Where's your + one?

I dont know about you, but I adore the festive season. I love everything about it. Except one thing. The fact that at this time of year, if you don't have a + one joined to your hip, then you are pitied and type cast as a social pariah faster than you can say ba humbug.

Not wanting to sound like a mournful bridget jones type or someone who is constantly bemoaning their single status, but I have to say, its not the status that upsets me. Its the reactions to it that most annoy me. When is the best time to meet people, have lots to drink and generally have a good jolly time? Christmas time of course, everyone tends to be happy and up for going out and trying new things. Except it is often at those very events that people cling onto their plus ones and ask you earnestly how poor little old, lonely you will be spending your christmas and if there is anyone in your life?

I had this experience 4 times this week, the most recent being last night and two nights ago. It's like asking a fat person,'how are you going being fat? Are you finding the right sizes in shops ok?'

It's fairly obvious I'm single, where is the need to discuss it further.?.But I'm not the only one, just this week I've had three emails from my close girl friends bemoaning just this fact and that they aren't looking forward to the family gathering where their smug married brothers and sisters will be parading their paramour around.

Well to get me through the holidays and to make sure I dont let this pariah status get me down I'm going to follow the following guidelines:

1) Make my own christmas wishes come true 
Make a list of all the things I have done for myself this year and things 'I want for Christmas'. Forget about feeling bad when your sister produces the latest trinket her husband bought her. You can demonstrate the latest Fendi bag you bought for yourself without having to give anyone head to get it. Or lower yourself to constant nagging and suggestive brochure placement around the house

2) Say yes to everything
Christmas is the time for giving so say yes to every opportunity that comes your way even if its looking like it could be boring or a struggle. Go and give it a chance. If it is shit, well you are no worse off but its better than sitting at home feeling sorry for yourself and wrapping a pillow up against your back so you can pretend someone is in your bed with you

3)Get into the spirit
Do all things festive. You know the things that girls draaag their boyfriends to and make them endure at much sufferance. Christmas markets, theatre shows, plays, day trips.. everything. Just  recently I went to a play and had to endure a man shuffling, groaning and looking at his watch and huffing and puffing his way through a production of Onassis. He couldn't be bothered and was clearly bored shitless. It begs the question, why the fuck did she bring him? They left at half time fortunately. Some women just like to torture. Just think how much better it is going and doing something you want without anyone else bitching about it

4) Remember that christmas smiles are just a bit of polish
Don't forget when u see a couple strolling or kissing in public or doing sometthing romantic like buying matching drapes or a new duvet (Vomit) that they probably were aruging about his mother just half an hour earlier or he was pissed because she turned off the telling in the middle of a rugby match. All you have to do is stop and listen on oxford street and you can pretty much here the quarelling of a million couples having a tug of war over what they should buy their famlies for christmas. Do you need it? Hell no!And especially when you hear the way they speak to each other. And at those christmas drinks, when one partner is having a great time but is dragged home by the boring, sad, tired, lazy one? That never has to be you this xmas. You are free to leave when and if you like and whoever with.

5) Don't be hard on yourself
Yeah it sometimes sucks to be alone, but for goodness sake you aren't the only one out there. In fact there are more single dining and wining events in london during the festive season then any other time of the year. Make yourself a list of everything you've achieved over the year so you can sprout it forth when Aunt Flan asks you why u don't have any babies around your feet or ring around your finger. Or better yet, answer creatively. Last time someone asked me how it felt to be single this time of year. I said "Great, but its always annoying when you have to replace your bedframe.' Win to you for having animalistic sex and point lost to them for being a nosy parker.

6) Indulge, Indulge, Indulge
While other +one girls are running around doing errands and fixing their house to be the perfect festive venue you can go out and get your nails sorted, hair, treatments, massages, the lot you name it. Your money is your money and to be spent on you alone. Not on doing something 'romantic together' which often ends up with you both bitching about money or about him not doing the dishes..

And if you want to feel better in general. Help out. Go volunteer, if you have free time, go and do something for someone else rather than sitting and stewing on your status or the questions, if and when someone will ask.  It offers great perspective and also makes you appreciate everything you have in your life.

Yes sometimes it sucks not to have a significant other who can whisper sweet nothings in your ear at this time of year. But just remember, that the prospective mouth you are fantasising about in real life would most likely  reek of beer breath and smell of garlic stuffing and hardly be the thing to get your juices going.

Make merry and be merry

xx

jh

Are you a man or a mouse?

My recent experience with the guy who screamed like a girl when he reached the valley of the big O made me think about why he it was he so quickly became not as attractive or appealing to me.

The hard worn path to manliness is a difficult one to tread, and not one which many men do exceedingly well. And in my experience, neither do english men.

I have never met a more effimate bunch of straight men in my life which is what makes dealing and consequently dating them so frustrating and intriguing in the last three years I've been over here and as far as I can tell, its all down to political correctness.

I dont like to typecast a group of men, but english men by definition really are another beast all together. They are completely and utterly clumsy when it comes to flirting in fact, they often just avoid that all together and let drunkeness do the job.  Then when they are well bladdered, they  attempt to kiss or grab the object of their interest  in a dark corner somewhere. I wouldn't say australian men are especially skilled at this and can often also be like bulls in a china shop, but at least they do make it abundantly clear when they are interested.

This week I ended up unintentionally pissing off three men who apparently were interested because I just had no clue whatsoever, apparently a guy at work had his eye on me and got very very upset when he heard of my conquest last week at the work xmas party and now will not talk to me.

The second I met while out and was flirting with him and then was chatting to a friend of mine which he mistook as another love interest and left in a huff. The third is a former BF who has been texting and went MIA for a few days only to come back and accuse me of seeing someone because that could be the only reason I hadn't been in touch with him.

Seriously? I am single. I am not bethrothed or spoken for, nor am I tied to anyone in particular. That is what being single is all about. So frankly,  boys get it together. Man up as the english phrase goes. Grab your balls, check they still exist and bloody make some noise and pusue.

If you want it bad enough to need to put your ego to the side and risk some embarassment by at least taking a risk. Forget being politically correct, if you like my rack just say so.


xx
jh
meanwhile thought I'd share the below aus blog. It says manliness isn't something u take for granted these days, you need to seize it and I completely agree! http://www.thepunch.com.au/articles/manliness-isnt-just-granted-youve-got-to-claim-it/

who's filling your christmas stocking?

Ok so last night I did the unthinkable. I'm sure I'm not the first and I won't be the last to disgrace to do this. I peed in the proverbial swimming pool. I mixed business with pleasure, and ended up with more than my usual serving of Christmas cheer at the annual work Christmas party.

Our offices consist of  5 floors of more than 1600 people. So let them loose with a glamour theme complete with rat pack singers, roulette and black jack tables, unlimited alcohol and minimal food and there is always, always bound to be more than a quick canoodle going on under the mistletoe.

The night started out relatively innocently, I dressed up in a LBD, killer heels and complete with lots of bling, red lipstick and wine permanently in hand. Before the night was midway through I'd had a quickie wedding with a friend of mine, lost all my money on red and was dancing up a storm. As the clock was getting closer to midnight I thought I'd make a quick and graceful exit rather than a decidedly disgraceful one later.

Standing in the coat line I came across he who shall now be known as Mr Charismatic. Tall. Skinny. Blonde. Blue eyes with hooded lids. Big Hands. Big Feet. Cute. Completely not my type. But there was that unmistakable spark. A match was lit and I wasn't about to blow it out after the time I'd spent with my fireplace untended to. The phrase 'Why Not?' sprung to mind and I went with it. After a few shared compliments over outfits and a quick chat on the debauchery of the night he walked me to the tube before offering to buy me a few drinks. Cue an hour later and we had thrown the mistletoe away and seemed to be searching for it under each other's clothes in a dark, secluded corner of the bar, so much so that the bar manager asked us to leave. Not my proudest moment. Next thing I knew we were in the back of the cab and I was reaching for his stocking  and he was unwrapping me like the unexpected Christmas gift I was.

Back home and 4 and half shags later I was left feeling less than satisfied. Sure I'd enjoyed it, it was random, fun and exhilarating and naughty but I still  felt a bit like Lily Allen lying in the wet patch of the bed feeling sorry for herself. At some point in the proceedings it had turned teenager both in style and technique on his end.  Bringing up the following issues:

1)      Bareback ride anyone? - He was doggedly persistent about not wearing protection. But once he realised it wasn't on if it wasn't on he soon got with the program, but every time he still tried to angle for a bareback ride. When in this day and age with the prevalence of stds and over nasties did it ever become ok to shag a stranger without protection? I found this almost as disturbing as his kissing technique

2)  Pash rash- His kissing technique, well what there was of it that is. It involved a mashing, nashing of teeth against my lips. I now have several blood blisters in my mouth from his voracious nashing snogging. I also have gravel rash on my lips and chin. He would basically try to eat my lips and beat up my tonque with his. I almost wanted to say out loud '1,2,3,4 I declare a tongue war'
     

3) Holiday Hickeys – they were never cool in highschool and when u have to work the next day, sporting a bright bruise on your neck is like holding a neon sign above your head saying 'I'm a whore' or 'please consider me the office bike'. Not good, but this guy loved vacuuming, with this mouth. To the point I am now sporting not just one but multiple hickies on my neck and bruising to boot. I have whiplash, and not in a good way 
   

4)   Dexterity -His dexterity below the belt involved a rather rough poking and twisting of his fingers and somehow I think he mistook my cries of discomfort for being in the throes of passion. I gave a few gentle instructions, but he was fingering with the frustrated ministrations of a sex starved teenager

5)   Oh Oh OH – perhaps the most distracting thing about the whole situation? His girlish scream and whimper when it came to the point of orgasm. It literally stopped mine in its tracks. He was a louder groaner and moaner than I was and pretty sure my flatmates heard every thrust and throb.

Sadly I didn't have a lot of OH OH Ohs throughout the night and ended up resorting to faking quite a few which I hate, but he was just so mortifyingly bad with some of his technique I didn't know what else to do. I'm sure there are a range of things which shape a guys sexual experience but these days when I've given feedback it's been met with aggression, disdain and insulted glares. Would a guy really prefer a girl to be unsatisfied and fake it? If so, I might just abstain for a while because the only Oh Oh Ohs I'll be making is when I'm skipping the yellow brick road to orgasmville.

In the meantime I'll be walking with my head down and navigating corridors with furtive looks in a bid to avoid an awkward lift encounter which is bound to happen. That's the last time I take a free gift without shaking first for what's inside.

Merry xmas all

Ho ho ho xx

Jh

There's no excuse for bad sex

As the title says, there really is no good excuse for poor performance in the bedroom unless of course, you've spent the last 25 years as a monk in the woods and I am the first woman you've come into contact with and you've only just discovered that not only do women exist, but these strange appealing round globes called breasts.

In my book there really is no reason why neither male nor female should let their sparkle be anything less than orgasm inducing brightness in between the sheets.

Just the other day a close girlfriend of mine who had been enraptured with a guy she had been seeing, suddenly relayed deflatedly that it was over. I was perplexed he sounded like the perfect catch, smart, uber successful, independent, ambitious and most importantly into her. What went wrong? Did he secretly have twelve toes and a dead twin foetus living off his back? Bad breath? Was he a hitter or abuser? Did he secretly have kiddie, or worse stil midget porn tucked in the bathroom cabinet next to the loo?

No. None of the above. It turns out he couldn't perfrom. Correction he could perform per se, as in he rose to the occasion, but was quite simply he was a bad performer, the worst she'd ever had in fact. This includes her first time which was the result of an uninspiring fumble in her high school boyfriend's cubby house. Nice.

How can this happen? In this day and age? People cry about poverty, world hunger, war and the cost of living.  What we should cry the most about is perhaps the single thing that has the potential to give billions around the world untold amounts of happiness but instead leaves many women and men weeping in the corner and reaching for their vibrators or hands as the case may be.

Can I ask, how does a  man reach the age of 29 and not only not quite know the locations of a womans various erogenous zones? and who also thinks its ok to procede to fondle these with the detexterity of a rugby player wrassling with a football?

Its downright depressing and I am now left with a bereft friend who I need to sort out a good shag for before she loses her mojo and faith in good sex altogether.

For those men out there who don't know what qualifies as good sex here is a hit list to consider:

1) It is never ok to expect a girl to go down on you for a long amount of time without you at least returning the favour with your hands, or preferably with your mouth

2) It is never ok to think a blow job has been mutually satifiying for a woman, enough so that its then ok to roll over and go to sleep without making sure she gets her rocks off too. I liken this to the eating a nice tender juicy steak infront of a hungry person and handing them the empty plate

3) Anything more than 25 thrusts is technically diagnosed as premature and the hall markings of a premature ejaculator, if you are extra sensistive, whack off a few rounds beforehand or wear two condoms. No woman deserves one or two pokes and then a cuddle, no matter what she says. She wants to be poked into oblivion

4) Don't try and be complicated about it, a good missionary session is perfectly fine, if you start moving in all kinds of directions and lose rythym, she'll lose hers and there will be no chance of getting it back. She'll just start counting the cracks in the ceiling

5) When you kiss someone passionately, this requires tongue, but not the amount of saliva that would put niagra falls to shame. Kiss her on the lips, not the face, a good ole chin snog is not sexy and makes you feel you've been assaulted by a dog

6) When she says, 'thats good, I like that'. Keep doing it! Don't get ahead of yourself and think right that ticks a box, now onto next one. Girls need consistency to get off, not a game of bump the mouse on the head as many different times as you can

7) If she isn't moaning or groaning in delight, ask her what turns her on and what she'd like. If she is in charge of her own pleasure she'll point you in the right direction, which she probably has been doing all night, you just havent been listening because you were looking forward to a blow job or entering the gateway to pussy heaven

8) Regardless to what most porn demonstrates, women don't actually like being cum on in the face. Especially if it goes in their eye, it stings, it burns and it makes your eye red for two days. I know this. Fact. It's the least erotic thing for them, I would liken this to a girl wanting a guy to wear her lacy underwear and then making him wear a pad as well  to see how it feels because that turns her on. Hot prosepct isnt it?

9) Calling her a'dirty filthy whore' during coitus maximus does not in fact make her wild. It instead makes her brian start ticking over as to what you really think about her, thus inhibiting her from reaching a state of bliss. At the same time, no one wants a conversation while a schlong is going in and out of their woo woo. So keep it simple, 'baby's, 'yeahs' and 'your so hot' and 'fuck that feels good' are always welcome

10) Always give notice of when you are going to cum. Don't just deliver your jetstream and depart the runway without sufficient notice. It's not fair and its inconsiderate. Mutual orgasms at the same time is a rarity, but at least make sure she's close to the finish line before you discharge your starting pistol

just a few thoughts for those in a quandry..

xx

jh

show me your love solar panel..

My  latest post on the slimey, predatorial and manipulative ways of the PUA got me thinking about all the conventional and slightly less so pick up lines that have been used on me.

I've decided to list the highlights for some light amusement, there are a couple which haven't been used on me directly but on friends and if they achieve anything, they certainly land a laugh or two...

•  (A guy walks past and empties his glass all over the floor, glass falls all over the floor) - There we go, that breaks the ice, "Hi I'm Jack"
• You're just like a parking ticket. You've got fine written all over you.
• I keep wanting to tell you how beautiful you are from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, but I run out of breath everytime I look in your eyes
• Is that a mirror in your pants or do I just see myself in them?
• See this watch it's a magic watch, it tells me you've got no underwear on.. on hang on, its an hour fast
• Do you believe in love at first sight or do you need me to walk past again?
• There must be something wrong with my eyes, I can't take them off you.
• That's not a bald spot. It's a solar panel for a love machine.
• How do you like your eggs, fried? poached? or fertilised?
• Was your father a thief? Because he must of stolen the diamonds you have for eyes
• Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven?
• If I was a squirrel would you let me store my nuts in your hole?
• I want to know where you bought your clothes, because it has destiny written all over it
• I was always dyslexic as a child, for some reason I keep putting U and I together

and my favourite - if I could nominate the 8th wonder of the world, it would be your breasts..

xx
jh

PUA = PUKEY

I've heard of the rumours of Pick Up Artists, I've read countless articles about their styles, moves and supposed successes but I'd never actually come up against one before. Until now that is and with new PUA schools setting up in scotland and over the UK its only a matter of time before they start making more appearances in the festive party scene...

One of my friends rang me up earlier to tell me about one of her experiences which I suspect is the direct result of PUA antics.

Let me set the scene:

S was with her friend and they were at the bar having just ordered a drink and noticed two men at the other end of bar. S and the guy in question shared a few smiles, winks and quite a few eye fucks. You know,  the type of look where they scan you up and down and practically throw you on the floor, then and there, and have their wicked way with you, just with their eyes.

he came over and proceeded to ignore her. Actually correct that, ignore her is a polite way of putting it, he turned his back to her and put all his attentions into the her friend. When S asked him questions he responded with one letter answers before giving her the berlin wall and turning his focus but to her friend and complimenting her endlessly.

To say she was baffled it was an understatement, and his friend was also being rather cold. She looked hot, (my words not hers), she wasn't a mess and can have a decent conversation so she had no clue why the change in tune.

Then all of a sudden, he switched from ston silence and threw a few veiled insults her way when she chimed in once or twice, ....ie.

GIQ(Guy in question) - So M, where have you been while you've lived in UK?
M (her friend) - Lots of places, but have to say my fave spot has been jordan, how about you?
GIQ - Definitely turkey, I love the place and the greek islands..
S - Oh I love the greek islands, my fave spot was corfu have you been there?
GIQ - no I haven't, I heard its a bit uppity, so not really my style... so I really like those earrings you are wearing M, they match your eyes
M: thank you, I got them today, me and s had a big shopping mission
S - yes we literally shopped til we dropped, and i also bought these boots
GIQ - (looks her up and down - twice and says) right. interesting choice
S - yes I like them, funkalicious I think
M: yes very cute
GIQ - Funny how girls think  some things look good and men don't

and it continued on like this for a while.. until S got sick of it and when to the ladies, when she came back, he'd changed his tune and again and started charming her, gently and subtly.. but as this was an australian girl she was having none of it and left with her mate and went home..

This I believe was the very stylings of a PUA. They find a good looking girl, play on her supposed and assumed insecurties and flatter her friends while ignoring her to get her completely in their control . So they can then work their magic so by the end they are grateful for the PUA's attention and will go home with them.

So  a little memo to PUA's out there... a) it doesn't work especially not on Australian women and only does on the bunny boilers b) if its bunny boilers you get then you get what you deserve c) it might catch you some women, but you'll never, ever.. land the good ones. If you want to spend of your life eating carp rather than salmon, then go for it.

xx
jh

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 Match.com, 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

xx
jh

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.

xx
jh

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.

xx
jh

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

xx
jh

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
xx
jh