Buggers vs Salads!

Having come from ‘nice’ relationships, I always believed a healthy, nice and clean cut man would always win over the ‘Treat em’ mean, keep em’ keen’ arseholes my friends seems to perpetually date. Like a dirty, greasy burger that you know you’ll regret; bad men (but seemingly tasty and delicious) would win, destroying their emotional and physical health!

From my high horse I down looked upon the women who repeatedly went back to their bad men with pity. How could they put themselves through the hurt and embarrassment of repeated cheats and sexual humiliations?

As a friend, I dished out the classic advice of “You can do better than him” and “Once a knob, always a knob” and could never understand when, three weeks later, I was like a record player stuck on repeat.

That was until I was on the receiving end of the fateful words “You deserve better”, how had this happened? I was in control of the situation, wasn’t I?

I didn’t want a relationship right now, sex with extras was fine. Just fine! It was fine that we spent mornings in bed messing around and playing with his child. It was fine that I got invited to family parties and meet his grandparents and loved ones. It was also fine when he told me he missed me, spooned me and kissed me on the head, like a loved one.

Yet, it was also ‘fine’ when he didn’t text for weeks. It was fine that he never took me out for a meal or drinks and it was also fine when he never introduced me to his friends.

I can hear my own advice in my head screaming out “Cut your losses”, “You deserve better” and “He’s treating you like shit” yet I can’t seem to take it.

I pretend I am in control. I pretend I’m only in it for the short term and when someone better comes along I’ll be over him. I pretend I knew what I was getting into, so I must be ok. I pretend when I’m with him I don’t want him to tell me “You’re the one!” and I pretend I didn’t see the packet of condoms in his work bag.

I can’t claim to have rhyme or reason behind our madness or magical remedies for us. I have successfully deleted his number. For a month. I have promised myself and others never to see him again, yet the pull is as strong as ever.

Oh no!

Xxx

Dating xx

I love dating. In my ‘younger’ days it seemed to be more frequent and fun (yet not necessarily for the right reasons) You have the excitement of getting ready and spending time thinking of what the person might be like, what you should wear and what will happen. Hoping for lusty looks across to each other, a touch of the hands and goodbye kisses. Considering my love for dating, this never happens!

My date history has been some what interesting! Fraught with falls, false teeth and fumbles!
I can’t remember a definitive dating period with Jeremy. We drunkenly met several times, spent a week together at his university watching QI  in bed and fell comfortably in to a relationship without the lusty dates where I wished he would hold my hand or kiss me unsuspectingly.

My last 'thing' I had with FD did not require dates. Just dark, quiet trips to the cinema and late night visit to his house. Not fun!

One man, I met on a night out seemed such a gent. We briefly meet and he instantly asked for my number. He turned up at my door in his new BMW and whisked me away to a far off cinema to see a film I had mentioned. All was going well until he commented on my how lovely my teeth were. “Odd”, I thought, not your typical compliment. “Yeah” he followed on, “Mine were knocked out twice, so these are false!” he said pointing at his odd pearly, perfect front teeth! Kissing, after that point was off putting and I was in constant fear of sucking them out or finding them in my mouth. There was one other date (so not to seem shallow), but this date then showed his love for Harry Potter, which was significant enough for him to wear a Gryffindor scarf!

There was also the guy from work, who was HOT! On our first date I thought everything was going great, we laughed at the same things, read the same books and both loved the Big Lebowski. Whilst driving home he said “What’s the first thing you think of when walking through a field?” Thinking initially of flowers and sunshine, I opted for something normal only to be corrected by him “NO, man traps!” There was no second date!

My one and only blind date (not to be repeated) was with a man who laughed hysterically when I accidentally tripped as I walked towards him. As I had never met him before I thought this a tad harsh, only to find he was wearing one golf glove. My mishap was an accident; his on the hand was a purposeful clothing choice! This was followed by me breaking my new, bought for the occasion, belt (again to howls of laughter). And he repeated on cycle that his ex girlfriend was the ‘fat one’ on Grange Hill.

With my first love McCartney* our first date was Valentine’s Day, where I proceeded to ‘romantically’ pick his food and gave his incredibly sensitive tummy a shock with spicy sausage. This was a mistake as we were home by 9.30!

Considering my shocking history of dating, I still hold on tightly to the romantic notion that they will be amazing and fun.

Oh well, at least so far they have funny to experience and fun to retell.

Ever the optimist xx

D-. Try better next time.

All I will mention of my above blog is that I am a massive failure and have the self control of a child in a sweet shop. Except the 'sweets' I have been indulging on are bad for my health. I have now eaten too many and have made myself feel suitably sick and WILL NOT indulge again.

Onwards and upwards as they say. Onwards to parties in Manchester, and looking 'upwards' at tall, dark and handsome men.

Ooo, the excitement of first meetings, first dates, first kisses and first 'other stuffs'.

Can't wait. Xx

Birthday resolutions :)

In three days time I will turn 26! I don't admit that number easily, and have been 21 to most of my friends, family and strangers for several years now.

As this hideous ages come with the realisation that the 'BIG 30' is around the corner, I need to put in to motion a few birthday resolutions. These will in turn delude me into thinking it's OK to be 26, single, living with my dad, with no job prospects! (I am also well aware that is it very nearly a year until my LITTLE sister gets married, but thats another blog.)


So starting Monday I will.....

• Look (apply if possible) for one job a week.
• Do some sort of exercise at least once a week. (And no, walking to the cake shop does not count!)
• Loose half a stone. (Older brother's wedding in August!)
• Wear nice outfits.
• Do something that scares me once a week. (Something good, NOT remove spider from plug hole!)
• Blog twice a week.
• Sort out love life! (Trickiest bit, but will make for good blogging. See above.)

These in turn WILL make me happier. WILL!

Tomorrow I intend to get up early and do yoga before work. Hmmmm, this is going to be tricky!

WANTED!

Single man, to woo and spend hard-earned cash on. No need to text or message, will do all the running! GSOH required so you can regularly take the piss. Likes meals out, walks and weekends away, but never gets them.

That would be my ‘single persons’ ad in the middle of the paper, next to the Viagra and commemorative plate adverts.

I pride myself on having a ‘type’. Tall, dark and rugged, (trampy, as described by another). Despite my type being attractive, they also seem to be pathetic, selfish and useless. Never has a man whisked me off my feet, greeted me with flowers (unless asked) or on a non-materialistic, level take me for a walk or on a picnic.

Life plans have been stowed away and forgotten in favour of their ambition, meals out have never materialised due to no money and weeks can go by with no texts because of “work commitments”. And I’m a fool!

I let it happen, I let Jeremy* buy value noodles and soups when he had no money and then I would cook delicious meals for him. I let him go out and spend what money he had on nights out (without me) and not put it towards bills and rent. And the new one is no better.

So, all in the name of research and self-preservation I will no longer be a fool. I know there are good ones out there. My friend regularly makes me want to be sick in my own mouth with her Facebook statuses.

“So I get home from a long day at work to find romantic music, candles, notes, flowers and my gorgeous man waiting for me with wine and takaway! Amazing ♥” (Sarah 2011)

Bleugh! However, I now vow never to text first, to always expect more and only settle for what I deserve. I will no longer go to FD’s late at night and justify it with shite excuses such as “But he’s fit”, knowing full well he would never come to mine.

My new advert would/ will (when I give in to internet dating) read….

Single, fabulous girl seeks man to treat her right.

Food stuffs!

Nutella, MMmmmm! I love the stuff on toast, pancakes, off the spoon and on cocks! Well, not all cocks, but definitely off the Ex's.

Although it has the look of something that you should definitely NOT lick off (or have anywhere near) any body part, let alone a penis, it tastes good and is fun in the bedroom.

On one particular occasion the Ex and I had an afternoon session in the living room whilst my flat mate (let’s call her Jenny) was out at university. The chocolate spread and other less messy food stuffs were involved and fun times were had by us both.

The evening came, he went off to work, my friend came over and the flat mate returned from a hard day studying. I cooked a delicious dinner and we relaxed watching Quiz Call until the early hours.

After perhaps too much wine I suddenly realised the chocolate spread was still out on the coffee table and to my amusement (should be horror, but it was too funny) my friend had reached across and started to eat the spread straight out of the tub, with her fingers. Without a second thought Jenny* also dove into the tub!!!

I would like to say that in hindsight I would have acted differently, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t! Ha ha
.
Without breaking a smile or a look of horror, I casually looked across at the pair (now with it all over their fingers and around their lips) and said “I dipped that jar on Jeremy’s* cock today.”

The look on their face was one I will cherish forever and hope in my old age will never forget.

You can always count on mother!

I spent yesterday with my mother. A beloved woman though she is, she knows how to push my buttons and change me from confident, happy, and fun loving, to suicidal, paranoid and incredibly pissed off! 

As a “beautiful” 25 year old my mother’s view is that I should have men falling at my feet, wanting to whisk me off my feet and impregnate me at the earliest opportunity.

As this is not happening, she spent ALL day thinking up wild ideas and theories about why this isn’t happening. She starts off simple enough “Your too beautiful.” Therefore men do not want to approach me, if this is the case, how I solve the problem? Stop wearing makeup, careless about my appearance? AND why aren’t supermodels single? Don’t see Gisele struggling to find a man!

In a change of direction my mother went on to say how she still had a sex great sex life! When I started to protest, she went on to say how “it’s just like talking baking!” I do not acre to know of my mother's sex life and what is she telling me for? To rub it in? ICK!

She then turns to it being the man’s problem “They are all turning towards the bum!” as she so tastefully put it. She goes on to spouts some misunderstood, Daily Mail inspired clap trap about there being more gay men, due to women taking  the pill. As well as being massively wrong this is out of my control and just continued to push me closer to the edge.

My mother also observes that men (apparently) look at me, therefore it is now my fault as to why I am not dating or ‘settled down’. She seems to think that my singleness in within my control and I am purposefully staying single to annoy her. She tells me a sad heart wrenching story, it started like this “I’m ready for a grandchild now!”  As if at these words I will self combust and produce a child. “I have to look at the woman across the road playing with her little grandchild. I’m ready for it now.” I know, your thinking 'Poor old woman, what a life she has to lead.' HA! These are not the words of comfort I look for, and further, do not make me want to give in to her and ‘give her a grandchild’ she so wishes for.

But, at least I don’t walk around with my ‘fanny on my forehead’ as she so delightfully put it.