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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Chocolate

As part of my ’12 months of self control’ project, I decided to give up chocolate for a month. Naturally I picked February to attempt this, what with it being the shortest month, I know, bloody genius. The main reason for doing this was because I am a chocoholic, and I do not use the term lightly. Big Goose (my Mother) bought it to my attention that we quite easily see away 800-1000 calories of chocolate on an average day. This was quite alarming. We have a problem.

I’ve always had a rocky relationship with chocolate based foods. Much like a smoker, I will go to the petrol station, have a word with myself beforehand about not buying any chocolate, “Get the Petrol then GTFO, Lexy you can do this”. Flash forward five minutes and I’m sitting in my car, full to the brim with  shame after scoffing two boost bars in a blind episode. See, I told you I had a problem.

I’ve always assumed that chocolate didn’t make me put on weight, growing up I pretty much refused to eat anything that wasn’t chocolate (or burnt Birds Eye Chicken Char-grills and Quavers for some reason). But anyway, I had the appearance of a girl with some sort of serious eating disorder and considering I used to sit in bed and shovel away multi packs of KitKats and Gold bars into my gob after I thought everyone was asleep, my figure was a misrepresentation of the amount of calories I packed away. So That’s how I figured, like an idiot, that chocolate didn’t do anything to my weight, right? Wrong. In the first 10 days I lost a staggering 6lb. I’m not a big girl, I don’t really have that kind of weight to spare. So that was a shock.

The weight soon got replaced, I had a full withdrawal from chocolate, headaches, foot tapping, anger, irritability and the inability to think about anything but the thought of sweet, beautiful chocolate melting in my mouth.  The only way to stop thinking about it was by eating pretty much everything and anything else. The carbo-load of the century was in full swing.

The top three worst moments were as follows;

1. Every single damn time I drove past this poster:

acde5e1446c96bd846c3d75913039ba0 it was like it was laughing at me, tempting me to pull in to the nearest BP garage and buy all the Easter goods. That shit shouldn’t have even be in the shop yet? It was FEBRUARY!

2. The time I bought a Mocha by accident one morning at college. I took one sip, then poured it down the sink along with little pieces of my heart.

3. The time the ‘fat bird’ (her words not mine, I’m not being mean, she’s pregnant & she asked me to write that) from work ate Rolos in front of me and I tried not to weep.

All in all I’ve learnt that without chocolate I’m a miserable cow. I need it to get me through long days at work, and evenings spent in bed with my other half (Netflix). The cravings never went away, but I didn’t relent, which is the most amount of  will power I’ve ever mustered and for that I am truly proud. Go me! However due to my dramatic initial weight loss I now see that chocolate does indeed contribute to my weight, so maybe I’ll try and cut down? Having said that, on my first day of freedom I went out and purchased this;

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I’ll allow you to speculate as to how the ‘cutting down’ goes.

Shame Sunday


Hangovers are diverse and, like snowflakes, each one is unique. Only one thing is for certain, They occur every Sunday and in my experience fit into 6 categories.

1. Food Poisoning

When you wake up with cold sweats and a pounding headache, followed by intervals of projectile vomiting for the remainder of the day. You will live in the bathroom and become acquainted with the toilet bowl and the feeling of the cool tiled floor on your face. Hell, you might even drag your duvet in there with you. If you manage to stand up, you’ll take a long hard look at yourself and proclaim to never drink again (really though?). Friends will text, you won’t respond, because you can’t face the glare of the screen on your iPhone. To let your friends know you’re alive, you’ll send a snapchat, complete with remnants of last nights make up, matted greasy hair and head in hand. This simple gesture is enough to let your friends know you got home OK, you’re alive and that you literally can’t even…

2. Food Binging

You are crazed with the need to engulf all edible materials in sight. You will fantasize about McDonalds and pray for the moment that you’re sober enough to drive to the nearest drive-thru to catch yourself a big mac meal and chicken nuggets, even though you probably ate a subway less than 5 hours previous. An example of the last time I felt like this was last Sunday, me and my friends sat in bed frantically googling Gregg’s opening times. It was a matter of urgency, I needed a sausage, cheese and bean melt pronto. How else was I going to make it back home from Fulham without taking a chunk out of a fellow train passenger’s arm.

3. Extreme Thirst

Pretty much the same scenario as food binging but in it’s liquid form. You need ALL of the water. You have an unquenchable thirst, you panic, you want a pint of orange juice, or water, or milk? you just don’t know but nothing is helping. Everything seems like a good idea at first but after a few sips you just feel sick. I remember when I got hit by a thirst frenzy, It was my first year in uni, I walked through all the kitchens in my halls, stealing all the non alcoholic beverages out of peoples fridges that I could get my hands on. I sat on the floor in my room, taking sips out of various mugs, glasses, cartons and tins, among them, milk, tea, Capri suns, Ribena, coke and water. I looked like the freaky little girl from Signs. If anyone had of walked in, they would have referred me to an institution for what seemed like a manic episode.

4. Blackout

You wake up in a blind panic. Where are you? What happened last night? If you have no memory of what happened, then surely you were so drunk that you had no control over your crazy female demons. Likely scenarios from your night out;

  • You contacted your ex.
  • Messaged your hookup piece expressing feelings, that in the cold light of day, you don’t actually mean
  • Argued with a taxi driver
  • Offended a friend
  • Had a deep and meaningful with a toilet attendant
  • Embarrassed yourself on social media
  • Got off with someone grotesque
  • Rinsed Snapchat, sent clips of you singing ‘livin’ on a prayer’ to a guy you met at a festival in 2008.
  • Went home with a stranger/ someone you’re really trying to get rid of and made empty promises about getting brunch

All resulting in HOT SHAME SWEATS.

5. Unjustified Shame

You remember everything you did , you didn’t do anything bad, you had lots of fun. But the next day you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong, you’re hit with a wave of panic, you feel like all your friends hate you and you can’t pin point why. This leads to an extremely emotional and fragile state.  All you can do is wait for the feeling to pass by watching Netflix in bed whilst cuddling your dog and crying into it’s fur. This is the worst of all the hangovers as the feelings of anxiety can last for about a week. That’s a lot of Netflix and rolling around in bed in despair. This is the hangover I’m currently experiencing. Send help!

6. Vacancy

You feel fine, you’re not sick, upset, ashamed etc. But for some reason you can’t get your shit together. Basic conversation is a struggle. The best example of this that I can give is when I was once meeting an ex’s family for the first time, I’d got blind drunk the night before. I couldn’t string a sentence together, like, I forgot ALL of the words and I couldn’t snap out of it. I was present in body, but not in mind. This resulted in me coming across as either incredibly rude or incredibly dim. Either way I don’t think his family liked me all that much. Oops.

Remember to treat your hangovers with the Netflix they deserve, or they will destroy you both physically, physiologically and emotionally.

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Deal Breakers

When it comes to men, there are only two thought processes that flow through my mind, ‘Yes’ and ‘No’. The more yesses a man scores, the better chance the guy has of me being interested, but a single no and I will never be attracted to you, no matter how hard I try, I just can’t.

Things that I can not tolerate;

Unkempt beards & man buns.

Big bums, if a guy has a voluptuous curve of the posterior kind then I’m sorry, I’m just not into it, possibly because I associate them with women and unfortunately I’m not a lesbian.

When a man has too much stuff in his pockets, thus making his arse look gigantic. Seriously, if you need to take that much stuff out with you then get a man bag at least or some less ill fitting trousers. There’s something about being able to see a man’s keys, wallet, life story and unborn children through his jeans that makes me want to vomit.

Blatant drug habits, like, I don’t mind if they like the occasional good time, I have my fair share of self destructive habits, but at some point it just gets tragic, you’re a grown man for goodness sake, you gotta watch out for your nostrils.

Long fingernails, no graphic explanation needed.

Men who copy Joey Essex’s style. I love Joey Essex, I think he’s adorable, the same way as I would find a little brother or a puppy adorable. Do I want to sleep with him? No.

The over use of the words and phrases ‘banter’, ‘bants’ ‘top bants’, ‘bantersarus rex’, ‘archbishop of Banterbury’ and so on and so forth. Something about it makes my skin crawl and I really struggle to find anyone who uses these terms attractive. You could be Jake Gyllenhaal, but if you call me ‘Bantony Hopkins’, I might just punch you square in the face.

Chaps that think it’s acceptable to wear Lynx ‘Africa’ or ‘Joop!’. Nope, nah, never.

Men that take too many selfies. Stop it you fools. To add to this, men that take any amount of Gym mirror selfies. Give up on life. If you look after yourself, I appreciate the work you’ve put in, it’s very well received, believe me. If you document it on your instagram account, I will think you’re a twat. I don’t care about how much you lift and I certainly don’t want to be around to experience your protein shake farts. Also, if men are too muscular, they start looking like Stretch Armstrong dolls and not human beings.

Dick Pics/topless photos. Bitch please, I will screenshot, I will show everyone I know, including my parents and grandmother, I will laugh and not once will my loins fill with desire.

‘Peacocking’ about money and belongings. I don’t care about your car, samurai sword, football sticker collection, house on the hills, your stint in med’ school, if your daddy is a lawyer or where you took your pony on your gap year. We all want nice things, we all want more money then we have. We also all need to be a bit more humble.  If during conversation you start to sound like as much of a narcissistic prick as Kanye West, not only will my mind wander, but so will my legs along with the rest of my body, out the door and back home to my dog and netflix. Cyaaa.

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Thoughts I had whilst watching #EELive

snf3012bow-532_1429984aI decided to watch Eastenders this week, haven’t been into it for about a year but I couldn’t miss this could I?

Previous thoughts this week;

“EMERGHAD it’s Richard Blackwood, Dad, look, it’s RichardfuckingBlackwood, i’ve got to text Hannah immediatley” *makes mental note to schedule in a listen of 1,2,3,4 get wid da wicked pronto*.

Is that Dean Gaffney? oh no, it’s just Christian, what a let down, I should really put my glasses on to avoid further disappointment.

What did Max actually just say? *plays back aprox 653754 times and assesses twitter to confirm.*

Oh Tanya, you’re great, that’s on par with the Trevor and little Mo ‘gravy’ fiasco for me.

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Thoughts on Eastenders live 19/02/15

How is Dot even still alive? She looks like a walking, talking corpse.

I wonder if ADAM is going to have another breakdown and live under a bridge.

I’m still not over Richard Blackwood. Fuck he’s the greatest. #AList

Remember when Lauren tried to kill Tanya and buried her alive? Average.

Why didn’t James Alexandrou come back to play Martin Fowler? It’s not like he’s stacked with work right now.

oooOOOoOoOO Rick Astley.

Why does Fatboy actually live with Dot? What is their connection? How many bedrooms are their in Dot’s house? Why is his name FAT BOY and don’t get me started on that necklace and turtle-neck combo.

Cindy’s eyebrows are a fabulous yet they override her face.

Why is Shirley always loitering about in the shadows thinking anyone gives a shit about her two cents? She really does look like a bald eagle.

My wine’s run out, I need to pause this and top up.

Max and Phil are totally morphing into each other, I think the next huge storyline is going to be about their blossoming bromance.

My phone just went off, I have no time for this, what if I miss who killed Lucy.

“Is there a law against shitting on a bench.” – Kat Slater

Get off my screen Kim, I don’t care about your labour unless your unborn child is going to tell us who killed Lucy.

YAY DEANO AND GASOLINE! If the Queen Vic needs anything, it’s definitely more fire.

How does Ian Beale get so much tang? It’s the only narrative that confirms to me that Eastenders is not a documentary.

Is Ian making out that he killed Lucy? If so he and Dot have soooooo much to talk about, maybe he will even get to shag/marry/solicit for sex her to.

I would love to be a regular extra on Eastenders, like Winston or Tracey, I’d be dead chuffed with that. *Googles vacancies*

STFU Kim and get off my screen.

Natalie Cassidy is way into this birth, like, sexually.

That police Lady is smarmy as fuck. I could take her. Could I take her? Yeah. I could.

HIYA CATH.

Peter said ‘Bitch’?! Is that even allowed?

I wonder if anyone else has noticed Lola’s sheer tights or nah?

I really like Deano’s outfit and that beard is sort of acceptable.

I hope Dot doesn’t drop the soap.

It was………. Jane…. Boring.

I have to wait another hour to find out what happens next? Fuck that I’m going to catch up on Broadchurch.

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Break-Ups

The-Breakup-Movie

People often say that when breaking up, the best and most noble way to do it is face-to-face. Any other way is deemed as the cowards way out. I’ve never personally been a fan of the face-to-face scenario. Meeting on mutual turf is age old advice that supposedly makes it fairer and easier? Which brings me to my first example of when to avoid face-to-face break ups.

1. The coffee shop axe.

If your significant other ever unexpectedly invites you to meet them on mutual territory, or more specifically a branch of Café Nero for a ‘chat’ then don’t go, just pack up your things and GTFO because it means your getting dumped, and no one wants to see your ugly cry face while they’re trying to enjoy their red velvet cake and caramelatte.  I have no idea why break-ups always happen in Café Nero but that place is tainted, I’ve seen several unfold and executed one of my own break-ups in one. I will never be so cruel as to do it again, but you have to cut me some slack because I was still of an age where I genuinely didn’t think boys were capable of tears. It was horrible, I should have just dropped him a text so he could cry in his bedroom, not in front of the bitch who just dumped him in public for everyone to speculate.

2. The Psychopath Trap.

When you no longer want to be in a relationship with someone, plucking up the courage to give them the axe can be one that makes you fraught, especially if they exert psychopathic and controlling tendencies. I once had to watch someone I care about get stuck in a loop of abuse with an absolute scum-bag of a human being. It’s frustrating to watch and we’ve all seen someone we love go through the cycle of attempting to break up with this person only to immediately get back together with them after putting up with a barrage of abuse followed by apologies, followed by begging all in one sitting. It’s emotionally draining and feeling like you have to stay with someone simply because they have ground you down and made you fearful of leaving them is not a valid reason to be with them. Ultimately it is damaging to meet the abuser in an attempt to try and break up, they simply won’t allow you to give up on them. The only way is to cut them out from your life as quickly and completely as possible. change your contact details and slap a restraining order on their ass if need be. Because at the end of the day, you can’t reconcile with a nutter.

3. ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ – The classic headfuck

It’s no good meeting up with someone, to feed them a shit stack of clichéd quotes you ‘googled’ beforehand or saw in a film. The general outcome of these sad let-downs is public crying. The ‘dumper’ will typically express feelings of confusion and misdirection to the ‘dumpee’ which will in turn leave them with the official title of ‘single’ yet with a slight pinch of hope that they might one day get back together thrown in. Phrases will be thrown around such as ‘it’s not you, it’s me’, ‘I just don’t know what I want right now’, ‘I was never looking for a relationship’, ‘you’re really great, maybe one day when I’ve figured myself out we could work’. All of which are complete fob off’s that literally translate to ‘WE ARE NOT COMPATIBLE. SOZ FOR WASTING YOUR TIME, YOU’RE STARTING TO GET ON MY NERVES, I CAN’T STOMACH THE THOUGHT OF HAVING ANY TYPE OF SEX WITH YOU EVER AGAIN’. These meets will usually end in the exes trying to act like they will remain great friends (nope), crying, talking about their feelings, having a ‘last kiss’ and making empty promises to give it another go one day.

We’ve all used these lines and quite frankly they’re getting old and the one who holds onto hope will always wind up getting hurt. If anyone tries to use these lines or similar ones on you, take it gracefully and do not listen to a word they say because at the end of the day, if Mr/Mrs perfect were to walk through that door at that moment, the ‘dumper’ would instantly forget about all their ‘issues’ and ‘confusions’ and it’s likely that you’ll see them married with kids within a year leaving you feeling all like ‘eh? I thought they weren’t looking for anything serious?’

4. Complacency

Similar scenario as those above in that mustering up the courage to tell someone that you’re not really diggin’ them any more can fill you to your core with anxiety, and the whole ordeal of sitting them down and telling them to their face can seem worse then staying in the relationship, getting married, having a few kids and retiring to the south of France, albeit a entirely loveless and miserable existence, it seems pleasant enough to onlookers. But by doing that you’re not doing anyone any favours, you’re holding the person you don’t love back from finding someone who might genuinely make them happy and that’s not nice. In this situation the face-to face confrontation can be a slippery slope, it’s so easy to settle for less and play out a relativity OK, average, and nice relationship when you’re trying tell someone who hasn’t done anything wrong that you don’t love them.

Because breaking-up is tough, here’s a list of alternative break up avenues that I can neither recommend nor not recommend to help you to GTFO of a sticky relationship;

  • For the long distance love loss – why not try sending a message in a bottle? Or carrier pigeon if you’re feeling really chic.
  • To end an office fling – make it an exciting experience for the whole office and send a fax.
  • For the arty prick– spell it out by rehearsing a succinct interpretive dance, followed by refreshments and a Q&A.
  • To end a playground marriage – Get your friend to dump them for you.
  • For the drunk 3am break up – a voicemail shall suffice, singing of Taylor Swift is optional yet encouraged.
  • For the midnight getaway – write them a note and pop it in their sock drawer/ leave various clues in cryptic form around their apartment. It will be like a really, really fun scavenger hunt for them, trust me.
  • To break up with someone who is too incredibly nice – Simply act like a vile, psychotic moron until they get so sick of your shit that they do the leg work and chuck you, so you don’t have to sweat it.
  • For the BBB (Back burner bro) – stop all communication with them whatsoever until they eventually get the hint.
  • If you’ve cheated on your other half  but don’t have the balls to tell them– Continuously play and sing ‘Creep’ by TLC at all given opportunities spent around them, even in their sleep so that they subconsciously learn of your infidelities, whilst also making you feel like your cheating was justified. Because if Lisa Left Eye sings about creepin’, then it’s OK, right?
  • When you’ve been cheated on – then and only then would I personally break up face to face, as watching them squirm and possibly cry in public is acceptable in this situation, because of it’s beneficial cathartic properties.
  • Other classic and timeless methods of breaking-up compatible with all types of relationship include, the facebook relationship status, facebook messenger, text and email.
  • For the valentine’s day let down – Anti-love hearts

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On a serious note, breaking up is usually a horrific experience for both parties involved. Each break-up is subject to the type of relationship it stems from. Sometimes it’s not necessary to meet up and chat about breaking up, it’s just humiliating and upsetting, in other situations it is completely necessary. It all depends on the sitch’. However, one thing stands true for all, the shorter the break-up period is, the sweeter it is to move on.

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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