Friday, 29 October 2010

Bumping uglies

Ok so the news that the first couple to have met on a dating website designed specifically for unfortunate looking people has really brought a whole new meaning to the term bumping uglies for me..

Good luck to them and I hope it all goes well but it has once again raised the literally ugly head of the unmentionable.. online dating. I'm no stranger to it and whether they'll admit it or not, neither are most people.

But I've honestly never found it much of a success, in fact I mainly found it full of freaks, bunny boilers (men and women), commitment phobes, stalkers, stalker wannabes, chronic and compulsive liars, lost souls, people with no friends and yes, unfortunate looking people. So I find it rather heartening actually that there is a site for those who look like they've been hit with the ugly stick, because perhaps they'll stop flooding the standard online dating scene.

Harsh I know, but fair. I recently joined and unjoined a few sites after reading the inspiring and funny book by sean thomas, a million women are waiting to meet you. It inspired courage and confidence in me so I gave, Antipodate and a few other sites a go. But before long honestly I began spending way too much time talking to and arranging to meet up with guys when I barely had enough time for me and catching up with my friends as it is most of the time!

What I find most annoying and actually really makes me quite cross about the online dating scene are the phrases that people use on their profile which are categorically untrue or just misleading in general.

Let me give some examples:

1) I'm looking for someone to make my life complete (ie. My life is a mess, I'm insecure and can't be without a partner to bicker with. I need a life buoy, hey you, you'll do)

2) I am not a big drinker and prefer quiet nights in with a book  (ie.I have zero personality with no friends and have no social life, so should we hit it off I'll glom to you like an oyster. I also may be morbidly obese)

3) I'm an affectionate person and love to cuddle (ie.I am big on PDAs, in fact I may just glue my tongue to your ear while out in public. I like to lie in bed cuddling and talking about everything you are thinking about and what you ate today.)

4) I'm active and am always on the go ( ie. Either I am an adrenaline junkie and recovering speed addict who has replaced my habit with cycling, or I'm a liar and pretend to be busy when really I'm at home playing world of warcraft in my skidmarked undies)

5) Bubbly personality (ie. I  pretend to be bubbly so no one will see my deep black hole inside. Get to know me and I'll introduce you to it, it's much nicer than being bubbly)

6) I say things as I see it and don't like games (ie. If you don't message me back straight away I will start text abusing you and post a photo of you online having sex with a moneky that I've done in photoshop)

7) I am down to earth and not high maintenance (ie.I don't believe in shaving my armpits, legs or bikini line, I haven't washed in days. The last time I coloured my hair was 5 years ago. I'm low maintenance because I'm not used to people paying attention to me)

8) I dont have the perfect body but I'm working on it (ie. The last time I considered myself thin was when I was 19 and I'm trying to get back to that weight, in between big macs and starving myself.)

9) My friends talked me into this and I'm just going to give it a go (ie. My friends are sick of me moan bout being single and having no life. In fact they are sick of me non stop and want to go back to having couple evenings)

10) I'm adventurous and love trying news things (ie. I'm kinky so you better keep up, I'll bring the whip you bring the paddle. Also quite like doing it oudoors, I hope you bring the insect repellant.)

11) I'm independent and am in control of my life (ie. secretly I'm wanting to be dominated in a me tarzan, you jane kind of way or I'm a dominatrix and will sleep with you on the first date, whether you are able to unpick the handcuffs when we're done is another story)

12) I don't usually do this kind of thing (ie. I actually have 9 profiles I currently manage as well as a profile on 'Adultbaby' where like minded people discuss their fetishes for wearing nappies during sex)

13) I love to laugh and have a good sense of humour (I have no personality and like to be entertained by others so I can pretend I have one or, I try to make people laugh to take the focus off my face.)

verdict: online dating is only for the very brave and foolish


Wednesday, 27 October 2010

Learning the hard way x 10

While thinking about office romances and the many ones which have inadvertently gone awry I would like to share the top 10 lessons I've learnt the hard way:

1) Readjusting clothing and make up and hair after a mid day or mid morning nookie in work toilets is never sexy. There's nowhere to have a shower. You will smell of shagness all day and people will know it. Fact.

2) Nothing can ever be kept as 'friends' after the end of an office romance. That is just the cue for subversive flirting with others to make the ex jealous. Cue inappropriate clothes (the skirt with the longer split, cleaveage tops and etc). Also the increase in changing outfits before going out after work just to show them what they are missing. This always happens, embrace it and press the jealousy button to the max.

3) Playing with your pen seductively is not effective in meetings when you are trying to get the attention of your office amor to-be. It will only end up leaving an ink stain on your lips or getting it caught in your hair like I have. Nothing sexier than having a pen knotted in your hair and an ink stain on your lips. NOT

4) You might think your mutliple trips to water coler are not noticed, but they are. So 8 trips to the watercooler in one day either shows you have bunny boiler potential or have the water absorption of a camel

5) The walkway to the water cooler is not a catwalk. Strutting makes you look silly, refrain as best you can. However, sexy shoes are essential, if you don't have a pair buy some, otherwise trips to watercooler are forbidden. The best form of flirting is done through your feet. Fact

6) Restrict flirty emails to once a day. Sending 10 emails back to back on potential holiday places you'd think they'd like is not a way of flirting. Its called cyber workplace stalking. Also Sending him multiple pokes on facebook or your office IM is not cute. Its annoying

7) Having a spontaneous coitus maximus session in the office might sounds mighty sexy in fantasy, but it simply isn't possible in reality. It requires planning for when others aren't in office. And make sure if you make a random stop, out of office hours that there isn't video security footage filming your entry and exit. This is so when it comes down to finding out who is responsible for the stray condom wrapper left under the boardroom table it can't be pinned on you. On that note, there is a high degree of satisfaction that comes from doing the nasty on your boss's or superiors desk. You'll never look at boardroom or the office meetings the same way again.

8) Do not ever, ever ever tell anyone about it. Secret squirell all the way. Think of two ants under a microscope, frying under the glare of the sun. That would be you. Not fun at all.

9) Never ever ask a colleague out off the bat, casually invite them to group drinking scenarios so bonding, touching and more drinking can occur. Trying to 'date' properly in the office is just plain silly and awkward. Image first date nerves x 1000 all day ever day.

10) Keep calm. If they haven't called in a few days and yet they are sitting opposite you, remain calm and in control, nothing screams desperate more than emailing them every day to ask them how their day is or making up stories which detail your fantastic social exploits. No one is ever 'that' interesting out of the office.

11) additional note - always, I repeat, always keep a spare set of clothes at office, you never know what opportunity may crop up when you need a second pair of clothes because the shag against the male toilets led you falling into the urinal or from when you've been an all night stop out and need to avoid wearing the same clothes two days in a row.

I'm sure there are more but thats it for now

Don't pee in the pool

Work crushes, office flings, romance via post it notes. Could it be any more romantic? I'm sure I'm not the only one who has ever swooned at the water cooler at my dream man as he effeciently tidies his intray. When the thought of casual dress day makes your heart beat faster just at the prospect of seeing them in jeans. The taboo dress code for the office city worker Forget drunken pash and dashes in bars and pubs over london. The office is the place where most hearts are joined and broken these days. But it seems the recession has made a bit of a dent in the sucess of the office unions of late. This is despite currently having three friends at the moment in the throes of office related passion or desire.

Its such a phenomenon that there's sites dedciated to guides on how to survive with an office romance or how to make that dream co-worker, you're co-coitus maximus partner and just recently in london down its now been taken to the stage..

I'm in the throes of office desire as I write, well two desires actually. After a rather awkward slightly animalistic sex dream about a co-worker who I previously had not held any fanciful fantasies about I am now betwitched. I have resolved to strap myself to the desk, and not in a kinky way I'm afraid. That was for the boardroom a couple of years ago during another office fling which sadly went awry. No I'm determined not to let myself 'pee in the pool' as they say. Since the dream every nod, glance, laugh and sultry lift of the eyebrows has been beamed over to me as evidence of my crush being mutually held.

As if one crush is not enough, I also hold a tiny flame for a fellow office friend who is much akin to the office labrador. Friendly, jokey, always sending funny emails and up for random nights out drinking. But to make this story a real story, I've been his counsel as he tries to lure the girl of his dreams (of course she works with me as well) into his arms. It reads like a proverbial mills and boons I know but what is it about the office that makes it the breeding ground for crushes? It is the token familiarity and bond that people share with their coworkers, or is it our minds way of making the tedium of daily work endurable and providing a welcome distraction?

I really don't know but what I can say is that without a doubt I've had multiple work crushes at one point or another at every place I've worked. Most unrequited, some returned (case of the boardroom referenced above) and most generally die away.

I can site a million and one cases of office amor which has gone awry but it doesn't stop us trying does it? But at least I can be thankful I haven't done this!

So while I sit in my lunch hour with my unrequited, dishing out advice on how to win his ultimate water cooler crush, I'll also be thinking of that boardroom and what fun could be had....

there's always next week

Friday, 22 October 2010

Groans in the night...

I'm the first to admit that when I'm in the throes of passion I can sometimes get a bit carried away. Ok not just a bit, it's led to broken bed frames, glasses, bruises and a little bit of rough and tumble.

So perhaps this is my way of being punished. Nearly every person I have flatshared with has admitted after the fact that they could hear me as I engaged in coitus maximus with whatever partner or part time lover I had at the time. In fact one friend told me I ruined a particular snow patrol song for her because for some reason, and I can't even recall the song or CD, but apparently me and my amor used to put on the same CD everytime we got it on and it would always start off on that same song..

Shame I know. But now the sex god of noise karma seems to be getting his own back on me. My flatmate and her BF of about 8 months have recently turned into the proverbial rooting rabbits. This wouldn't bother me so much except for the hours they keep. They obviously get it on before bedtime and I put in my earplugs, but its a little bit hard not to notice when its making your own bedframe shake. What perhaps I find even more annoying is the fact it only lasts a mere 4 mins most times. What could be more insulting than that? I would be asking for a match re-play myself. I guarantee those moans and groans she makes is only of her just getting started up..

But perhaps what has become even more frustrating is that they then bizzarely get it on at 3am and go for it again. Only this time the noise is even louder and more noticeable. This isn't just a once off either, it has happened for the last 6 days in a row. I wouldnt be so annoyed if it at least lasted a decent amount of time, but instead it lasts 3-4 mins and then I'm wide awake and can't get back to sleep. So I stepped up the offensive last night. Time to talk tactics. When 3am came around again and they woke me up, yet again, I got out my Ipod and put it on at the loudest level to a mood killing song if ever I heard one. Prince's 'Cream' to let them know a) I could most definitely hear them b) to put them off and c) let them know that their noises are about as tacky and impressive as Prince's cream song.. and it worked. It killed the mood and lasted no longer than 2 mins before petering out.

When I got up this morning with a smile on my face I was greeted by grumpy faces in the kitchen. When I went back into my room they tried to start up again and I put on Tom Jones 'You can leave your hat on' and once again stopped coitus maximus loudious in its tracks.

Yes I'm a party pooper perhaps, everyone should enjoy their bit of rough and tumble in the sack but not at the cost of the sleep of others.  If you do, prepare for a battle of wills and when its up against me, I can promise you will be the loser.

Monday, 18 October 2010

3 dates in 3 days

Ok so I've clearly pleaded once or twice to the love and dating karma gods to deliver on the man front, particularly the romantic man front mainly as all girls do from time to time. Only this time they appear to have delivered.

In the last three days I have been approached by three separate guys for dates. Flattering yes. Exciting yes. Unexpectedly annoying yes.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful nor petty nor one of those girls who have impossible standards designed to intimidate, frighten and self consciously ensure your unhappiness for the rest of your life. Not at all. It's just that there's something missing. With all three.

How can this be? Am I just being asked out by the wrong guys? I am the first to admit that I've often felt like I had the word A tattoed on my chest to attract either Adulterers, Asshats or Animals. Only it seems this time to have changed to 'Mr Very Nice and Want to Romance the Pants of off  You', who have the sexual appeal of a dishrag.

All the men (how awful does that sound!), who asked for my phone number, asked nicely, I hadn't been overly flirting or even all that interested. Nor did I lead them on. One on a bus, one on a tube and one at a pub. All unexpectedly. But being the girl I am and always saying yes to new opportunities I happily gave my number thinking why not, what harm can come to it.They all seemed like nice men, all be a little bit desperate.

Only now I have been on the recieving end of countless messages from all three, lets call them Larry, Harry and Barry. All have been asking me to go to french restaurants with them, go kayaking, go on picnics and pub crawls. All very nice, but it doesn't make my heart beat faster when I  think of them. Wouldn't a quick drink suffice? Why the constant text banter pretending they know you or who you are? I thought that was the purpose of dating, to get to know someone and not presume? It all a big fat turn off for me. I don't want to be wined and dined because I'm a woman and they want one and any variety will do. 

I don't even get flustered or smiley when I get a message from them, in fact I forgot to respond to one for a whole day. Not deliberately, but I just had a busy day and they weren't high on my radar. Verdict is - no tummy tickles, where you feel that spark of excitement at what might or could be just around the corner.

Nada. Zip. Zilch.

So now, because I don't feel any of that spark I'm facing the prospect of turning down not just one guy, but three guys, in three days all down to chemistry. I fear this will tempt the rath of the dating karma gods immensely as well. I asked for it didn't I? They delivered didn't they? And yet I turn down the offerings.

You would think recieving 3 date offers in 3 days would make any girl feel special but instead I feel the opposite, I want to hide under my bed for a week. But better to end things now rather than lead anyone on. My theory is, when its right, it feels right. And this feels like it should feel right, but at the same time feels very wrong. And not wrong in the good way.

So goodbye Larry, Harry and Barry and hello bed.

At least there is always bob, he can't give cuddles but he can sure put a smile on a girls face.


Sunday, 17 October 2010

Guessing my bra size is not the way to my heart..

After watching some of the Sevendays series on channel4 this week, where one of the girls, Samantha braves speed dating for the first time, got me thinking about some other disasters I've had when its come to speed dating. And unlike Samantha, I've been on more than one speed dating adventure.

The experience I'm thinking about is the the most recent one. A night in soho (yet again) at a big speed dating group event (more than 300) so the odds have got to be good haven't they?

There were several options on the night:
a) go in the speed dating circle area and mingle in your alloted 2 mins, chancing an encounter with Mr right or Mr very very wrong
b) Wander around looking awkward, grasping your drink like a life bouy while also trying to look interesting enough for someone to have a conversation with
c) or go check out the flirtwall (where photos of everyone attending is up) and rate the talent or lack there of and cast a surreptious look at your own to see if any messages had been left
d) Or better yet play random games . By games I don't mean whips and handcuffs, although that would give an interesting twist to the evening. No games as in the girls wear locks around their necks and boys have keys and each try to see if their's 'fits'.

All these are supposed to be conversation starters but on more than one occasion I felt my lock had been violated. Naturally, the lock hung down low on my chest, nestled amongst the impressive clevage I had broken out just for tonight.  Several incredibly shy men would come up with hands and arms outstretched reaching for my chest. The first couple I swatted away thinking they were planning a feel up mission. Until I clicked that they were after my lock, not my nipples for the world's most painful nipple cripple. (Flashbacks from my childhood still haunt me) I was surprised by all this, really, shouldn't you ask my name first before we start sharing parts or putting our bits together? You would think so, but apparently not.

So when the bell rings to start the speed dating session it's safe to say I was more than mildly relieved that men wouldn't be grasping for my chest for the next half an hour.

Contestant No 1: So how old are you? (clearly he's decided to dispense with niceities and just jump right in)
Me: Ermm 26, how about you?
Contestant No 1:So how do you feel about babies?
Me: Erm.. what do you mean?
Contestant No 1: How do you feel about them?
Me: (I honestly can't for the life of me keep up, he's clearly ascertained that I'm still of child bearing quality so he's decided to find out if I want one, but I can't quite believe he's going there and so when in doubt, I respond with funny:) What as, seeing you dressed up as one?
Contestant No 1: No as in having one? (He says this deadpan, no giggle no smile. Tough crowd)
Me: Umm, one day maybe..
Contestant No 1: No with me... in the next six months
Me: Ahherm what?
Contestant No 1: With me.. in the next six months or so..
Me: ahh no, I don't think so, I dont even know you
Contestant No 1: Well we have nothing further to  talk about then.

Strike 1

Contestant No 2: Hello there J, nice to meet you
Me: Hi M, are you having a good night so far?
Contestant No 2: Yeah it's going alright, free drinks are going  down well aren't they and theres some alright looking birds here
Me: Yes it looks like its going to be a good night
Contestant No 2: So you're a bit of a big girl aren't you.. I'd say..(I cut him off at this point)
Me: Excuse me?? (Telling any girl she is big is never, ever a compliment. Even if it's to say her smile is big. Boys please note.)
Contestant No 2: Sorry, that's rude of me, it's just that it's the first thing I think of because of the work I do
Me: What work do you do? (Still not impressed, but willing to investigate the origin of his rudeness)
Contestant No 2: Oh I make bras, I design them and have my own website (this is a guy who is rather tubby, in his late 30s with a porn star moustache.. seriously?)
Me: Well do you offer two for ones? (Clearly not taking him seriously)
Contestant No 2: Yeah of course we do.. I'd say you are a 38F
Me: Wrong buddy
Contestant No 2: Clearly you aren't wearing the right bra then
Me: Pretty sure I'm going to go with the La Sensa bra measuring expert over a guy I met in a bar. Sorry
Contestant No 2: I've got some really nice red ones which would look good on you
Me: Sorry but I'm going to point out the obvious here mate, but talking about bras, is not suitable dating conversation for someone you've just met. But what I can suggest for you though is a visit to the library
Contestant No 2: Well you asked, I'm just making conversation. What? Why the library?
Me: To borrow out Dating for dummies.. Ok so I think this is where I say next?

Strike 2

Contestant No 3: So J, what's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?
Me: Just trying out something new, go pain, no gain or something like that
Contestant No 3: But seriously, why are you single?
Me: Well that's a million dollar question, why don't you ask me something a bit more simple like my favourite food or something?
Contestant No 3: No really, I want to know your dreams, your hopes, your life. Tell me everything from day one
Me: Ahh what? As in from birth?
Contestant No 3: Yes I want to see the real J
Me: (I've kind of had it by about now and think you know what, I'm a bit sick of the loonyville I'm currently trapped in and decide, its time to turn my looniness up a notch.) Well my story is a bit complicated and not overly happy (I say with a mock sad face and downcast eyes)
Contestant No 3: Go on, go on...lets get down to the real J
Me: Well I was born Jason and it wasn't until I was 5 that I realised I wanted to be a woman. My parents were very supportive and I changed my name to J when I was 16 and have just completed my gender reassignment transistion. I'm ready to meet a man, I have all the right parts and deep down I'm a girl through and through
(Cue silence.. dead silence, his mouth is set in an O and it doesn't look like its going to change anytime soon. His eyes are like saucers, I'm pretty sure if I poked one, it would spin around on the spot. He seems to stopped breathing and his hands have moved really far away from me, to the otherside of his lap, looking unnaturally like he's trying to do some kind of back stretch. I know I've just comitted social suicide but its just so damn enjoyable.)
Contestant No 3: Ahh.. well thats.... interesting
Me: Oh I knew you'd understand. I knew it from the moment I saw you that we'd connected. Now you know it all. What about you? What led you to become you, tell me all your dreams and how I can make them come true (I flutter my eyelashes at the end, playing the act of a bonafide bunny boiler. This is far too enjoyable, I should have broken the crazy out much much earlier in the evening)
Contestant No 3: Ahhemm.. well you see, actually I need to go to the bathroom, do you mind?
Me: Oh not at all, I might join you. (His face was a sheer mask of horror). The ladies of course
Contestant No 3: Of course, well nice to meet you
Me: Oh very nice to meet you, I'll come find you later to hav ea proper chat
Contestant No 3: (cue awkard hiccup of a laugh and the fastest exit I've ever seen. I'm pretty sure he didn't stop running until he'd jumped on the piccadilly line tube)

Strike 3....

I know that was a tad mean of me, but it was possibly one of the most exhausting but hilarious nights I ever had. It makes you realise all the many faces people put on when they are dating and how these mask the many other truths beneath. I had fun, that much is for sure, I'm sure there are a few who are mildly traumatised by my actions and I do apologise. I certainly was not born a man and I am not even the slightest bit infected with bunny boiler syndrome.

Verdict on speed dating: 8 parts crazy, 2 parts sane. In my eyes I consider it to be akin to social russian roulette. Only for the brave, stupid and gamblers. Those with weak stomachs should stay home and watch re-runs of sleepless in seattle or pride and prejudice.


Saturday, 16 October 2010

Thrust action included

The other night I met an unusual companion. well not that unusual for me but unusual for the night which was planned. It started out innocent enough, a quiet drink in soho. I can feel the raised eyebrows at that comment but bear with me, it was the original intention.

So it was five drinks later on our way to salsa class I realised tonight might be a bit more interesting than I had planned. For one, instead of our Cuban salsa class being full of greasy middle aged men, it was full of talent. Bulging biceps and bulging trousers, fluid hips, chiseled jaws, deep set chocolate eyes and broad shoulders. And all that back and forth had got me into a bit of a bother. My steps started to falter as I swooned in the arms of the many salsa gods who kept thrusting me all over the dancefloor. I was concious my friend N was going home to a hot blooded male in her bed and sadly I was not.

That was of course until I met BOB. He didn't look like my type at all so it wasn't until I saw the 'thrust action included' that he caught my full attention. I had to have him. No woman would stand in my way. I went straight to the cashier and felt like a silly school girl picking out a puppy in a window. £40 later I left with an Anne Summers bag that seemed to flash neon lights at passerbys which rattled as the 9 batteries inside clattered around. I kept a firm grip on the bag, determined not to lose it like last time. (that's a story for another time)

Of course I've heard of the rampant rabbit, what woman hasn't? I used to own one myself but I found after I'd had it a few years it's vibrations increased a million times in decibles, getting louder and louder until it sounded like I was being attacked by a rather persistent vacum cleaner or on some occasions a rambunctious jet engine. The crunch came when my flatmate knocked on my door to check I was ok and that's the day my pink rampant rabbit went the way of the

I have been rabbit-less for 2 years now and after listening to me bemoan my lack of action N dragged me into Anne Summers. And introduced me to perhaps the greatest invention ever, the thrusting rampant rabbit. Otherwise known as BOB, the battery operated boyfriend. The vibrating game has clearly changed while I'd been away.
My old rabbit used to have an annoying rotating option that wierdly made you feel like you were undergoing a cervical exam, hardly erotic or orgasm inducing. So I stuck to the vibrating option which did me
just fine.

Until BOB that is. It has a built in thrust action and unlike having a jelly like feel to it, is oddly quite humanlike. Like a man with fantabulous vibrating balls. So after some red hot salsa and many a cocktail I went home to something pbetter than a red blooded male in my bed and better still I didn't have to endure the chainsaw snoring that often follows. So to the rampant rabbit makers out there consider this one customer suitably satisfied.

Wednesday, 13 October 2010

Chilean love triangles..

I'm sure I'm not the only one who watched with trepidation as the chilean miners were winched to safety today.  I got tingles just thinking about what it would be like being trapped down there for 69 days. But what didn't surprise me was how everything in life tends to boil down to the little things, well not little, but human things. Boy and girl things. There a more than a few broken hearts woven into this disaster, which unveiled a shed load of duplicity. Duplicity that makes alot a lot of women a bit scared. There wasn't just one miner who had his lover and wife turn up at the mine, there have been several who have had not just another lover, but two or three other lovers on the go at once, wives, girlfriends and mutliple children. I don't know about anyone else, but I find this as, if not more scary than being trapped in a rickety, old mine shaft. This is the sort of thing you used to read in movies or in books, but it's fast becoming a way in which we live.Telling different versions of the truth, to live a life or as many multiple lives as we like. 

Michael could be your boyfriend, a stock broker by day, escort user by weekends and S&M cyber chat addict in his downtime. He could also have his own dating website page just for hooking up with randoms. It's enough to make you cynical and bitter. Should you do a big old internet check on men before you make them your + 1, a pipl search to check their credit rating, a bit of facebook stalking? I think you could drive yourself crazy doing this, and in fact I have nearly done so with one guy I recently dated. P. He was older, more mature but secretive. I stayed at his, he stayed at mine. We became BF/GF, and started to see each other alot. But three nights a week, every week he wouldn't be free. He told me it was due to sport commitments. It wasn't. One night, I happened to be walking through a quiet area of bayswater with a friend when I saw him with her. They were out to dinner and she was wearing a ring, his ring.

Cest le vie. Sure I cried, sure I felt betryaed and hurt but I like to think of falling love as much the same as putting on a blindfold and taking a step. That step might be in any direction and it might lead to anywhere. There could be nothing below, but you have to take that step. You could fall, you could stumble. Or it could just be the softest grass you have ever walked on. Either way you have to have faith to do it. Some people might call me a sucker but I prefer the word idealist. Head in the sand? Maybe, but I'd rather have that, then it full of fears and insecurities prompting me to scroll through his phone looking for evidence. Will I do it again? Absolutely. Eyes blindfolded, hoping for the best and if I fall, well I've seen worse.

I'm sure if you asked any of these chilean women who have been betrayed and hurt by the whole affair, if they would take back the years and decisions they made with these men, a lot would say they have regrets, but would they regret falling in love with them? That instant they fell for them? I doubt it. Sure the hurt would kill, more than kill, it would cripple you right now. But that moment when you know. You really know, and it's so utterly terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. No I don't think anyone could ever regret that  moment, regardless of the heartbreak. In the midst of betrayl and broken trust there is always hope, hope for better days and better times... that and a box load of chocolate and I'm sure that won't be in short supply over there...

Monday, 11 October 2010

Two wheeled flirting London style

Blue skies seem to have brought out the smiles today and the inner flirt in leveryone. I cycled into work today and nearly fell off my bike. Not due to a rogue jaywalker or sneaky car door. But due to some surreptious flirting from my fellow riders on the road.

I was dressed in nothing flash, just a touch of lycra, a hoodie and pink helmet and gloves but it was more my bike than me that seemed to attract attention at least to start with. I was casually stopped at lights when I felt eyes on me, I turned  and saw mister serious cyclist eyeing my bike up and down, like he would like nothing better than to be alone with it in a dark room. I felt like draping my bike in a towel just to protect her modesty. When I caught him looking at my bike and admiring my wicker basket he nodded and said 'Nice bike', much the way I've heard many men say 'Nice tits'.

At 7am in the morning it was the last thing I expected to experience at Euston station crossing intersection. He gave me a wink and another nod and rode off. I was still a bit bemused and to be honest still waking up when I got to the third set of lights and another cyclist went past me, only instead of whizzing past he slowed down turned to me and  said 'morninnng'.. not as in a typical brisk 'Morning' but with a slow drawl that is said with a smile and hidden wink in the words. I nearly tumbled off my bike and started to think what is going on today?

I was still thinking about the first two earlier incidents when I heard a bike bell chirping, shrilling from the opposite side of the road. I looked over and saw another male cyclist, decked out in full lycra and waterbottle in hand, looking my way. Correction. Looking at me. I twinged my bell twice and he nodded. I nodded. He winked, I smiled. He gave a tilt of the head and I raised my eyebrows. The lights turned green and we went in opposite directions, cheeky grins fixed on both our faces.

I don't know if it was the blue sky, the way the sun glinted on my pale blue pashley or something in the air, but I think I might be wearing the same pullover again tomorrow. Who knows, perhaps Mr Darcy might ride past  ;P


Saturday, 9 October 2010

wishing on the lottery and tooth fairies

As it is I can't help but feel a little bit frustrated today, I overhead two girls talking ont the tube this morning. One of them was bemoaning the fact that this guy was giving her the run around and not treating her properly. The other one, who had a wedding ring on with as much bling as she could muster without weighing her hand down to the pavement, kept reassuring her,   "Don't worry sarah, if its meant to be it will be, not to worry you'll meet the right guy,"

If one more person says that line in my earshot, or worse to me, I think I'll pick up a hundred 'hes just not that into books' and put them in a blender and serve it up to them as soup for dinner. Its not pleasant to hear all the time and hard to swallow, thank you very much.

I just love the way some people say you'll meet the right guy. It reminds me of the dedicated locals in my home time back in Aus, queing up for the lotto with their fingers crossed, repeating the mantra "one day, one day and woudn't it be nice". It's kind of akin to going to sleep one night and expecting the tooth fairy to leave a perfect man under your pillow in the morning. All you have to do when you wake up is to inflate via the hole in the butt, to make him full of air and hey presto, here's your man.

But don't get me wrong I'm not a bitter twisted singleton and frankly I think most single women in London have endured a bit of a bad rap. We are sometimes viewed as hostile towards men, like they are totalitarian states we must invade, conquer and control much like saddam hussein on a power trip but this is just not true. Sadam Hussain was a sadist, we are just after a cuddle with a man with a perfect penis.. hardly conquerers or dictators. If we want to talk about dictators, then perhaps its time to point out the biggest dictator out there is the male phallis dominates and influences men on a daily, if not hourly basis.

I can safely promise I've never had my vagina tell me what to do or that its compelled me to go and grab a guys ass and take him home only to tell him the next day that I have a boyfriend and he better go because he's coming down from liverpool today... But don't get me wrong I'm not bitter in the least, and nor am I a man hater..

rant completed

Wednesday, 6 October 2010

Final warning to all london men - no more BSGB

Thinking about the potential gentleman codes of conduct made think of all the BSGB I've come across. Bad Single Guy Behaviour that it is. I know lots of girls are guilty of giving men the run around in London, but never have I come across such bad manners or behaviour than  when I first arrived in London. Australian men aren't overly romantic, in fact they aren't overly complicated but you tend to know where you stand with them and while they might have BO now and again they don't have really bad bedroom etiquette.

English men its time to clean up your act, I fancy circulating a flyer at all the countless speed dating events in London just ot get the message out there. At the top of the list would be:

  • Non reciprocal fellatio is unforgivable. Full stop. If a man won't go down on a girl but wants you to do it to him he clearly has something against pussies and therefore should be shown the door. A man should worship the area and feel grateful to be granted access to it
  • Despite what you make think, waiting games do not make us want you more. In fact it does the opposite, the only ones who end up wanting you more are the bunny boilers so perhaps you deserve it. No we won't have sex with you more quickly if you wait a week to respond to a message, in fact it reduces your chances of being admitted to the land of the vagina by more than two thirds. Known fact. Unless you are an astronaut, or swimmer who for some unknown reason can't be near a phone then the mantra with messages is you recieve one, you respond to it. Promptly. 
  • The butt area is forbidden. This speaks for itself, caresses only and compliments are welcome. Men obsessed with anal should consult with a blow up dummy or some porn. I say this despite being actually quite fond of it, as most sexually adventurous and open girls do but it has to be done with a person you have a measured sense of trust for. Put a ring on my finger and you can enter the one way street buddy. If not, we could perhaps experiment with a strap on if you are that obssessed.
  • Cheat if you dare. If you decide to sleep around and cheat be prepared for the consequences. In this day and age there is no need for lying and playing games. After a thrill? lets go have sex outside where we could get caught or in your best friends wardrobe. Don't think you will get away with it, no one ever does and when the shit hits the fan you really don't want to deal with a woman scorned. 
  • Space? Saying you need space to anyone you are dating is just not acceptable. Like space? Need it badly? Become a bloody astronaut
  • Saying I love you but I'm not in love with you is sufficient reason enough for the death penalty. The man may as well have taken a chainshaw to your heart and sliced and diced it to pieces and laughed. If you don't love me, lie and then leave. The next man who says this to me will experience real pain. This is the only instance in which lying is ok in a relationship.
  • Nookie cookie. If you don't want a relationship and only want sex be man enough to admit it. I will not punish a man who is honest enough to say what he wants. More than likely he will be rewarded with access to the pussy playground. 
  • Me Jane, You Tarzan. Don't assume all women are the same and want the same things. Don't assume the psycho ex that is still stalking you on facebook has the same qualities as every other woman and that we are all after your assets. News flash, its 2010 and we can buy our own assets. The only assets we covet are the ones in your pants.
  • OH OH no. Don't be selfish in the distribution of orgasms, share the love and give it as much as you can to the woman you're with. If you only look afte ryourself you may soon find yourself in short supply or left in the company of your left hand. Don't tempt the orgasm karma goods who'll strike you down with impotence for this level of selfishness. Besides, if the poor woman has stuck around despite the lack of orgasms I guarantee you she isn't happy and it won't be long before she is looking for her orgasms elsewhere
  • Fabio is a fallacy. News flash - you don't have the magical gift of making a woman orgasm just b looking at her and randomly probing your fingers back and forth. It actually requires some deterixty and effort. Just because she moans, it doesn't mean its from passion. The problematic thing here is if you tell a man you're faking it or not experiencing the big O he gets insecure and starts feeling terrible about himself. Hello?? What about the poor woman who isn't getting her rocks off?  So the moral of the story is boys and girls, don't think you are gods gift, listen and ask its the least you can do. Van Gogh didn't become an artist over night and you can't become the god of sex just because you own one of the key instruments.
  • Groundskeeping - keep the bush trimmed. No one likes to experience public hair flossing. Believe ir ot not, the reason most women get waxed/shaved is for the ease of access and presentation, not because we enjoy having hair follicles ripped out of our skin and sensitive bits. How do you think your lady feels going down to tackle the amazon jungle in which your schlong is hidden? We don't have whipper snippers built into our mouths, so be considerate and trim it. 
  • Skidmarks - no one likes them. Don't bring up the Ex or your mother on the first date or dates in general. Its just plain rude, no one asked to see the skid marks on your jocks and you have just done the social dating equivalent. Keep it to yourself, at least until she's seen you naked and knows what she's in for.
  • Godzilla or Mighty Mouse. Finally size does matter. Some girls like small, some like big. But size does matter. If you are small, you best have excellent oral and hand skills to make up for the downfall. If not you are being just plain selfish. Every girl will compliment it, regardless of size but deep down they'll have a preference and you'll have to sell yourself. Fact.
I'm seriously considering making a flyer of these thoughts and distributing. The women will thank me and so will the men. Imagine the hours of  hurt, anger and downright dissapointment that could have bene prevented if men knew of these simple guidelines? Lily Allen for one wouldn't be lying in the wet patch fo the bed feeling so hard done by if men knew some of these simple facts.

If only....


Tuesday, 5 October 2010

The age of the gentleman

I may have just had a close encounter of the third kind. No, I'm not talking about being beamed up to a UFO and probed and poked, although that would make for an interesting story. This encounter was with one of London's most elusive characters. The Gentleman.

During my three years living and working in London  I've become more than accustomed to all the cut throat tube door entrance shoving, discreet elbowing, guerilla hand bag maneuvering and tactical eye contact avoidance that comes with the daily tube and bus working day commute. The mantra  most repeat to themselves is it's every man and woman for themselves and keep calm and carry on.

But tonight, chivalry was the order of the hour and Mr Darcy himself made an appearance, this time not in the form of the pages from a jane austen classic or from one of my silly daydreams.

I was stuck on the C11 bus with many other tired weary souls who just wanted to get home and  out of the sea of traffic which had somehow snaked into one of the world's worst traffic jams. The bus was already packed to the rafters, and I was one of many standing. It was a perilous choice, either lean my face away from one commuter's musky, sweaty armpit only to end up pushed up against someon's back which was already damp and slimy with back sweat.  Hardly the setting for a chivalrous act to say the least.

When the girl hopped on the bus, she looked bedraggled and I barely noticed her. She looked how I felt. Her hair was wet from the drizzle, she had far too many sainsbury's shopping bags and her handbag was dragging along the ground. I saw her stumble near the first row of seats then make her way to the standing section where we were all trying to maintain our balance and ridicuous bubbles of personal space at the same time.

Suddenly a man who until now had looked completely sane and normal in his work suit and tie stood up in the first row of seats and shouted at her "Are you going to apologise for that?"

The whole of the bus averted their eyes, but turned down their ipods in mild interest.

"I said sorry, what did you expect your leg was in the aisle?" she replied back.

"You don't just step on someone's foot like that, show some respect," he shouted back at her. Shouting for no reason at all really, as the bus had fallen completely silent by now.

"You saw me struggling but you didn't move, I just tried to get past," she replied and shook her head to dismiss the ongoing conversation.

He was practically going purple in the face with anger by now and blurted out "Stupid fucking cow," and sat back down shaking his head.

The rest of the bus seems to be in a bit of mild shock and I must admit I too was shocked that a stranger would speak to someone else like that, let alone a man to a woman.

I looked around at the other men on the bus who were  swapping looks of outrage with each other when one man raised his voice, "That kind of language is uncalled for when talking to a lady, I think you should apologise for that," he said clearly and evenly. To which many on the bus retorted with 'Here, here".

The purple faced suit man stood up and turned around incredulus and said "The stupid cow deliberately stepped on my foot. No need for that kind of behaviour on the bus and I was sick of it," he responded, clearly not ashamed of his outburst and more than happy to go into bat for another argument.

To which the gentleman replied "Regardless, no one should be spoken to like that. Show some respect for all the women on the bus. Imagine if she was your sister or mother, you wouldn't want someone talking to her like that. I don't care if her heel ended up chopping off your wee little pinkie toe. It's uncalled for you should be ashamed of yourself,"

I swooned as did many other women on the bust. That's right, I swooned for  this ordinary, hum drum looking fellow, with a wedding band (I noticed this when he first spoke up) who hadn't struck me as overly memorable five minutes earlier. Chivalry is sexy, boys please note.

The angry man went to pipe up again and the girl interupted and said this particular passenger does this everytime she gets on, if its not her, its someone else who has pissed him off and he has a go at them.

The angry man was starting to rant now and have a go at The Gentleman saying "I fucking deserve to be left alone on my home from a hard working day and not have to put up with rude bitches on the bus.." and he was going further when another bloke piped up and said:
"All those who think this man shoud shut his mouth or get kicked off the bus raise their hand now,"

And wouldn't you know it, the whole bus put up their arms including the bus driver who tapped on his microphone and said "For those of you who can't see I've got my arm up too, so you, mister trouble maker big mouth you can shut it and let us all get home in peace or get off"

The bus broke out into a random applause and the purple angry man sat back down grumbling and kept his mouth shut for the rest of the journey. What added icing to the cake was every person who went past him on the waiy out said "Excuse me, Excuse me"and made a big deal of being overly polite when they went past angry purple faced man. One woman went past and said to him "Now you have a lovely evening now, smiling is better for you then frowning," and it made the rest of the passengers have a bit of a giggle.

 By the time I got off the bus, The Gentleman had well and truly departed and when he did, he did so to a round of applause from the rest of the remaining passengers.

All in all a heart warming  brush with chivalry and it has left me wondering if there are other gentlemen out there in London, I know I've had many account with many masquerading as one and if any abide by a universal code of conduct, such as this one (Gentleman's code of conduct).

And most importantly,  does  Mr Darcy ride the C11 bus?