Hello lovely readers!
I realise I haven't written on here for a LONG time. Over a year, in fact. I could have had a baby in that time. Christ.
But instead I've spent the year just throwing myself into uni - including the dating scene, which has been fun! I've cocked up quite a few times, I must admit. But if Julia Roberts can be a fickle numpty for most of Notting Hill then I'm hoping you can also accept me for my inability to settle down!!
Anyways, I'm just writing this final blog post to tell you about my exciting new blog! It's pretty much like this one, but more centred around questions about sex. No, it's nothing like Sex and the City (alas, if only my life was as glamorous as Carrie's!) It's much more tragic. As most of you will know, I don't really have a filter - I just say/write whatever comes into my head...
So check it out! It's called: www.sexandtheexetergirl.wordpress.com
I've had such a fun few years writing this blog, so I'm very excited about my new one!!
Keep you posted,
xxx
Thursday, 29 December 2016
Friday, 8 April 2016
The 'New Woman'
I realise that I never told you how that date went with Tinder Tom. Suffice to say, he was pretty darn perfect: he told me all about his love for Taylor Swift, his respect for his family and his hilarious teenage antics from growing up in the West Country (did I mention he had a dreamy farmer accent? AKA DREAM!!!) After our mini bar crawl, we went dancing (it was like Dirty Dancing - he was spinning me around and everything) and then he walked me home and didn't even expect to come in. Quel gent.
Things only went tits-up when it came to the second 'date'. He asked if I wanted to get pizza and watch a movie and I jumped at the chance. My friend and I planned my outfit to a T (denim skirt and pretty top - not too casual but looks effortlessly cool) and I asked Tinder Tom where we were meeting. To my dismay, he wanted to come round mine to watch Netflix and order pizza. That's right: he wanted to Netflix and Chill. Now, I was initially in denial. How could Mr McDreamy want to Netflix & Chill? Didn't he realise that this would not be a cute story to tell the grandchildren?! So I laughed it off and messaged him "Think our second date is a bit early to Netflix and Chill!" and I addeda crying-happy face emoji to pretend I found it hilarious (when really I was livid that Mr Fantastic was turning into Mr Fuckboy)
Anyways, he then said "Oh I don't see it as a date, just think of it as hanging out and having fun :P" Yep, he did the ':P'. Suddenly I was in year 8 again and my crush was MSN-ing me asking "how many boys have you kissed? :P" To say this message was a deal-breaker would be an understatement. So I went all sassy on him and told him I like being taken out on cute dates and we weren't well-suited so I hope he has a nice life. It was so badass, I felt like a Charlie's Angel. Only now I live in perpetual fear of running into him on campus on a day where I look like a diseased squirrel (pasty hungover complexion, crazy bed hair...)
C'est la vie. But the thing about the Tinder Tom episode is that I realised I really don't care that much about finding a boyfriend. Actually, I really don't want a boyfriend (much to my mother's dismay). They're a lot of hassle and bring all sorts of emotional complications and methinks life is too short for that!
It seems to me that there is a 'New Woman' emerging at the moment (we are learning about 'New Women' in the Victorian era at the moment - they were badasses that demanded equality)
There are the girls who hop from one guy to another, desperately hoping for a boyfriend. And then there are those who are cool with being single. It's like in He's Just Not That Into You - the main girl, GiGi, is obsessed with finding a boyfriend. And I'm just like wow, girl, think how much time you've wasted thinking about boys. She could have gone way further in her career if she'd just channelled that energy elsewhere!
Don't get me wrong, there are some reasons I would like a boyfriend:
1. I really want to wear my dungarees with no clothes underneath. I think it would look so cool - like a naughty farmer girl!
2. You can do sexual things with squirty cream. I love squirty cream.
3. You can hold hands in public and turn singletons green with envy.
Yeah that's pretty much all I've got so far. All the cliches of "someone to hold you" and "someone to spoon" don't apply to me because I love my own space! Literally. I brought a boy back from a night out t'other day and we were hugging whilst sleeping and I had to do the old Hug and Roll because I need my space!!
So there you go. Your mates may all have boyfriends/girlfriends, but at least you're getting a better night's sleep.
Things only went tits-up when it came to the second 'date'. He asked if I wanted to get pizza and watch a movie and I jumped at the chance. My friend and I planned my outfit to a T (denim skirt and pretty top - not too casual but looks effortlessly cool) and I asked Tinder Tom where we were meeting. To my dismay, he wanted to come round mine to watch Netflix and order pizza. That's right: he wanted to Netflix and Chill. Now, I was initially in denial. How could Mr McDreamy want to Netflix & Chill? Didn't he realise that this would not be a cute story to tell the grandchildren?! So I laughed it off and messaged him "Think our second date is a bit early to Netflix and Chill!" and I addeda crying-happy face emoji to pretend I found it hilarious (when really I was livid that Mr Fantastic was turning into Mr Fuckboy)
Anyways, he then said "Oh I don't see it as a date, just think of it as hanging out and having fun :P" Yep, he did the ':P'. Suddenly I was in year 8 again and my crush was MSN-ing me asking "how many boys have you kissed? :P" To say this message was a deal-breaker would be an understatement. So I went all sassy on him and told him I like being taken out on cute dates and we weren't well-suited so I hope he has a nice life. It was so badass, I felt like a Charlie's Angel. Only now I live in perpetual fear of running into him on campus on a day where I look like a diseased squirrel (pasty hungover complexion, crazy bed hair...)
C'est la vie. But the thing about the Tinder Tom episode is that I realised I really don't care that much about finding a boyfriend. Actually, I really don't want a boyfriend (much to my mother's dismay). They're a lot of hassle and bring all sorts of emotional complications and methinks life is too short for that!
It seems to me that there is a 'New Woman' emerging at the moment (we are learning about 'New Women' in the Victorian era at the moment - they were badasses that demanded equality)
There are the girls who hop from one guy to another, desperately hoping for a boyfriend. And then there are those who are cool with being single. It's like in He's Just Not That Into You - the main girl, GiGi, is obsessed with finding a boyfriend. And I'm just like wow, girl, think how much time you've wasted thinking about boys. She could have gone way further in her career if she'd just channelled that energy elsewhere!
Don't get me wrong, there are some reasons I would like a boyfriend:
1. I really want to wear my dungarees with no clothes underneath. I think it would look so cool - like a naughty farmer girl!
2. You can do sexual things with squirty cream. I love squirty cream.
3. You can hold hands in public and turn singletons green with envy.
Yeah that's pretty much all I've got so far. All the cliches of "someone to hold you" and "someone to spoon" don't apply to me because I love my own space! Literally. I brought a boy back from a night out t'other day and we were hugging whilst sleeping and I had to do the old Hug and Roll because I need my space!!
So there you go. Your mates may all have boyfriends/girlfriends, but at least you're getting a better night's sleep.
Saturday, 23 January 2016
The First Date
Tonight is my first date since Mr Melon and I broke up. I mean, I seem to have been on a couple since then but they were accidental - I thought those guys were just my friends and then they were like "good date?" and I was like "whaaaaaat".
But tonight it's official - I'm a single pringle (the Mayoress of Singletown, in fact) and I have a Tinder Date :O
To say I am unprepared would be a colossal understatement. The date is in an hour and I am sitting here in my sweaty onesie (I really need to wash that!) and mid-cooking disaster. I'm making spaghetti bolognese. I thought the hob thing was boiling my pasta but it turns out it wasn't, so now my mince is cooked but the pasta has 20 mins to go! Quel disaster.
Also, I decided to shave down there but I couldn't quite reach all of it because our shower is pretty tiny, so now half of it is clean-shaven, but the other half is a Lionel-Richie style afro!! Oh well, at least that gives me reason not to bring Tinder Guy back!
That, and my messy room. It looks like a squatter has been living in it for a month - or like Ross' girl's room in Friends with all the rats and stuff. OK, so I don't have rats (but then again, I could do - you literally can't see the floor so there could be a family of them living under my cupboard. Oh dear God, why have I gone down this thought path. Abort thoughts of rat family - abort!!!)
Not only am I unprepared physically, but I also just have no idea how first dates work. Is it like a job interview - will he mark me down if I'm late? Or is it cool to be late, because then I look all James Deane and cool??
**********************
FUCK MY LIFE! I JUST BURNT MY LIP ON THE HOTTEST PASTA KNOWN TO MAN - WHO KNEW I WAS COOKING IT ON THE SURFACE OF THE SUN????!!!
I'd better go and sort out my face/clothes/life.
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal xxx
But tonight it's official - I'm a single pringle (the Mayoress of Singletown, in fact) and I have a Tinder Date :O
To say I am unprepared would be a colossal understatement. The date is in an hour and I am sitting here in my sweaty onesie (I really need to wash that!) and mid-cooking disaster. I'm making spaghetti bolognese. I thought the hob thing was boiling my pasta but it turns out it wasn't, so now my mince is cooked but the pasta has 20 mins to go! Quel disaster.
Also, I decided to shave down there but I couldn't quite reach all of it because our shower is pretty tiny, so now half of it is clean-shaven, but the other half is a Lionel-Richie style afro!! Oh well, at least that gives me reason not to bring Tinder Guy back!
That, and my messy room. It looks like a squatter has been living in it for a month - or like Ross' girl's room in Friends with all the rats and stuff. OK, so I don't have rats (but then again, I could do - you literally can't see the floor so there could be a family of them living under my cupboard. Oh dear God, why have I gone down this thought path. Abort thoughts of rat family - abort!!!)
Not only am I unprepared physically, but I also just have no idea how first dates work. Is it like a job interview - will he mark me down if I'm late? Or is it cool to be late, because then I look all James Deane and cool??
**********************
FUCK MY LIFE! I JUST BURNT MY LIP ON THE HOTTEST PASTA KNOWN TO MAN - WHO KNEW I WAS COOKING IT ON THE SURFACE OF THE SUN????!!!
I'd better go and sort out my face/clothes/life.
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal xxx
Friday, 22 January 2016
S & M: Selfish & Misogynistic
"You need to stop getting with random guys in clubs"
This was my Mum's reaction to me crying down the phone to her because some Creepy guy started strangling me when we were drunkenly snogging in a club a few nights ago.
Obviously, she went on to denounce the guy as a massive weirdo and creep, but she still blamed me for getting
A. Drunk
B. With someone I don't know.
I literally don't remember the guy's name - I probably wouldn't be able to pick him out of a line-up. All I remember is that he was quite tall, pretty chubby, socially awkward and very, very forceful.
I hate this whole situation. I am programmed to try to laugh off anything serious - anything that makes me feel miffed or upset is usually turned into a joke that I tell my friends over cocktails. But now it all just feels too...serious.
The more I tell the story the less serious it sounds, and I'm now at the stage where I feel like I am making a big deal over nothing. I told one of my best friends that and she was beyond shocked and decided to remind me of the facts:
Yes, I was very drunk. Completely intoxicated, in fact. I had just been to a Cheerleading speed-dating social, where my friend and I played a game called "drink when a hot hockey guy looks over at you but doesn't approach". It got very messy and, a bottle of wine later, we were pretty smashed.
When we got to the club we were crazy dancing like absolute loons, and being the sassy singletons that we always are. Then I caught Creepy Guy's eye and we started chatting. He said he wanted us to sit down and "talk". Even though I have seen every John Hughes movie and American teen sit-com, I was still naïve enough to think that he genuinely just wanted a chat. Or maybe just a cheeky snog. Alas, I was wrong.
He had sinister intentions. We were kissing and suddenly, his hands were travelling places down there...Now, since I was drunk and bearing in mind that the most action I've had since Mr Melon and I broke up has been from my battery-operated pal, Rodney (my vibrator, I like calling him Big Rod), I was kind of happy to let that bit happen. I didn't fully happen, however, because as soon as Creepy Guy felt that I was up to do stuff he went power mad. He grabbed me by the throat so I couldn't move. I pushed his hand away very quickly, but still let him kiss me because I thought "Oh, he is clearly into S&M but I'm not, and he knows that now, so it's fine"
Alas, wrong again. Despite seeing how uncomfortable his gesture had made me, he grabbed my throat again. It was scary. I ran away and cried all night (hysterical, horrible, Sally from When Harry Met Sally crying) and felt so worthless and violated. It was awful.
And now I can't help but feel ill-equipped to deal with assault of any kind. So, some guy did try to strangle me - but lots of my friends have said that I'm "lucky" that nothing else happened. Why do we live in a world where a girl is supposed to count her lucky stars that all that happened to her was that some chubby Creepy guy tried to strangle her??!
Absolutely not OK. The thing that upset me the most was the absolute lack of respect. It felt like he was playing out some twisted fantasy from PornHub on me. He was selfish, he didn't care that I was hating every moment of his company.
It was a horrideous ordeal. I spent all of yesterday crying my eyes out and watching Veronica Mars (she's a sassy character who knows what to do in times of crises). But today is a new day. You can't be constantly scared of guys - they make up half the population! I will be more weary in future, but my Mum is wrong in thinking that I am in any way to blame for what happened. I will keep getting with random guys in club for as long as Exeter sells alcohol and I have a tongue to kiss with. I'm not "asking for it" because I enjoy snogging. Guys shouldn't attack you, and it's not your job to tiptoe around them.
This was my Mum's reaction to me crying down the phone to her because some Creepy guy started strangling me when we were drunkenly snogging in a club a few nights ago.
Obviously, she went on to denounce the guy as a massive weirdo and creep, but she still blamed me for getting
A. Drunk
B. With someone I don't know.
I literally don't remember the guy's name - I probably wouldn't be able to pick him out of a line-up. All I remember is that he was quite tall, pretty chubby, socially awkward and very, very forceful.
I hate this whole situation. I am programmed to try to laugh off anything serious - anything that makes me feel miffed or upset is usually turned into a joke that I tell my friends over cocktails. But now it all just feels too...serious.
The more I tell the story the less serious it sounds, and I'm now at the stage where I feel like I am making a big deal over nothing. I told one of my best friends that and she was beyond shocked and decided to remind me of the facts:
Yes, I was very drunk. Completely intoxicated, in fact. I had just been to a Cheerleading speed-dating social, where my friend and I played a game called "drink when a hot hockey guy looks over at you but doesn't approach". It got very messy and, a bottle of wine later, we were pretty smashed.
When we got to the club we were crazy dancing like absolute loons, and being the sassy singletons that we always are. Then I caught Creepy Guy's eye and we started chatting. He said he wanted us to sit down and "talk". Even though I have seen every John Hughes movie and American teen sit-com, I was still naïve enough to think that he genuinely just wanted a chat. Or maybe just a cheeky snog. Alas, I was wrong.
He had sinister intentions. We were kissing and suddenly, his hands were travelling places down there...Now, since I was drunk and bearing in mind that the most action I've had since Mr Melon and I broke up has been from my battery-operated pal, Rodney (my vibrator, I like calling him Big Rod), I was kind of happy to let that bit happen. I didn't fully happen, however, because as soon as Creepy Guy felt that I was up to do stuff he went power mad. He grabbed me by the throat so I couldn't move. I pushed his hand away very quickly, but still let him kiss me because I thought "Oh, he is clearly into S&M but I'm not, and he knows that now, so it's fine"
Alas, wrong again. Despite seeing how uncomfortable his gesture had made me, he grabbed my throat again. It was scary. I ran away and cried all night (hysterical, horrible, Sally from When Harry Met Sally crying) and felt so worthless and violated. It was awful.
And now I can't help but feel ill-equipped to deal with assault of any kind. So, some guy did try to strangle me - but lots of my friends have said that I'm "lucky" that nothing else happened. Why do we live in a world where a girl is supposed to count her lucky stars that all that happened to her was that some chubby Creepy guy tried to strangle her??!
Absolutely not OK. The thing that upset me the most was the absolute lack of respect. It felt like he was playing out some twisted fantasy from PornHub on me. He was selfish, he didn't care that I was hating every moment of his company.
It was a horrideous ordeal. I spent all of yesterday crying my eyes out and watching Veronica Mars (she's a sassy character who knows what to do in times of crises). But today is a new day. You can't be constantly scared of guys - they make up half the population! I will be more weary in future, but my Mum is wrong in thinking that I am in any way to blame for what happened. I will keep getting with random guys in club for as long as Exeter sells alcohol and I have a tongue to kiss with. I'm not "asking for it" because I enjoy snogging. Guys shouldn't attack you, and it's not your job to tiptoe around them.
Thursday, 31 December 2015
How to do New Years as a Sober Cobra
It's 2.20am on New Years' Eve and I have never been more awake. This is absolutely unprecedented, since I am usually passed out by 10pm (that's not even an exaggeration - last year I was vomming by 9.15!) But this year, I was put on antibiotics 2 days before New Years, meaning I absolutely could not drink (NB: these were "really strong" antibiotics, so I was told that I couldn't even have a cheeky glass of champers, or there would be some sort of weird chemical reaction...after images of me frothing at the mouth, I decided to pass on this)
Yet even though I am a Sober Cobra, I've actually had an amazing night hosting a party for my friends. So I thought I would share some tips on how to enjoy your New Years without getting White Girl Wasted:
1. Take a LOT of Caffeine. One or two Diet Cokes will not be enough. I'd already had 5 mini cans of Diet Coke before my friends had even arrived. And then I played a little drinking game called "Drink a Mini Diet Coke Every Time My Friends Top Up Their Drink". Needless to say, I've had over 10 of the cans. I also had a caffeine tablet when I started my Caffeine Crash at about 11.
2. Find Sober Allies. These are the people you will be popping to caffeine tablets with and trying not to judge your drunk skunk friends with.
3. Don't judge your drunk friends. Nobody likes the sober judgy friend who raises their eyebrows and asks "are you sure that Tequila shot is a good idea?" Like, hell yeah it's a great idea! So what if they vom? Let them have their fun, you have no right to judge!
4. Let go. Sober dancing is my least favourite thing in the whole world. Dancing requires coordination and rhythm, neither of which I have mastered. So the only time I like to slut drop and generally move in time to music is when I am absolutely smashed. But, alas, that was not possible tonight! So I was awkwardly trying to get my hips to move and not look like a puppet doll as I danced to Single Ladies, which was of course impossible. But then I looked around and realised that most of my mates were totally smashed. So I just thought I'd follow the YOLO brick road, and I was jumping around and using walnuts as maracas.
5. Embrace the DMCs. Throughout the night you will be hugged very tightly - kisses may even be involved. And then your friend will want to open up about the value of your friendship, or some deep secret they've been keeping on their chest for 5 months. And don't just shrug it off and be like "Oh, she's only saying we're besties because she's on her 8th Sambuca shot". Like, no. Drunk words are sober thoughts, so take the DMC love!
6. Don't tidy. When you're drunk you are usually oblivious to the mess around you, but when you are sober it is disturbingly apparent. My carpet is currently 50 shades of ruined. So many different drinks have been spilled down it, and there are also blobs of vaseline, and cracked walnuts scattered everywhere. But resist the temptation to get out the Cif and do a bit of scrubbing - you will literally spend all night on the floor, and you aren't Cinderella now that you're at the ball!
7. Invest in ear plugs. My friends have now gone home, but my sisters' friends (who were even more smashed than mine - who knew that was possible?!) are still here. And I can hear them alternating in vomming from my room.
So they are the top tips for staying sober but having a fantabulous time.
Happy new year!
xxxx
Yet even though I am a Sober Cobra, I've actually had an amazing night hosting a party for my friends. So I thought I would share some tips on how to enjoy your New Years without getting White Girl Wasted:
1. Take a LOT of Caffeine. One or two Diet Cokes will not be enough. I'd already had 5 mini cans of Diet Coke before my friends had even arrived. And then I played a little drinking game called "Drink a Mini Diet Coke Every Time My Friends Top Up Their Drink". Needless to say, I've had over 10 of the cans. I also had a caffeine tablet when I started my Caffeine Crash at about 11.
2. Find Sober Allies. These are the people you will be popping to caffeine tablets with and trying not to judge your drunk skunk friends with.
3. Don't judge your drunk friends. Nobody likes the sober judgy friend who raises their eyebrows and asks "are you sure that Tequila shot is a good idea?" Like, hell yeah it's a great idea! So what if they vom? Let them have their fun, you have no right to judge!
4. Let go. Sober dancing is my least favourite thing in the whole world. Dancing requires coordination and rhythm, neither of which I have mastered. So the only time I like to slut drop and generally move in time to music is when I am absolutely smashed. But, alas, that was not possible tonight! So I was awkwardly trying to get my hips to move and not look like a puppet doll as I danced to Single Ladies, which was of course impossible. But then I looked around and realised that most of my mates were totally smashed. So I just thought I'd follow the YOLO brick road, and I was jumping around and using walnuts as maracas.
5. Embrace the DMCs. Throughout the night you will be hugged very tightly - kisses may even be involved. And then your friend will want to open up about the value of your friendship, or some deep secret they've been keeping on their chest for 5 months. And don't just shrug it off and be like "Oh, she's only saying we're besties because she's on her 8th Sambuca shot". Like, no. Drunk words are sober thoughts, so take the DMC love!
6. Don't tidy. When you're drunk you are usually oblivious to the mess around you, but when you are sober it is disturbingly apparent. My carpet is currently 50 shades of ruined. So many different drinks have been spilled down it, and there are also blobs of vaseline, and cracked walnuts scattered everywhere. But resist the temptation to get out the Cif and do a bit of scrubbing - you will literally spend all night on the floor, and you aren't Cinderella now that you're at the ball!
7. Invest in ear plugs. My friends have now gone home, but my sisters' friends (who were even more smashed than mine - who knew that was possible?!) are still here. And I can hear them alternating in vomming from my room.
So they are the top tips for staying sober but having a fantabulous time.
Happy new year!
xxxx
Monday, 28 December 2015
Operation: Get a Tinder Date
So I met up with my ex, Mr Melon, on the week before Christmas. It was a rather dramatic meet-up and my emotions were on a Thorpe Park-esque rollercoaster the whole time.
Lots happened, but the thing I want to focus on is when he casually dropped into conversation that he was seeing someone. And that's totally fine.
I mean, we broke up 4 months ago - how could I expect that he'd be Notebook-style pining over me? In 4 months I could have gotten pregnant, or written a novel, or made a viral Youtube video that made me Rebecca Black-style famous. A lot can happen in 4 months. So it's only natural that he has moved on, or is at least trying to.
And now I've decided that I want to move on, too. I don't want to go all gooey-eyed over someone, but I would like to go out on a date with a nice guy who laughs at my jokes and thinks I'm adorkable (is that too much to ask?!)
So I've decided to turn to Tinder, and get me a Tinder date.
Now, I've been on Tinder for a while now, but I've never met up with any of the guys here because
A. I have too much fun being sassy with them. One guy started a conversation with "I'd like to nail you to the wall because you're a masterpiece". I replied telling him that that felt very cruxifixion-y and that I wasn't Jesus. We talked for a bit but I could tell I had insulted his masculinity, because he lost interest when I didn't fawn all over his cheesy line. And that happened a few times... Note to self: if I want to find a date, I must flatter the guy's ego (but what fun is that? Sigh)
B. I always swipe 'yes' for guys that I would never actually go for. Tim, 23, from Exeter is not the prettiest diamond on the chandelier, but he clearly put so much effort into his profile (and he 'super liked' me!) so I swiped 'yes'. But as soon as he started talking to me, I wasn't interested! Besides, he can't tell the difference between 'your' and 'you're' and, for me, that's a deal breaker.
C. Lack of common interests. So I found a guy who was so hilarious in his description of himself, and he was attractive (bonus!) So we got to talking and we realised that we both love food (yes, it's a bit of a fake common interest because we all love food - we need it to survive!) and then he went on about how much he loves lasagne, and I cocked up by telling the truth: I've never tasted lasagne. Clearly, for him, that was a big deal-breaker, since we stopped talking after that.
D. Three-letter names. I have a theory that all guys with three-letter names have been sent by Mother Nature to bitchslap my heart. Seriously: All guys that I've known who have been fuckboys have had three-letter names. Coincidence? I think not. So this guy, Cai, actually asked me on a date but he hada three-letter name!!!! I did say yes, but then I stopped replying to him because on my birthday he didn't say 'Happy Birthday' and instead said "I love me a birthday girl ;)" which I thought was gross, and I'm not looking for a horny gross boy, I'm looking for a nice guy.
But then I found a really nice guy, Tinder Tom. True, he has three letters in his name - but, hey, nobody is perfect! He's really cute and he likes fishing and he seems to find me real funny! Plus, he texted me "Merry Chrsitmas" (yes, we are on texting terms! Or, at least, we were until conversation dwindled...)
Well I've decided that I would like to go on a date with TT. But when, where and how?
I'm going to have a think, and get back to you on that one! Maybe I will text him on New Years when I'm a drunk skunk. Something cool and nonchalant like "Happy new year, you! Long time no speak, how you been?"
OK, that needs a lot of work.
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal
Lots happened, but the thing I want to focus on is when he casually dropped into conversation that he was seeing someone. And that's totally fine.
I mean, we broke up 4 months ago - how could I expect that he'd be Notebook-style pining over me? In 4 months I could have gotten pregnant, or written a novel, or made a viral Youtube video that made me Rebecca Black-style famous. A lot can happen in 4 months. So it's only natural that he has moved on, or is at least trying to.
And now I've decided that I want to move on, too. I don't want to go all gooey-eyed over someone, but I would like to go out on a date with a nice guy who laughs at my jokes and thinks I'm adorkable (is that too much to ask?!)
So I've decided to turn to Tinder, and get me a Tinder date.
Now, I've been on Tinder for a while now, but I've never met up with any of the guys here because
A. I have too much fun being sassy with them. One guy started a conversation with "I'd like to nail you to the wall because you're a masterpiece". I replied telling him that that felt very cruxifixion-y and that I wasn't Jesus. We talked for a bit but I could tell I had insulted his masculinity, because he lost interest when I didn't fawn all over his cheesy line. And that happened a few times... Note to self: if I want to find a date, I must flatter the guy's ego (but what fun is that? Sigh)
B. I always swipe 'yes' for guys that I would never actually go for. Tim, 23, from Exeter is not the prettiest diamond on the chandelier, but he clearly put so much effort into his profile (and he 'super liked' me!) so I swiped 'yes'. But as soon as he started talking to me, I wasn't interested! Besides, he can't tell the difference between 'your' and 'you're' and, for me, that's a deal breaker.
C. Lack of common interests. So I found a guy who was so hilarious in his description of himself, and he was attractive (bonus!) So we got to talking and we realised that we both love food (yes, it's a bit of a fake common interest because we all love food - we need it to survive!) and then he went on about how much he loves lasagne, and I cocked up by telling the truth: I've never tasted lasagne. Clearly, for him, that was a big deal-breaker, since we stopped talking after that.
D. Three-letter names. I have a theory that all guys with three-letter names have been sent by Mother Nature to bitchslap my heart. Seriously: All guys that I've known who have been fuckboys have had three-letter names. Coincidence? I think not. So this guy, Cai, actually asked me on a date but he hada three-letter name!!!! I did say yes, but then I stopped replying to him because on my birthday he didn't say 'Happy Birthday' and instead said "I love me a birthday girl ;)" which I thought was gross, and I'm not looking for a horny gross boy, I'm looking for a nice guy.
But then I found a really nice guy, Tinder Tom. True, he has three letters in his name - but, hey, nobody is perfect! He's really cute and he likes fishing and he seems to find me real funny! Plus, he texted me "Merry Chrsitmas" (yes, we are on texting terms! Or, at least, we were until conversation dwindled...)
Well I've decided that I would like to go on a date with TT. But when, where and how?
I'm going to have a think, and get back to you on that one! Maybe I will text him on New Years when I'm a drunk skunk. Something cool and nonchalant like "Happy new year, you! Long time no speak, how you been?"
OK, that needs a lot of work.
Keep you posted,
Grammar Gal
It's the Most Wine Flu-y Time of the Year
Across the country, millions of Brits have caught something that closely resembles what uni students call Freshers' Flu. Body parts are aching, we are too tired to get up in the morning, and our throats feel as dry as Frankie Boyle's sense of humour. In times like these, we can hardly muster the enthusiasm for the future drunken escapades of the New Year, and just the sight of red wine is enough to make us gag.
But darker times lie ahead - we all know that January Blues are a real thing. There's nothing to really look forward to in January - unless you're a disturbing couple and have already picked out your 'His & Hers' matching onesies for Valentine's Day gifts. January is also a bugger of a month because it is absolutely freezing - yet, unlike December, it doesn't feel magical because it's not Christmas. In effect, January sucks balls.
So with this in mind, I suggest that we all get out of bed, jump into the magical and warm embrace of something called a shower, and carpe that diem! We only have a week and a bit before the Most Terrible Month of the Year, so let's swear off alcohol until New Year's Eve, eat some gross healthy green stuff and get our lives together (or at least give the impression that we do!)
Pep talk over.
But darker times lie ahead - we all know that January Blues are a real thing. There's nothing to really look forward to in January - unless you're a disturbing couple and have already picked out your 'His & Hers' matching onesies for Valentine's Day gifts. January is also a bugger of a month because it is absolutely freezing - yet, unlike December, it doesn't feel magical because it's not Christmas. In effect, January sucks balls.
So with this in mind, I suggest that we all get out of bed, jump into the magical and warm embrace of something called a shower, and carpe that diem! We only have a week and a bit before the Most Terrible Month of the Year, so let's swear off alcohol until New Year's Eve, eat some gross healthy green stuff and get our lives together (or at least give the impression that we do!)
Pep talk over.
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