Does he like me?

From time to time I get some messages from you lovely lot , my readers, asking me for some relationship advice. Very flattering indeed that you think of me some kind of relationship Buddha. But strange too, as I am more of a relationship Gandhi, with my choice of abstinence. Or rather, having abstinence unwantedly thrust upon me. 

About 90% of the questions I am asked in face to face real life by actual friends and also by lovely stranger-to-me messaging women essentially boil down to the same thing:

Does he like me?

Does he love me?

Does he still like me?

Does he still love me?

And, of course, the answer is, how can I possibly know? In some cases I've never met you or him so I have absolutely no way of knowing from a one sided email. But, the response I give is pretty much always the same. And, I think, pretty much always accurate. 

Instead of trawling through his messages looking for hidden meanings 'he said 'see you later' at the end of his text, does that mean he WANTS to see me later, or like he feels he's being held at gunpoint to see me later?'

 

Or analysing every single look he gives you or doesn't give or times he touches your shoulder and agonising yourself to death over these meaningless things.

The answer lies in this one simple question. 

Do you like yourself? 

If the answer is yes, then the chances are he probably does too. It is no surprise or huge secret that people like spending time with people who are comfortable in their own skin. If you are happy to spend time in your own company, are happy with the way your life is and are brimming with self confidence. Then why would he not like you? The only reason I can see is because he is a class A idiot. 

Any amount of time you spend agonising about the things that are wrong in your life, your bodily defects, (of which, I assure you, you have none) then the more negativity you will create around yourself. 

I know it's harder said than done a lot of the time, especially when we are constantly being told by the media, advertising etc that are many reasons in life to not be happy, and that if you buy this shampoo all your dreams will come true. But a positive mental attitude makes people love to be around you. 

There are two types of people in life, there are lights and there are drains. 

Lights are pretty self explanatory. Lights are the people you have all the time in the world for. The people who you make you feel better just by being in their company. They are also so goddamn attractive. But that attractiveness isn't from an innate natural beauty (although annoyingly, sometimes it is) it comes from their positivity and being comfortable in themselves. 

Then there are drains. Not all drains are obvious at first sight. They are the sort of people that it is a bit of a chore to be around. They can only really focus in what is wrong with their lives, their bodies, the world in general. They essentially drain energy from you whenever you see them. Even if these people have natural beauty, it pretty much gets covered up by the negative energy they chose to sit in. 

Now, these are of course quite extreme ends of the scale. 

But what you have to think to yourself is,

'Am I the sort of person I would  choose to spend time with?'

 

If not, then take measures to become that person. 

 

If you spend your time pointing out the things that are wrong with you then yes, he will notice them too. How could he not? You're shoving them in his face!

 

Men never EVER notice the things we hate about our bodies, so why show them to him? 

 

If trying to be confident is uncomfortable for you at first, and for a lot of women it will be, then pretend. Pretend to be a confident women. After a little while, you just will be. 

And when you are, how could this man fail to want to be around you and bathe in your light. And quite frankly, if he is not drawn to you like a moth, then plenty of other men soon will be. 

You'll be covered in moths. Umm, I mean men. Or Moths. If you prefer. 

Is Romance Dead? Or in a coma? Should we poke it and see?

So for those of you not yet aware, which is anyone without a computer, phone or indeed within shouting distance of my face, I am currently residing in the beautiful city of Venice in Italy.

 

This was not an 'Eat. Pray. Love' finding myself type decision, it was more a 'we will pay you to eat' type decision. 

 

So here I am. In what I believe might actually be the most beautiful city in the world. Add to that pizza, ice-cream and yummy Italian men. Or that was the idea. Unfortunately Venice is not full of thirty something dark haired lotharios called Lorenzo who would love to eat gelato off my naked body. Nope.....It is full of tourists. 

 

Tourist couples. (I threw up in my mouth a little bit when I wrote that).

They've all flocked out to have a wonderful romantic four days on gondolas, holding hands on bridges, kissing in corners and generally getting in my way on my way to work.

 

Initially I wanted to throw each couple off the Rialto and into the Grand Canal, but to be honest that would be a little too time consuming and I have better things to do with my time. Eat Pizza. Scowl. That sort of thing.

 

So instead I have observed. Like a sort of pervert spy.

 

Romance is a big business here. This place is a sort of Groundhog Valentine's Day. Gondoliers sweep young couples up and down the canal under some of the most stunning vistas ever to have been built by man. Rose sellers accost you at every turn with their huge bunches of reminders of your singledom. You can eat ice cream and playfully put some on your lovers nose before kissing in a sort of Rom Com type way. This was the city of Casanova for goodness sake. How can you not get swept up in the greeting card life? Even I forget sometimes and start holding my own hand as I wander over bridges and wonder what romantic restaurant I will take myself out to this evening.

 

This would be an ideal place to have such a unique experience, if you weren't sharing it with 6543 other couples.

 

As a result the city is packed with couples forcing themselves at huge expense to have a good time. 

 

Women scowling at boyfriends who didn't buy them that rose despite the fact that it was 3 euros and he's already sold his clothing and teeth to take her to the opera and eat a sandwich. (It's an expensive city).

 

I go on my little vaporetto up the river and watch couple in gondalas. And do they look like disgustingly happy newly weds who need to get a room? No. They look embarrassed as people gawp at them from passing boats and the banks of the river. And, depending on the weather, a bit wet. And not in a good way.

 

Call me cynical, (I won't answer because it's not my name), but I think that this forced romance actually sucks the romance out of a relationship.

 

Maybe I'm just bitter, but I can't see how you can feel ardently in love with your partner when you are fighting through crowds of equally ardently in love couples and rose sellers.

 

I can't help but feel a little smug as I sit in my quiet little corner with my book watching couples argue over maps and who got who lost.

 

But maybe I just don't know what romantic means.

All strings attached.

I have been deliberating for a long time over the topic of this blog.

There is a huuuge amount to talk about on this subject. This will probably take a good ten blogs. It is the first time I have ever had to do research. By research I mean chat to friends, lazily use Google once and watch Desperate Housewives.

The subject that I am attempting to broach is infidelity.

I'm sure it is not a coincidence that the word infidelity starts with the word infidel. 

Actually it is a massive coincidence.  

Is it inevitable that a partner will cheat? Film and TV say it is. And why would they lie? Everyone is at it. It would appear. No relationship is complete without a good old fashioned affair.

Unfortunately, what with the nature of cheating being all sort of secretive and that, the statistics can't really be trusted. But research would suggest, that somewhere between 30 and 60% of all married individuals will be unfaithful at some point.

Let's start with the basics. What constitutes cheating? People's opinions on this vary MASSIVELY. I think we are all pretty much agreed that any form of contact with another persons 'special area' is cheating. But there is a divide on kissing. I know a married woman who thinks snogging another guy is acceptable. And a bit of harmless fun. But then, I also know a man who was married but had a full blown affair for ten years. But the way he sees it, he was completely faithful. To two women. 

Both of these people, I think, are just telling themselves what they need to tell themselves to stop the guilt. The same way that I tell myself that if food is free, then it doesn't have any calories in it. Which is why my current diet consists of me rummaging around in bins outside Tescos. Seriously, I am only eating 300 calories a day. I don't know why I'm not losing weight.

In this day and age, there are all sorts of ways to get your kicks, that don't involve actually touching another persons yoghurt gun or panty hamster.

There are all sorts of websites dedicated to watching a complete stranger perform acts of rudeness on themselves. And if you're feeling in a generous mood, then you can show them your private no pants dance too.

If you engage in this behaviour whilst in a relationship, is that cheating? There are very clear arguments on both sides.

It is as harmless as porn, you will never meet the other person and possibly most importantly, you are not, nor ever will be in an emotional relationship with that person.

But, it is another person, and it is just the two of you involved. And your partner may understandably feel hurt that you have had to go elsewhere for your one man tug o' war. 

I should probably stop now, seeing as I having only managed to talk about what constitutes cheating so far. 

I have lots more nonsense to spout on this subject. And will do so at a later stage.

The Italian Inquisition

Ciao!

A while ago I had a boyfriend. I know, I know. I actually used to own a man. It wasn't a dream or a lie I made up to convince my parents that I'm not a lesbian.

Unfortunately, as with all of my relationships it fizzled out. We both agreed that this wasn't going to work. At least, I think that's what we agreed, English wasn't his first language. And Italian isn't mine.

Although I loved the idea of a romantic liaison with a Latin Lothario it turned out to be very unlike the promises made to me by films and my Grandfather's Mills and Boons books (Yes I said Grandfather - Don't ask).

Rather than the full blown passionate love making for three days coming out of bed briefly to eat pasta like his Mamma used to make it was more like dating a wet dog. Who actually did make pretty good pasta.

Anyway, we moved on with our lives. He in fact moved to a whole different country. I don't believe I had anything to do with that. Not this time.

We continued to keep a vague interest in each others lives. Occasional emails that sort of thing.

Anyway, recently I went on a small visit to the country he now resides in. To the city he resides in nonetheless. So I thought it might be nice to meet up. It would be rude not to. Right?

Well, as it turns out, my idea of rude is not the same as that of an Italian.

Our virtual conversation went as follows.

Me - 'Hey I'll be arriving on the 17th and leaving on the 21st? Any time around then good for you?'

He - 'Yes. That is good.'

Me- 'Great. I'll be in touch closer to the time.'

He - 'Am I still entitled to fill you up?! hehe!'

This is the point where the pianist in the bar stops playing. Birds fall out of the sky. The traffic outside shrieks to a halt. Drivers poke their heads out of their windows and shout up to me. 'He said what?!'

Yep. 

I believe you can guess what my response was. Let's face it. If there was even a tiny chance of that happening (which there most definitely was not), he had certainly squashed that in one poorly judged move.

My sister pointed out that what with English not being his forte and also he was now learning his third language, maybe he had made a mistake. Perhaps he meant to say 'Feel you up'.

Of course, it's possible. But that isn't exactly what a girl wants to hear either.

Needless to say, I didn't meet up with him, so he didn't get a chance to clarify what he meant. 

Che Peccato

Beauty and the Decidedly Average

Hello you gorgeous bunch.

Yes, yes I know. It's been a while hasn't it? I do like to keep you all chomping at the bit. 

Wondering 'When oh when will I get to read such an insightful piece of literature? I have absolutely no idea what to do with myself, I think I will just lie down here and chew on this piece of carpet until the all knowing one comes forth and imparts her knowledge' 

Worry no longer.  I'm here to impart.

So, something that I have been thinking about a lot recently is beautiful women. Not in the sense that I have been single for so long it may be my only option, more in the sense that I can't seem to escape them.

It is difficult to go anywhere at the moment without being poked in the eye by images of stunningly beautiful women. Ridiculously unbelievable beautiful women. On billboards, on buses, on TVs, at the cinema. 

This in itself doesn't particularly bother me. We are all more than aware that executives have a firm belief that we as human beings are incapable of buying something/watching something/existing unless we see a stunning woman every twenty five seconds. I personally won't touch any product unless I know that at one time it was touched by a size four, blonde haired, blue eyed Goddess. It's just the way I was brought up.

No that's fine, what does bother me is the massive inequality that we are subjected to. 

The men in adverts, TV programmes and films are decidedly, on the whole, pretty average. 

They are allowed to be homely, dare I say on quite a few occasions overweight? They are allowed to not have chiseled jaws and emerald eyes. 

Don't get me wrong, yes you see that of course, but the ratio is very unbalanced. 

Think about the films and TV programmes and adverts that you are enjoying at the moment. How many times do you see an average looking, homely guy, with lots of personality going out with a disgustingly beautiful woman. Woman aren't allowed to be 'homely' or dare I say it overweight, unless it is part of the plot.  Unless she is the best friend, or if she will at some stage be transformed into an absolute stunner so these average guys can FINALLY be attracted to her.

The people who can be blamed for this inequality, as they can be blamed for most things in life that are evil, are the producers and executives. I can think of two reasons why they are casting such mismatched couples.

1. They are male and not overly attractive themselves, so they have created their own universe where beautiful women fall over themselves to be with a quirky man. Hopefully this will then make it so.

2. They honestly believe that men will turn over and watch something else if they don't have a woman with model good looks to encourage them to try to lick the TV screen

The only thing this practice manages to achieve is making women feel exceptionally inadequate and men believe that they are entitled to expect no less than supermodel looks from their girl regardless of their own physical prowess. 

It means that women, who have less than supermodel looks are being looked over because guys think they can do better. Telly tells them so. And telly is always right.

I hope of course that I'm wrong and men are cleverer than this. But subliminal messages are often stronger than we think.

It would certainly explain why I am sat here drinking brand named cola I don't remember buying and contemplating suing someone for an accident I haven't had.

Two's a couple, and they can shove it.

Hello Children.

'What are we going to talk about today Auntie Suzy?'

That's a good question William, let's find out......

I am going to talk about being a lemon. Not the fruit. The outsider.

I have a pet hate, that I am sure (in fact know) I am not alone in. 

Spending time with the dreaded 'couple'.

Now, there is a huge difference between those people who are in a relationship and the 'couple'.

I have many friends who are in relationships who I could spend all the time in the world with. If it's the three of us, it feels like the three of us. There are certain couples I know who make you feel like you are spending time with some form of two headed freak with no interesting conversation. Fun. These people have pet names that they use. ALL THE TIME. They only seem to do everything together. They sit together, fondle each other and only talk about things they have done, are doing or will do together.

They seem to think that the love for each other is so amazing that everyone else will want to hear about it all the time. We do not want to hear about it all the time. We don't even want it sent in a yearly newsletter. Get your hands off each other or get out of my face.

The fact is that with these clingy couples, you are more than happy to spend time with him on his own or her on their own. it's actually quite fun, you have a lovely time. Together it's like they have morphed together and their two brains combined somehow melt into a sort of cheese fondue but with less personality.

What to do? Avoid? Or wait until they are so sick of each other that when you spend time just the three of you they are talking through you?
 

'Suzy, can you tell Neil that if I wanted to hear an annoying grating voice telling me how worthless I am I would call his mother'

'Suzy, would you please tell Kathryn that I have no interest in her dull sarcastic comments and that if she wakes up dead in the middle of the night, it wouldn't have been me that did it, as I am at the back of the queue. Behind everyone she's ever met.'

This generally makes it worth having to go through all the initial lovey dovey stuff I find.

But what about me? What have I been up to?
 

I met a boy. I know. An actual boy. A boy that makes my toes tingle and boobs purr. But don't worry faithful readers, I haven't acted on it. Oh no. In fact the opposite. After a few stumbled, idiotic girly conversations where I couldn't speak in sentences, I bumped into him outside my local large generic food store, wearing a tracksuit, dishevelled hair and no make-up. To top it all off I had been caught in a shower. A very large shower. Making me look a little like the girl from the ring but in an awful tracksuit combo.
 

I saw the fear in his eyes.

We ignored each other.

The steps I take to stay celibate.