Deal Breakers Pt.2

In my previous ‘Deal breakers’ post, I discussed a list of my big no-nos in terms of attraction. I tried not to be too harsh to men in the post but I can see how it could come across as men bashing. So I thought I’d write a little post in an attempt to prove that I’m not an angry feminist, or a feminist at all while we’re on the subject. In this post I’m going to attempt to write a list of things that initially attract me to men, or that I find important when dating. It was harder than I expected to write positives without just stating more negatives. I think this screams volumes as to just how much of a ‘Pessimistic Paula’ I really am. A lot of this is stating the obvious, but when I got to thinking about it, I like some really weird shit. Anyway, here goes…

1. Beards. I openly talk about my hatred for beards, I think they’re gross, dirty and I think it’s hard to see what a man looks like underneath them. Are they fat? Do they have a really pointy chin? Who knows? Nobody knows. Having said that, I must subconsciously like them because nearly every single man I have ended up with has had a beard and I still consider 50% of them reasonably attractive. So go figure.

2. Bums. I’ll admit that I am a gigantic pervert for a good bum. In the summer when men have their posteriors out on full view in all their glory, I eye them like a hawk. When I spot one I like, usually in my head I’ll say something pervy and/or pimpy such as ‘dat ass’ and nod my head at them in congratulations. It’s OK because they never see me do it as they’re not facing me.

3. Muscles. I don’t mean big scary hulk muscles, but a well toned man is very much preferred to a fat or skinny guy. I cannot think of a way to describe the perfect physice, but if you Google Jake Gyllenhaal circa Love & Other Drugs, Then that’s it. Perfection. Dayyyyyyyam

4. Compliments. Un-staged compliments are the best. Ladies, if you have a man who notices when you’ve had your hair done, then hold on to him tight, because in most scenarios you have to fully shave your head and perhaps etch a Nike swoosh into the back of your head and perhaps take all your clothes off before a lot of them will notice any change has occurred.

5. Manners. Opening doors, pulling out chairs yada, yada, that shit is nice. Also, carry our shit. We love it when you carry our shit for us. It probably goes back to 90’s high school films where the guy always carries a girls books to class for her. I don’t know why, but it’s good, so do that.

6. Cleanliness. mmmmmmmm clean.

7. Swimmers. I know this is really weird. But for some reason I’m really attracted to men who are good at swimming. It’s always been a thing and I think it stems from my lifelong disappointment in Mark Foster being gay. Or possibly from watching too much Baywatch as a child.

8. Interesting. I like to be shown new things, this could be music, places, Gin based beverages that I haven’t actually tried yet (as if). Think Aladdin when he took Princess Jasmine on the best date of all time, when he sung her ‘a whole new world’ and took her around the pyramids on a MAGIC CARPET. That’s the sort of vibe I like. So, err, good luck with that guys. No pressure.

9. Filth. I have a crude, disgusting, sick and politically incorrect sense of humour. A potential partner must also posses these qualities. In fact, I’d say it is the most important one on the list. I could never be with someone who is non-stop offended by me, also, down the line, how would I ever introduce them to my wildly inappropriate family. They would get eaten alive.

10. Dope Walk. A willingness to dance and embarrass themselves is high up there. Hip-hop, trap and garage are all genres that dancing to should be made compulsory. I’ll be disappointed if I don’t meet someone who will do ‘the worm’ on the dance floor at a function like a wedding or funeral party. In fact, I’m going to use this as my definitive measure of how I will know when I’ve met ‘the one’.

11. A love for 90’s & 00’s R&B. It’s not gay. If you’re not into it then how the hell are you going to cope with me singing Jagged Edge most mornings?

12. Using my name. One of the things Beyonce, Kelly, Michelle  and I can all agree on is the line ‘say my name, say my name’. It’s another one of my weird attractions, but when a man addresses me by actually using my name then that’s good. Perhaps that’s just because it clarify’s on a first date that he hasn’t instantly forgotten my name, like I most probably have his.

 13. Foreigners. This, like the beard thing must be a sub-concious thing. I don’t actively seek out men that don’t live in the UK or anywhere near London, but it always seems to happen. This most likely stems from commitment issues and seeking out unobtainable men. Good one Lex.

So if anyone knows any men with all of the above qualities, hook a sister up. Or alternatively if anyone can help me track down Jake Gyllenhaal then that would be splendid. I mean, LOOK at him.

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Dry Manuary

In my previous post I put forward my plan to give something up each month consecutively for a year.  This is my first follow up entry for January, a time where many people give up alcohol, in the name of ‘dry January’, I however went for a slightly different drought known as ‘dry MANuary’. That’s right, I decided to start the first of 12 months of ‘going without’ by actually going without. The rules were as follows, No dates and no ‘adult sleepovers’ or any of the activities that might happen during said sleepovers, but the biggest rule was that I couldn’t let on to any men what I was doing. I didn’t want to turn into the object of someone’s game of chase, nor the main feature of a bet amongst mates in the pub, ergh, not cool.

I started off by deleting both of the dating apps I frequent ‘Happn’ and ‘Tinder’. For about a week, I’m ashamed to say it but I felt a bit lost. All the times sat waiting at the train station, waiting to meet friends, waiting for the kettle to boil, my poor thumbs didn’t know what to do with themselves.   I quickly nipped this habit in the bud by going way, way back to the old school by compulsively playing minesweeper and solitaire on my phone, Windows ’97 style. It’s really sad that I had to go to such a measure, but I did and it worked. So judge away.

January was a blast, I did a lot of drinking, mostly with my best female friends whilst listening to a hell of a lot of ‘IDFWU’ (for my white married friends, this is an abbreviation of a song called ‘I don’t fuck with you’, give it a listen, it’s a game changer and will make you feel full of sass.) and  taking on that general vibe as my attitude to life. I was on fire, I was having the best time and the only men I was relying on were the bartenders responsible for my supply of gin and my uber drivers. As a result, I’ve found that not all men are sex-crazed monsters, some are actually gentlemen (rare) and some are actually interesting to talk to (extremely rare).

On a serious note, I do think I learnt a lot from my dry ‘Manuary’ experience. Firstly I learnt to stop giving my phone number out to anyone who asks. I usually use this as a tactic to encourage men to leave me alone, thinking they are safe in the knowledge I will contact them the next day (never), therefore easing off and not creeping too hard in the bar I’m trying to enjoy myself in. However, I didn’t feel it was fair to give out my number during my dry streak, and a few short ‘no you cannot have my number because I don’t want to give it to you’s later everything was A-OK, it wasn’t that hard. Which kind of brings me to my next point.

Learning to say ‘No.’   That statement sounds a lot more serious and dramatic/Grange Hill esque then intended. What I’m trying to explain is my complete inability to say ‘thanks, but no thanks’ to men when they ask me to go for a drink/dinner/dry ski slope tobogganing/to an owl sanctuary (all amazing date ideas BTW).

Quite often, just because they haven’t done anything douchey I will agree to a date, even if I’m not even remotely attracted/interested in them. It’s as if I feel they have to do something wrong for me to have an excuse not to go on a date with them. What’s wrong with the good old fashioned let down? Why do I and thousands of other women let men we’re not half bothered about pester us into dates and giving them our phone numbers, just because we don’t want to feel like we’re being a bitch or have a ‘valid’ excuse not to? Ultimately we’ll par them off anyway so isn’t it just better to nip it in the bud? I would sure as hell respect that treatment from a chap. Plus, I’ve landed myself in some shit storms with men I’ve strung along in the past. For example I shall quote the final of a whole series of voicemails I received from one particular pest I met on the train;

‘Why would you give me your number then not contact me back? I just think it’s rude… well you must be init ‘.

The rest of the voicemails really were hilarious and made for great listening, and if I hadn’t received them from some jumped up rude boy then I would have felt bad and taken what he had to say seriously. And that’s the point, It is rude to string men along or show false interest and I shouldn’t do it. (Also, guys, don’t make us feel like we have to when we’re clearly giving you ‘fuck off’ vibes). So now I don’t and it’s a change I’m happy to uphold. No string along zone,  girl power etc etc.

I also haven’t gone back on any dating apps or sites, I really don’t think I can stomach any more unwarranted ‘dick pics’ being sent to me from shady men, I’ve had enough of those revolting shockers to last me a lifetime. I also have found a new happiness in myself and think I’m worth slightly more than having someone judge me on five photos and a sentence long bio before deciding to inevitably ‘swipe left’.

I really recommend giving up on men for just a short time to any single ladies who read this. There’s much more (gin) out there to enjoy and I grantee you’ll come out on top.

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12 Months of Self Control

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I’n not religious, I have no obligation to fast during Ramadan, nor do feel the need to give up something for Lent. But for some reason around Christmas time whilst reflecting upon the previous year as we all do, I started thinking about the new year and what I wanted to do with 2015. At first I envisioned going on 10 holidays, winning the lottery and buying myself and my Bestest Baddest Betch (BBB) an insane mansion, not dissimilar to Barbie’s Dream House. Having snapped out of my day dream I decided to set some realistic goals. Something slightly more memorable and worthwhile than a sloppy New Years Resolution that will inevitably get forgotten about mid-March if I was lucky.

Here’s what I came up with;

For each month of 2015 I am going to attempt to either give something up/ attempt a personal challenge. As soon as the month is over, *poof* slate wiped clean, move onto next challenge and evaluate/blog my findings. Why? I have no idea, I guess I’m bored and fancy carrying out a mini social experiment of myself. Me, myself and my very own lab rat (Because who doesn’t love a desperate attempt to slot in a loose Beyoncé reference?). Either way, the fact that I didn’t get round to typing this up until 10th Febuary is not the point, perhaps one of my monthly challenges will be to not be so bloody tardy.

A few of my habits and vices you should get to know; Chocolate, dating, spending money I don’t have, smoking, bread, anything peanut based and heroin. They’re mainly food based because inside I have the heart of Augustus Gloop, except the heroin one, the heroin one isn’t real, but I really like Trainspotting?

People who know me best, I will be calling on you to make some non food based suggestions. Just to clarify as a pre-warning, before everyone jumps on me and tries to suggests it, I absolutely will not give up Gin for any of the twelve months. It goes against my core beliefs and I would rather cut off my right arm. Gin is the glue that holds my whole persona together. None of this ‘dry January’ nonsense for me, thanks.

So who knows? Maybe I will learn something, gain some much needed will power or self control? Maybe it will just be a really boring waste of my time? Maybe I’m just being unrealistic and setting myself up for a fail? With the latter being the more likely option. I’ll give it a shot and let you know. Seeing as it’s already February, I’ll give you a spoiler alert for January’s challenge. I attempted to give up men.

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3 reasons why I’ve decided to start ‘blogging’.

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1.  Somewhere to dump my thoughts

I am by no stretch of the imagination a writer and have no aspirations for anyone to take this seriously. However I’m painfully aware  that I post far too many status’ on facebook, cluttering people’s news feed like it’s going out of fashion, it’s getting out of hand. I also can’t seem to condense my thought’s into anything under 140 characters. So that explains my uneventful twitter page. In other words, I really need to stop being that girl who posts too many pictures of her dog and opinions on social media when drunk thinking that anyone cares. They don’t.

What better way to stop this tomfoolery then by posting on a site that people aren’t forced to look at. Granted, I could write a diary, but my mum would only read it and suggest I get counselling, because I once again LIVE WITH MY PARENTS. Nice and cosy in a land where privacy and personal space do not co-exist (a pain felt only too much by a sea of twenty something post-graduates).

Think of this as my selectively honest open diary full of artistic licensing for entertainment value. Or to quote Bridesmaids “A very sad handwritten book.”(that I typed up)

2.’You should write a book.’

Recently, and I have no idea why, people keep telling me that I should write a book. Perhaps that’s because all my friends and colleagues seem to be either married or in long term relationships and find my life entertaining, like watching monkeys at the zoo.

Shock horror, I’m single, I know, that’s a pretty ridiculous revelation. but since I’ve been flying solo my life has been a series of amazing, hilarious and life changing decisions and experiences. Apparently, it would seem getting your heart broken and having the opportunity to indulge in being truly selfish for the first time makes for some fantastic character building.  So this blog is dedicated to all my married friends with kids that can’t justify drinking gin until 4am on a Sunday evening/morning, whilst singing and dancing along  to ‘Fergalicious’, dressed in panda pyjamas, just because they can. Oh and also the one and only friend who also partakes in those sort of activities with me. I won’t name her because it’s highly likely that unlike me, she will be some sort of high profile public figure one day with a reputation to uphold. So yeah, here’s my blog, sorry it’s not a full blown book, but realistically I will never have the attention span nor the intellect to write more than one paragraph in an hour and quite frankly I can’t be bothered.

<Follow my blog with Bloglovinstrong>3. Why not.

I might as well jump on the bandwagon and write something with the assumption that anyone actually cares about what I have to say.

If you made it this far, thank you for not falling asleep.