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Saturday, 24 December 2011

Have a good one guys :)

So here's the season to be jolly. The time of year when it is ok to over-indulge in all things naughty. I know I will work my way through copious amounts of chocolate, wine, cocktails, and crisps. I will grab my mistletoe and kiss unsuspecting hot strangers. I will sit amist the wrapping paper with a big smile early christmas morning. It will be lovely to spend time with family and friends, catching up and having a good old gossip. Christmas is a time to be happy and enjoy, to not worry about the past or fret about the future. So I just wanted to write a quick brief post to wish you a Happy Christmas. Have fun, eat, drink, be merry (I will be hehe) and hope to see you in the new year, enjoy guys! xx

Wednesday, 14 December 2011

Let me be your fantasy!

Ok, it's time to tap into my inner Carrie Bradshaw, time to get a bit risque with my writing. I always follow my instincts and go with what inspires me, and this is no exception. I can't devulge too much about what caused me to write this post, but let's just say, at Saturday nights party (what I remember of it) some things came to light and opened my eyes even further than they already are. It was fun, and very interesting, definately one that will stay in my mind for awhile (again, what I can remember of it that is!) I came away with a steaming hangover and a new blogpost, which to be honest I contemplated not writing due to various reasons, but then caution must be thrown at times, yes?
So, let me elaborate in a round about way what got my juices flowing this week. We all ended up talking about.......stuff, and until then, it had never really crossed my mind to contemplate sexual fantasies and where they may stem from, but it is now something I am sure I will muse on when stuck indoors on a dark winter evening.

So, where do our fantasies and desires come from? Are they plucked from pure fancy or do they stem from past issues and experiences? Is it possible that someone who was domineered as a child will get their rocks off from being a dominator in the bedroom? Would someone who has had to be the boss in life want to be the submissive servant in sex? Would your hard-nosed friend/workmate/boss get off on being spanked, being told they have been a very naughty girl whilst having orders barked at them to get undressed right away. Does your quiet sweet little mate dream of putting on the fishnets, grabbing that whip, handcuffing some poor unfortunate soul to the bed and letting him know who really is in charge around here. That man that gives his seat up on the bus, hands over his spare change to the homeless person and smiles shyly at you in the street could very well fantasise about blindfolding you, then using the spanking paddle and gag. It can kind of make you think, hey?

In previous generations sex was a taboo subject that didn't get openly discussed, but in this day and age it is often the topic of lots of drunken and sober conversations. I personally think this is a good thing, as I am sure many a person has wandered if they are normal or not when it comes to preferences of the sexual kind (I know I have). Media, fashion and music also seems to reflect our open minded approach to experimental sex and fantasies these days, S&M by Rihanna comes to mind, as well as pvc, studded boots and fishnet tights. Sex And The City is a loved TV series and film which many women will know off by heart. It is pretty commonplace to have been to an Ann Summers party now, and let's be honest here, most women have a little something special hidden in the bedside drawer! It no longer seems to matter how many sexual partners you may have had, nor is it just the stuff of dodgy men in trench coats, it is open and out there for us to see and talk about, and there is no shame in it either. So next time you are out shopping and you stumble across an Ann Summers or a sex shop, be brave, go inside, take a look. You may find me in there, or worst case senario, your boss or shy little mate.

Sunday, 4 December 2011

In The Waiting Line?

Do the best things come to those who wait?  Is patience really a virtue? Can time be your best friend?
I often ask myself this question. It's funny really, because there are times when a woman just cannot wait. I am sure you know what I mean. We watch the clock for the end of the working day to come so we can go home and pour ourselves a nice glass of wine. We camp by the letterbox for the E-Bay delivery to arrive that was ordered, like, ten minutes ago. We count down the hours until the time comes to meet those friends for a well earned catch up. We get impatient in the queue when we decide we fancy a tub of Ben&Jerrys and want it NOW! We start a diet but the scales tell us, two hours later, that we haven't lost a single ounce. It's times like these that makes us realise waiting is not a fun passtime, and when we don't want to wait, why does time seem to get much much slower?

But then there are the things we will always wait for. Some of us, myself included, have waited for an age for the decleration of love to come from an ex, or an unsuitable crush that we find ourselves lusing after. We will wait for the perfect item of clothing to come along in our favourite store, or that dream lipstick or miracle moisturiser that will make us look five years younger. We hope and prey that the miracle diet will come along that lets us eat what we want and enables us to shrink at least two dress sizes in the process. We often telepathically try to communicate with our bosses, asking for that long overdue pay rise that is allegedly waiting in the wings. We dream of the perfect job with the perfect pay packet. We cheerfully inspect our nails or read trashy magazines whilst we wait for the friend that takes an age to get ready for a night out. We will definately wait, standing as still as statues, getting cramp in the process, for the nail varnish to dry and the self tan to sink in.

But, we must ask ourselves, what is worth waiting for? Will the dream lipstick, fantastic pair of jeans, miracle moisturiser ever really appear? Will that friend ever be on time? Is that ex or unrequited crush really worth your time and efforts? It's all to easy to let life pass you by as you wait for that perfect moment to crash through your door and bring you the happiness you think it will. I always think it's best to look at what you have now, and evaluate what is important. If you feel that you are entitled to more, then go on out there and ask for it, you deserve it! If you are getting sick of hoping that man will open his eyes, smell the coffee and come a banging on your door, well sod him, it is his loss, and he must have taken leave of his senses or something. And with that friend that is always late, don't wait, it may do them good to realise that you have a limit to how much you can take. Time waits for no woman, and sometimes, I think we need to remember that. Life is too short to wait for perfection that may not even exist. That does not mean I think we should settle for second best, hell no! I think we should live life to the max and appreciate the good stuff we already have. But we should feel free to go out there and get more of what we are entitled to. If some things don't work out, well so be it, something better will come along. One thing I sure as hell will not be doing is wasting time in the waiting line....well unless that miracle moisturiser or fantastic pair of jeans is on the horizon that is, then I might just develop a more patient streak, for about ten minutes, because after that I would no doubt start craving Ben&Jerrys and end up fidgeting in the supermarket express isle whilst hoping my E-Bay order has arrived on my doorstep whilst I had popped out. I am sure you agree with me, yes? But give me ten more minutes though, my nail varnish hasn't quite dried and my self tan hasn't sunk in yet, and I have a cramp!

Sunday, 13 November 2011

Intense love, the good, the bad and the ugly

This is a blog that I have to tread very carefully with, one that is like stepping on a field of landmines. In writing this, I do not want to open a can of worms that will be almost impossible to close again. So I will walk with caution, and omit some very tricky details. Those who know me well will know exactly where I am coming from and will understand completely what I mean.

So, intense love? What is it and who has had it? I have, at one point, been involved in a love that was so like this it caused me to change my whole life, first at the start of of the relationship, then at the end, to pick up the pieces.
It didn't work out, and when looking back it is glaringly obvious why. I came out a totally different person to the one who went in and I was taught some hard lessons along the way.
I have since learned, that in most cases, intense love is not designed to last, it burns bright but extinguishes fast (and usually with a huge explosion). It starts like a fairytale and ends in a nightmare. It is like a coin with two sides, and when the coin flips, you sure as hell know about it.
I am not just talking about my own story here, as I always like to do research when writing blogs. I have read about, and spoken to many a person who has experienced this kind of love and has come out with burnt fingers and deep mental scars. It has made them look deep inside themselves and take stock on what has happened.

So what do I mean when I say The Good, The Bad, The Ugly? For those who have not experienced this kind of love, it may seem odd that I am writing a blog that will look at the cons of having a partner that worships the ground you walk upon.
 I won't lie, it is amazing to have someone tell you that you are the best thing that has happened to them. You can't believe your luck when they say they feel blessed to have you in thier world. You think you are dreaming when they start to shower you with gifts. But with the coin anology, there is usually a flipside. In every case I have stumbled upon, read and/or heard about, there is the talk of insecurity, jealousy, possessiveness and neediness that transpires from this relationship. Before one knows it, they are walking on egg-shells and will do almost anything to keep the peace and have a quiet life. They find they have to give details about where they are going and who they are with, it is required that they edit people from thier lives, and they have to be very careful about what they say and do.
By the time the relationship is in full swing, there appears to be an imbalance of power. It is like a see-saw of alternating good and bad times. Emotions run high and the levels of self-esteem are low.
Ok, I can hear you saying, isn't this what normal relationships are like? There will always be bad times as well as good. Jealousy and the like can make an appearance somewhere from time to time, life and love is not a bed of roses. Yes I totally agree with you, and I completely understand what you are saying, but to have these things rule your life? Well that is a different story entirely. I have been down this path, and it is not one I wish to tread again, ever, and I know there are others who feel the exact same way.
Walking away from this type of love is never an easy option, and it always takes a large amount of courage to do so. Starting again with nothing is not a walk in the park, and relying on your survival instinct to get you through is exausting. Picking up the broken pieces is not a choice, but a necessity if you want to feel happiness again. But if you are in this boat yourself, it is very possible, you can do it, and you have made the right decision in leaving, trust me on that! If you need help along the way, there is no shame in it, go and ask! Take as long as you need to recover, draw on support from your loved ones and know that you will get there, sooner or later.

Anyway enough of the negatives. I always like to add an element of light-heartedness to my blogs. If I keep on this thread I will end up feeling depressed and I do not want to go to that place, life is good right now and I am a happy little blogger.
 I am pleased to say that my rule book has completely changed now that I am free, I am all for meeting a man who is a typical lad, a real bloke. I am sure you know what I mean, a man that's a geezer. He makes you feel special but likes to hang with the boys. He who watches the football and thinks its hilarious to burp loudly whilst you watch Sex And The City. One that you may not see or hear from for days on end and who sometimes forgets to reply to texts. He can't remember the names of your friends but doesn't get jealous when you head out for a night on the town with them. You don't have to give this man regular updates of where you are, or what you are doing, and he won't misconstrue the fact that you are wearing a skirt and heels. He laughs when he sees you put your make up on but doesn't accuse you of cheating because of it. This is the man that can become a kid when his mates are around, but dotes on you when you are alone together. A bloke that can quote lines from Top Gear and collects beer mats in his batchelor pad. A night in the pub is a religion to him and the bar crawl stories are cheesy. But at least with this man, a woman will know what she is getting into. There will be no hidden flipsides or rides on eternal see-saws. You may not get placed on a pedestal, but then you can't be rudely shoved off it either. You won't be the centre of his existence one minute then the cause of all his woes the next. What you see is what you get. If this is what is next for me, then bring it on! I can hand on heart say that if the only things that are intense in my life are the conditioners I occasionally slap in my hair, or the Ice-creams I can't resist digging into, well that suits me. I do not need an intense love affair, and nor do I want one again. Been there, done that, worn the t-shirt. Someone else is wearing it now and all I can say is, hope it fits, but if not? Take the damn thing off before it gets too uncomfortable!

Saturday, 5 November 2011

To shame or not to shame? That is the question!

Come on, we've all been there. Ok, maybe not the tee-totallers, but most of us have. Let's be honest, I know I have been there, and on more than one occasion, I must add. What am I on about, you ask, ok I will elaborate.
You have a bad week at work, and/or something happen in your personal life. Or maybe you haven't eaten properly that day, or just maybe you have lost track of how much you have had to drink before you went out. You go with your friends for a night out on the town and for whatever reason, you decide that you will be a one person drinking machine!
Sometimes you wake up the next morning with hazy but happy memories of letting off steam and laughing with your friends, but unfortunately, sometimes it's worse. You regain conciousness with a phone full of messages asking if you are ok, you have the hangover that Satan would be proud of and to top it off zero memory after a certain time. You are filled in by your companions later on that you were declaring love to unsuspecting strangers, you had drunk text your ex telling him you wished he was dead then in the next sentance proposing marriage and wanting his babies! You had your head down the toilet and sick down your top. You were crying, then you ended up being carried out of the club falling asleep.

Ok, I can here you saying "Yes, and the point to this is?" Alright I will explain what has got me on my soapbox. With the development of technology these days, for many a person, when a night out like this occurs, it doesn't just get pencilled down as experience, a mistake that can be made occasionally, just human nature from time to time, nope! For some unfortunate souls it becomes mandatory for pals whip out thier cameras and phones then splatter it all over the social netwoking pages for all to see, and how lovely is that? It no longer is just something that you want to forget about as soon as possible, but something all your friends, family, work colleagues and even possibly your bosses can view and make judgement on. Its there, and permanently, for others to look at. It happened to one girl I know, and I am outraged on her behalf! What on earth did she do so wrong that caused someone to think it would be nice to post these pictures up. I would bet this girl has bought the guilty man drinks, given him lifts etc, what a nice way to pay her back!

It got me thinking, what kind of mates are we if we take pictures of our friends in these states, post them on facebook and/or click 'like' afterwards. What has given us the right to name and shame our friends and make it public? Is this one step away from internet bullying? Are we all turning nasty? Plus now, with all the other things on our minds do we really have to worry that we could log onto our pages and be confronted with the pictorial evidence that our so called mates thought would be 'Hilarious'.

 What we need to think about is how it will affect the person in question. They could be really ashamed, It could get them fired, they could have strict families or partners that could react in a nasty way, we just don't know. Wouldn't it just be fairer to take your friend home, put them to bed and check on them the next day, all the time whilst keeping your phones and cameras safely tucked away. Isn't that what a real friend does, or at least attempt to sober them up and generally be there for them. According to what I've seen, it appears not, instead we make it public and laugh at their misfortune.

It was also down to Derren Brown's Experiments; The Gameshow, that I felt I had to defend this girl. The show in question looked at faceless people who decided the fate of an unsuspecting man. With this programme Derren taught me that you always have an option, to do good or to do bad. Would I become a faceless person laughing at my mate who had the joy of having these pictures posted? No I would not! The male friend of hers who thought it would be fun to post the photos not only invited others to laugh, but also to comment. If he didn't like what I wrote on the pics, well, tough! He had option A, not to take them or post them, but he chose option B, and in doing so caused me voice my opinion on the matter. It also made me contemplate naming and shaming him, but then would that be choosing option B myself and becoming nasty? Maybe, yes, and I am not that person, it's not in my nature. I am safe in the knowledge that my friends and I are genuine and wouldn't dream of taking such pictures of each other, and when it comes to options, I am proud to say I would choose option A each time

Sunday, 23 October 2011

Is this what dating for the Thirtysomething woman has become now?

This week has been a very interesting one to say the least. It will most probably stay lodged in my memory bank for years to come and cause me to chuckle to myself on many occasions. It all began with the drama of getting an upgrade from my old mobile phone to a newer more flash model. The upgrade in question did not go smoothly and I had more drama in one day than they do in the whole Eastenders Christmas Special.
In the process of sorting everything out, I had to take time off work, make numerous phonecalls and drive to the back of beyond because the delivery company kept messing things up. As you can imagine there was lots of stress, endless bouts of swearing and my bloodpressure nearly hit lethal levels.
After the numerous expensive calls I found out that the delivery company had no intention of actually delivering my parcel at all, so I was left with no alternative but to drive to the back of beyond to collect it myself whilst listening to angry music and muttering insanely to fresh air.
I managed to eventually locate the place in question and I waited patiently in the queue for my package. Whilst in that reception I got talking to an older gentleman in his late fifties or early sixties who was also having a fair bit of trouble from the company. We both had been left with no choice but to take time off work, and we also had to wade through the maze that the delivery centre appeared to be in the middle of. We had a good grumble and also said a few pleasantries to pass the time, eg "Where are you from" etc etc.  Looking back it appeared to be just innocent queue chatter, but in reality it transpired that that wasn't the case at all.
I eventually became united with my new phone, and skipped happily back to my car to have a good look. Next thing I was aware of, the gent in the queue had driven on his moped round to my brum and asked me out for a drink! To say I was shocked to the core doesn't even cover it, in all honesty, that was the last thing I was expecting! Being asked out by much older men is not an experience I am familiar with, and dating them is not something I really want to try anytime soon.

Now please believe me when I say I am not a bitch. I do not go around thinking I am better than certain others at all, plus I don't get off on telling lies. But I obviously had to tell him I already had a boyfriend as the truth would not have been pleasant for him to hear. Responding with a "Please, you are old enough to be my Dad" does not a polite reply make. And "I don't go for older men, well almost drawing your pension older that is!" is a truth that the recipient would not want to hear. I feel a tad horrible writing about this, as in honesty the gesture was very sweet, but let's be fair, it would be the equivalent of me asking a babyfaced fourteen year old boy if he fancied grabbing a Macdonalds whilst listening to Tinie Tempah or something. I had to give this gent some credit though, he certainly had a lot of balls asking out an obviously younger woman for a date whilst having the thought that he stood a chance of her saying 'yes'.

It got me wondering, is this what dating for the Thirtysomething woman has become now? Is it commonplace to ask someone out whilst we queue for a parcel, do our weekly shop or pop to the bank? If that is the case then I best start making more of an effort when I buy my groceries. Pop my make up on to pay my credit card bill and don my little dress to get my petrol! Also is age no longer an issue when it comes to dating these days? I really hope that isn't the case, or I will have to watch where I walk in future, secondary school gates and /or old peoples homes may no longer be safe!

 It is while we are here that I feel I have to be honest and say that I have been out of the loop for quite some time. It appears the whole dating game has run far ahead of me. When I split with my ex-boyfriend two years ago I decided to bow out and avoid all potential dates for the forseeable future. Plus, when me and said ex-boyfriend first met we didn't actually 'date' much as we initially had a long distance relationship. So as you can see, my experience in this field is more than a little thin on the ground.
Before the aforementioned ex came along, I spent most of my time partying with friends and living it up. I still lived at home (finances and the like) and I worked full time, so having time to date was a complete rarity. And when I did participate I found that the men often fell into one of two catogories 'The Desperate To Settle' or 'The Commitment Phobe'. Although my experiences in this department were not plentiful, the handful I did take part in went either one way or the other, rarely falling inbetween.

Lets start with 'The Desperate To Settle'. A date with this man usually occurs in a family bar or restauant. It takes on the feel of a job interview and more often than not he fires questions at you about your previous relationships. He may ask you where you see things going and you contemplate pulling out your cv whilst offering references. He wants to know your life history in minute detail and starts threatening violence towards exboyfriends and/or male friends. He tells you that he hasn't met the right woman yet, and he finds it hard to trust, but he takes your hand on numerous occasions and practically stares you out. I actually dated many a man like this, and one even had the cheek to go through my phone using the pretence that he wanted a Nokia like the one I had at the time! He claimed he didn't quite understand how to use it, so wanted a quick look. I handed it over like a trusting fool and next thing I knew he was having a good browse at my drunken pics and phonebook contacts with a distinct air of disapproval. It's safe to say we didn't have a second date.

Then there is 'The Commitment Phobe'. This man will take you on fun dates to lively bars and clubs. This usually occurs on a Saturday night, often with a constant flow of alcohol. The life history doesn't even get looked at, and you get the impression his life is dominated by nights out with the lads. But as I said these dates are fun, and by drawing on my own experience here, it doesn't often end with you both parting ways at the venue or with him escorting you home whilst promising to call. It usually plays out with you doing the walk of shame from his to yours at 8am the following morning, after putting back on the clothes you discarded on his bedroom floor the night before and rubbing off the smudged mascara from under your eyes. Action replays of this night are usually probable but he never seems to want to define the relationship. He is keen and very attentive when you are with him, but he can vanish from the radar for days on end.
 A few years ago I dated a man for a couple of months who was a 'phobe', and I'll admit I did fall for him a bit. When looking back, I regret nothing that happened between us, as we had good times. But I do regret listening to others who managed to convince me that I was playing with fire and that all I was to him was a cheap disposable woman. Obviously I never did find out what his actual feelings were, and I am not likely to go banging on his door with the thumb-screws now to find out either. Time moves on, and everything happens for a reason.  I can openly say that what times we did have together were good, and although I wish I'd had more faith, you can never change the past. He only had a shortlived role in my life, but with all that happened, I strongly believe he played a part, be it small, in making me who I am today.

Anyway enough of the old vintage dating! We are not here to go all old school. With all that goes on in the modern world it seems that my experiences in this field are beyond retro. It's all about speed dating, matchmaking and on-line hook ups. I read articles, and listen to friends stories about trying these things and I almost quake with fear. What on earth happened to meeting a man you like at a bar or gig, swapping numbers, and meeting up for a good old drink. These days it is all about poking, tweeting, getting your friends to set you up, as well as joining dating websites.
I must admit I steer clear of all this, maybe because I am a coward, but I always worry that the persons profile you are browsing through on the dating sites is so far fetched from the person you go on to meet face to face that you wonder if you read it wrong, or were halucinating. You go speed dating and the men who have ticked your box have ticked almost all the other womens boxes there too. You meet a man a friend set you up with and it's hate at first sight, which causes confusion and alters the relationship you had with your chum. You go on a blind date and you want to climb out of the ladies loos window and run for the hills.
 With all this that goes on, it makes me seriously contemplate celibacy! But I know I cannot hide away forever plus I have had questions from well meaning folk about jumping back on the saddle. With all these things in mind, I decided that the best thing I could do was to embrace my single years and enjoy them. I don't think I'd have the guts to chat to a man online whom I had never laid eyes on. I don't really want to be set up with my friends 'sweet single mate who has a heart of gold' and looking at my previous experiences of blind-dating, it often made me wonder if the organisers thought I was desperate beyond words or something, so I won't be going back there anytime soon. If I do stumble across a decent single man whilst going about my day to day life (who is in my age range I must add!) well, who knows what will happen. But I am not going to go actively hunting for him, I haven't the energy! One things for sure I will not start waiting at the school-gates for a babyfaced fourteen year old lad, its illegal, and I will not be returning to the parcel delivery place to find my confident older gent. I will just carry on as I am and I will go through the routines of life as normal, but I may just start wearing my make up, doing my hair, and wearing my little dress before I take the rubbish out, you know, just incase a man my age wanders past.

Saturday, 15 October 2011

They know where they can stick their stereotypes!

I've been doing a lot of reading lately, in the name of  'Research' shall we say. I have trawled the internet, read magazine articles, watched a little bit of  TV, rented movies and even spent many an evening engrossed in Sex And The City whist drinking copious amounts of wine. And why? You ask. I have done this to learn more about my fellow single people and the stereotypes that are thrust upon us. It has also been a search on my behalf to ensure me that I am not part of a dying breed (I am not, I am happy to say)

In my findings, I am pleased to note, I have learned that there has been some real positive attitudes to women who are alone and live in a single household. Be they single parents or childless. Within some articles it has been celebrated as a life choice made by women, or, yes, as a circumstance which may have been forced upon them, but which they have coped with with an admirable amount of courage and dignity. In some cases, when these women were given opportunities to change, they decided that they were perfectly happy as they were, and didn't want to change a thing, and I think this can be commendable. If you are happy as you are, why change?
But I did find some other articles which held less favourable attitudes to the single person. One in particular that made me almost laugh with its 'views'.
This article claimed that people who lived alone never took out the trash. They were easy to spot in the supermarket with their beers and TV dinners in their baskets. They had piles of laundry, but rather than do the washing they just bought more clothes. They grew to like their singular status after awhile but their life revolved around work, they were lonely and rarely had visitors and they mainly used TV and Internet as their form of entertainment.
I personally would love to invite the writer of this article round to my flat for dinner. I would cook them some of my homemade veggie lasagne and then offer a glass of wine. I would invite them to have a good look around at my little pad, and they will find that, no, they do not have to step over the mountains of mess. That, nope there isn't an overflowing bin in the corner. That, what a surprise, they don't have to hold their nose to hide the smell of the laundry that is growing by the day. And lo and behold, there isnt a tv dinner (or ready meal as we call it in Blighty) in sight. They would notice a clean, tidy, relitively well decorated flat that has the things I love in it, which is colour co-ordinated and a reflection of myself. Yes they would have to eat their freshly cooked dinner on my futon or armchair, as I don't have a dining table. They will also notice that my bed is in this room. This is because I live in a studio flat, and that is due to the inflation of costs which makes me unable to afford anything bigger. It is not because I am a lazy sod who cannot be bothered to move from room to room. Yes I live alone, but not because I am an anti-sociable freak, my diary will prove that, but because I was damned lucky to find an affordable studio which meant I didn't have to enter into a houseshare with a bunch of strangers. My fridge and freezer are well stocked with a wide variety of things. That yes, ok, I own a TV, and a computer, but my life in no way revolves around them. They would no doubt note that I don't own a washing machine, as we are not allowed them in our flats. But this in no way hinders my ability to get the washing done. He or she may try to strike a conversation about what has been on TV, and I would  have to tell them that I never watch soaps so couldn't even begin to say what was going on in Eastenders, that I have no clue who is in X-Factor, that I have never watched The Only Way Is Essex, and that I don't throw a hissy fit if I miss Location, Location, Location. I will most probably also be forced to appologise as my phone goes off. I do recieve texts, and more than the odd phonecall. It is actually probable that I had to put off a family member, or a friend, from coming round to enable the writer of the article to visit in the first place.

 I would be honest with this person and tell them that I found their article amusing, but also a little offensive, and I would be curious to where they got their inspiration from anyway. In my personal experience, and by drawing on that what I have found from people around me, be it friends, colleagues, whatever, this publication is such an inaccurate image of the single person today.
Ok there may be a weekend where us singles don't see a soul, but often this is a rarity, and it is craved as it has been a busy week at work, there have been full-on weekends before this, with seeing family and friends, social events and/or company coming in and out throughout the duration. The phone may be constantly bleeping or ringing, emails need reading, the overdue catch up with someone close is playing heavily on your mind. It can cause the old head to spin! A bit of solitude from time to time can be refreshing.

In my searches I also found the misconception that we are looking for love and in frantic search of our soulmate, whoever that may be. I stumbled across a blog where a man had written about his search for love and the trials and errors on the way. He had gone on to find someone who made him happy and  whom he said completed him as an individual. It was so sweet, but I found this a little sad.
Wow, that is one heck of a responsibility to place on another's shoulders? "Make me happy and complete me."
Surely you should be happy initially, and you already are a complete person yes?
 No?! Oh silly me! I'm obviously having a blonde moment again. Whoops, please forgive me eh?
I have always believed that you need those tools in your arsenal before you even begin to think of sharing your life with another person. Surely you need to be happy within yourself before you can give someone else happiness? You have to accept yourself, warts and all, before you accept another individual with all their flaws and foibles.
In my own experience, and in that of those I have found in my research, single does not equate desperate. Whilst one is in their singular status, they are not sat at home wallowing in grief and seaching through the Lonely Hearts Column in the local paper. Us singletons are not confined to weekends of TV dinners for one whilst talking to our cat (I personally don't have a cat, or any pet FYI). We are able to meet our own needs successfully (well most of the time) and although, yes, it is darned difficult when you watch all your peers pair off, get married, have babies etc whilst you have no-one to call out "Honey I'm home" to when you get in from a stressful day at work (especially when you have come out of an unsuccessful and painful relationship yourself) you can take comfort that you are capable, self sufficient and independant.  Even if this article was a tongue in cheek joke from start to finish, it wasn't really that funny. And the mere suggestion that we are contemplating jumping off the window ledge like as suggested at the end of of said article that inspired this post in the first place? Oh please?! As If!! That was the only part of the 'joke' that was so laughable I honestly almost wet my knickers!

Sunday, 4 September 2011

Someone To Look After Me?

This blogpost, unfortunately, has been inspired by a not too happy occurance this weekend. To put it bluntly, it was so stressful and at one point scary that I almost had a panic attack behind the wheel of my little car.
My brakes decided to almost pack up on the M25.
The weekend of 'The car drama' as it will now always be known, started with me walking back to said brum with good friend and colleague on friday evening after work. I was planning to go to my mums to collect some washing (can't have washing machines in the flats that me and said friend/colleague each reside in) and was looking forward to a saturday night of eating drinking and dancing with a few other friends/colleagues from where I work.
So can you imagine my utter anger when I returned to see that my wing mirror on the drivers side had been smashed to smitherines! This was not the first time it has happened, and to be presented with the prospect of driving thirty miles, on motorways and A-roads without apt vision was a scary thought.
Luckily, Halfords, which was approximately five miles away, and still open, managed to save the day, having a mirror in stock that I easily replaced and I was able to drive safely once more.
But little did I know that less than twenty four hours later it was about to get much worse.
I stayed at my mums house, had a glass of wine, then a restless nights sleep (wasps nest outside my old bedroom window does not a restful slumber make). I managed to sort out things that needed doing, driving the car to the various places without any hint of trouble with the brakes, then I set off back to my flat, mentally making plans for the evening ahead.
I hit the M25, thinking how relieved I was to have my wing mirror fixed, cheaply at that, and that my luck was genuinely good, when I applied the brakes to come off at the junction I needed. It was then that I heard the worst grinding ever coming from the front of the car so I turned off the stereo to listen as I continued driving, and the grinding got louder and louder. Panic started to set in and I drove with more caution and preyed I didn't have to perform any emergency stops. My brakes were no longer as efficient and I was seriously scared. I never heard grinding prior to this moment, and I swear I wasnt doing the 'putting it off hoping it would go away' routine that us women can be reputable for with our cars.
As by sheer luck I made it back, and got my car into the local KwikFit garage. I then handed over my credit card with the full knowledge that it was going to get a battering, but I no longer cared, my safety has been and will always be my main priority.
 I must have looked a state as I waited in the reception for the lowdown of what was wrong and how much etc, by the glances I was getting, when an older man who was also waiting said "Why don't you get your fella to sort all this out?" Looking back I didn't realise how aggressive I must have seemed, but I turned to him and said "I don't have one of those, I am single, and I live alone" practically glaring him out in the process.
I was hit with a wave of sadness then, that I don't have a man to 'look after me' and 'sort things out', and I walked back to my flat sans car and fighting back the tears.
It got me thinking about other situations that had occured previously in my life and I was not a happy bunny, I even started wondering what was wrong with me, feeling utterly sorry for myself (as well as my poor credit card) it was also a sobering thought that me and ' In The Red' will be companions for longer than I had planned.
But anyway, I picked up the now-fixed car, with a severly bent credit card and asked the mechanic for a breakdown of the costs (which he gladly gave, in print) and it was then that I noticed that there was a man in the reception with his wife, who also had brakes needing to be replaced.  He was, it can be said, in a similar state to what I was in, and it was reassuring to see that he was charged the exact same price, and was treated the exact same way as me (politely and with courtesy). This cheared me up somewhat. It then also occured to me that I had handled this, and many other situations, on my own, and had done it well. I didnt need to go running to someone else in my life and say "Sort this for me" and for that I was quite proud. It was also nice to know that the garage treated the genders equally (thankyou KwikFit!). So after this negative experience I was able to draw some positives, and it is good to know that when it comes down to it, I am perfectly able to look after myself. So it was with a happier heart that I was able to go out that night and really have a good time with some very good friends!

Thursday, 25 August 2011

Festival Chic?

Ok I dont know about you, But I am a regular festival attendee. Every year (bar 2010) I have pitched my blue flowery tent, dug out my wellies and graced the fields of Download and/or Sonisphere. I've done the camping, the sleepless nights, the dodgy festival food and the even worse dodgy festival toilets. Each year I swear it will be my last, but then the allure of good live bands, meeting new people and warm beer attracts me like an iron filing to a magnet.
But there is one thing I just don't get, It's Festival Chic! How on earth can you look like you have stumbled out of a fashion mag, when on average you have only one hours sleep a night, it usually pisses down with rain, and the only mirror you have is a compact job. Your means of washing comply of babywipes and/or bucket of cold water and when you are totally bursting and hungover, the bucket ends up as your toilet too, your whole complete portable bathroom in one!
 I must admit I appear to have got the whole getting dressed and application of  make up in tiny confined spaces down to a fine art, but I assure you, it has taken me five years of Festi attendance to achieve this, there is a method to it, but it also, I am sure, makes me look like I have completely lost the plot, putting on my clean knickers and then jeans, sprawled out on my back wriggling like an upturned beetle because I have no room to stand.
Then there is the make up. Foundation + Concealer stick + Mascara = Festival Must Haves if you want to emerge from your tent not looking like Rob Zombies future wife! Luckily a small compact mirror is all I need in this emergency, but it is a struggle with only a tiny circle reflecting your face.
And dont get me started on the hair! Dry shampoo becomes a 'Can't live without' necessity, and for a whole weekend my straighteners get a holiday! My comb gets pulled through my messy hair (after dancing and headbanging like a lunatic) and I wear a hat almost religeously to protect my locks from rain, sunburn and/or bottles of wee being thrown through the crowds (How old are they, really?!?)
I come home so filthy, so tired, and so happy to see my little clean, quiet, warm flat that I almost do a dance of joy on the spot. I swear to myself that, yes I am too old for this kind of caper, and that I should take up more age appropriate activities in the summer months. But I know, that come the new year, when the line ups start getting announced, I start to feel that itch, I start to crave the warm beer and the live music, and that as festival season approaches, I will pull out my much abused credit card and book a ticket! So if you are at Sonisphere or Download next year (will see nearer which one I book out of the two) look out for the fully made up woman with the messy hair, but on no occasion, if you stumble across my blue flowery tent, must you enter, my upturned beetle dressing routine is not a pretty sight I'm sure!

Wednesday, 6 July 2011

The Allure of the 'Odd' Man!

I went out with some girlfriends last saturday eve (plus one bloke, Boyfriend of one of said girls, can't leave him out now) to watch a tribute rock band at a local-ish haunt we frequent from time to time. A few drinks were consumed, but not too many, and we were looking forward to a good night out. We arrived full of trepidition, but were totally unaware that we were going to fall into the trap of 'That strange looking bloke that has something about him'
The man in question happened to be the lead singer of said tribute rock band. It is a very popular band they imitate, and due to the fact 'Odd Man' is married, I can't devulge what band it was. (Don't want his wife hunting me down and killing me because I found myself strangely attracted to her husband)
So anyways the band start playing, and initially we all thought "Yep, good, but they dont resemble the actual band in the slightest". It was a case that if you closed your eyes, you could almost kid yourself you were hearing the real deal. We watched the lead singer (who was also damn good at playing the guitar) with a fair amount of curiosity, as, amongst other things, he had red jeans on, and could pull some scary looking faces.
Now, in hindsight, I don't know if he pumped the room full of pheromones prior to performing, or if he managed to subtly hypnotise us all with his guitar playing, but as the evening wore on I found myself thinking "I like him!". And as it drew to an end I contemplated offering myself as his sex slave for the night.
I wasn't the only one.
 My friend, who is a huge fan of the band who the tribute was in honour of, told me "He scares me, But he is strangely attractive". I even caught my other friend, who was accompanied by her beloved, giving Mr Red Jeans Lead Singer furtive glances. But the best was a woman who was with her fella, (or maybe he was her F%*k Buddy or her gay friend that she likes to snog from time to time.) She started off with arms wrapped round her companion, but by the end of the night she was humping the speaker, making lewd suggestions with her bottle, and shouting "Shame!" when Mr Red Jeans casually dropped in that he was married. I took a few glances around the room and I saw another couple who, it seemed were not immune to the effects. The man appeared to be literally holding onto his woman for dear life, whilst she looked like she was hoping to escape his clutches due to being mesmerised by the pheromones filling the room.
So what is it about this man? This unusual creature with the scary expressions and the red jeans? I seriously have no idea! A male friend text me that night to ask how the band were, and my answer? "Good but bizarre". Obviously he wanted me to elaborate, and I had to be honest and say that he no doubt wouldn't have a clue what the hell I was on about. I suggested he go watch said tribute, but to keep an eye on the women, as it is us lot who are most affected. I will be curious to see what he thinks of them, and maybe if the pheromones are that potent, he may find himself doing lewd things with his bottle too!

Wednesday, 8 June 2011

Does Life Get Easier With Experience?

I am currently sat here, with a glass of wine in one hand, whilst furiously tapping on my laptop keys with the other, a tad bloated after a Chicken Korma, and I am mulling over this very question. My chillout playlist is playing in the background, and when the sun sets there is a huge possibility candles will be lit. And I find myself pondering, once again,  Does life, and the stuff it can throw at you, get easier, as you add more mileage to your internal clock?
In some ways, I suppose, yes it does. As you get older you find yourself being more honest to yourself about yourself, and you know that deep down, if others dont like it, then they are not worth your time or efforts. In my experience, this has come with age, and it as proved to be a very liberating thing.
 In my younger years I did a lot of, shall we call it, Shape Shifting, to fit in with others, and make them happy. So what is Shape Shifting, you ask? Ok I'll define it. Going to the places you know you hate, but you know your partner loves, especially if you suggest a place you love and they then loudly declare they "Wouldn't be seen dead in there". You then find yourself smiling at them and reassuring them that, yes you are having a good time, and their choice was good, when truth be told you are bored out of your mind and cant wait to go home. Then there is the wearing of the clothes that are not really your style so that you fit in with the ambience of the place you are appropriating (wearing my Led Zep top with denim miniskirt and Doc Martens in a family bar or restaurant, I think not!) I have spent the odd night out, frequenting places that are not my cup of tea, feeling as uncomfortable as anything, especially when heels went in the mix, I have never mastered the art of wearing those. And another shape shifting crime, finding yourself agreeing with your partner that their choice of restaurant is good, because they are fussy about where they eat, and only entertain certain places. Deep down, you know you would be happiest at the curry house with a beer. You gaze at the menu and prey that there will be something you like, and that when you do decide, the overall bill wont equate a mini mortgage and max out your overdraft.
 You may read this and think to yourself, wow what a weak woman! Maybe I was, I cant really say, in all honesty, that it wasnt the case when I was younger. Throughout life I put others first and I sometimes wondered where it got me. But I learned, and in the hard way, that my way of life had to change. So now I accept myself for who I am, and mainly only accept invitations that I want to attend. I wear the clothes that make me happy and my flat is filled with the things I love.
Another thing I have found gets a little easier with age, enjoying your own company, I often treat myself to a night in alone with wine and a movie, and I dont sit there wondering whats going on elsewhere!
So there's the easier stuff, but now lets wade through the stuff that doesnt get easier with time. Break ups, no matter how many you have been through, never get easier do they? Be it a choice that you have made, or a decision that has been inflicted on you, they still kill, they leave scars, shake you up, and make you question yourself and your beliefs.
And the dreaded hangover! I used to be Little Miss Never Get Em! But is that me now? Hell No! I've been known to be out of action for well over a day after a heavy one! Unable to open the curtains, unable to get dressed, barely able to speak! Little Miss Never Get Em has been laid to rest, and I mourn her often.
Right, the finale, here is the dreaded one, Smear Tests! I hate them, I loathe them, they are evil, but unfortunately they are a necessity. I have had the misfortune of the dreaded abnormal result, which has resulted in the even more dreaded colposcopy. Luckily no treatment was needed, but as a result, I now have to be checked every six months. I'd like to think that each time it gets easier, but it doesnt. I still panic. I always get told to relax and have to fight the urge not to scream back at the nurse in question. I still prey I wont fart, and I still find myself wearing my nice knickers so that the nurse wont think I am a scuzz. Maybe when I am in my forties I wont care, who knows, but at the moment it is all still mortifying! And guess what, tomorrow is the dreaded day I have another one of these evil things! I have to return to work after, so i cant have the luxury of downing a glass of wine beforehand. My workfriends have been warned that I may be a bit fragile when I return, and I plan to get home in the eve, run a nice candlelit bath and finish this bottle of wine I opened only awhile back and had one glass of tonight. So I will end this with wishing myself, and anyone else in my boat, good luck, and console myself with the knowledge that us women are the greater sex with what we have to put up with, and as I sit alone, I hold up my glass of wine and say cheers to us all (no doubt sounding like a nutter to my neighbour, but he is male and wouldnt understand anway, so sod him!)

Monday, 30 May 2011

Living alone in your thirties

Ok, this is my first attempt at a blog, and in it I am going to speak openly about being a single woman in my thirties. I dont have a husband, am not a divorcee, no significant other in my life at present, and I dont have any children. I can honestly say I am very happy with my life, well,  most of the time!
As it says in the song "Independant Women pt 1" by Destinys Child, It isnt easy being independant, especially when really, it goes against the norm. I have had many people ask me if I get lonely, do I bother cooking decent meals as its just me, do I have issues with men. And in answer to these questions, No I dont get lonely at all as I work fulltime, and try to see family and friends as much as I can. Yes I do bother cooking decent meals for myself because I enjoy cooking and like to try different foods. And when it comes to men, yes maybe I do have issues, connected to my past, but is a relationship really the be all and end all? I know these people mean well, and they are concerned about me, but sometimes it can make me question if I am a freak of nature or something.
I've found that the beauty of living alone is that you can really get to know who you are, without the intrusions and opinions of others. For me, it has been a real confidence booster that I desperately needed. There is nothing like being your own boss and being surrounded by your own things. I leave my flat in the morning to go to work, knowing full well it will be exactly as I left it when I return in the evening. Its nice to be able to watch what I want on tv (which to be honest, is not a lot, as I hardly have it on) listen to my music, cook the foods I enjoy and buy the things I like without having to worry about the needs of others.
If I feel like it, I can spend all day in my Pyjamas, I can take as long as I want in the bath, hell I can walk around naked and there is no-one there to grumble at me for doing so.
Its nice to be able to invite friends round, as I am determined not to be typecast a "loner", and I like to see my place as a little social haven where music plays and the wine flows. I want the people I love to feel welcome to come round and see me, as my little pad isnt a shrine, or a cocoon for just me. Its my home, and I'd like to think its a reflection of me as a person.
So, if you come across me, or a woman like me, who lives alone, please dont think we are unfortunate souls who have had to do this out of circumstance, I have done my research, and most of us choose to live this way! We are happy, we are independant, we are free. We may have come out of failed marriages and relationships, Or we may just want to have our own space, rather than stay in the family nest for as long as possible. There are many resons why women choose to live alone, and they are very good reasons, so please dont judge us, oh and if we are single, please dont try to 'set us up' with others, unless it is what we want. But do feel free to come and visit us, bring some wine, and have a good gossip with us, because it would mean so much! I think that, no matter what you're status is, married, single, with partner, without partner, parent, childless, whatever, you need to have friends!