"5"
"8"
"9"
"Erm, 7 if I don't include the ones that I don't class as actually having had sex with."
During a conversation involving copious amounts of white wine and far too many tequila shots than is acceptable before you've left the house for a night out I sat open mouthed at the kitchen table as Sarah smiled innocently and sank another shot.
"You can't not count them if you actually physically had sex with them!" I shouted.
"Why not? If they didn't get me there they don't count." Sarah shrugged.
The woman had a point.
"So, when you're seeing a new guy and he asks what your number is, what do you tell him?"
"7"
"And, what's the actual number?"
Cue dramatic pause around the table.
"Okay, it's more like 12!"
We've all been there, that first awkward conversation with a new guy or girl when, even though you really really don't want to know, you can't help but say, "So, what's your magic number?"
Whilst all the time hoping and praying that they'll say it first so that you can change your own number accordingly. In a modern day era where tv shows like Sex and The City have enabled women to embrace their sexual prowess and it isn't seen as such a taboo for women to have a healthy and active sex life anymore why are we still so eager to keep our numbers down?
It, unfortunately, still has a lot to do with the old fashioned stereotype that if a guy has slept with a lot of different girls he is seen as a hero yet if a girl has slept with a lot of guys she is viewed as, well, a bit of a whore basically. And, even more disturbing than the fact that stereotype is still around is that, for once, it's not the guys of this world that are keeping it going...it's the girls!
Us women like to bitch, it's instilled in us to bitch, it's how we vent. We know it's not nice but we can't help it and after over hearing a standard 1am drunken toilet conversation in a club my suspicions were confirmed...
Drunk Girl 1: "She's all over him like a rash!"
Drunk Girl 2: "That's because she's probably got a rash."
(Alcohol makes us girls so eloquent!)
Drunk Girl 1: "Did you know she's slept with 10 guys!! What a hoe!"
Drunk Girl 2: " I hope he's got protection because he does not want to go in there bare back!"
From my position safely behind the bathroom door, perched on top of the toilet cistern, mojito in hand I tried both not to giggle and to work out whether if girls were treating their own sex like this could we really complain when men refer to us so objectively?
Back at the kitchen table which was by now covered in a thin layer of wine due to spillages we poured another round of drinks and discussed 'The ones that didn't count'. Emily had 'The Genie' - the guy who got a little too excited too quickly. Lucy had 'The Texter' - who was so addicted to his iphone he stopped during to read a message. Rachel had 'Sofa Guy' - Who had wanted to get down and dirty on her parent's sofa before admitting that he hadn't had sex before. And finally, there was 'Biology Boy' - Biology Boy was the sweet and kind ex-boyfriend of Gemma until the day he asked her if she had a clitoris and whether she knew where it was...seriously, I'm not kidding.
We did offer to draw a diagram but Gemma didn't think he'd appreciate it.
Biology Boy, or indeed any other man reading this who isn't quite sure where it is it's probably about 2 inches higher than where you normally focus all of your attention and it accounts for 85% of a woman's orgasm so when you find it, you'll know!
If we look at the stereotypes of Men celebrating the amount of women they've slept with (assuming that the stereotype is true for a moment) then the conversation I witnessed between five 22 year old males a couple of weeks ago took me completely by surprise.
"That bird from Brighton doesn't count."
"Mate, you're a man slag, they all count!"
Cue a lot of male cheering and back slapping.
"No! No! Shut the fuck up! They only count if they mean something."
I choked on my beer a bit at that point.
"If a girl means something to you, she counts. No matter how brief it was."
Looking around the room from my quiet place in the corner I witnessed, just for a split second, each of those guys remember sex with a girl that had meant something to them.
"Yeah, but you still fucked that Brighton slag!"
And then it was gone.
So, maybe we've all gone a bit sexually doolally in our time and there are guys, girls and scenarios that we'd like to forget but no matter what your real magic number is will we always only remember the ones that count...?
Wednesday 3 November 2010
Thursday 16 September 2010
"It's not you, it's me."
Almost a year ago...
"I'm really sorry but would you mind if we were just friends? I don't have time for a relationship at the moment."
Five months ago...
"Look, Kirst, I'm not going to drag it out, I think we should break up."
A few months after recovering from the text message dumping and the phone call dumping that I received all that time ago I managed to pull myself away from the freezer and the giant bag of M&M's and feel like myself again, they say what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger but it would seem in our current times of 21st Century dating each break up leaves you a tiny bit more self-conscious, a little bit more nervous and a whole lot more unsure of how to act with the opposite sex.
Women are often portrayed as needy, constantly wondering where their man is and, quite often, as Nags (no doubt that all of you ladies reading this are shuddering at the thought of being called that horrid word!) but after the two break up's I have been through in the past year I've begun to seriously doubt my own sanity and whether...in fact...it's men that makes us this way.
When you invest your time trying to make yourself the perfect girlfriend, the girl who wants sex as much as he does, who will watch sport and Topgear without complaint and finds cooking for her man just as enjoyable only to be told that the guy you've been dating for two months doesn't have enough time to be with you is it any wonder that us ladies get a little bit more insecure?
Which brings me to Rachel*, after recently being dumped by the man she'd been seeing for five months (him claiming that they just weren't "compatible" - that old classic!) it threw her into a tailspin, a large box of Maltesers and a bottle of Blossom Hill later it all came tumbling out,
"I just don't get it! We had sex practically every day! He introduced me to his parents for fuck's sake!!"
For the first time in a long time I simply looked down into my glass of wine and hoped it would provide me with some wonderous and inspiring answer to give Rach, to tell her that she had done everything right and had been a wonderful girlfriend and that some guy out there would appreciate that one day, it just wasn't him. But the truth was I was starting, for the first time ever, to wonder whether that was true!
In my eyes Rachel was perfect, is perfect, she's tall, brunette, has legs to die for, a beautiful face and a successful career but if men were dumping her for half arsed reasons what hope was there for the rest of us?
A few weeks later Rachel had thrown away the half eaten packets of Doritoes scattered around her flat, swapped the wine for mineral water and was seeing a rather gorgeous Junior Agent (Lucky Rach!). There was only one problem...
"What if he didn't like me? He hasn't called or text yet." Rach asked, the morning after their first date, her beautiful face creased with the worry lines etched across her brow.
"Hun, give him time. He's probably not even awake yet." I soothed.
But it was too late, I'd lost her to the worried and needy world, the gradual spiral of self-doubt caused by the guy who had broken her heart a few months before without warning.
Now, for all of the guys reading this exclaiming that women can be just as bad, I agree, we can be, I firmly believe that if my ex Tom* hadn't been cheated on for months by his girlfriend before me then he wouldn't have been the possessive, insecure and accusing person that he was in our relationship that eventually spelled the end for us. My friend Alice was the only friend of mine that I knew had had to break up with a guy several times in one hour before he finally accepted it and left her house crying. Sorry gift boy. So, I know that us girls can do the same thing to you too boys.
Coaxing Rachel away from her Blackberry and towards Topshop I found myself crossing my fingers that he did text her before lunch, otherwise I feared for both of our sanity's. (Fortunately, he did text her and they're going out again on Saturday night, happy times!)
It's widely believed that the people we meet and date throughout our lives shape who we are as people, it would be strange if they didnt, but seeing my confident, successful friend checking her phone every 30 seconds and worried that she would never be a good enough girlfriend made me realise that not everyone we meet has a positive effect on our lives. So, the next guy or girl you meet that acts slightly needy or nervous take a moment before you dismiss them and think about the person before you that could have made them this nervous, chances are, once you get to know them properly they could be the perfect boy/girlfriend you didn't know you needed.
"I'm really sorry but would you mind if we were just friends? I don't have time for a relationship at the moment."
Five months ago...
"Look, Kirst, I'm not going to drag it out, I think we should break up."
A few months after recovering from the text message dumping and the phone call dumping that I received all that time ago I managed to pull myself away from the freezer and the giant bag of M&M's and feel like myself again, they say what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger but it would seem in our current times of 21st Century dating each break up leaves you a tiny bit more self-conscious, a little bit more nervous and a whole lot more unsure of how to act with the opposite sex.
Women are often portrayed as needy, constantly wondering where their man is and, quite often, as Nags (no doubt that all of you ladies reading this are shuddering at the thought of being called that horrid word!) but after the two break up's I have been through in the past year I've begun to seriously doubt my own sanity and whether...in fact...it's men that makes us this way.
When you invest your time trying to make yourself the perfect girlfriend, the girl who wants sex as much as he does, who will watch sport and Topgear without complaint and finds cooking for her man just as enjoyable only to be told that the guy you've been dating for two months doesn't have enough time to be with you is it any wonder that us ladies get a little bit more insecure?
Which brings me to Rachel*, after recently being dumped by the man she'd been seeing for five months (him claiming that they just weren't "compatible" - that old classic!) it threw her into a tailspin, a large box of Maltesers and a bottle of Blossom Hill later it all came tumbling out,
"I just don't get it! We had sex practically every day! He introduced me to his parents for fuck's sake!!"
For the first time in a long time I simply looked down into my glass of wine and hoped it would provide me with some wonderous and inspiring answer to give Rach, to tell her that she had done everything right and had been a wonderful girlfriend and that some guy out there would appreciate that one day, it just wasn't him. But the truth was I was starting, for the first time ever, to wonder whether that was true!
In my eyes Rachel was perfect, is perfect, she's tall, brunette, has legs to die for, a beautiful face and a successful career but if men were dumping her for half arsed reasons what hope was there for the rest of us?
A few weeks later Rachel had thrown away the half eaten packets of Doritoes scattered around her flat, swapped the wine for mineral water and was seeing a rather gorgeous Junior Agent (Lucky Rach!). There was only one problem...
"What if he didn't like me? He hasn't called or text yet." Rach asked, the morning after their first date, her beautiful face creased with the worry lines etched across her brow.
"Hun, give him time. He's probably not even awake yet." I soothed.
But it was too late, I'd lost her to the worried and needy world, the gradual spiral of self-doubt caused by the guy who had broken her heart a few months before without warning.
Now, for all of the guys reading this exclaiming that women can be just as bad, I agree, we can be, I firmly believe that if my ex Tom* hadn't been cheated on for months by his girlfriend before me then he wouldn't have been the possessive, insecure and accusing person that he was in our relationship that eventually spelled the end for us. My friend Alice was the only friend of mine that I knew had had to break up with a guy several times in one hour before he finally accepted it and left her house crying. Sorry gift boy. So, I know that us girls can do the same thing to you too boys.
Coaxing Rachel away from her Blackberry and towards Topshop I found myself crossing my fingers that he did text her before lunch, otherwise I feared for both of our sanity's. (Fortunately, he did text her and they're going out again on Saturday night, happy times!)
It's widely believed that the people we meet and date throughout our lives shape who we are as people, it would be strange if they didnt, but seeing my confident, successful friend checking her phone every 30 seconds and worried that she would never be a good enough girlfriend made me realise that not everyone we meet has a positive effect on our lives. So, the next guy or girl you meet that acts slightly needy or nervous take a moment before you dismiss them and think about the person before you that could have made them this nervous, chances are, once you get to know them properly they could be the perfect boy/girlfriend you didn't know you needed.
Monday 16 August 2010
The Five Date Rule.
Everyone has that moment when dating someone new, that moment when the kisses involve tongue and the hands are sliding south and threatening not to stay above clothing for much longer. My moment with MusicBoy* took place on a leather sofa that quite frankly wasn't comfortable and was sticking to my backside, feeling neither attractive on said sofa or particularly ready to experience sex on a leather sofa (both tacky and sweaty I would imagine!) I subtly pointed out that maybe we should go upstairs. But...that's where the delicious fumbling drew to a slow but satisfying close because, after all, it was only Date 3.
"You make a guy wait for five dates?!" Louisa, no-so-subtle and up-for-anything friend gaped at me across our shared double chocolate brownie dessert (because girl world rules state that if you share a dessert the calories don't count, FACT!). "Jesus, if you like him why are you torturing yourself?"
Watching Louisa lick her spoon with all the carefree seductiveness of Samantha Jones with a lollipop, I considered her very valid point but I had stuck by my five date rule since the age of 18, in my head five dates was the perfect amount of time to figure out whether I was ready to surrender to nakedness with a guy, why five dates I hear to cry? Well, here's why...
Date One (if gone well) should always end with a kiss, subtle, light but a definite "Id like to see you again" kiss. If date one doesn't end with a kiss then you can guarantee us girls are going home with our Marc Jacobs' clad tail between our legs wondering why you didnt kiss us.
Date Two should be just as casual but this time you learn more about each other and the Goodnight kiss lasts just a little bit longer than the previous one.
Date Three should see definite subtle hand holding, plenty of body contact and quiet conversations in public places with private jokes that no-one else in the room is in on except the two of you.
By Date Four we've definitely decided whether we want you to see us naked but we need to be sure that we're not giving it up to someone who's going to drop us like a hand-ball the moment the post-coital glow as worn off. Cue, plenty of over the clothes fumbling, slightly more passionate kissing and probably the suggestion of watching a film together (that won't end up being watched) with candles instead of lights and strictly no popcorn, sorry boys!
If you've made it to Date Five then ding-ding-ding you've done all of the above right and guess what...? We like you. But don't expect it to happen straight away, no no, for us girls sex is like prepping for a space mission...
There's legs and various other areas (ahem!) to be waxed, hair to wash, moisturiser to be applied (probably something fruity so that you remember the smell of us...sneaky!), the sexy underwear drawer is cracked open and we spend a massive amount of time agonising over whether red underwear says "I need to get laid tonight" or whether white underwear says "Sweet and innocent" or "wedding night". In the end 90% of the time we'll go for black, black screams sexy but not too sexy, most probably something lace and always, always matching.
Prepped and looking fabulous we spend most of the night with butterflies in our stomachs, eating very little and hoping you'll suggest candles when we get to your room because we all look better in candlelight. And afterwards, hopefully sleepy and satisfied we won't care about our fluffy hair and smudged eye make-up just about how we can now do that with you again and again and how all that waiting was worth it.
"But, you could have done all that without having to wait so long, it's just sex."
Louisa announced, starling the elderly couple at the table next to us and tossing the spoon into the now empty sundae glass. Wondering whether my five date rule was a little harsh I resolved to ask my other girlfriends how long they wait and the answers came back in these responses;
"Three dates"
"Whenever I feel like it"
"Eight dates"
"After four dinners"....and...the most common answer...
"Round about five dates"
Maybe my five date theory wasn't so crazy after all but, just for a moment, I considered Louisa, sexy, confident, independant and the last of my friends I ever imagined weeping into a tub of ice cream, surrounded by Maltesers and replaying the moment Big abandons Carrie at the wedding in the Sex and the City movie and decided to act like my friend for the evening and take a chance. Calling MusicBoy* after dinner I turned up at his door in nothing but a trench coat and a smile and...well, let's just leave it there.
But sadly, five months later (how, ironic!) MusicBoy* and I were no more, I didn't regret my five date rule only how much time I'd probably wasted worrying about it being the right amount of time so that I didn't appear outrageously frigid or a bit of a slut. It sounds cliche but when the time is right to sleep with someone new you know it, so next time I'll be doing less worrying and flying by the seat of my pants....literally?...who knows!
"You make a guy wait for five dates?!" Louisa, no-so-subtle and up-for-anything friend gaped at me across our shared double chocolate brownie dessert (because girl world rules state that if you share a dessert the calories don't count, FACT!). "Jesus, if you like him why are you torturing yourself?"
Watching Louisa lick her spoon with all the carefree seductiveness of Samantha Jones with a lollipop, I considered her very valid point but I had stuck by my five date rule since the age of 18, in my head five dates was the perfect amount of time to figure out whether I was ready to surrender to nakedness with a guy, why five dates I hear to cry? Well, here's why...
Date One (if gone well) should always end with a kiss, subtle, light but a definite "Id like to see you again" kiss. If date one doesn't end with a kiss then you can guarantee us girls are going home with our Marc Jacobs' clad tail between our legs wondering why you didnt kiss us.
Date Two should be just as casual but this time you learn more about each other and the Goodnight kiss lasts just a little bit longer than the previous one.
Date Three should see definite subtle hand holding, plenty of body contact and quiet conversations in public places with private jokes that no-one else in the room is in on except the two of you.
By Date Four we've definitely decided whether we want you to see us naked but we need to be sure that we're not giving it up to someone who's going to drop us like a hand-ball the moment the post-coital glow as worn off. Cue, plenty of over the clothes fumbling, slightly more passionate kissing and probably the suggestion of watching a film together (that won't end up being watched) with candles instead of lights and strictly no popcorn, sorry boys!
If you've made it to Date Five then ding-ding-ding you've done all of the above right and guess what...? We like you. But don't expect it to happen straight away, no no, for us girls sex is like prepping for a space mission...
There's legs and various other areas (ahem!) to be waxed, hair to wash, moisturiser to be applied (probably something fruity so that you remember the smell of us...sneaky!), the sexy underwear drawer is cracked open and we spend a massive amount of time agonising over whether red underwear says "I need to get laid tonight" or whether white underwear says "Sweet and innocent" or "wedding night". In the end 90% of the time we'll go for black, black screams sexy but not too sexy, most probably something lace and always, always matching.
Prepped and looking fabulous we spend most of the night with butterflies in our stomachs, eating very little and hoping you'll suggest candles when we get to your room because we all look better in candlelight. And afterwards, hopefully sleepy and satisfied we won't care about our fluffy hair and smudged eye make-up just about how we can now do that with you again and again and how all that waiting was worth it.
"But, you could have done all that without having to wait so long, it's just sex."
Louisa announced, starling the elderly couple at the table next to us and tossing the spoon into the now empty sundae glass. Wondering whether my five date rule was a little harsh I resolved to ask my other girlfriends how long they wait and the answers came back in these responses;
"Three dates"
"Whenever I feel like it"
"Eight dates"
"After four dinners"....and...the most common answer...
"Round about five dates"
Maybe my five date theory wasn't so crazy after all but, just for a moment, I considered Louisa, sexy, confident, independant and the last of my friends I ever imagined weeping into a tub of ice cream, surrounded by Maltesers and replaying the moment Big abandons Carrie at the wedding in the Sex and the City movie and decided to act like my friend for the evening and take a chance. Calling MusicBoy* after dinner I turned up at his door in nothing but a trench coat and a smile and...well, let's just leave it there.
But sadly, five months later (how, ironic!) MusicBoy* and I were no more, I didn't regret my five date rule only how much time I'd probably wasted worrying about it being the right amount of time so that I didn't appear outrageously frigid or a bit of a slut. It sounds cliche but when the time is right to sleep with someone new you know it, so next time I'll be doing less worrying and flying by the seat of my pants....literally?...who knows!
Wednesday 28 July 2010
The Cheating Curve.
"Sexting. Meeting. Kissing. Shagging." I announced, no doubt sloshing Pinot over the rim of my wine glass.
"Kissing. Sleeping with." Emma stated.
"Having an emotional connection with." Gemma said.
"Facebook." Izzy piped up with.
Immediately about to ask Izzy what the hell she was going on about as we discussed what we each constituted as cheating, I stopped to consider the fact that over the past four days I'd had several "pokes" on Facebook from an ex that had been more of a brief kiss-and-run than an actual boyfriend but who currently had a girlfriend of his own. Unsurprisingly I managed to resist the urge to "poke" him back but when I later received a private inbox message asking me how I was (flirty winking face attached) I briefly considered replying with "Im great thank you, why don't you ask your girlfriend how she is?" before swallowing the comment down, hitting the delete button and sending the message off into internet oblivion.
After that little blast from the past and thinking about how many women I know have had a sneaky look through their boyfriend's text message inbox I wondered whether the new wave of social networking, fueled by the ease of checking Facebook and Twitter constantly through Iphones and Blackberrys' was making it easier for us to cheat?
It may only be a Facebook poke after all but if you're thinking of literally "poking" someone else instead of your girlfriend/boyfriend then that spells trouble ahead.
Note I have made careful use of the words Boyfriend AND Girlfriend because, trying to appeal against stereotypes, lets not forget that men are often the ones chastised for cheating but it's my belief that women are just as bad. We all make mistakes after all.
A point proved when, a few years ago, Jenny* turned up on my doorstep in the night before's clothes, mascara stains down to her chin and definate post-sex hair. Needless to say Jenny had made the mistake of falling back into bed with her ex when she had a new boyfriend, bad Jenny. But, despite her mistake Jenny was, and still is, one of the nicest girls I know and quickly fessed up to her boyfriend, who dumped her, as she deserved (her words not mine!) but by doing it Jenny did realise something, she wasn't ready for another relationship so soon after the ex.
There are plenty of relationships out there that I'm sure have survived 'Cheating Flu' because, simply, sometimes you have to fuck up to realise what you want, like Jenny. I'm not saying this makes cheating right, it's sad and painful but sometimes necessary?
I've been lucky in my relationships to have never been cheated on (at least that I am aware of), nor have I ever cheated myself, mostly because I fear that chances of me being caught are highly likely due to a conscience that won't even allow me to recycle a tin can without rinsing it out first. However, that hasn't stopped me Facebook stalking pretty girls that have written seemingly innocent messages on my ex's Facebook walls. If you're currently exclaiming that you don't do that you're lying and you know it!
And it hasn't stopped me from being the subject of intense questioning by Tom* when an innocent picture of a friend's Brother and I appeared on Facebook, immediately recieving a text from him that read, "That guy in that photo better be gay." I proceeded to sit through a two hour long argument about who he was, why we were out together in a club (No mention from Tom of the other eight people who were also out with us that night and in the photos too) and accusations that the smile on my face in the photo was "too suggestive." Needless to say I almost found myself wishing I had slept with Jack* just so that what I was being accused of was actually true.
I had no problem with him going through my message inbox on my phone because I knew he'd never find anything suspicious simply because there was nothing to find but he seemed to love winding me up just incase I had something to confess.
If I had a pair of Louboutins for everytime I've had a conversation with friends who've "seen" something on Facebook or "heard" something or seen a dodgy looking picture I would have a pair for every day of the month and a pair to sleep in (Please God, let the Facebook conversations keep coming hehe). It must cause arguments every night of the week in homes everywhere but we still insist upon checking it at least once a day.
With technology seemingly making us either paranoid or tempted to send that flirty message are we so caught up in analysing that photo of the office temp draped over our man at the work Christmas party in 2008 that we haven't actually told him we love him lately? It's heartbreaking when people cheat and it hurts like hell for a very long time but stop Facebook stalking and jumping everytime he gets a text, close the laptop lid, wave bye-bye to the paranoia and show each other all the reasons you have to not need anyone else but each other.
"Kissing. Sleeping with." Emma stated.
"Having an emotional connection with." Gemma said.
"Facebook." Izzy piped up with.
Immediately about to ask Izzy what the hell she was going on about as we discussed what we each constituted as cheating, I stopped to consider the fact that over the past four days I'd had several "pokes" on Facebook from an ex that had been more of a brief kiss-and-run than an actual boyfriend but who currently had a girlfriend of his own. Unsurprisingly I managed to resist the urge to "poke" him back but when I later received a private inbox message asking me how I was (flirty winking face attached) I briefly considered replying with "Im great thank you, why don't you ask your girlfriend how she is?" before swallowing the comment down, hitting the delete button and sending the message off into internet oblivion.
After that little blast from the past and thinking about how many women I know have had a sneaky look through their boyfriend's text message inbox I wondered whether the new wave of social networking, fueled by the ease of checking Facebook and Twitter constantly through Iphones and Blackberrys' was making it easier for us to cheat?
It may only be a Facebook poke after all but if you're thinking of literally "poking" someone else instead of your girlfriend/boyfriend then that spells trouble ahead.
Note I have made careful use of the words Boyfriend AND Girlfriend because, trying to appeal against stereotypes, lets not forget that men are often the ones chastised for cheating but it's my belief that women are just as bad. We all make mistakes after all.
A point proved when, a few years ago, Jenny* turned up on my doorstep in the night before's clothes, mascara stains down to her chin and definate post-sex hair. Needless to say Jenny had made the mistake of falling back into bed with her ex when she had a new boyfriend, bad Jenny. But, despite her mistake Jenny was, and still is, one of the nicest girls I know and quickly fessed up to her boyfriend, who dumped her, as she deserved (her words not mine!) but by doing it Jenny did realise something, she wasn't ready for another relationship so soon after the ex.
There are plenty of relationships out there that I'm sure have survived 'Cheating Flu' because, simply, sometimes you have to fuck up to realise what you want, like Jenny. I'm not saying this makes cheating right, it's sad and painful but sometimes necessary?
I've been lucky in my relationships to have never been cheated on (at least that I am aware of), nor have I ever cheated myself, mostly because I fear that chances of me being caught are highly likely due to a conscience that won't even allow me to recycle a tin can without rinsing it out first. However, that hasn't stopped me Facebook stalking pretty girls that have written seemingly innocent messages on my ex's Facebook walls. If you're currently exclaiming that you don't do that you're lying and you know it!
And it hasn't stopped me from being the subject of intense questioning by Tom* when an innocent picture of a friend's Brother and I appeared on Facebook, immediately recieving a text from him that read, "That guy in that photo better be gay." I proceeded to sit through a two hour long argument about who he was, why we were out together in a club (No mention from Tom of the other eight people who were also out with us that night and in the photos too) and accusations that the smile on my face in the photo was "too suggestive." Needless to say I almost found myself wishing I had slept with Jack* just so that what I was being accused of was actually true.
I had no problem with him going through my message inbox on my phone because I knew he'd never find anything suspicious simply because there was nothing to find but he seemed to love winding me up just incase I had something to confess.
If I had a pair of Louboutins for everytime I've had a conversation with friends who've "seen" something on Facebook or "heard" something or seen a dodgy looking picture I would have a pair for every day of the month and a pair to sleep in (Please God, let the Facebook conversations keep coming hehe). It must cause arguments every night of the week in homes everywhere but we still insist upon checking it at least once a day.
With technology seemingly making us either paranoid or tempted to send that flirty message are we so caught up in analysing that photo of the office temp draped over our man at the work Christmas party in 2008 that we haven't actually told him we love him lately? It's heartbreaking when people cheat and it hurts like hell for a very long time but stop Facebook stalking and jumping everytime he gets a text, close the laptop lid, wave bye-bye to the paranoia and show each other all the reasons you have to not need anyone else but each other.
Wednesday 7 July 2010
Romance loves Drama.
During a recent conversation with someone who shall remain nameless (you know who you are) it was suggested to me that us girls love drama and can't have a relationship without it.
I was about to stick up for my fellow female form and protest that we hate the drama just as much as you guys do but then something stopped me...flashing back into my head came the memory of an ex (we'll call him Tom*) showing up at my door looking tired and wounded after a very long train journey a week after he had stormed out of my flat in a hissy fit and then later text me to say it was over. Tom was sad and sorry and I was intially frosty but when I saw that he had arrived with no clothes or overnight things and was willing to sleep on the floor or get on a train straight back to where he had come from my resolve melted and because I still loved him we worked things out. We broke up a few months later and that's where it ended but the point is Tom made the grand gesture, he turned up at the door in the rain (yes, it was actually raining I didn't make that up for effect) and said he couldn't know that I was right there and that he hadn't tried to apologise and get back together.
Just like the movies and television we watch and the books we read Tom had made the big romantic gesture and I, being the girl that I am (slightly niave), was so blinded by it that I forgot about the drama that had come before it. The shouting, the accusations and the tears, oh, AND the accidental flooding of my bathroom, were all forgotten. Does the big romance really go hand in hand with drama?
It took Carrie moving half way around the world for Big to realise that she was 'The One' before he chased her to Paris and it took Noah building Allie's dream house in 'The Notebook' for them to end up back in each other's lives...and in that steamy sex scene! And it took Tom slamming out of my flat and me not ringing him begging him to take me back for him to realise he'd messed up. I'm not denying that it must have taken some serious balls for him to turn up at my door, particularly considering the savage friends I have, but should it really come down to...'You never realise what you've got until it's gone?"
After that I went through all of the romantic gestures I'd ever had the pleasure of being a part of and over half of them were follow up's to drama, arguments or false accusations, this wasn't the result I'd been hoping for, believe me, but have we become addicted to drama in our relationships because we hope the romance afterward will be good enough to make us forget about the disagreement that caused it?
Deciding to investigate further I turned to my friend Rachel* for answers, Rachel and Mark* have been together for years, gone through school and different universities and are still together (hats off to them!). Asking her about whether Mark makes a big romantic gesture after they've had a fight Rach said, "No, we just tend to shout at each other, stay away from each other for a couple of hours then we'll leave a note on the mirror saying sorry or make the other a cup of tea and that's it."
No romantic declaration of undying love and no tears.
And that's when it hit me. It wasn't all the grand gestures that I linked so closely with arguments that mattered to me, it was the little things that I cared about, like the guy who bought me low-salt bacon for breakfast one Sunday morning because I had high blood pressure or the time a guy made me slow dance with him in the street one night under the stars, all the little things that had so much thought behind them, no expense, nothing grand...just thought...and absolutely, positively, 100% NO DRAMA.
You see...it can be done.
xoxo
I was about to stick up for my fellow female form and protest that we hate the drama just as much as you guys do but then something stopped me...flashing back into my head came the memory of an ex (we'll call him Tom*) showing up at my door looking tired and wounded after a very long train journey a week after he had stormed out of my flat in a hissy fit and then later text me to say it was over. Tom was sad and sorry and I was intially frosty but when I saw that he had arrived with no clothes or overnight things and was willing to sleep on the floor or get on a train straight back to where he had come from my resolve melted and because I still loved him we worked things out. We broke up a few months later and that's where it ended but the point is Tom made the grand gesture, he turned up at the door in the rain (yes, it was actually raining I didn't make that up for effect) and said he couldn't know that I was right there and that he hadn't tried to apologise and get back together.
Just like the movies and television we watch and the books we read Tom had made the big romantic gesture and I, being the girl that I am (slightly niave), was so blinded by it that I forgot about the drama that had come before it. The shouting, the accusations and the tears, oh, AND the accidental flooding of my bathroom, were all forgotten. Does the big romance really go hand in hand with drama?
It took Carrie moving half way around the world for Big to realise that she was 'The One' before he chased her to Paris and it took Noah building Allie's dream house in 'The Notebook' for them to end up back in each other's lives...and in that steamy sex scene! And it took Tom slamming out of my flat and me not ringing him begging him to take me back for him to realise he'd messed up. I'm not denying that it must have taken some serious balls for him to turn up at my door, particularly considering the savage friends I have, but should it really come down to...'You never realise what you've got until it's gone?"
After that I went through all of the romantic gestures I'd ever had the pleasure of being a part of and over half of them were follow up's to drama, arguments or false accusations, this wasn't the result I'd been hoping for, believe me, but have we become addicted to drama in our relationships because we hope the romance afterward will be good enough to make us forget about the disagreement that caused it?
Deciding to investigate further I turned to my friend Rachel* for answers, Rachel and Mark* have been together for years, gone through school and different universities and are still together (hats off to them!). Asking her about whether Mark makes a big romantic gesture after they've had a fight Rach said, "No, we just tend to shout at each other, stay away from each other for a couple of hours then we'll leave a note on the mirror saying sorry or make the other a cup of tea and that's it."
No romantic declaration of undying love and no tears.
And that's when it hit me. It wasn't all the grand gestures that I linked so closely with arguments that mattered to me, it was the little things that I cared about, like the guy who bought me low-salt bacon for breakfast one Sunday morning because I had high blood pressure or the time a guy made me slow dance with him in the street one night under the stars, all the little things that had so much thought behind them, no expense, nothing grand...just thought...and absolutely, positively, 100% NO DRAMA.
You see...it can be done.
xoxo
Monday 28 June 2010
The Break-Up Blog.
Unfortunately it's a sad fact of young, single girl life that we're all painfully and enevitably going to get dumped at one point. Now, I'm not suggesting that this little gem of information be used when you're crying into your pillow and snotting everywhere but after a few days of tears, Ben and Jerry's and the ritual 'Boyfriend Bonfire' of the cards and pictures of you together a little light appears at the end of the break up express tunnel and you gradually realise that just maybe...he wasn't quite right anyway.
If you're not quite there yet you are probably trapped in one of these three stages;
But, by far the most important thing ladies, to get over the pain quickly and slightly less painfully, you (or a friend) need to perform some effective damage control. Get rid of any pictures where he looks sexy and you look happy, burn letters he wrote, cards he sent, for God's sake delete him from Facebook and/or Twitter (torturing yourself by constantly checking his "status" and any new photos to only be devastated when a gorgeous brunette pops up in them, who is probably his cousin anyway is NOT healthy!) and get rid of his phone number, sad, drunk texting/calling at 4am is not going to get him back or you over it.
So, for goodness sake girls, it's Summer, get that maxy dress on, get down to the beach and get checking out hot guys in aviators...they're everywhere...I've noticed hehe!
xoxo
If you're not quite there yet you are probably trapped in one of these three stages;
- Uncontrollable and equally unattractive crying. Normally occuring just after the break up has taken place and the subsequent days afterwards, everytime anyone is nice to you, brings you a present or, God help them, gives you a hug.
- Numbness. After the crying has momentarily stopped and the hurt has been replaced by mute numbness as you watch re-runs of Sex and the City into the night comapring your relationship with your ex to whatever is going on between Carrie and Big/Adian (depending on which episode you have picked to weep to.)
- The What-is-wrong-with-me/I'm-never-going-to-meet-someone-else-ever-again stage. Normally, by this point you've stopped crying and justifying your break up the Carrie Bradshaw way e.g. talked it to death and then gone and bought shoes. And you are using it as an excuse to get out of doing the washing up, hoovering and putting any effort in at work except to go to Greggs for chocolate eclairs. It is also at this point you consider yourself in 10 years time, living in a granny annex off of your parents house with 12 cats you call your "Babies".
But, by far the most important thing ladies, to get over the pain quickly and slightly less painfully, you (or a friend) need to perform some effective damage control. Get rid of any pictures where he looks sexy and you look happy, burn letters he wrote, cards he sent, for God's sake delete him from Facebook and/or Twitter (torturing yourself by constantly checking his "status" and any new photos to only be devastated when a gorgeous brunette pops up in them, who is probably his cousin anyway is NOT healthy!) and get rid of his phone number, sad, drunk texting/calling at 4am is not going to get him back or you over it.
So, for goodness sake girls, it's Summer, get that maxy dress on, get down to the beach and get checking out hot guys in aviators...they're everywhere...I've noticed hehe!
xoxo
The Nothing Argument
Up and down the country couples everywhere are having the same fight, women are stressed, premenstrual and crying over Holby City and their boyfriends keep asking them what's wrong. Big Mistake.
"He just kept asking and asking, what's wrong Amy, what's wrong?" My close friend Amy gesticulates wildly with her wine glass, slopping Pinot over a passing waiter. Whilst the other three of us at the table nod our heads. "So, I lost it and screamed "Nothing" at him before slamming the door in his face."
After we'd continued to probe Amy for information about what was actually wrong with her she admitted that it was actually nothing at all she just wanted some time alone. At the same time somewhere in a pub across town Amy's boyfriend Josh was probably explaining this exchange to his mates over another pint before all coming to the conclusion that women are crazy.
In a way, men have a point. We are a little bit mad but women prefer to use the word 'mysterious.' When we're grumpy or upset or say huffily (without meeting your eyes, just so you know we're really not in the mood) "Nothing's wrong", usually whilst doing some menial task such as washing up. It only means one of either of two things:
1. There isn't anything that seriously wrong, we are just either tired, stressed out or want to be alone with a One Tree Hill boxset.
2. You've done something wrong.
To all the guys reading this that have just sighed at number two and said, "It's always our fault" think about it for a second, is there anything you could have possibly done? Something teeny tiny, did you criticise something? (women can't stand that.) Forget to do something? Because thats all it takes to tip us over the hormonal threshold. Yes, we are just that fickle. But whatever you do DO NOT start asking us about numerous different things that you could have done wrong, that's only going to serve to remind us of all the things you have/haven't done and piss us off more. It is up to all the boyfriends up and down the country to handle this situation with careful precision.
In 21st century relationships sexist comments such as, "Is it that time of the month?" aren't heard that often anymore, mainly because men are more afraid that they won't get sex for the next month if they do. Yet, in reality, sometimes, that is just what is wrong with us. In a recent study scientists found that women's hormone levels are highest during the seven days before their period, which makes us more emotional and more irrational, sorry girls but it's true. However, on the up-side ladies it has now been scientifically proven that we are more driven to shop during the third week of our cycle so, when your boyfriend's eyes pop out on stalks as you return home from work with yet another Topshop bag you can blame it on those hormones, damn things, hehe.
"So, what happened?" I ask Amy, after apologising to the waiter and topping up her glass. "I stayed in our room for an hour and when I came out he'd bought an extra-large bag of Maltesers and put Grey's Anatomy on." A universal sigh of "Aawwwwwww" goes up around the table.
Boys, if you skimmed over that paragraph read it again! It's important! Amy just gave you the key to never having the "Nothing's wrong" row ever again! One.Simple. Act of kindness. We know we've been irritating and irrational otherwise we wouldn't lock ourselves away on our own after shouting at you but run us a bubble bath, buy us chocolate or give us a cuddle and we'll be apologising for being a bitch to you in no time. We're not crazy, we're easy to please. Honestly.
And what we hadn't gotten round to telling you is that in that Topshop bag you rolled your eyes at earlier is actually a black lace camisole and you might have just won yourself a ticket to a private showing.
"He just kept asking and asking, what's wrong Amy, what's wrong?" My close friend Amy gesticulates wildly with her wine glass, slopping Pinot over a passing waiter. Whilst the other three of us at the table nod our heads. "So, I lost it and screamed "Nothing" at him before slamming the door in his face."
After we'd continued to probe Amy for information about what was actually wrong with her she admitted that it was actually nothing at all she just wanted some time alone. At the same time somewhere in a pub across town Amy's boyfriend Josh was probably explaining this exchange to his mates over another pint before all coming to the conclusion that women are crazy.
In a way, men have a point. We are a little bit mad but women prefer to use the word 'mysterious.' When we're grumpy or upset or say huffily (without meeting your eyes, just so you know we're really not in the mood) "Nothing's wrong", usually whilst doing some menial task such as washing up. It only means one of either of two things:
1. There isn't anything that seriously wrong, we are just either tired, stressed out or want to be alone with a One Tree Hill boxset.
2. You've done something wrong.
To all the guys reading this that have just sighed at number two and said, "It's always our fault" think about it for a second, is there anything you could have possibly done? Something teeny tiny, did you criticise something? (women can't stand that.) Forget to do something? Because thats all it takes to tip us over the hormonal threshold. Yes, we are just that fickle. But whatever you do DO NOT start asking us about numerous different things that you could have done wrong, that's only going to serve to remind us of all the things you have/haven't done and piss us off more. It is up to all the boyfriends up and down the country to handle this situation with careful precision.
In 21st century relationships sexist comments such as, "Is it that time of the month?" aren't heard that often anymore, mainly because men are more afraid that they won't get sex for the next month if they do. Yet, in reality, sometimes, that is just what is wrong with us. In a recent study scientists found that women's hormone levels are highest during the seven days before their period, which makes us more emotional and more irrational, sorry girls but it's true. However, on the up-side ladies it has now been scientifically proven that we are more driven to shop during the third week of our cycle so, when your boyfriend's eyes pop out on stalks as you return home from work with yet another Topshop bag you can blame it on those hormones, damn things, hehe.
"So, what happened?" I ask Amy, after apologising to the waiter and topping up her glass. "I stayed in our room for an hour and when I came out he'd bought an extra-large bag of Maltesers and put Grey's Anatomy on." A universal sigh of "Aawwwwwww" goes up around the table.
Boys, if you skimmed over that paragraph read it again! It's important! Amy just gave you the key to never having the "Nothing's wrong" row ever again! One.Simple. Act of kindness. We know we've been irritating and irrational otherwise we wouldn't lock ourselves away on our own after shouting at you but run us a bubble bath, buy us chocolate or give us a cuddle and we'll be apologising for being a bitch to you in no time. We're not crazy, we're easy to please. Honestly.
And what we hadn't gotten round to telling you is that in that Topshop bag you rolled your eyes at earlier is actually a black lace camisole and you might have just won yourself a ticket to a private showing.
Good Guy vs. Bad Boy
Good Guy vs. Bad Boy
"Women love a bad boy and when you have a bad boy who can dance, it slays them."
A quote by choreographer Brian Friedman on the late Patrick Swayze's role of Johnny Castle in 'Dirty Dancing'. Adored by millions of girls around the world and regarded as the ultimate chick flick, from the moment Swayze walks into the main hotel during that first scene, in that tight white t-shirt and those black shades women let out a collective sigh and boyfriends and husbands shake their heads. But, what they never do is hang around to find out exactly why that character has that effect on women.
To all the guys that have ever complained, "Women want a bad boy and then moan when they get treated badly," it's really very simple. What woman really want is the nice guy, with a bit of bad thrown in for good measure! Nice guys moan that they never get the girl, for instance Dylan, an old school friend who's Mum made the best fairy cakes I've ever tasted, slurred after a few too many buy-one-get-one-free drinks in the pub one weekend that he was the flowers and hearts guy, who had never even thought about cheating once in his life yet he was single. Whereas, his close friend Jay, who's in the Navy girls, has never stuck to one woman for more than six weeks yet has women lusting over him in every part of the country, what was up with that?
Unfortunately for Dylan he had answered his own question in that very sentence. Jay's in the Navy and for any woman who's ever seen 'An Officer and a Gentleman' with his boyish grin and naval physique it's no wonder Jay has a different woman every few weeks. It's a sad tale boys but sometimes we just want to be treated like they are in the movies, teach us how to gyrate like Johnny, show off your flying skills e.g, Maverick in 'Topgun', indulge our fantasies a little bit, we know it's not real life but just indulge us once in a while and, believe me, we'll thank you.
However, if you can't dance and don't have a plane handy do not despair boys because...(and I'm letting you in on a major secret here!)...girls don't want a bad boy, they want a good guy who has a secret bad boy streak.
The infamous sex scene between Johnny and Baby is sexy for entirely different reasons to a woman than to a guy, to you boys it may just be a half-naked girl and guy getting it on but to us girls he's a bad boy being gentle AND sexy, he undresses her with such care and sensuality that that is the exact reason why we love it! But that sexual attraction is heightened by the fact that a man could be so gentle yet ready to throw a punch to protect your honour if needed.
"Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen" might work in some situations but there's only so much being treated "mean" a girl can take and ,essentially, unless you're a good guy who can masquerade as a bad boy when the time is right e.g. slide your arms around us at the kitchen sink after dinner and whisper how much you want us...on the table...now! That's all the bad boy we need to make us sigh like we do at Patrick. At the end of all those chick flicks we watch and books we read the bad boy who doesn't call never gets the girl, the nice guy always wins, it's the bad boy passion we crave not the bad boy attitude. And who knows what wicked side that might bring out in us boys.
"Women love a bad boy and when you have a bad boy who can dance, it slays them."
A quote by choreographer Brian Friedman on the late Patrick Swayze's role of Johnny Castle in 'Dirty Dancing'. Adored by millions of girls around the world and regarded as the ultimate chick flick, from the moment Swayze walks into the main hotel during that first scene, in that tight white t-shirt and those black shades women let out a collective sigh and boyfriends and husbands shake their heads. But, what they never do is hang around to find out exactly why that character has that effect on women.
To all the guys that have ever complained, "Women want a bad boy and then moan when they get treated badly," it's really very simple. What woman really want is the nice guy, with a bit of bad thrown in for good measure! Nice guys moan that they never get the girl, for instance Dylan, an old school friend who's Mum made the best fairy cakes I've ever tasted, slurred after a few too many buy-one-get-one-free drinks in the pub one weekend that he was the flowers and hearts guy, who had never even thought about cheating once in his life yet he was single. Whereas, his close friend Jay, who's in the Navy girls, has never stuck to one woman for more than six weeks yet has women lusting over him in every part of the country, what was up with that?
Unfortunately for Dylan he had answered his own question in that very sentence. Jay's in the Navy and for any woman who's ever seen 'An Officer and a Gentleman' with his boyish grin and naval physique it's no wonder Jay has a different woman every few weeks. It's a sad tale boys but sometimes we just want to be treated like they are in the movies, teach us how to gyrate like Johnny, show off your flying skills e.g, Maverick in 'Topgun', indulge our fantasies a little bit, we know it's not real life but just indulge us once in a while and, believe me, we'll thank you.
However, if you can't dance and don't have a plane handy do not despair boys because...(and I'm letting you in on a major secret here!)...girls don't want a bad boy, they want a good guy who has a secret bad boy streak.
The infamous sex scene between Johnny and Baby is sexy for entirely different reasons to a woman than to a guy, to you boys it may just be a half-naked girl and guy getting it on but to us girls he's a bad boy being gentle AND sexy, he undresses her with such care and sensuality that that is the exact reason why we love it! But that sexual attraction is heightened by the fact that a man could be so gentle yet ready to throw a punch to protect your honour if needed.
"Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen" might work in some situations but there's only so much being treated "mean" a girl can take and ,essentially, unless you're a good guy who can masquerade as a bad boy when the time is right e.g. slide your arms around us at the kitchen sink after dinner and whisper how much you want us...on the table...now! That's all the bad boy we need to make us sigh like we do at Patrick. At the end of all those chick flicks we watch and books we read the bad boy who doesn't call never gets the girl, the nice guy always wins, it's the bad boy passion we crave not the bad boy attitude. And who knows what wicked side that might bring out in us boys.
Girls Lie Too Boys.
Girls Lie Too Boys.
The familiar 'pop' noise from my laptop balanced on my bed not only distracts me from my furious eyebrow plucking, almost taking out my eye, but alerts me that someone is talking to me on Facebook chat. The new way for Men and Women to flirt. Quickly asking me what I'm up to I reply that I've just gotten out of the shower - a total lie! Note to all the guys reading this: When a girl puts that she's just had a shower or is snuggled in bed because she's cold *wink wink*... most of time she's in her comfy-but-crap pyjamas with no make up on, watching Gossip Girl and demolishing a bar of Galaxy Cookie Crumble. Fact. But she'd never tell you that, instead opting for a suggestive comment an a winking emoticon. Just as we saw Sienna Miller sweet-talk Daniel Craig in 'Layer Cake' over the phone, whilst having her wet hair bundled up in a towel on top of her head and clipping her toenails. We'll tell you anything if it gets you thinking about us naked.
After all, we are a nation addicted to flirting. We can't help it. All of the boyfriends that swear to their angry girlfriends that they don't flirt are lying and those girlfriends are playing dumb, any girl with half a brain knows that her boy flirts and that they were doing the same that morning with the office bagel guy.
In a reality were almost 50% of modern marriages end in divorce we're obsessed with monogamy and staying faithful. When recently asking one of my guy friends why he didn't have my number anymore he replied, "Because Stacey doesn't like it." After further questioning he confessed he isn't allowed other girls numbers in his phone so he changes the names to Men's names to avoid argument. I stared at him with my mouth open for several seconds before excusing myself to go to the bar for a rather large Gin top up.
Now, having never met Stacey I'm not going to pass judgement but when asked why he stays with her when he's forced to lie like that he replys, "Because she cares about me. And thats nice." Not, "Because I love her," or "Because she makes me happy." Just, "Because she cares." Swiftly pointing out that I care and everyone else around the table at the pub cares he looks down thoughtfully into his pint and the subject changes to the night before's episode of 'Topgear'.
It's at this moment in time that I feel I should stick up for my fellow women and point out that sometimes we do have a right to cry, scream and generally eat an entire tub of 'Ben n Jerrys', like, for instance after a tearful phone call from my friend Kylie, who has been hopelessly in love with her ex-boyfriend for far too long, to inform me that he's told her he no longer loves her...right after he slept with her, so to be fair boys, sometimes you are horrid to us.
Girlfriends have long been stereotyped as the ones who moan that their boyfriends don't spend enough time with them and don't like it when you go to the pub with the boys instead of watching a dvd with them on a Saturday night. But when my ex-boyfriend informed me that I wasn't spending enough time with him and gave me the silent treatment every time I planned a night out friends I was stunned by the role reversal. He was moody, distant and when I got home would make it clear he wasn't happy, even though we didn't live together. Not to mention the arguments caused by me having guy friends.
Which brings me full circle back to our nations addictive flirting, it's happening everywhere all the time, all around the country. In fact, it's so blatant it's practically classed as 'being polite'. So girls the next time your having a row about the pretty brunette at the station who's bags your boyfriend helped her carry, take a second to remember the guy with the gorgeous smile who helped you unblock the paper jam in the printer at work that morning...maybe then you can save yourself an argument and...have sex with the man you love instead.
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