My Single self

It is now that I must admit that I have finally gained myself a boyfriend. I never went on a wild manhunt, or waded through the whole single girl regime that presents itself in the form of speed dating or internet hook-ups to find him, it just seems that he stumbled upon my path at the right (or wrong, depending on how you look at it) time. The unfortunate soul that is now in my life happens to have the same taste in music as me and also resides in the same block of flats. It now seems almost inevitable that our paths would cross at some point, and that somehow the fuse to our fireworks would eventually ignite...
But please be rest assured that this is not a blog-post harping on about the joys of new found love. You, I, and said boyfriend in question should know by now that is not the sort of woman I am. I'm not going to spring forth with tales of flowers, soul mates and 'Happy ever afters'  because if I did that, I know that I will vomit myself, so I do not want to induce the upchucks on anyone else who may stumble across my writings. I am not a fairy-tale believer who thinks that a person is not complete without their 'other half' nor am I a merchant who buys into the whole 'The grass is greener' stereotype.

Now that my fella is present in my life, I can honestly say that I can no longer imagine what my life would be like without him in it, I wouldn't want to lose him and I can only hope he wouldn't want to lose me either. But that does in no way mean that my single self does not pop up to haunt me from time to time.

She is like a ghost of me who wears all my skimpy clothes and dons the kind of shoes that would make a hooker jealous.

On rare and unexpected times she whispers in my ear and it drives me crazy.

This saturday night that has just gone by is one of those occasions where she has tried to remind me that although she is virtually non existant now, she will never disappear completely from my life.
 She's been a part of me for so long that it would seem almost cruel to send her packing to the spinsterhood where the other ghosts of single women reside. But to be fair I just wish she would pick her haunting times more wisely, like when I am asleep, or when I am browsing in Ann Summers for toys or outfits. I wish that she and her little toolkit would return to their resting place when I go out with my gorgeous single girlfriends for a few drinks and a dance at the local club. And I can only hope that when a young male hottie hits on all of us that she will stay in her resting place and automatically go on mute. I wish that she wouldn't remind me that if said boyfriend had bailed out on the night (like he almost did) that we got together, he would have ended on a seperate path to mine, and then, as a result, the young male hottie may have ended up spending the night at my pad, but not getting any sleep if you catch my drift. I wish she wouldn't give me flashbacks of encounters long gone and I wish she wouldn't insist on reminding me that I have a much more colorful past than my fella which may make him question what the hell he is doing with me in the first place.

But she does insist on haunting me, and reminding me of a past existence that was once mine. She will lurk, and whisper and convince me to wear those heels that kill my feet. She points at all the low cut tops and plays the songs I used to listen to on repeat when I was alone. She wakes me up in the dead of night to remind me of what I have achieved and what I have gained whilst she ruled my world. She tells me that no matter what I will always survive and that I can count on her, as to be fair she is me, boyfriend or not. So I owe her an awful lot and have to forgive her for her little whisperings and clothing/shoe choices. I have, as a result, made the decision not to ignore her entirely, but to instead pass her words onto others. So if I am out with you one night and a young male hottie hits on you, don't be surprised if I tell you to 'Give him one for me', just like I did to one of my single counterparts this saturday (she didn't, in the end, 'give him one', this time, but who knows next time). It will be my single self talking, and although I can't take her advice personally anymore, as she's already finished with me, that does not mean she has to go on mute and in anyway finished with you lot. So all I can say is long may she haunt me and whisper 'Give him one for me' so that I can pass it on to others.

Peace

I like everything, me!

I am very passionate about music. If it wasn't present in my day to day life I would be a very unhappy person indeed. My existence would be dull and grey, and my happy persona would disappear in an instant.
I have certain types of music I listen to when I  relax, music I play when I am cooking, certain tunes I blast when the girls come round, and songs I attempt to warble to when I am getting ready for a night out.
Myself and many others can definitely be heard saying that we have mood music for when we are happy, sad, angry or even in the throes of passion. I have even had people say that they will listen to music to bring about a mood of happiness or even sadness at times. Music can bring back happy memories, or remind us of a time or a person we would rather forget. Music can be a very powerful tool and it can either send out a message of love or a message of vengeance and hate. If you, like me, are passionate about music, then I am sure you will understand exactly what I am saying here.


Unfortunately though, I have a pet hate. And that pet hate? People telling me that they like everything. Seriously, if you ever meet me and we end up discussing music (which we will inevitably do) I will be honest and tell you that I love music such as rock, metal, indie, punk and brit pop. I can almost tolerate R&B, don't mind a bit of pop occasionally. Am partial to a bit of jazz from time to time. I do not like music of the garage, hip hop or drum and bass genre, and can't say I have even tried classical, opera or country.
 So when we do get chatting, please don't tell me that you like everything, because that, my friends, is impossible. If you do say that I am likely to ask you if you fancy a bit of Slipknot (one of my top bands) or are partial to a bit of Barry Manilow (one of my Aunts favourite artists) It is very unlikely that a person will have both Iowa and Manilow Magic in their cd collection. The genres of music are vast, and the spectrum is like a rainbow of all the colours and shades in our world. I would bet my last penny that a person would not listen to a track by Rob Zombie then slap on a song containing the dulcet tones of Sir Cliff Richard. An individual will not surely have a touch of Hip Hop and a dash of Modern Jazz on their I-tunes collection. They won't tap their foot to Johnny Cash then wax lyrical about their love for Girls Aloud. 
So if and when we do meet, and I ask you what music you like, tell me honestly, because I like to hear the reasons behind why you like what you like. What makes that track or album your most played. A person passionate about music likes to find others who feel the same way, someone who is happy to go to a music fair and wade through all the cds, someone who has vinyl and limited editions, someone who can tell a story about their choices. It doesn't matter to me if your tastes are poles apart from mine, as life would be boring if we were all the same, it just matters if you tell me that you like everything, because if you do, it is likely I will ask the dj for some Metallica or go to the juke box and fill the room with the soulful sounds of Megadeth followed with some bangin' Motown.


Peace

Be yourself. Well who else can you be?

I have always been one of these people who is not happy with what they see in the mirror, I have wished to be thinner, have smaller breasts, longer legs, firm abs, thicker hair....the list is endless. My tastes in music and the like don't generally conform to popular culture, and my dress sense usually reflects this. I am not one of those women who melts into a pile of goo when walking past a wedding dress shop, and I do not dream of the day I will be tripping down the aisle myself. 
I work with children, which is rewarding but exausting, so as you can imagine, I am not a big bundle of broodiness.  I generally don't embrace all things girly and I suppose I can be seen as an oddbod. 
I used to hate the fact that I didn't feel like I fitted in with the trends, I wished that The Fairy Of Normality would visit me whilst I was asleep and wave her magic wand. I wished I would become one of those girls who loved all things pink and who liked the music that could be heard blasting out of the local nightclubs and bars. A woman who went out in dresses that reflected her femininity, who could totter in sandals, and who constantly checked her make up for any smudges. But in truth this is so far away from who I am that it is almost funny, I hate pink and I love heavy metal music. I can end up looking like Alice Cooper at the end of a good night out and my hair is usually stuck to my face. My attire mostly involves denim skirts or jeans with vest tops or band tee's. Doc Martens, Converses, Vanns and lately Iron Fist heels adorn my feet and usually there is something with a skull design somewhere about my person. 
I have tried to conform so that I blended in with the crowd, and I tried to kid myself that deep down I was happy when doing so, but in truth I wasn't happy, and as a result I was lying to the one person who will always be there no matter what happens, myself. So in the end I decided that I had to be true, and accept who I was warts and all. It was no use wishing that I could swap bodies with someone else, as it was a waste of energy as well as time doing this. So now I accept myself with all my flaws (and trust me there are more than a few) and appreciate what I have. I no longer wish I could be normal, because if I was normal I wouldn't be me. I often make mistakes, can be stupid, sometimes forget things and can be a little nutty, but I'm human and lets be fair, nobody on this earth is perfect. I'd like to think that I love with all my soul and I am generally an honest person. My loved ones mean the world to me, and although I don't always show it, I know my life would be the pits without them. In life I generally give 100% of my efforts, and I don't give up without a fight. If you are an important person in my life I guarantee I will have your back and I will believe in you no matter what. 
 I wouldn't say I was hugely confident or that I love myself and my life, but I now realise that as well as my faults I also have some good qualities thrown in. The whole bundle makes me who I am and I have accepted that I cannot change that. I surround myself with those who accept me as I am, and I in turn accept them as they are. There is enough fakery out there already, don't you think, so lets not add any more to it hey?



 Peace

Grow some balls????? Don't make me laugh!

If I've heard someone use the expression "Grow some balls" once, I've heard it a million times. If I got a pound for every single time I heard the phrase "Man up" I would be a rich woman. If I hear someone else sing "Do it like a dude" I think I may combust with laughter. I am going to throw the cat amongst the perverbial pigeons by saying that these statuses need re-writing, that they are quite frankly a load of old tosh.

Now please be reassured that I am not a man hater who fantasises about going on a frantic male murdering spree. I do not bat for the other team. I do not wish that I could live on a female populated island (well, not often) where males are killed at birth, and nor do I hope that my fella will wake up one morning having undergone a sex change operation in his sleep. This post is not another I hate men mega rant and it's not an attack at the other gender, but it is a status that shouts from the rooftops that women are by far the most resiliant sex.

Ok, I hear you ask, What makes you say this? Well, what happens when a woman gets sick? She gets on with it, she marches through the storm. What happens when a man gets sick? He pretty much dies, and stays in bed with a woe-is-me expression on his face. Which sex goes through the monthly pain of the period drama? Who then goes through pregnancy, usually whilst still holding down a job and running a home, and who gives birth at the end of the said pregnancy then is released from hospital the same day and sent home to get on with it? Men? Oh please? We would be extinct if that was the case.
I am not accusing men of being weak useless souls, nor am I questioning their greater physical strength ( I have occasionally got a said male to carry my shopping home after hitting Sainsbury) but I am heartily sick of hearing the above expressions muttered when a woman occasionally lets her emotions get the better of her. Are we often heard telling our woebegone male counterparts that they should grow some breasts or maybe even a vagina? Of course not! And the reason for this? If they did grow some boobs and a lady garden we would never see them. They would spend three weeks in bed playing with themselves endlessly, then the forth week would be spent still in bed groaning from the inevitable period pains that would follow. They could never figure out the art of putting on a bra, and they would never survive five minutes in heels. They would poke out their eyes when applying mascara, and would never dream of getting their eyebrows threaded. So next time you find yourself wanting to shout the expression "Grow some balls" to someone who is a bit flimsy, stop, think and re-phrase it to "Grow a vagina" Because only then it will then hold some truth.

Peace (To men as well as women)

You don't need to join a gym!

I have recently joined a gym in my local area. It has been on my mind to restart this hobby for quite some time. I used to go with friends when I lived with my mum, and I sometimes also went with my ex when I lived with him. I have made life long friends through the gym and working out had been a big part of my life for quite some time. So  when I decided to get a place of my own, knocking the gym felt like quite a blow. It was an obvious necessity that had to be made, as cutbacks are part of the deal of solo living, but trust me, it was not an easy decision for me to make. So imagine my delight when I found an affordable gym in my area. I joined without a hint of uncertainty, bought a new kit and hit the treadmill with my ipod blaring. But by being open about this, I didn't realise the reactions I would get. I have had more than the occasional well meaning tutts, the shaking of the heads and the woe be gone looks of some of those around me. Someone then said to me that I didn't need to join a gym, and I know they meant it as a compliment, but in honesty it made me quite angry! So it's here that I want to point out that yes, ok, I can fit comfortably into a size 10 pair of jeans, but that does not mean I am in love with my body. I want to clear up that I am not joining the gym because I want to become a skinny mini who has to use a belt to hold up her size 8's. Nor do I want to become a bicep queen. I decided to join a gym because I enjoy it, I also want to make the most of the health benefits by being fitter and more toned.
Surely it is a better hobby than drinking my body weight in beer, or working my way through the local take away menu. I am not going to get fitter by sitting on my backside watching the box, nor will my strength improve by lifting a mug of tea throughout the day. I want to join a gym because, quite frankly, I don't want to watch what I eat. I'd hate to deprive myself of that bar of chocolate or glass of wine for fear it will sit on my hips or stomach for the next decade. I am quite an indulgent character who likes her food and drink, and if I had to cut this out, I would become a moody moo! Going to the gym allows me to treat myself on more than the rare occasion, and it keeps the guilt at bay if I have a pig out. Working on my fitness levels helps me keep my asthma in check, and it helps with my stress levels too. Joining a gym has had many benefits, and they are not just the usual weight loss ones. So if someone you know announces they have joined, I am sure they would rather have your support than be given the third degree. And if you are joining a gym yourself, maybe I will see you on the treadmills or at the weights, but there is a chance I won't hear you approach me, as my ipod will be blaring.

Dancing with destiny

Do you believe in destiny? Things happening for a reason? Is there a path set out for us from the moment we are born? Or is life just a phase of random choices?
I am a true believer in destiny, especially after the year of 2008 where my life changed completely. Had I have known at the time that my life would take on so many twists and turns, maybe I would have been more cautious in my decision making. But looking back, I regret nothing, and I firmly believe that what happened had to happen, exactly as it did, for me to end up where I am right now.

I think of mistakes in the past (and trust me I have made a few) and I think of losses. Dreams being shattered around my feet, promises being broken, feelings being trampled on without any thought of the consequences, and it makes me appreciate the good things in my life. It's a bitter pill to swallow when one realises that the things that shape your present and future include the bad stuff of the past that you may wish never happened. But as I said, I never look back and regret, nor do I hark back to times before and wish I was back there, you cannot change the past or relive it, so I just accept my history for what it is and live in the present.
But wouldn't it be interesting if life could go all Sliding Doors, the movie with Gwyneth Paltrow that was made a few years back? Imagine if you missed the perverbial train? Where would I be right now had the 2008 incident not happened? Interesting question hey? Where would you be right now, had the events that changed your life had never occured at all? It would be fascinating to watch wouldn't it? A personal movie of your alternate life. I know I wouldn't be able to resist having a peek at a version of myself in an alternate reality where me and a certain other had never have met. Where would I be? Who would I be? What would I be doing? It's a sad conclusion that the answers to those questions most probably wouldn't amount to much, and that I would still be the soft touch that I was in my younger years. But I don't dwell on this fact as it is not who I am right now, and I am certain it will never be me again. I am pretty sure that the good friends that I made along the way would still be there, but I can also quite imagine the not so good ones that in this life didn't last, plus a few other new 'not so goods', would be added to the mix.

It's interesting also, because I have made some newer friends recently, ones who I could now never imagine my life being without. A couple of them have said to me that they wish that we had met sooner, but I always tell them that we were not destined to meet sooner, as maybe the lives we led back then didn't give us the common ground that we have now. Destiny played a part in our paths crossing, and due to that, we met when we were meant to meet, exactly how we were meant to meet. It makes me think of the people that faded, or drastically exited out of my life, and again it makes me realise that maybe they were only meant to play a small part. We all have had those people in our existance, the ones that drift in and back out, or leave with such a huge explosion that it takes awhile to clear up the mess. But it's worth thinking that those individuals most probably just have a different destiny to us, and that maybe they have no part in our happier future. Surely it is better to let them go, as maybe they are so different, or so opposed to the way we live our lives, that it would be detrimental to cling on to them in a false hope. Maybe they will return, but maybe they won't, and who knows who we will meet along the way. Without sounding too corny, I believe that after letting go, you can bet that something better will come along that will give new purpose. And from what I have seen in life, this statement usually seems to be true.
Looking at this also makes me realise that life is too short for the 'What if's?' that we are all guilty of contemplating. "What if we had got together?" "What if we had made it work?" "What if I had said what I wanted to really say?" Think about it, what if you were never meant to know the answers to these questions? Or what if you did find the answers and they didn't make things any better. Is it really worth torturing yourself with the "What if's?" in the belief they are the key to a happier you. I honestly don't think so, not anymore, and this in turn has lead me to a path of acceptance, that of myself, of others, and of life, and I sincerely hope that you agree with me on this subject.

Peace

The curse of the booty call!

I have been writing this blog for quite a few months now and always try to be honest about who I am. I never pretend to be something I am not and will always be open, well to a point that is, there are some places I will never go to for obvious reasons. I am no angel, and I never proclaim to be. Admittedly I am no sinner either. Compared to some people I know, my image is squeaky clean, but then compared to others I am a bit of a harlot. There is no shame in being either active or inactive, and I will never judge a person by the notches or the lack of that are adorned on their bedpost. My past has ghosts of ex boyfriends, but there are also some other, shall we say, indescretions that are present in the graveyard of the history of me. Every person has baggage of some sort, but the size of the case varies from person to person, right?

In this post I am going to look at the elusive F.W.B. I am sure you know what I mean, yes? You know what it stands for surely....Friend With Benefits.
I am not harping on about the woman with the generous credit card, or the chum that lets you raid her wardrobe, I am also not waxing lyrical about the girl who lets you practically live at her place for free. Nope, I am talking about the F.W.B of the male variety, or the Booty Call as he can otherwise be known. The man that was a date, or maybe he wasn't a date, the one who you 'hook up' with from time to time when you are single and the mood suits. It is here I will discuss the pros and cons of having one and I will be as honest as I can without leaving my soul totally bare.
 I won't lie now, I have a little background information on having a F.W.B and I am not ashamed of it, as at the time it was fun. I know many others who have also had a Booty Caller, and they have told me that there were no regrets. But if you never have had one before, and are contemplating jumping on the F.W.B saddle, you need to know what you are getting into, and your heart needs to stay firmly in your chest. You can't even begin to think about it turning into the next great love of your life, because in reality, it rarely becomes this. Booty calls are good for scratching the so-called itch, and they can be a good ego boost when you are feeling a bit blagh, but if you think you are going to start imagining what your babies will look like, and you start humming the wedding march when you see this man next, then walk away, fast, or it will only end in tears, and the wet tissues will be yours, not his.

There is another thing with the booty call that may rear its ugly head, as I have found out recently. If, like in my case, the F.W.B you once had disappears from the radar, you generally get on with your life, move on and think Cest Le Vie. You lay his poor distant soul to rest with all the ex boyfriends and old dates etc that litter your past and you leave him there, under a stone marked with "fun times".
So what happens when one returns from the dead to haunt you again months later? When, as you drift off to sleep, your phone vibrates with a "How are you baby?" text.
 You had consigned this man to the bargain bin for some other girl to pick up, and had never even thought that he may want to come out to play for old times sake. This happened to me the other day and I was completely baffled by it! I decided to play it cool and treat him like an old mate, but it was difficult when in the past we were not 'old mates' at all. I responded with a "Great thanks" but part of me wanted to reply to his text with "Why what are you expecting, that we can pick up from where we left off?" Was he really thinking that I hadn't moved on since him.
It got me wondering, do men like this believe we just go on stand-by when they depart our shores, that we just wait, on hold, for them to, erm, turn us on again. Are they that delusional? Well, I'm sorry to point out the obvious, Mr F.W.B, but if that is how you saw me, well you were a tad mistaken.
 I also want to point out here that I have seen this guys latest profile picture on facebook recently (the profile which allegedly had a "virus" and needed to be deleted) I am really betting that is not the mans sister pressed up next to him grinning from ear to ear. I am also betting that the pic he once sent me was not viewed by me and me alone. I am no idealist, I really do not need that big fat dose of reality without the sugar coating to know what a booty call is. I have no illusions that I was the only one in this mans life. But it seems to this fella that I was just sat there waiting for him to get in contact again, so it's right here and right now that I will take a pin to that little bubble and burst it. He will remain in the graveyard of the history of me forever more, under the stone marked "fun times" where he belongs. No regrets, no shame, but no seances to resurrect old ghosts either. He had his chance, he blew it.

So I will end now with a message to all of you out there who are contemplating the F.W.B, or are currently in a situation with one. Enjoy it my friends and have a good time. But, please be safe, and see it for what it really is. Don't make me come round there with that big fat dose of reality without the sugar coating on it that will make you open your eyes. I hate taking medicine myself, so I don't exactly relish the thought of forcing it down someone elses throat for their own good. Be real, have fun with it, and have no regrets, and when you are done with him just grab that stone marked "fun times" and move on. No seances needed. And if he returns to haunt, hit delete, he had his chance already.

T.T.F.N (Ta ta for now)
Peace