes. You are starting to consider cutting up a waistcoat and a pair of jeans to makes a sort of dress thing. Why are you even doing this to yourself anyway? He's going to hate you and realise that he should probably be going out with your sister. What's the point?! Then after nearly being sick with nerves, you have a couple of Gin and Tonics and you start to think about wearing the pyjamas you have on, because actually they look pretty sexy. 

You look goood. 

You stumble to the venue of choice.  And there he is. Now the fun and games begin, what do you order to drink? Nothing that makes you seem like the sort of lady who loves to end her evening in an alleyway, and certainly nothing that is prone to making you end the evening dancing on the table with your (or anyone else's) knickers on your head.


You take your seats and stare at each other for a bit. What if the conversation doesn't flow? Horrid stilted small talk -


'So, do you have any brothers and sisters?'
'Where are you from originally?'


It can all feel a little like you are in a GCSE French class.


How do we as human beings manage to get past these stages? And how do we decide whether or not we want to spend a little more time with that particular human?

Spark I think it's called. But how do you know if that's there under all the awkwardness and drink?  Oh and if it does go well, don't go home with him. Because even if he has fallen in love with you instantly and believes you are the woman he is meant to marry. It will change his view of you - because no matter how much we try to change things, apparently it is still the 1950's.


It's all a bit of a boiling pot of idiocy. You dip your spoon in and hope for the best really. I like to think of it as a sort of lottery. I guess if you don't buy a ticket you aren't ever going to win.


Still it's worth a try. And the one time it does work out, then it's got to be worth the hassle right?


Don't ask me. I have absolutely no idea.

Searching for my lost youth. If you see him, do send him home.

Hello you lovely lot.

It's been a while hasn't it? I'm sure this might give a few of you the impression that I have some sort of life. The rest of you are sensible enough to know that I'm just plain lazy.

I have had a few ideas about what the topic of discussion will be today,  and I have settled on - 

Age.

The age we are is such a big factor in so many things. And let's face it in today's society youth is king. We are already being reminded that if we are indeed older than 21 then we might as well shoot ourselves in the face as there is very little left to live for. 

We can buy creams to help us salvage what is left of our saggy, horrendous, 28 year old faces. Or if you are older than 28 then you should probably just have your saggy horrendous face pulled up by the eyebrows in some surgical type of hideous procedure.

Women of course get the brunt of this ageism, being constantly reminded that if we aren't young and attractive then chances are we'll die alone. Wrinkly.

What I find interesting is age gaps in relationships and this new found ideal that they shouldn't be too large. In Victorian times a man could marry a woman thirty years his junior and no one would bat their proverbial eyelids. These days even a simple five years can cause an eyebrow to raise to an alarmingly high state on one's forehead. (Thus saving on the aforementioned surgery).

It is so dependent upon the individual, I have had relationships with much, much older men, who I swear could have been ten years younger than me, in body and mind, and much younger men who were already in the pipe and slippers stages of their lives. 

Apparently there is a rule about age gaps in relationships. 
Yes, a made up rule that has been invented by the Rulemakers at the Rulemaking Institute of Rulesville, Ohio, that states that the ideal age gap in a relationship is when the man is with a woman who is half of his age, plus seven. So, for example if the man were 30, the woman should be 22. 

Why? Why is this the case?  And should this man therefore discount any other age? 

'My God, you're attractive, I don't think I've ever met someone who makes my stomach go fluttery in the way that you do, your eyes are like two misty oceans on a... Oh you're 25? Good day to you Madam, thank you for your time.'

Why is it also considered ideal for the man to be older than the woman? Oh you can give me the 'girls mature faster than boys' argument until the cows have got back from their day at the office, but we all know that 

a) men don't mature at all past 15, 

and 

b) men will always find any excuse to be with a pert young pretty thing half his age. 

Women also like the idea of a pert young pretty thing half our age. Oh yes we do. It's just that we also like the idea of having an actual conversation with our playthings, that isn't about One Direction or Skins or whatever it is the youth of today is getting up to.

And yet, an older women with a younger man is classed as a 'Cougar'. Quite an unflattering term, I think, compared to it's 'Silver Fox' equivalent. 

Men are allowed to get old. And they are allowed to then choose much younger women. Women are not allowed to get old, without surgery, and they are mocked if they choose to go after younger men. 

Well I say, it's time to change this. I think it's time for men to act their age and women to be allowed to be comfortable in theirs.

That's what I say. 

But of course, I would say that. Seeing as, at the age of 28, I should probably be looking into residential care homes.

Well, I'm not laughing

Today I would like to rabbit on about an article what I read...
And no, this isn't just an opportunity to prove that I actually spend some of my time reading newspapers. I promise. Although I have to admit, I now feel preeeeetty smug.

The article in question was discussing a research project from the University of Massachusetts and McMaster University, Ontario, which showed that men are intimidated by funny women.


Excuse me, while I put my handbag down a second in order to pick my jaw up off the floor.


This is terrifying. For some of us ladies, funny is all we've got. Really.


I've spoken about this before, briefly, when a guy I met said that he and his girlfriend never laugh together but it's ok because he could get laughter from his friends. I thought this was crazy. But I didn't realise the problem was widespread. If I had known I would have done something about it. Handed out flyers entitled 'Women. Stay bland or die alone'


If you put into google 'men are intimidated by' the list of suggestions is pretty interesting. It would appear that men are intimated by strong women, intelligent women, successful women, smart women, tall women!!


Now,  I don't know about you but I don't know many 5ft 4, stupid women who aren't very good at their jobs and still, it would appear, dwell in the 1940's. So it's slim pickings I'm afraid gentlemen.


Also this paints a very bleak picture of men, don't you think?


We're all pretty aware that men find it difficult to make decisions that arent entirely lead by their penis. It's an age old fact. I imagine that even picking food from a menu is lead using this human divining rod. 
'What is the food group most likely to get me laid? Steak? I will have eight steaks please.'


Yet, this google list would paint all men as a bunch of terrified little beings that run and hide in a corner the second a woman with a personality makes herself known.


'Mum! I can't have a bath, there's a woman who's made a great career choice, making wise cracks on the bathroom ceiling... Can you kill it? Don't throw it out the window! It'll come back in!!'


Can I honestly believe that a man is turned off by a woman who is able to banter? Are men turned off by anything really? Surely, if he's got some boobs to play with he couldn't care less if the woman has a head?


I have been long resigned to the fact that men prefer the younger, more attractive model of woman. Fine. That's life. I'll never be that woman and I'm okay with that. 

But men are more attracted to the meek, bland, stupid woman who doesn't understand humour but will laugh at all of his jokes, because he's her man? 

I will never be that woman and I'm okay with that.