The Loves and life of a London girl

The good, the bad and the famous.....

2011-09-15T03:24:00.003+10:00

‘Would you like to speed date on top of the Sydney Harbour bridge?’ the email said. It was closing in on valentine’s day, this year, when I was based in Sydney. Yes I was single, no I didn’t have any particular plans, but did I want to scale a bridge to find love? Well, not really no.

But that didn’t stop me considering it, ‘What if the Australian hunk I’ve been looking for is up there?’ I said to my flatmate. ‘You hate speed dating, you’re not that great with heights – is it worth it?’ she replied. Sure I could have fainted up there, suffered from a panic attack and been stumped with a load of losers with no get out clause, but what if I was missing out on Mr Right by turning it down? They say dating is all about being outside your comfort zone, but this was pushing it way past any sort of zone I’d found myself in before.

The problem is that dating today is so complicated – if we’re not logged on to at least 5 dating websites, if we haven’t chatted up a man in our local supermarket or re read the rules for the billionth time then we’re made to feel like dating failures. The same goes with dating events – today just plain old speed dating is so ‘old school’. If you haven’t spent the best part of an evening abusing your date at speed hating, doing your best Picasso impression at doodle dating or sweating your socks off at fitness dating then how, oh how, will you ever meet a man?

I surprisingly found myself saying no to speed dating on top of the Sydney harbour bridge, even though according to stats, over the last 12 years, 4,000 couples have become engaged whilst climbing the bridge. Yes, I could be engaged by now. So when I got home of course I had to say a big fat yes to every other dating opportunity that came my way.

First up was speed dating karaoke. Yep I had to do my best warbling impression to impress a guy. I loved karaoke and dating, seperately, but I wasn’t sure if I’d like the two together. I was totally wrong, the thing with karaoke is it attracts confident men i.e. loser/shy guys need not apply. But while my friend got matched with four guys, yes FOUR, I ended up with NO matches. Was my singing voice that bad? Obviously. I decided that applying for this year’s X factor probably wasn’t a good idea.

Then I was asked to date a fellow dating/burrito blogger. He’d been writing a blog for the last year, and having won a burrito meal once a week for a year he thought he’d incorporate it into finding a girlfriend. Now the first qualm was of course being blogged about. What if he hated me? What if he said mean things? Would I be getting a nasty taste of my own medicine?

Thankfully he blogged nice things about me. But being his last date after one year of dating a girl every week he seemed like more of a pro than me and was obviously bored of dating. So after a burrito and a couple of drinks - 2 hours later and he was waving goodbye to me! Really? Had I eaten my burrito the wrong way? Was he just dating me so he could, shock horror, write about me? I felt so used!

Then there was the zoo. No, I didn’t have to speed date with the monkeys, it was actually my choice of date after meeting a guy on dating website Doing Something. I’m not sure why I thought the zoo would be cool as a first date, but I would advise against it – unless the meerkats are offering you a glass of wine, that is. I felt like I was on a school trip, while I feigned an interest in the next animal I was wondering where the nearest bar was.

I also said yes to dating a guy from twitter recently. Now, my normal rule is that I don’t date guys from the social networking world. It can all get a bit well ‘weird and complicated’ when a first date doesn’t work out. But call me shallow - he was verging on the slightly ‘famous side’ – or maybe it was his ex girlfriends that were the famous ones....sorry I forget.

Anyway, after months of him asking me out and never actually setting a date we finally met for a few drinks in Covent Garden. He was a nice guy and I actually quite liked him, but he did have a tendency to talk about his exes. It’s normally weird to talk about exes on a first date anyway, never mind exes who are famous, and that are readily available to view on google. They were singers, glamour models and TV presenters. I unfollowed him on twitter a few weeks later.

To be honest with you even though I’m up for new dating concepts, I really like the old way of meeting men. My mum met my dad in the pub, my grandma met my grandad while out riding her bicycle. It just doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, telling your kids you met while daddy was ‘trying’ to buy his weekly shop and mummy chased him round the fruit and vegetable aisle until he gave in and decided to date the ‘supermarket nutter’.

Sometimes I wish for a simpler dating life. But until then I suppose I’ll have to explore the weird and wonderful - Next? Well let’s just say I won’t be able to see my date until they turn the lights on 2 hours later – no doubt I’ll have the contents of my dinner down my outfit, so he’ll probably run a million miles. Wish me luck.....

Something borrowed....

2011-06-08T07:46:00.002+10:00

I thought there was something vaguely familiar about my friends latest date but couldn’t quite put my finger on it! Then I realised, yes that was it, I’d dated him once.

‘You just don’t buy the same clothes as each other’, my friend said to me last year as we both turned up to the gym in the same top, and frankly looked a bit silly side by side on the cross trainers. ‘It’s an unwritten rule,’ she carried on with, ‘no the unwritten rule is that you don’t date a friend’s ex’ I said to her, ‘if you like the top, you buy the top’.

So when the same friend asked me if she could date one of my exes recently I really had hoped she was joking. ‘But he winked at me,’ she argued. Not in person of course, in the good old world of online dating, where you can wink at hundreds of strangers all night and not even get eye ache. ‘So am I allowed to wink back,’ she’d asked?

He wasn’t technically an ex – I’d had a brief two month ‘fling’ with him but in his trail of destruction he’d left me wondering ‘what if?’ – I ended up stressing and questioning about every last detail of our encounters over the next year – did he still like me? Should I ask him out again? What did that last message mean? You could say I was a little bit hung up on him.

‘I suppose you still like him’, she’d said, giving me a reason to why I stated in very loud and clear language as to why she couldn’t date him. But it wasn’t even that. I was over him, okay maybe not totally – but when you have a history with someone isn’t that enough reason to stop a friend from dating them? Apparently not.

So have the rules about dating a friends ex changed, or been slightly altered and no one told me about it? According to my friends, if you decided you no longer wanted to be with them and tossed them back out into the ‘single wilderness’ then your friends are free to roam around with them too. But what does that extend to - someone you went on a few dates with, a six month relationship, a marriage?

I’m not very good at sharing my wine, let alone men I’ve dated. But maybe this where I’ve been going wrong all along - should I have been waiting in the wings as my friends shed tears about their latest break up? And should I be setting up all my friends with guys that just didn’t quite do it for me? I’m not sure if it’s a slightly weird or sensible ‘dating’ strategy.

In reality dating one of your friend’s exes probably isn’t such a hot idea. No doubt it will come back to haunt both of you. Just like the time the school heart throb asked me out, when I was 14. The problem? He’d just dumped my sister. Of course I couldn’t date him, it would just be cruel, right? ‘It’s fine,’ my sister had said, ‘he obviously likes you more’. So against my better judgement I started to date him. But of course it wasn’t okay for me to date him. What sane individual is okay with you dating someone that has literally just dumped them. I blame the school heart throb. My sister will probably ALWAYS hold it against me.

And what are the rules if your friend actually starts dating an ex? Are you allowed to compare notes? Are they allowed to reveal to you his reasons for breaking up with you? Will there be a point where you’ll have to stick your fingers in your ears and hope she doesn’t reveal too much information?

And what if the roles were reversed? ‘I’d be fine about you dating ones of my exes,’ my friend had said - but would she really? What would her reaction be if I walked into a bar tomorrow with her ex on my arm, the one she has two years history with, the one she used to moan to me about and yes the one she’d got naked with on a regular basis. Would she squirm as I talked about sex with him, would she say ‘I told you so’ when I moaned about his habits and would she ultimately secretly hold a deep desire to smack me round the face and say ‘put down my ex and find your own man’?

My friend never did date ‘that’ ex. She did date another one though, one which I’d thrown out into the dating wilderness after only three dates. I tried to pretend I was okay with it – I mean its selfish to stop two people dating isn’t it? Even if his last date had been you. Yes, like I said, I’m not very good at sharing – I’ll just make sure to drink all HER wine next time she’s not looking!

I now pronounce you......single!

2011-04-21T16:53:00.002+10:00

Everyone loves a good wedding. And its’ even more fun when you’re single. Will there be any hot ushers? Will the bride (or groom) suddenly decide they can’t make that type of commitment and not turn up? And will nosey family members ever realise it’s not polite to ask a single girl where her boyfriend is?!

But when it’s someone closest to you saying the ‘I do’s’ it goes into that slightly scary territory. So when my twin sister screamed down the phone last February, ‘I’m engaged,’ I momentarily went into shock. She was what? But, she can’t be, she’s only been dating him, oh yes - two and a half years. I was speechless, as well as being my twin sister – she’s my best friend and she was engaged while I was still single.

Of course I was happy for her – her boyfriend (sorry, now husband!) is not only one of her better choices of boyfriends in the last few years but also quite a decent guy. And after the amount of love rats, losers and downright idiots she’s dated I’m pleased she’s found a guy I know will look after her.

But being the ‘single’ twin sister of a girl who was getting married, and with my other sister bordering on marriage territory I of course had to put up with the concerns of family and friends about my single status. Cue tilted heads and sympathy voices saying - ‘Are you okay?’ poor you - I bet you just want to go and hide under a duvet don’t you?’ and ‘Aww I bet you feel a bit left on the shelf?’ Erm, no actually. Sorry, for a moment I actually thought it was my sister who had got engaged, not a celebration of my spinsterhood?!

And then it made me wonder - was that just a warm up before the big day? Would I have great Aunt Gertrude enquiring about my lesbian girlfriend while we ate canapes? A letchy old uncle asking to dance with me ‘just’ because he feels sorry for me, or the ultimate embarrassment - my future brother in law auctioning ‘the single sister’ off to the highest bidder – while he does his wedding speech!

And it’s not that I am in any way ready to get married, (I keep reminding people that I actually need to date someone for more than three dates, at least, before I should consider marriage) but I suppose, being her twin, I’d envisaged us two getting married at the same time. And if my Mum had had anything to do with it, we would have married twin brothers, and have a brood full of twin babies by now (sorry Mum!).

And when I’m invited to other weddings I do wonder why friends bother to give me a plus one. They really should know better by now, or do they hope, beyond hope, that I’ll have a man by the time their wedding comes around? At least my sister was honest with her invite, when I asked her why I didn’t get a plus one she piped up with ‘you won’t have a boyfriend by then’ and laughed at even the thought of it!

Before my sister’s wedding I was thinking about maybe making up a boyfriend. Well desperate times call for desperate measures and all. My best line was going to be that my ‘boyfriend’ really wanted to make it but had been offered a modelling shoot in Milan and he really couldn’t let Versace down ......again.

Thankfully the wedding went smoothly - the day was lovely, the bride looked gorgeous, the groom didn’t even utter the words single or Sarah in the same sentence, and no one knew of any reason why the two of them couldn’t be joined in matrimony (aka me – ‘No you can’t steal my sister from me’). And amazingly I was only asked once if I had a boyfriend, well along with the usual sympathy sighs I got for being the ‘only’ single bridesmaid of course! And if my sisters now mother-in-law has anything to do with it I’ll probably be married in no time – she was trying to set me up with every guy who came within a two-step radius to me.

But seriously I wonder if I’ll ever be ready to get married? (i.e not scared shitless about the whole prospect). I suppose I shouldn’t worry too much, at least I’m not over the hill quite yet – I still have a few years to meet someone, settle down and plead with them to marry me before I’m officially labelled as a spinster. But until then maybe I’ll have to up my internet dating habit by say 500%, speed date my way into the Guinness book of world records, or just poke a couple of randoms on facebook – surely if my sister can find a husband that way then it can work for me. No?! Erm...anyone up for some twirting? (That’s twitter flirting for you non twitter people).

Recyclable dating

2011-03-16T10:04:00.007+11:00

I’m not going to lie, adjusting back to the London way of life has been pretty hard. And I’m not just talking about the weather.

As I touched down on Heathrow’s tarmac and shivered my way home I made a pact with myself that I wouldn’t date until the summer! Sorry, but who dates in the winter? I couldn’t possibly go from dates by the beach and overlooking Sydney Harbour (yes...I know I’m boasting) to dates without the tan I achingly spent a good 50 days perfecting and dates where my hair was so windswept that I looked like a hedgehog on steroids.

But who was I kidding? No dating for a dating enthusiast is bordering on just plain stupidness. So before I knew it I was logging on to a dating site - ‘What’s the harm in just having a quick surf?' (less Bondi, more laptop!).

Now, when someone says to me ‘Oh you’re doing THAT Internet dating thing are you?’ I give a little chuckle.

Because I’m not JUST doing that Internet dating thing, I’m actually a veteran of Internet dating. FACT. If someone could hold a world record for the amount of dating websites they’d signed up to I would probably be the clear winner. I know about winks, nudges, email rejections and the 60 year old men who think it’s acceptable to email 29 year olds and ask for a date. Stop it. I will never say yes.

And because I’ve been Internet dating since I was 12 (well it seems like it!) I think I’m actually now, shamefully, recycling the men on them.

I sent a cheeky email to a guy on a dating website the other day, only to be horrified when he emailed me back saying ‘Didn’t we date before?’ Of course not, you’re thinking. Out of the possible thousands of men on Internet dating sites, how could it humanly be possible for me to stumble across the same guy twice? Believe me it’s actually possible....so possible that I’m sure it will happen again!

And I nearly even dated a friends ‘now’ boyfriend. He recognised me from her facebook pictures recently as the girl that never emailed him back on a dating website. I’m just glad that we never actually dated – now that would be an awkward type of date recycling.

So have I got to the point, where I’ve been single for so long that I’ll just have to start recycling old dates? Should I ring up old boyfriends and tell them it’s their turn to date me again? ‘What, you have a girlfriend? Well as long as she doesn’t mind I suppose!’

And because of my veteran status, does this terrifyingly also mean my judgement about whether a potential date is ‘dateable’ or not is slightly misconstrued now?

I should have really known from his user name (it referred to food) but I was pretty annoyed when I turned up to a date recently and he didn’t quite match his profile photos. Call it what you like - false advertising, lying or just plain skillful with the old photoshop tool, but it doesn’t do you much good when you realise you have to spend the best part of the evening with a ‘different to the Internet’ version of your date.

I tried, I really did try to like him, but as his words came out all I could here was my head saying, ‘Excuse me Mr but I think you may have lied a little bit on your profile.’ And when I did hear him speak most of it was food orientated. Like the time he returned from New York and saved room in his case for a kilos worth of Peanut butter chocolate. And I can’t even describe the expression on his face when I told him that Antony Worrall Thompson cooked me lunch once. I could have fit a whole cheesecake in his open mouth (his favourite food apparently!), that was after he stopped dribbling mind.

I hate people who tell fibs, and fibbing in date land is, well, punishable by no second date I suppose! He was so far off a second date that even if cheesecake was involved I would have said no. Honestly.

And so my London dating resumes.....I suppose it wouldn’t have been a ‘Sarah’ date if it had actually gone well, but please can I stop running into former dates?! Or at this rate there will be no options left and date recycling will be the only way forward.

New years 'dating' resolutions

2011-01-18T21:43:00.004+11:00

After meeting all manner of unsuitable men last year, my New Year’s resolution was simple – to embark on a man-detox!

But just like my amazing attempt at a New Year’s resolution in 2010 (to give up wine… I lasted three days) my plan ran into a little problem when a super hot guy grabbed me just after midnight and started kissing me! Well, honestly, if you’d seen him (and if he’d grabbed you) you would have understood…

So after a marathon kissing session with said super hot guy and getting over the hangover from hell (hey, it’s not every day a London girl gets to welcome a new decade in Sydney) I decided to forget about the detox and instead try my luck at speed dating.

Now, I don’t have a great track record when it comes to speed dating. My first attempt was thwarted by my admittedly sky-high expectations. Under no circumstances should you go speed dating if you’ve recently been dumped, you’re pining for another man or you’re desperate to find The One.

Unfortunately, the first time I went speed dating, I had been suffering from all of the above. There had been a sheer lack of men in my life since I’d been dumped a few months previously and dating 15 men in one night sounded like the sort of challenge which would brighten up my love life.

Imagine my disappointment, then, when I turned up. I’d expected tall, dark and handsome; I got short, bald and boring. And I was left emotionally drained after not even stumbling across Mr Right-Now.

My second encounter wasn’t any better. I’d been dragged there kicking and screaming and before the dating had even commenced, a fellow dater accidentally spilled her entire martini on my dress. It didn’t dawn on me until afterwards that she may have actually been trying to cut out the competition. That’s how intense speed dating can be.

But I was determined to give speed dating another try – with an open mind. Oh it also helped that it was speed dating whilst wine tasting – ‘if in doubt drink wine’ I always say!!

As luck would have it, the first guy I “dated” was a pilot; things were looking good already. So after about 15 mini dates, some quite hot men, some quite geeky men and enough good wine to quell my nerves, I realised I was actually having fun.

And I realised that speed dating – in fact, all types of dating - in Sydney is somewhat different to London. Nobody has expectations. It’s more like going on a ride in Disneyland than a serious game of chess (that is, there are no winners or losers). And most importantly, the men are much hotter. Especially the pilot...with whom I exchanged numbers!

So what have we learnt here? New Year’s resolutions never last. Date detoxing is a great idea if you want to meet a hot man. And speed dating + Sydney equals lots of fun and possibly a date or two.

Happy New Year!

First published on: http://www.cosmopolitan.com.au/my_new_years_dating_resolution.htm

Let's get sweaty.....

2011-01-03T21:56:00.004+11:00

For me, dating usually occurs in the safe confines of a bar or restaurant, where alcohol is readily supplied and comfort is key. So when I was asked along to Fit2Date, a dating-meets-fitness class in Sydney’s CBD I was, well, scared.

I’m not the kind of girl to shy away from a bit of exercise – in fact, I’m a Spin class regular and running and I have recently become friends. But exercising and dating: that is definitely new territory for me.

I’m prone to falling over in heels after a few too many wines, so God knows what would happen if you armed me with tennis racket, a surfboard or, God forbid, a dart. More than likely it would end with some sort of embarrassment or my date taking me to hospital – not the best first impression.

But what the hell, I thought, dating is all about being outside your comfort zone, right? So I arrived, Lycra-clad, ready to get all hot and sweaty with strange men. Just a regular Tuesday night.

I hoped I could slip in quietly by arriving late, but Tim, our trainer, had other plans. “This is Sarah, she’s come all the way from England,” he shouted as around 14 other fitness freaks muffled hellos.

After proper introductions and a warm-up the hard work really began: finding a guy who I fancied. Oh, and exercising, of course. Luckily, Trainer Tim seemed to have it all figured out. He ordered us to team up in boy-girl pairs, as we all shuffled along looking at each other as though we were at school and the thought of pairing up with a boy scared the living daylights out of us.

The rest of the class disappeared in a blur of lunges, sprints and sack races; I was trying to catch my breath and flirt at the same time – not the prettiest sight. The truth was, I didn’t fancy any of the guys, but I think that was a blessing in disguise. If there had have been any guys I’d been attracted to, I can’t imagine the aches and pains after showing off my push-up prowess.

I ended the night with no numbers, or dates, or even crushes (well, apart from a tiny one on Trainer Tim!) but one guy did ask me if I'd like to go running with him sometime. And I wondered, in the world of fitness dating, is this the equivalent of being asked on a date?? Well, I liked to think so!

First published on: http://www.cosmopolitan.com.au/lets_get_sweaty.htm

First impressions.....

2010-12-11T20:56:00.003+11:00

As I arrived in Sydney I beamed with excitement; I think I half expected Aussie surfer guys to be walking round the airport, with surfboards and washboard stomachs, waiting with a big plaque welcoming me with ‘Hi Sarah’.

You can imagine my dissapointment, then, when the first group of guys I met were English. Damn, I’d come over here to avoid them, not be surrounded by them. Plus, at 18, they were just a little bit too young for me. I’ve been there with toyboys and it didn’t exactly turn out pretty!

And as the first week passed and I bumped into Irish, American and all manner of men who definitely weren’t Australian, I became increasingly disappointed. Surely I could have met these guys down at my local pub in London.

That is until I bumped into Aussie Paul* in a club a couple of Saturdays ago. I’d been told that Australian men were quite shy and wouldn’t approach me, but Paul was either a rare breed or had just had one too many beers, because one minute I was with my girlfriends on the dance floor, the next he’d dragged me off to a quiet spot to chat. By chatting I obviously mean kissing**. But I wasn’t so sure about this guy: he was lovely, but after a few half-hearted texts my first Aussie encounter fell flat on its face.

So when another Aussie guy, Ben*, offered to buy me a drink at my new local I thought I should give him the benefit of the doubt. Yes, I probably should have listened to my flatmate when she told me he was a cocky twat***, but I really saw no reason not to say yes when he asked me out for dinner the following night...

The date didn’t start too well when he asked if he could bring a friend along. Um, really? In England, friends don’t usually tag along on dates! I’m not sure if it was my confused look or the “Err, NO!” which made him realise it was a bad idea.

And after a couple of drinks I wasn’t really getting his Australian sense of humour (or maybe you just weren’t that funny Ben - sorry!) With that and his love of the pokies (yep, while we were on the date) I wondered what I’d got myself into.

The last straw came when I dared to decline his next date invitation, because I really was too busy. He sulked like a 4 year-old! So have I just picked the wrong Aussie men so far, or are they all like this? Let’s hope not!

*All names have been changed
**Or pashing, as you Aussies call it
*** Or complete dickhead, as you Aussies call them

As published on http://www.cosmopolitan.com.au/first_impressionsblogdating.htm

This town ain’t big enough for 'all' of us

2010-11-19T16:56:00.003+11:00

As I bumped into yet another ex a few weeks ago, yes full of red faced, awkward, cringe worthy moments I would rather forget, I wondered who had it in for me? Seriously, it was as though someone was intent on embarrassing me.

In the last few weeks I’ve seen exes pop up on facebook with shiny new girlfriends and appear out of know where – usually when I’m looking my worst. I’ve also had to completely blank two exes in broad daylight recently, well it was either that or smile through gritted teeth when I’d rather give them a good slap!

And remember the fitness guy that I snogged and thought it was a good idea? Yep, I had to endure a full hour’s fitness class, while I squirmed and pretended that I hadn’t had my tongue down his throat the week before. I just need to bump into the boy I snogged in primary school now and we’d have a full set.

For purely research purposes only, I worked out the other day that I’ve had 22 first dates since I’ve been single, and that’s not even counting the amount of 2nd, 3rd and 4th dates I’ve been on. Then it dawned on me, have I just dated one too many men, or just one too many in one place? It just seems that London is way too small to avoid exes.

Don’t get me wrong, I love London, it’s amazing for dating, and I readily admit to still wanting a first date in London Zoo. Come on, how can the conversation dry up when you have penguins and lions to look at??!!

But the problem with London is that it can be so impersonal. Everyone's so busy. Even if you meet a guy you fancy, once you check your dairies you realise that in 2 weeks you may just be able to fit them in for a coffee. It took me five weeks to meet up with a guy I wanted to date this summer – by the time we met up I’d forgotten what he’d looked like and if I still actually fancied him or not!

So it got me thinking – would a new city be any different? Would the men just be a rehash of London men, but with a different accent? Would they still be players? Still be immature, rude or freak out when you mention anything more than dating? And most importantly would they get round to calling me back after a date?

Well there’s only one way to find out – I’ve said goodbye to London (exes and cold weather) and G’day to Sydney (aka hot, toned beach boys!) – I really haven’t got a clue if I’ll meet the man of my dreams, or any men in fact, but isn’t it just worth a try....??

Playing hard to get – what’s that then?

2010-10-19T06:53:00.000+11:00

“It’s called being aloof Sarah, mysterious even,” my friend said to me. But I checked my dating dictionary and it just didn’t seem to be there. Because basically I just can’t do playing hard to get.

If I like a guy then they’ll probably know about it. FACT.

Generally because I’ll be stuck to them like glue, following them around like a lost puppy, or bombarding them with text messages, emails or tweets. Call it having no willpower or being mentally insane, but when I like someone I just can’t help myself.

Don’t get me wrong I’m not a ‘boil your bunny’ kind of girl or a scary stalker type who literally won’t bugger off until they’ve agreed to marry me that very night. I’ll just make sure he knows I exist by happening to turn up at the gym when he’s there, appearing next to him at the bar or, you know, just being there whenever he so much as sneezes, oh...'bless you'.

Take Dan* who I met recently. After talking to him and realising I fancied him I may as well have just slapped a sticker on my forehead saying ‘If lost please return to Dan’ - I followed him to the bar, outside when he smoked (I don’t smoke). And I probably would have followed him into the toilets if the toilet attendant hadn’t scowled at me and threatened to chuck me out. Basically I was like a besotted teenager.

Thankfully on this occasion it turned out well – i.e. no restraining order, no cat fights with an angry girlfriend and I went away my dignity intact (well slightly...)and even a date – but, with more booze and a hotter guy, I could foresee my problem getting out of hand one day.

And you’d think it would have something to do with the (large) quantities of alcohol I consume when in a bar and near a man I like, but fear not I still don’t understand the meaning of playing hard to get whilst not intoxicated either. Recently in non-bar surroundings I really did try my hardest to be cool – it isn’t my fault then that he nearly walked past me (and totally ignored me) and I had to shout out his name like some sort of deluded freak – any sort of aloofness went straight out of the window.

And my amazing aloof dating tactics haven’t just stopped there. I’ve added guys on facebook, when they’ve merely just said hello to me (well he was hot!) taken detours on my way home in the hope that I’ll bump into him and generally just gone above and beyond to make sure he ‘notices’ me.

Now let’s be honest, if a guy did any of the above to me, especially if I didn’t like him, I’d probably tell him where to go. “Stop following me around, you’re like my bloody shadow,” I’d scream at him, or snog someone right in front of him – just so he got the picture. I’d feel claustrophobic and scared and probably run very fast in the opposite direction.

And if I was dating you and you weren’t on my potential ‘forever guy’ list you’d probably know about it. Basically because all of a sudden playing hard to get will become easier than ever - I’ll avoid texting you, until I’m either bored or you phone my mum wondering if I’ve died! I’d leave you to plan where we go on our dates and eventually either pretend like I never knew you existed or use a get-out-clause, which is so bad that both you and me know it’s just that!

So why do I find it so hard to be aloof when I like someone? And believe me I’ve tried - but my idea of playing hard to get is waiting 5 minutes to text someone back, rather than the whole week it once took a date to text me back!

And do I even really want to play games? I mean isn’t playing hard to get boring, people get tired of chasing each other, and game playing never results in anything long term. But I suppose there’s playing hard to get and looking a little desperate – ‘a la moi’. Even a whiff of desperation can scare off the keenest of guys.

So in a bid to not scare off the cute guy I happen to stumble upon next, maybe I should try and leave it at least a few minutes before scrambling for my phone and texting him back, unglue myself from his side and possibly buy a new dating dictionary – one which explains ‘playing hard to get’ in all its glorious detail!

(*that’s not his real name, silly!)

Men I really wish I hadn’t snogged....

2010-09-26T04:17:00.000+10:00

I must just love embarrassing myself, because when it comes to men I’m always getting myself into sticky situations. Yep I’m the girl who would attempt to snog her male friend while drunk, who can’t visit some of her local pubs because, well, ‘he’ works there and goes bright red every time her friend mentions 'that' work colleague. I do stuff without thinking and have to deal with the consequences later – usually ending with awkward moments, silences and wishing I really hadn’t gone there.

Honestly, if there was a prize for the ‘biggest date fuck ups’ I’d probably be the esteemed winner. I just can’t seem to help myself. If I actually worked in an office I would probably be ‘that’ girl who everyone talked about. The girl that made a tit out of herself at the Christmas party - snogged the geeky virgin and made photocopies of things she shouldn’t have.

Maybe I feel like I’m missing out somehow, so to almost make up for it the stupidity has crept into my dating life. In the last few months not only have I chatted up a famous singers fiancé, scared a guy off by kiss and telling about our date via twitter, but also chased men that really just weren’t that into me.

And when it comes to picking the wrong men I would definitely get an A* for effort. At the time you think he's a great idea – he’s hot, you’ve had some liquid confidence and the next thing you know you’re snogging like there’s no tomorrow – in front of everyone. Except there is a tomorrow and you’d forgotten that everyone was there, until that is you turn up at (delete as appropriate) work/gym class/friends house.

You know how people say: ‘oh she’ll learn,’ – well they obviously weren’t referring to me. In my brief dating life I’ve dated or snogged a collection of unsuitable men, including two bosses, a guy that worked at my gym, an array of bar men and way too many friends of friends. And I know that if I met a hot guy tomorrow, who happened to be my best friend's brother, worked at my local pub and hung out at my gym I wouldn’t think twice about chatting him up!

And if only to prove this point last weekend I decided to chat up an instructor for a fitness class I go to. At no point did I stop and think ‘Oh this might be slightly awkward next time I go to class.’ Nope, I just carried on my merry way, accepting more booze from him while I fought off other girls for his attention. Of course the evening ended in a very drunken snog. But when I woke up the next day and sense returned I seriously wondered if cancelling my membership was a good idea!

Looking back maybe I was doomed from the start! When I was a mere 18 years old I drunkenly snogged a guy, but not any guy – he was my university flat mate, and it was ONLY the first night of fresher’s week! I was so embarrassed about it I could barely make it out of my room without going a ‘London bus’ shade of red and our other flat mates teasing me about how I wanted to be his girlfriend. The teasing and embarrassment probably would have lasted all year if I hadn’t managed to win him over as my boyfriend.

You’d think that cringe worthy moment would have taught me to watch what I drink and only approach men who had no connection to anything remotely fitness, work or friend orientated – but no - I’m obviously the kind of girl who has to learn by her mistakes – ALL of them.

So I was obviously just learning when I decided that dating my boss last year was a good idea. That awkward moment - when I had to see him at work, knowing that just two weeks previously he had told me, in a ‘he’s just not that into me’ moment, that he was just too busy to see me – was just a test of my character, huh?

And you think after one awful incident with a local bar man I would have thought twice about dating another one. But I just couldn’t help myself – his blonde hair and baby blue eyes just won me over. It’s a shame then that date number two never materialised. I now have to avoid both bars like the plague, much to the annoyance of my friends.

Maybe I’m just never really going to learn – even if my friends do ever so kindly try and physically drag me away from my latest victim! After all I’m sure it’s not just me who can’t visit her local pub anymore and has to be cautious every time she so much as pops her head into the gym......oh it is? DAMN!

My online quest.....to find the ‘one’

2010-08-23T04:38:00.000+10:00

I think I’m a little obsessed with online dating. And it’s weird because I don’t even really like it that much. But I find myself secretly logging on every other hour to see how many people have viewed me or to check if Mr ‘online’ Right has emailed me back yet.

I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with online man hunting. I can go for months without the need to hide behind a computer, in my safe little bubble – but then almost out of nowhere the urge to find out what cyber men have to offer strikes again.

So it didn’t surprise me when last month, while slightly intoxicated, (and thinking it was yet again a good idea) I logged on again. And I was hoping this time would be different – that I wouldn’t get the creepy 44 year olds winking at me, have long, drawn out emails sent to me or be ambushed by men who had no profile picture and thought it was okay to ask me out in the first email. But of course it was no different – stalkers and weirdos obviously see me coming.

And now I’m worried that my addiction will spill over into real life – will my facebook and twitter account be deprived because I’m talking to men who go by the names of – ‘I am the one and only’ ‘me again’ (I can just see this one turning up on my doorstep claiming it’s just ‘me again’) or ‘rusty bin 35’ - I really hope not!

But seriously, internet dating can be a bit rubbish. Especially when men think it’s acceptable to have dating profiles which start with.... ‘I hate writing this stuff and I really don’t know what to put here.....’ errr something a bit more interesting than that please – it’s as though they’re thinking out loud but pressed ‘enter’ by accident.

And of course the cost of true love never comes cheap. Whoever cottoned on to the idea of preying on singles, looking for Mr or Miss Right was a very clever person. The adverts make out as if they’re the cupids of the internet, the Cilla Blacks of the worldwide web – and I might agree if it wasn’t for the hefty fee at the end of it all.

Then there are the emails - which we always open with hope. But sometimes they stop us in our tracks. Recently a friend had what I can only describe as a pornographic message via a dating site. Erm...sorry?! We’re on here to find love, Mr Right, our soul mates – it’s not called findmealocalshag.com (which believe it or not actually exists!). So please log off and stop sending us indecent proposals via a dating website!

The other emails don’t get much better either – Dave from Southport emailed me asking ‘I know I’m not very clever or good looking – but will you date me anyway?’ while Brian from London emailed me for the fifth time wondering why I hadn’t replied to him (erm...get the hint mate!). And what’s with men from Scotland, or even Finland emailing me? I don’t mind travelling a few miles to find my soul mate – but you’re stretching it a bit far if you expect me to meet you for a coffee in Madrid!

And why does everyone assume, just because I‘m a journalist that I’m going to be writing about them in some sort of dating column?!? Honestly.

So when you’ve deleted the odd emails, said no to the guy in Madrid and reported the men for stalking you, you may just be lucky enough to stumble on a few ‘decent men’ – well that’s what you think before you meet them anyway.

Step up number one. He seemed nice – he was intense but I fancied him like crazy so ignored those little ‘warning signs’ which I really should have picked up on. That was until I received a text saying ‘I love you – do you love me?’ WHAT???

And number two was just as bad – just in a more camp way. In his picture he’d looked gorgeous – good height, nice features and not the least bit gay! By the end of the night I felt like I was gossiping with my best mate. So imagine my shock when he tried to kiss me – I fled like Cinderella at midnight (minus the shoe mishap!).

And most recent was number three. Who I’d been delightfully surprised about when I met up with him. He’d been honest about his height, his photos and his age – always a good start. And apart from his slightly sarcastic attitude I could see myself dating him again. It’s a shame I mucked it up then. I have a habit of tweeting about my dates – so when he did the inevitable googling of me and stumbled across my twitter account he wasn’t happy! He couldn’t believe I’d kissed and told! Damn google!

I really do wonder why I keep logging on? I’m hoping my online dating addiction will come to an end one day, or maybe my subscription will just run out! Either way I’m sure I won’t find ‘the one’ online – unless I suppose I fancy a date with ‘me again’. Now where did I save his email?

'He was abducted by aliens' and other reasons why he didn’t call

2010-06-23T21:13:00.000+10:00

I know I shouldn’t admit it, but when I’m waiting for a guy to text me about how well that first date, encounter or snog was for him – it’s a pretty painful experience. It’s like waiting for home time on a Friday or Santa to turn up when you're a kid – it’s either going to be a painfully slow process, or, however much you wait, it just isn’t going to happen!

And the annoying part of it all is that my Mum seems to have some sort of psychic ability, and knows when I’m waiting for a guy to text me. Just at that pivotal point where I’ve lost all hope and I’m on the verge of smashing my phone into a million little pieces, my phone beeps like a proud owner of a new boyfriend. Only to disappoint me with my Mum’s gabble about something unimportant like new shoes. Gah!

I’m not stupid, I know how it works, if a guy doesn’t call, or even just text you back, blah, blah, blah – then he’s probably just not that into me. I’ve made the excuses, I’ve trawled through the elaborate ideas in my head. But I really did think this situation was different, i.e – I was in control. He was young, eager and literally tripping over himself to see me.

So when my new toyboy stood me up last week, with no god damn awful excuse text as to why, I couldn’t be bothered with analysing it – yes his friends may have spooked him with stories of older women wanting commitment, or maybe he met up with his ex and they reconciled their differences, and I could even stretch to the explanation that he lost his phone, dropped it in the toilet or a dog ate it! But I may as well just rely on the good old excuse that he’s been abducted by aliens – because let’s be honest it’s probably as viable as any other explanation.

Or if I was to listen to a certain, sympathetic, male friend I could look at the harsh reality of the situation, that he just didn’t like me.

But that’s just plain old, mean rejection rearing his ugly head – and who wants to admit to that? I would rather think that the impossible has happened – some green dudes from a planet far, far away scooped him up (just before he was about to text me, obviously!) and are doing weird tests on him at this very moment, instead of the reality that he decided he didn’t fancy me anymore! Who wouldn’t?

But before you sigh and say, oh don’t worry Mr Right is out there for you somewhere, I would like to beg to differ! He’s not – he’s with his hot new girlfriend, married with kids or has a boyfriend. And it’s not like I’m not looking. But my dating history this year seems to have gone from one unsuitable encounter to the next. Apart from the unsuccessful toy boy encounter I just seem to be treading in already taken territory.

I got excited the other day when a friend of mine turned up to meet me and told me she’d found my perfect man on the coach down to London. Apparently he was gorgeous, tall, had a lovely personality and he seemed interested in me. The only problem was convincing his 'boyfriend' that dating me would be a good idea!

Then there was the time when I got the guts up to approach a table full of eight men – surely one of them must be single, I thought, as I pushed any doubts to the back of my head and used a cheeky one liner to ask them if I could join them. Flabbergasted they quickly shuffled up and banter commenced. It was all going swimmingly until I asked where they knew each other from, I nearly choked on my wine when one of them piped up with “From antenatal class,” I realised they weren’t kidding when they pulled out pictures of their kids and flashed wedding rings at me. I definitely hadn’t seen that one coming.

I think my problem is that I give guys too much credit – ‘oh you didn’t phone me for five days because you died, then miraculously came back to life, yeh okay I’ll go out with you this Friday then.’ And ‘why are you snogging me round the corner from all your friends? Oh you’re just shy, nothing to do with the fact that you have a girlfriend then? No, oh okay then that’s cool!’

Maybe I should be a little harsher on men in the future, and look out for those tell-tale signs that I have no hope - like wedding rings, baby prams and boyfriends lurking at the sidelines. But of course if it all goes horribly wrong again and he fails to even acknowledge my existence with a polite ‘rejection’ text, at least I have two things to look forward to: my Mum, ever so lovingly filling up my inbox with texts about reality shows and family get togethers and of course the ultimate one - knowing that my dating disasters are all gathered in the same place – with little green men on Mars!

Once upon a time…..

2010-06-03T08:17:00.000+10:00

Whether we admit it or not every girl wants the fairytale. Whether it's our man scooping us up and telling us what we want to hear, proposing while the sun is setting or taking the initiative to kiss us when we’re least expecting it - we're all hoping for that magical fairytale moment.

Unrealistic it maybe, and it would probably get a tad dull if our knight in shining armour did and said all the right things every hour of every day, but most of us would like to know that one time in our lives we may just get our very own ‘nobody puts baby in the corner’ moment.

But of course it has to be with the right guy. If a guy that we dated and dumped, because he snorted when he laughed, tried to win us back by serenading us or proposing to us in front of our family we’d probably just die of embarrassment. A while ago an ex was so desperate to get back with me he told me he was going to leave a rose on my door, every day for the next month – he thought it would prove as romantic and I’d fall back into his arms. Now don’t get me wrong, with the right guy it would have been great, but just the thought of him doing it scared the hell out of me.

Basically if we’re not with the right guy their acts of kindness or gentlemanly behaviour will make us feel like their taking away our independence or indeed smothering us. Take Mr Nice guy, who I had been on a few dates with recently - he walked me to my train station, he didn’t even attempt to kiss me on the first date and he even text me to make sure I got home okay. It was nice, but it felt too good to be true.

But of course that all changes when it’s with the right guy, anything which is deemed fairytale worthy we’d see as sweet and a ‘melt in their arms’ moment. I remember gushing about boyfriends who had looked after me while I had the flu, held my hair back when I was sick or even saved me in my hour of need. But when it’s not the right guy we may as well be wearing a t-shirt saying ‘I’m a princess, but I’ll save myself thanks’.

And all those movie moments are great – Danny and Sandy singing ‘you’re the one that I want’ and Patrick Swayze coming back from the dead to give Demi just one more kiss. But if they actually happened to us, whether there’s dramatic music on in the background or not, we may just be a little freaked out! A prime example is High School musical, it seems like a great idea when were watching it and we’d die for a guy like Zac Effron to declare his love to us through song. But in reality if our man broke into song and dance, half way through a night out, we’d either think they were gay or some sort of closet musical fan!

So do these so called fairytale moments, with the right men, just happen to the likes of Cinderella and ‘Pretty women’? Or can we expect it now and again too?

I’ve had my share of fairytale moments – watching the sunrise, picnics on a summer’s day and romantic gestures which would make the romantics amongst us sigh in delight and cynics curl their toes and scowl, but I suppose I’m still waiting for that ultimate one. The one which knocks me off my feet, takes my breath away, makes me smile at the thought of it and without any doubt makes me believe I’ve picked my Mr Right.

And on the flip side, of course sometimes we don’t need saving. Ever since I’ve become single I’ve learnt that I don’t necessarily need a man to make me happy. Whether we save ourselves, our friends come to our rescue or our so called prince charming fails to materialise. Sometimes not having someone there is a blessing in disguise – it teaches us things, makes us better people, and whether we believe it at the time or not, makes us stronger and happier people.

And even if we do manage to have that fairytale moment – where the prince saves us from a world of gloom or Matt Damon beats up the bad guys for us ( yep, my own personal fantasy) I suppose it’s what happens afterwards that matters - after all we’re all looking for a happily ever after….aren’t we?

Do I date to blog, or blog to date?

2010-04-28T04:46:00.000+10:00

Being a dating blogger can have its downsides. Namely when you don’t have any dates. And after a few months of being dateless I was starting to get worried – for me having a date every week became as normal as people getting up and going to work. So had I lost my touch or merely just dated all the single men in London?

And when I wasn’t dating it was like everyone was rubbing it in by going on dates instead. Two of my best friends both casually mentioned how they were going on dates and most of my other single friends were being set up around me, chatting up cute bar men or talking about their latest conquest. Even my Mum was on the net setting up dates.

Maybe I was getting too picky or was I just being lazy? I couldn’t be bothered with internet dating – it was just too much effort to email yet another ‘potential’ and rehash the same old details. I had stopped bugging friends to set me up and men on nights out just weren’t blog worthy enough.

So I sighed a breath of fresh air when I finally got a date last week – I was officially back in the game. And I realised I’d actually missed going on first dates. The classic first date nerves, the awkwardness that comes with it, the free drinks (only kidding…well kind of!) - I had missed the whole shebang of it. So much so that when a friend of mine told me she had a first date planned I almost turned up in her place. Don’t worry I didn’t!

And when potential dates find out you’re a dating blogger it can have its downsides too. Google is great but I merely have to mention my name and men know about my dating history before I’ve even sipped on my first glass of wine with them. The first date to uncover my little secret pretended for all of ten minutes that I wasn’t a dating blogger while I reeled off all the other work I did. Of course I tried to deny it, but when he claimed he knew where my last date had taken place he had either been stalking me in person or on the net – and I was hoping it was the latter.

And another date, who knew about my blog, told me he had read it in detail, written down notes and thought he was fully prepared to see me. I wondered if he was expecting me to give him a pub-style quiz at the end or hand out tasks throughout. He was dating me, not appearing on mastermind.

So if potential dates know about my dating past and trip-ups, will it put them off? I’ve had guys running for the hills when they’ve found out they may appear on the net. Even when I’ve clarified that I only write a dating blog. So after my dating drought I wasn’t surprised when my recent date, after stumbling across my blog, emailed me to let me know I wasn’t quite the right ‘dating material’ for him. Maybe if I hadn’t revealed his toilet habits in a previous blog we’d be married by now. Damn.

But if the tables were turned then I admit I may be a little reluctant go on a date too - especially if I knew he’d be analyzing my every move. If I drunk too many vino’s would I be an alcoholic? If I didn’t make him laugh would I be known as the moody cow he’d been lumbered with for the entire night?? Or worse - would I be classed as a no-go cougar or the girl who he officially went on his worst date with?

I suppose there’s always a downside to everything. But in my bid to get more dates I suppose I’m going to have to stop being so lazy, picky and possibly googleable. And as for blogging about the dates I go on – well that’s not stopping, for at least a while yet. Maybe I’ll just have to change my tack. My dating ad will have to say in big red letters - Please apply within – dates who have a GSOH.

TMI (too much information) syndrome

2010-04-06T07:56:00.000+10:00

Sex with your ex girlfriends, how many notches you’ve got on your bed post and definitely your toilet troubles – they are all classic cases of too much information.

When we’re dating, or even in a relationship us girls can be a little inquisitive, okay just plain nosey. But sometimes you boys don’t know when to stop when you start revealing the ins and outs of your past behaviour, or even current behaviour when we’re not around.We may ask about your previous sex life and you may have visited strip clubs, dated underwear models or dipped your toe in the threesome dating pool but we really don’t want to know about it – however much we quiz you.

Like the saying goes - what we don’t know won’t hurt us. Not that I’m giving you a free pass to go all John Terry or Ashley Cole on us but when it comes to your past sex life it’s usually best left in the cupboard marked ‘Do not open’. And if we do delve into it we usually regret what we find out. After lots of drunken questioning once I found out that a boyfriend had had a threesome with another guy –the other guy being his best friend. It was a classic mistake of too much information and one which made me not able to even look in the direction of his best friend again without a weird image in my head.

Sadly it didn’t stop there either – I’ve had guys I’ve dated revealing sex positions their exes have preferred, how good a one night stand was and how many women they’ve managed to seduce into their bed.

And a couple of mentions about an ex girlfriend is fine, but when you start delving into your past relationships like we’re your therapist - along the lines of ‘I just don’t know where it all went wrong…’ we’re going to start worrying if you’re with the right person. And the more you moan and slag off an ex girlfriend the more we’re going to wonder how much of a decent person you are – if you can slag her off and make her sound like the bitch from hell then what will you be saying about us in six months time?

But it’s not just your sex lives where you’re revealing things that make us want to cringe. After a series of emails on a dating website recently I got a bit more than I bargained for in one email. Things were going swimmingly – the emails were funny, we were getting on famously and then he just had to delve into an area which us girls just don’t want to talk about. I’d asked him if he’d felt hung over from his previous nights antics but wasn’t quite prepared for his reply of: “I’m not actually feeling too bad, but my bottom feels like its been blown off after the curry I had last night,” – eek!!! We hadn’t even shared our first date but already I was getting a play by play account of his daily toilet habits – nice.

And of course we trust you but when you mention boys and holidays in the same sentence then fear usually spreads through us like a wild fire in a forest. A few years back a former boyfriend couldn’t wait to go on a rugby tour he’d been planning with the boys. But instead of reassuring me that it was a chance to spend some quality time with his males mates and enjoy the sport he loved so much he stupidly revealed the motto which all the boys were standing by – ‘What goes on tour stays on tour’ – how could any sane girl not jump to ‘stripper, bed hopping and one night stand’ conclusions?

So when I met Mr TMI recently I knew it wasn’t going to work out. After he had revealed the amount of girls he’d slept with, how he was up to his eye balls in debt, how he hated his job and the icing on top of the TMI cake – his big ambition to marry a stripper in Vegas one day, I decided that however honest a potential date could be, a little bit of discretion is always a good quality to seek out.

And if you still don’t quite get it – then let me turn the tables on you. If you found out your dream girl had more notches on her bed post than you’d had hot dinners would you still want to take her home to meet the parents? Nope, thought not.

So the next time we ask you how many girls you’ve slept with, if the stripper you were forced to watch on a stag do was hotter than us or if you’ve ever dreamt about that really hot women next door, either keeping tight lipped or bending the truth a little would be a good option. Because after all, what we really want to know is none of that, in any way, compares to dating us….

My stuttering, blubbering dating techniques

2010-03-24T07:13:00.000+11:00

In normal life my mouth rarely gets me into trouble – I’m polite, friendly and have a way of getting people to open up to me. But when it comes to dating it’s as though I suffer from Jekyll and Hyde syndrome.

I embarrassingly have something programmed into the dating part of my brain which means when I like someone I just have to say something stupid, irrelevant or just downright dumb. You know, one of those – ‘I’m just going to bang my head against a wall now’ moments.

I either pick up a bout of verbal diarrhoea – with something along the lines of ‘Did I tell you about the time my cat pooed on my bed?’ or reel off a joke which I’ve forgotten the punch line to. In special circumstances, usually when I really like someone my mouth goes dry, my hands start to get clammy, my head starts moving like one of those nodding dogs and I splutter out something which even my14 year-old self would have cringed at. And in both situations my potential love interest usually leaves looking at me oddly and wondering who the freak he just spoke to was.

And being the flappable idiot I become when a guy that I like is anything but a two mile radius from me I wouldn’t be surprised if I actually started spouting off things which were on my mind like – ‘Can I snog you please?’ or ‘I wonder how your surname sounds with my first name?’ – they’d be running scared before I’d even attempted to bag myself a date with them.

So you’d think if I had time to plan what I wanted to say I’d come up with a cute, sassy one liner which would make them think, ‘Wow this girl is cool,’ – but no I’ve managed to kill my street cred when it comes to e –flirting too. Like the time I was sharing flirty email banter with a minor celeb (okay he was just a reality TV star) and he asked if I wanted to watch him DJ one Thursday night. My reply? “I don’t think I can, it’s a school night,” I thought I was being funny – he obviously thought I was some sort of nerd who had a 9pm curfew. Funnily enough I never got a reply back from him.

So it’s always great when friends share the ‘dumb dating talk’ limelight with you. One revealed the moment she became speechless when she saw the object of her desire at the gym, then proceeded to walk head first into a weights machine. And when a hottie walked into another friend’s work place all she could utter was a squeak, before she dropped her newly made hot chocolate over her keyboard. She tried to dab away the choccy mess like it didn’t matter – when the reality was she had totally short circuited it.

And I can’t quite decide if alcohol helps matters. On the one hand it gives you the confidence to think what you’re saying sounds like you’re not an over-excited school girl, but in reality it’s probably doing more harm than good. After one glass you’ve got the confidence to steam roll the flirting, after two you’ll probably say something you wouldn’t dare say if you were sober. And don’t get me started on a whole bottle worth of wine induced confidence – it’s got me into trouble more times than I can remember.

And rest assured if you’re of the male species and the conversation flows like wine into my glass - if us girls are comfortable in your presence and we can have a good old natter with you it usually means we see you as a brother, a mate or even a father figure – sorry!

So it really is a surprise that I’ve been on any dates, at all, in the past year – have men just felt sorry for me after my blabbermouth has tripped into their lives? Or have I just dated guys who I wasn’t really that into? Whatever it is I’m sure the embarrassing encounters will continue long into my dating years and beyond. Life might be so much simpler if I was one of those girls who said all the right things at all the right times - but wouldn’t that be boring? I’d rather be the girl who trips up any day.

Speed dating....take 2!

2010-02-28T20:07:00.000+11:00

"Never, ever, again!" I vowed after a particularly bad speed dating experience last year. I’d expected tall, dark and handsome, I got short, bald and boring.

For some reason speed dating had seemed appealing. There had been a sheer lack of men in my life since I landed in dumpsville a couple of months earlier, so dating 15 men in one night sounded like the sort of challenge which would brighten up my love life, hell - maybe even resuscitate my sex life too.

But of course I hadn’t been in the right state of mind. Under no circumstances should you go speed dating if you’ve just been dumped, your pining for another man or wondering where oh where Mr Right is. Unfortunately I had been suffering from all of the above.

Speed dating is always misunderstood anyway. It should come with a caution which clearly states *we take no responsibility for quality of dates, of the rubbish conversations you may encounter and the severe lack of love life which may precede your speed dating experience.

It’s safe to say my first experience of speed dating didn’t result in me recommending a friend for the torture. Instead of leaving the pub that night with numerous phone numbers and plans to date half of the hotties I was left emotionally drained and exhausted after not even stumbling across Mr Right-now.

So whenever friends’ so much as whispered speed and dating in the same sentence forget about running in the opposite direction I’d be packing my bags ready to leave the country. Never again would I join the conveyor belt of dating or have to sit and make small talk with men I'd rather chew off my ear for than date.

Okay, well that was until a friend decided to arrange a speed dating night for a charity. I attempted to leave the country, but my conscience got the better of me and before I knew it I had parted with my cash (*and obviously felt better for it!) downed a few courage cocktails and decided that maybe speed dating and I had got off on the wrong foot. So armed with a truck load of ice breakers and expectations lower than if I was turning up to an insurance seminar my second instalment of speed dating commenced......

Unfortunately the night didn’t start off on a particularly good note when I got the contents of a girl’s martini glass thrown all over me. And that’s before we’d even started dating. It didn’t dawn on me until afterwards that she may have actually been trying to cut out the competition. Good job I had a change of clothes – ha!

And because I’d ventured into the scary world of speed dating before I was somehow seen as a ‘pro’ - friends who were speed dating virgins were hoping some of my dating skills would rub off on them, when really I was probably about as clueless as them. Did they expect me to wow the men with my witty one-liners? Get a clean sweep of ticks from the men we dated? And go home with my diary cram packed with dates for the next two months?

My nerves racked up a notch as our mini dates commenced.

And it’s safe to say that most of the dates fell into two categories – ones where you completely forgot about the four minute time limit and the others where you were hoping and praying to be saved by the bell....anytime....now......please!!!

The most memorable date, for all the wrong reasons, has to be the guy who bounded up to my table like some sort of excited teenager. His opening line was, "Oh my god, you're the most beautiful girl in here," before he proceeded to get up and check what he had said was actually right, and after a few seconds of scanning the room said, “yep you definitely are.” Oh and dear was all I could muster.

And don’t you just hate that feeling of déjà vu? Well that’s what happens when you become embroiled in back to back dating......!The first date’s fine, but come the 8th you wonder if it was him or Mr no.7 or even 6 you told about your extensive Barbie collection? And did he say he was an actor or a policeman? Was he 27 or 32? In fact hadn’t you just spoken to this one....?

And then there’s the really decent men, who if I hadn’t been on a 4 minute date with I may have become quite good friends with. But it’s always awkward to pull out the friends’ card when you share a dating history with them, be it 4 minutes or 4 years.

By the end I felt guilty for not ticking anyone’s box. Was I being too picky? Would Mr not-quite-so-right have been ‘the one’ had I given him just one more minute? Thankfully my conscience was cleared when friends revealed that no one had quite floated their boat either. Phew!

So I’m thinking speed dating and success shouldn’t really be used in the same sentence – especially when I’m involved. Unless of course you count going home with a girl’s phone number as successful? Nope thought not. Back to normal dating it is then......

The Delights of Valentines….

2010-02-14T06:20:00.000+11:00

Every year, whether I’m attached or not, I’ve looked forward to Valentine’s Day with anticipation – will a red rose magically appear at my door? Will the milk tray man swing in and leave me some chocolate goodies or will I be faced with a night of steamy sex with my latest eligible bachelor?

Last year that illusion came to an almightily halt, without so much as a tacky teddy bear to comfort me. I woke up and was faced with my then boyfriend’s facebook status claiming that ‘Mr (not-so) Perfect is…… chocolates – check, flowers – check, restaurant reservation – check, overdrawn – check!’

The say romance is dead – it was as though he was hammering in the final nail. I was gutted. Had I pressured him into celebrating Valentine’s Day? Did I expect too much from him? Or was it my right, like millions of other women, to expect to be spoiled on Valentine’s Day, whether it breaks our men’s banks or not?

Some say I’m high maintenance (only a little bit!) but don’t most girls, especially when they’re attached, at least expect a card on Valentines? Never do we expect to be guilt tripped into how they’ve ventured into the depths of their overdraft again. I tend to now steer clear of guys who talk about being ripped off by card companies come Valentine’s Day – in my eyes they’re either bitter or just a tight arse.

And it’s safe to say I haven’t really had an amazing track record when it comes to Valentine’s Day anyway. One boyfriend took me to Venice, well attempted to – he stupidly got the dates mixed up and there we were in one of the most romantic cities a week before all the other love birds got there. One year I got bought a CD ROM. A CD ROM for god sake – let’s just say practical was his middle name. I duly dumped him, but not before he cooked me a Valentine’s Day meal, in the company of his parents, and with the rugby blaring away in the background.

Then there was the time I was in Paris, the city of love on that very day. The Eiffel Tower beckoned and it even began to snow. It would have been the perfect romantic gesture – had I not been single and on a school trip. And I really can’t forget about the picnic incident (it was in the middle of February, i.e. not really picnic weather) or the year my knight in shining armour came bearing…….a womble bag! Okay we were 16 and he turned out to be gay – but even so – ever heard of flowers or chocolates mate?!

But then there are the times when they surprise us. A friend last year had almost given up hope of any sort of romantic gesture from her man – if she’d got a smile from him on Valentine’s Day she probably would have been happy. So imagine her shock when he presented her with not just any old necklace, but a Tiffany’s necklace. He may as well have been proposing. It shouted not just ‘I’m from Tiffany’s – but also an ‘I quite like you’ too.

But what do we expect when we’re single? Being newly single and after last year’s lack of romance I’m sort of happy that I’m without a man this year. Okay so maybe I’m slightly jealous when I see women holding flowers and maybe my lip does a little wobble when I pass card shops which are adorned with red and pink heart shaped cards but being single means there’s no fuss, no need to get dressed up and no baking of silly heart shaped cookies. And come February 15th it’s all forgotten anyway.

Other single friends have organized single’s parties, some will be burying their heads in their duvet for most of the day, and some have just forgotten the day exists all together. Me, I don’t have any grand plans – apart from waiting for the mounds of cards to arrive at my door and deliveries of flowers to commence of course. Well, a girl can dream I suppose.

And as for the men reading – we don’t need a proposal, hell we don’t even want flowers (okay, some roses would be nice) – just an acknowledgement that it is actually Valentine’s Day and you’ve remembered would be appreciated. And if your admiring from afar – isn’t it the perfect time to tell us? After all it’s probably the one day of the year when we might take pity on you enough and actually agree to a date!

Happy Valentine’s Day…….x

It’s a google thing……

2010-01-23T22:53:00.000+11:00

Okay I’ll admit it, it’s one of my guilty pleasures – spying on exes that is. And I know it isn’t just me. Whether we’re happy in a new relationship or you’re single and hoping he comes to his senses any day now we’re all a little curious about what our exes are up to.

Even with exes who I despise, and would rather sleep with someone like Darren Day than bump into them, I weirdly find myself googling their name or stalking down their facebook page, in the vain hope that I may find out who they’re dating or what life has thrown at them since we parted ways. But what am I looking for? Something to tell me they’ve moved on? Something which shows they’re having a miserable life without me? Or just for a little giggle?

When I facebook stalked an ex last week I found out he’d gone on a blind date. I couldn’t help but have a little chuckle to myself – if you knew him you’d understand. I could just imagine him turning up to the date with as much enthusiasm as a clown on crack cocaine, the poor girl would leave wondering who the hell it was she just met.

And as my Mum always says (Yes I know Mums are always right!) you’ll never find anything good from snooping. But of course curiosity gets the better of us. And if they’ve dumped us we obviously want to know about how painfully unhappy they are since he made us cry (for at least two days – straight!). So of course we want to know if our recurring dream of them being dumped by their new girlfriend, losing their job and reaping that karma back has happened yet. But usually you’ll just find hurl inducing pictures of him and the new girlfriend smiling back at you.

A recent ex, annoyingly, had an open profile on facebook. And believe me, I tried my hardest not to facebook stalk him. When I dated him he proclaimed that he had an open profile because he had nothing to hide. Of course I realised the real reason when he dumped me - he was just a big show off. Especially as his profile gave me a running commentary of just how quickly he was getting over me and moving on, it quickly made those daydreams of reconciliation as realistic as ever snogging Bradley Cooper is.

And then, secretly of course, the comparisons start. ‘Why the hell is he seeing her? I’m so much prettier,’ ‘ha, gutted, he’s still living with his parents,’ ‘yes, he lost his job,’ and the list goes on until you feel like the gold medal winner in the race for ‘who has the better life’.

And it’s not just facebook which has been at the hand of my guilty stalking. I’ve also been known to use a little tool called google too. Being a journalist of course it's just research but sometimes I feel like I’ve crossed that line from sane individual to a deranged one. Do I really need to know how they’re doing at work, what they ate for dinner last night or how well they did in the egg and spoon race in 1988? Well you never know.

A friend of mine bumped into my first ever boyfriend the other day. Being over four years since we split up you’d think he’d have forgiven me for dumping him by now. After all I didn’t do any dirty deeds on him like cheat on him with his best friend, spit in his Mum's face or cut off any of his manly parts. But his childish behaviour would make you think I might have. So when my friend asked him why he wouldn’t accept her ever so polite friend request on facebook his reply was ‘well you know Sarah don’t you?’ Unlike me he had gone the other way –he was making pretty damn sure that I would never pop into his life unexpectedly and probably hoping that google will cease to exist any day now.

I’d like to say I’ll give it up one day, be the bigger person, get on with my life and not care about what they’re getting up to in cyber land. I’d like to think I could drag myself along to SEBA (stalking ex boyfriend’s anonymous) one day and say ‘My name’s Sarah and I google my ex boyfriend’s,’ but I really don’t think it will happen. Mainly because I’m sure a group like that doesn’t exist but also because it’s only a bit of fun. Of course, if I’m ever issued with a restraining order I may change my mind. But for now I’ll happily keep on googling and facebooking them – in secret of course, I mean I don’t want everyone knowing!

It’s a Bliiinnndddd Date!

2010-01-07T09:24:00.000+11:00

I’ve always frowned upon the concept of blind dates – at least when you’ve met a guy in a bar you sort of have an idea if you fancy them and get on. And the same goes for internet dating – their picture has caught your eye and you’ve had a chance to assess his height, if he’s a smoker and if he can spell correctly.

So when some friends of mine told me they had found me the ‘perfect guy’ I brushed it off. Did they really know my type? What if I didn’t like the look of him – would I hurt their feelings? Would I have to let them down gently, as well as him, if the first date was disastrous?

None of my blind dates have ever been that bad – but I've heard enough horror stories. The one that didn’t even bother to show up, the guy who bored my friend stupid about his ex girlfriend and the guy who was so far from my mates type she thought they chose him for a joke. And then there’s the rejection – before and after the date. When the matchmaker shows them your picture and apparently it’s a no go, when your friend says ‘actually I better not set you up – he’s a bit fussy’, or your date acts fine on the night only to forget you exist after you leave his company.

A friend of mine had a pretty disastrous blind date. She’d met him online only to realise that his profile had forgotten to reveal one small minor detail…..that he was the most boring guy she would ever meet. And once she got past the fact that he was 30 and still living with his parents, she wondered why she had given up a perfectly good night to spend it with Mr Boring Geeky Guy. So she did the only thing she could – she faked an illness! And after her golden globe winning performance, he left and she quickly threw on her dancing shoes and had one of the best girlie nights she’d had in a long time! Who needs men eh?!

And then there’s the guy I dated who had actually been on Blind Date, you know with Cilla and everything. Apart from him boasting about this and thinking he was famous because he had been the ‘picker’, it made me wonder how far my luck would stretch if I had ever got on it. Would I be date number three who went home empty handed and dribbling over the guy who rejected me? Or the one who picked date number one because of our shared interest in Matt Damon and musicals – only to find out the real reason he went on the show - a free holiday and a chance flirt with some Spanish boys?

But of course there are the exceptions. Some people have gone on to meet the love of their lives after an ever so kind friend set them up. I bet Gary Linekar got more than he bargained for when he turned up to meet Danielle Bux on their first date. He probably couldn’t thank his friend enough for setting him up on a blind date with her - and at least she gets free crisps for the rest of her life!

So when I turned up to the date I ‘tried’ not to have any expectations. I’d seen his facebook profile and a few emails had gone back and forth, but he was still virtually a stranger. So I was pleasantly surprised when I turned up to meet him - he wasn’t a loser with a chain smoking habit and neither did he bore me stupid about his Lego collection. In fact, he was pretty damn cute.

And he seemed pretty normal too. No other weird hobbies. No puffing on cigarettes on the way to the next pub. He wasn’t abnormally tall and seemed quite good at making sure the evening didn’t go from ‘good date’ material to potential ‘yep I see a blog in that – but not in a good way’ material. So it was just down to me to f**k it up really.

But I didn’t. Well only if you count how drunk I got and the amount of times I told him it was my birthday soon. But that’s just a normal date, right? And as the night progressed I realised we actually had stuff in common too, we made each other laugh, there were no awkward silences and he even let me share his crisps – what a gentleman!

The conclusion? Maybe I should let my friends pick all my dates in the future – especially when they obviously know my type more than I do.

Tried and tested.....the year that was 2009!

2009-12-31T06:12:00.000+11:00

‘We just want you to be happy,’ were the words resonating off many of my coupled up friends lips this year. After being dumped by my so-called Mr Perfect I went on a dating spree that nobody could have foreseen, which resulted in the good, the bad and sometimes, well only very occasionally, the ugly.

But I learnt that being single doesn’t have to equal unhappiness. Just because Bridget Jones felt like her life was incomplete without a man it doesn’t mean that we should feel sorry for ourselves and cry into our wine glasses if dating doesn’t turn into marriage. Like we all annoyingly get told when we’re in the first stages of misery after being dumped - ‘there’s plenty more fish in the sea’ – I can promise you there is.

So after immortalising my misery of being dumped into print form (it’s very therapeutic I can assure you!) thanks to Charlotte Ward and her lovely little dating book called It’s not me, it’s you, and then proceeding to date half of London this year (for research purposes only of course) I can safely report back and let you in on a couple of things I’ve learnt along the way.

Number one being that ‘just settling’ isn’t big, nor is it clever. Unless of course you want to wake up after five years and realise that Mr Okay isn’t the one you imagined marrying. Settling is the easy option. Been there, done it and fortunately I made the escape. None of the relationships I have ever been in were with Mr Right. And I stupidly wasted years with them, all because I was scared of being on my own.

Then there’s just the plain fact that some guys are a**holes - and usually we have to learn the hard way. And however long you wait, only if a miracle occurs, will he ever dump her for you, turn into Mr nice guy or ever want you for more than just sex.

Dumping someone after three dates is much easier to do than an hour before you hit the altar. Okay I admit it is horrible telling someone ‘its not you, it’s me’ after a few dates, and even worse when you’re on the receiving end. Only a few months ago I was in this predicament. How should I do it? What shall I say? I shamelessly did it by text. I felt guilty. He probably hated me for a few days. But when its done and dusted and your not guilt tripped into ‘just one more date’ then you can get on with finding someone who does fit the bill.

Some men are just very good actors (think the slime ball that is Jude Law) - and that’s just what Mr Posh guy was like. Remember him? The one who’s parents lived between ‘Paris, Milan and LA – darling’. Only on very rare occasions am I duped by a guy who pretends he has found the love of his life on our first date, gets me hooked and only returns my phone calls after my anger has reached boiling point. Damn you Mr posh guy – I never wanted to go to Nobu and Whisky Mist with you anyway!

And you really can’t please everyone, because when it comes down to it we all have different tastes. Mr Jenson Button look-alike may be good enough for you, and your Mum may coo over him, but Miss cynical friend may shake her head and disapprove even before she has uttered a word in his direction! So as long as you like him/ fancy him and he doesn’t suffer from axe murderer or a total twat syndrome then sorry your friends opinions don't really count!

Because in my friends heads nobody will ever be good enough for me anyway. Well okay maybe only in the unusual circumstances that they are either inappropriate dating material (e.g. boss man!) unobtainable (i.e. men who are engaged or have kids!) or are friends of my friends, who of course come with glowing testimonials (‘they’re so funny,’ ‘he’s total marriage material’) from you guessed it - the friends in question!

And the biggest rules, by far, I’ve learnt this year are never to mix business with pleasure (cue awkward moments with boss man!) to never date a guy who shares cross trainers and treadmills with you (sweat and looking good just don’t go) never go backwards (exes and old flames included) never fall for the town's biggest player and definitely under no circumstances should you date anyone who is outside your desired age range (yep that means Zac Effron is out of the picture too - damn!!)

And if you think you’ve had some cringeworthy dating moments this year – here are just a few things I’ve had to painstakingly get through this year:

Bumping into Mr ‘I forgot to mention I had a girlfriend’ - with his girlfriend, after I had snogged him the previous weekend (cue sheepish hello from both of us while girlfriend looks on unknowingly).

Turning a fire engine shade of red when a guy I dated, then dumped me, turned up with flowers for me, in front of work colleagues, almost a month and a half after a lame dumping excuse that he was ‘too busy’ to see me.

Finding out that Mr Perfect had stumbled across my Mr Perfect blog!

Turning up to a date only to see a previous date meeting a new date (yep the point when you realise you’ve been dating too much!)

Bumping into Mr Perfect at the gym, with his new girlfriend (on several occasions)

Having two exes in the same vicinity (worst still is when they start talking to each other!)

And that’s not even mentioning the amount of times I fell over in my heels (usually after a couple of vinos) got all tongue tied when a guy just glanced in my direction and the amount of texts I've painfully waited to be answered.

But they’ve all been worth it for the times I’ve turned up to dates shaking with nerves only to have an amazing time, dancing the night away, sharing memorable first kisses, getting extremely drunk (only on very rare occasions I can assure you!) and sometimes having the best first dates that most people can only dream about.

So to all those who just want me to be happy – worry not! Even though I’m single I am officially happy. And happy to keep on dating – right into 2010.

The secrets of dating…

2009-12-09T00:48:00.000+11:00

If we were all given a manual on how to date, have a relationship and live happily ever after with our true love - wouldn’t life be great.

Or would it? Isn’t half the fun of dating making a few mistakes here and there, meeting a few wrong-uns and tasting a bit of bad dating, so when Mr Right does comes along we appreciate it and realise what we do and don’t want.

So when something or someone alleges to know what ‘men want’ out of a relationship I become a little cynical. And that certain someone came in the form of a dating coach (think Hitch) last week, when he huddled at least fifty women into a room and claimed he was going to give us the secrets of ‘finding the guy’, ‘getting the guy’ and ‘keeping the guy.’

So of course we all waited with bated breath, on the edges of our seats and pens poised ready to unearth the shattering truth about what men want out of us women. And as he trawled through stories of him skydiving, women who had everything but the man and his own personal dating successes (yep he talked a lot about himself!) the realization that most of it was about common sense and confidence made us feel a little disheartened.

Why? Because we felt that there was going to be that one secret which would bag us a boyfriend at the click of our fingers. We thought we’d find that special ingredient which would make any guy fall in love with us and keep him wanting us forever. But in truth it’s all about going out into the big bad world of dating - having a few tales to tell about our dating disasters and having enough confidence to go back out there and put what we’ve learnt to good use.

When I first started dating – about ten years ago, I thought it was perfectly fine to ditch my mates for a man, become all needy when he didn’t want me and cry whenever he so much as raised his voice in my direction. At nearly 28 I only occasionally ditch my mates for a man (ahem…), never become needy unless my cat ignores me and only ever shed a tear when it’s the sad part in a movie or he decides to dump me in horrible circumstances (i.e – ever!!).

And how can we create a set of rules when everyone is so different? The playing hard to get thing may work on one guy while another may take it as a sign you’re not that into them. And while mister serial texter doesn’t mind you cramming up his inbox with sweet messages mister technophobe may wonder why you’re bugging him every hour with updates about your daily routine.

None of us are born with the ability to date well or form the perfect relationships - like anything it comes with time and experience. We’re all going to kick ourselves when we realize that sweet guy was in fact the biggest player and the ‘nice guy’ we were dating was more like a brother than ‘husband material’ – but hey, at least if you’ve been there you hopefully won’t go back for seconds.

So once we’ve experienced the highs and lows of dating it all boils down to common sense and confidence. And we just have to hope that it doesn’t all go flying out of the window when we like someone. We’ve all made excuses for a date who turns up an hour late, one that never phones us, or a guy that just won’t commit. But it’s about having the confidence to remember what we want and how we should be treated. Because when a guy turns up that can be bothered it’s definitely worth waiting for.

So shhhh.....don’t tell everyone, but I think the real secret to dating is to keep at it. You may pick up a bit of good advice from the occasional dating book or a so-called dating coach, who thinks he knows the secrets of 'getting the guy', but isn’t learning through your own mistakes much more fun? Allow yourself to trip up occasionally, then pick yourself up and arrange that next date - after all, like me, you’ve probably been through the worst that can happen already.

‘Do you come here often?’

2009-11-18T00:32:00.000+11:00

I’ve always suffered slightly when it comes to flirting. Like the time I fell off a chair while trying to look sexy. Or when I smiled at a guy with a mouth full of cake. And then there was the ‘skirt tucked into the knickers’ incident. In fact, most of my flirting history is like an A-Z of ‘how not to win over the guy’.

And when a friend told me recently to give my latest ‘maybe’ a wink I couldn’t think of anything more disastrous. Without even attempting to do it I knew I’d probably just look like a girl with an eye defect rather than ‘possible date material’. I’m just not cool enough to pull it off.

In fact when I like someone I turn into an embarrassed teenager – I muddle up my words, go bright red if they happen to even turn their head in my direction and if I don’t trip, fall down a pot hole or accidentally head butt them (I have actually done this many times!) – I’d be very surprised. So when I was offered to attend a flirting seminar recently I didn’t need asking twice.

And apparently a bit of flirting every day helps us work, rest and play. Okay I made that bit up – but according to Jean (who runs the flirtology sessions) flirting shouldn’t just be confined to the nights when we’re guzzling down the vino. Why wait to flirt when your next date could be at your local bus stop, buying his ready meal for one in your local supermarket or perusing Balka’s latest artwork at the Tate?

But for a tongue tied no hoper like me, where do you even start? ‘Do you come here often?’ is too tacky, or just downright weird at a bus stop, ‘Get your coat you’ve pulled,’ isn’t really the start of a great romance and ‘Hi, I’m a freelance journalist,’ is probably a bit too much information when he’s just trying to buy his weekly shop.

“Be relevant,” Jean told us, “If you’re both in the wine aisle – ask if he can recommend a wine.” Wow who would have thought it was that easy? “Even if you start with a bad opener they’ll never remember,” she went on to say – phew that means even with my bad flirting experiences I may just have a few successes too.

But men, being men of course don't quite ‘get it’, even if were throwing all the right signals their way. For us an arm brush or even a ‘hi’ in our direction means they like us, for them it’s simply just a ‘hi’ and an arm brush. So if guys aren’t that great at detecting our flirting signals does that mean we should just pack our bags and go home empty handed? Nope, sometimes you just have to spell it out to them. As one man I spoke to recently said, “We’re not mind readers – if you want something just tell us.”

So what if we want a little bit more than just dating? When I started seeing Boss man recently nothing but dating was really on my mind. I was in a state of serial dating where three in one week wasn’t unusual. But after a while they all seem to merge into one another. Boss man stood out. Our first date was probably one of the best first dates I’ve been on and there was just something between us.

And as the dates kept on coming and other guys started dropping off my radar the more I wondered where it was going. I wasn’t demanding a five year plan which involved marriage, a mortgage and two kids from him, just a reassurance that he liked me. I was used to men making an effort with me. One guy I dated even googled ‘places to go on dates’ for me.

So when I said ‘I’m not dating anyone else,’ I thought it was the hint that would make him realise that I quite liked him – but either he was ignoring the ‘where is this going’ conversation or he was just being a typical man. So of course I had to bite the bullet and have ‘the chat’ with him – without, I hope, sounding too girly and pathetic.

It didn’t end like a fairytale should, but at least I knew where I stood – and isn’t that better than a ‘maybe’ or ‘I think he likes me, but I’m not sure.’ Life’s too short to be wondering if he’s on the same lines as you.

So Boss man didn’t have longevity, but maybe the ‘one’ is wandering down my favourite aisle in Sainsbury’s (the cake aisle if you were curious) or waiting for the 7.48 to St Pancras. I just need to be brave enough to not fluff my opening line, keep the conversation about wine/art/trains going and hope it doesn’t go horribly wrong so I have to either change my supermarket, stop my regular visits to art galleries (okay I never go anyway) or find an alternative route into London – fancy a hitchhiker anyone?

Wish me luck.

The eX factor

2009-11-05T05:57:00.000+11:00

I have a recurring problem – an ex. However hard I try to shake him off he just keeps on coming back. Up until the other day I didn’t think I was friends with any of my ex’s, not really out of choice, more out of awkwardness. I dumped the first one and he was so bitter he deleted me out of his life, the second one, well we’ll come back to him later and the third, he dumped me, so enough said.

When you break up with someone the old cliché comes out ‘I hope we can still be friends’. Maybe you really think it’s possible, because of course you can’t imagine life without them. But after the uncomfortable break up sex, a few awkward conversations later, and a new girlfriend thrown in for good measure - you wondered why you ever thought being friends with them was such a good idea.

So when an ex text me last week saying he wanted to ‘catch up’ I just rolled my eyes. It wasn’t the first time he had popped up in my inbox – ever since we split up over a year and a half ago he’s text pestered me. But I really have no desire to text him back let alone see him.

So why has he got it into his head that we’re friends? Or is he after more than this? Sex? Reconciliation? Don’t you dump someone for a reason? I’m sure my reason wasn’t so that I could catch up with him over coffee one day, have sex on an occasional basis or get back together with him after a year and a half.

But the problem is I’m just too nice to my ex’s. I text them back with an ‘oh I’m so busy’ instead of ‘leave me alone before I get a restraining order.’ And I go through the polite ‘hi, how are you’s?’ when I bump into them, when I’d rather just blank them and forget they ever existed.

Then there’s the ex’s that dumped you and come crawling back, after a) they realise they’ve made a big mistake, b) they couldn’t find anyone better or c) they’re drunk. A friend of mine has had all her ex’s admit that dumping her was a mistake. If only my life was that great. But when you’ve moved on and you have a new love interest on the go a drunken text message declaring ‘whyyyy di I dump u? I bl**dy uve u!’ doesn’t really mean a whole lot to you anymore.

And it’s always the same when you meet up with an ex – it’s as though you’re competing to see who has the best life: ‘I have this amazing job,’ ‘My new girlfriend is gorgeous,’ ‘I’ve started at the gym you know – I’ve lost three stone’ and on and on it goes until you’ve both made yourselves sound like movie stars with perfect A list lives! And of course you refrain from telling them about those bad dates you keep going on, or how you’re likely to lose your job in the New Year, because that would make you look like a loser in front of an ex, right?

I remember a one sided conversation with one ex where he rattled off how his life had changed for the better since our split - it’s a shame the moaning idiot couldn’t have got it right when I had been with him. And friends have told me similar stories about how ex’s have sorted their lives out since they’ve split with them – so is it just a bid to impress us or was us dumping them a catalyst to make them, finally, realise just how awful their lives had become?

Of course some ex’s can be friends – but they’re the brave ones. Maybe it works for old Bruce and Demi but just knowing I’ve seen an ex naked, bared my soul to him, argued with him about how to cook an egg/pasta/anything edible and endured a Sunday lunch with his false teethed grandma puts him way outside friend territory.

I think the best theory is that an ex is an ex for a reason – whether you’re thinking about taking them back or becoming ‘friends’ with them. Who wants a friend, who was once a boyfriend, breaking down on your wedding day and declaring his love for you right before you say ‘I do’? As for my ex I think I’m going to have to pluck up the courage and tell him, very bluntly, that he has no chance of being my friend, let alone anything more – either that or this blog may just happen to appear in his inbox any day now!

“It’s not you….it’s them”

2009-10-20T23:18:00.000+11:00

When I was 14 I dumped a guy because my best friend ‘apparently’ didn’t like him. Being all grown up I would like to say my friends opinions no longer count – but I’d just be lying.

Not that I want to scare any potential dates or ‘boyfriends’ away – but my exes don’t have a great track record with my friends. My first boyfriend was too quiet, my second was too insecure and the third, well lets just say my friends thought he batted for the other side.

And whenever I mention one guy I dated a while ago it’s as though it brings back horrible memories for my friends. They shake their heads in despair, give a little shudder or sometimes even a loud grunt – they may as well just say to me, ‘Honestly, what were you thinking??’

When you break up with someone it’s never good to hear your friends say, “There was always something not quite right about him” – it’s that kick in the teeth which makes you wonder how long they were ‘pretending’ to like him. So when they go one step further – like breaking open the bubbly, dancing round their office in sheer delight or shouting from the roof tops, “Hallelujah she’s finally come to her senses,” it leaves you a little scared about how they’ll judge the next one.

So when I’m dating it makes it that little bit harder, not only do I have to fancy them and think they’re potential boyfriend material but I also have to weigh out the pros and cons that my friends will no doubt be assessing when it comes to that possible introduction. Will they like his hair? Will they think his dress sense is on the ‘slightly gay’ side? Will they ‘get’ his personality or just brush it off as arrogance? And most importantly, will he have that likeability factor which has been the downfall for so many of my other exes.

Of course I’ve judged friend’s boyfriends in the past, sometimes a little too quickly, and other times with good reason. When a friend was smitten with an ‘I love myself’ model I just had that feeling that he was no good. Turns out I was right – he was an ‘I love myself’ model who liked to sleep with other women, while my poor friend’s heart broke into a million pieces.

And it’s not just me who waits for their friend’s approval on their latest squeeze. I’ve had friends go from not sure to falling head-over-heels with their boyfriend after friends gave him the thumbs up. Similarly there has been many a broken heart when the Mr Maybes just didn’t quite live up to our expectations. And seriously isn’t this one of the reasons facebook was invented? Whenever I so much as mention a date my friends flock to facebook to find out if he’s ‘my type’.

So I’m wondering if I should just introduce any potential ‘boyfriends’ to my friends on say, the second date? It may scare the s**t out of them and make them wonder if they’ve stepped into a scene from How to Lose a guy in 10 days but if they’re a no-no then at least I can get rid of them before anyone gets emotionally attached.

My friends can give me a wink or a nod if he’s a winner or just direct me to the nearest exit if it’s a big thumbs down. Dates may think that it’s the start of something beautiful, but if they so much as attempt a bad joke or an offer of getting a round isn’t mentioned, then a third date may fail to materialise.

You would think that, “Sorry it’s not you…it’s them,” isn’t really a valid reason for getting rid of him, but at least you’re being honest, and who wants to run the risk of upsetting the best friend because their man has wonky eyebrows that gives her the creeps?

So before you trust your own judgement and think, ‘Well he can’t be that bad if I like him’, then think again – remember, it’s not only you who you’re dating for, it’s those lovely friends of yours too.

Are you a Rules girl?

2009-10-14T08:59:00.000+11:00

I’ve always been impatient. Whether it’s waiting for an egg to boil or for a guy to text me back. But impatience doesn’t bode well if you’re playing by The Rules and waiting for someone to ask you out.

If you’re not familiar with The Rules it’s supposed to be the ultimate dating book for women. Written by two Americans back in the mid 90’s it made women all over the world stampede to the book shops in their attempt to bag Mr Right. Primarily based on playing hard to get - it teaches women in 35 steps, how to go from date material to wife material.

The Rule’s main theme – just like the book He’s not that into you is if he doesn’t ask you out then he’s not worth dating. And some of my friends swear by it.

But I’m not so sure. Not because I don’t believe most of it to be true, but just because sometimes men can be a bit stupid, shy or just downright lazy.

A guy from my gym has been exchanging glances with me for a little over two years! He’s cute, but every time I so much as get 10 metres from him he seems to quicken his pace and vanish. At first it was quite funny, but now it’s slightly irritating – I mean if he likes me then why not just get some balls and talk to me.

And of course it’s great to be asked out, but like us men probably find the whole situation a little daunting too. I knew there was something between me and a potential date recently – but it took numerous text messages and a blatant ‘yes I quite like you’ message in big flashing lights for him to even contemplate asking me out!

Which is why sometimes it’s a real breath of fresh air when someone does actually ask you. So I was quite impressed the other week when a guy I'd met only five minutes previously said out of the blue: “Can I have your number?” There was no beating around the bush, no “I might see you around” and definitely no three hour long conversation before a date materialised.

So maybe The Rules do work. But if you’re playing by the rules does it mean you can’t even approach men? A friend who follows The Rules right down to the last full stop recoiled in horror when I mentioned a flirting seminar I might attend, “A rules girl would never approach a man,” she gasped. But what if he was drop dead gorgeous? What if he didn’t see you and what if he was ‘the one’? Would you just let him go? …just because a book told you to play it cool.

Undoubtedly the rule I love the most is: ‘If he doesn’t call, then he’s not interested. Period.’ We’ve all been there – making excuses for a guy who hasn’t called or text. My dumbest excuse recently, after many unanswered texts, was that the guy I was dating didn’t have the ability to text on his phone - as my sister looked on frowning at my stupidity I knew I was just lying to myself!

Then there are the rules I’m not so keen on. Because there’s playing hard to get then there’s being stupid. The Rules state that a guy who wants to date you on the weekend must ask you out by Wednesday. Sorry, but why? Are you really going to turn down a hot date with him if he asks you out on Thursday? Fair enough if you’re his Saturday evening ‘last resort’ call giving you ten minutes to get ready, but most likely wouldn’t we just be kicking ourselves for turning down a perfectly good date?

Even if The Rules seems like too much hard work and you think game playing isn’t for you – we have to admit that there’s always a certain amount of rules and game playing we live by without even thinking about it. Like the last time we waited for at least a few hours to text him back, or how we painfully waited for him to phone first – just to prove that our life doesn’t revolve around him.

So although slightly old fashioned, the basis of what The Rules implies is true. If he’s not asking you out, whether you think he likes you or not – then can he really be that into you? But whether you decide to play it out rule by rule until you catch a winner, I suppose, is up to you.

Does date number 2 mean forever?

2009-10-06T02:48:00.000+11:00

Once you get past date number one that’s when you start to freak out a bit. When you’ve been single for a while you start embracing it – going out when you want, dating three guys in one week (okay maybe that’s just me!) and having Sex and the City on constant replay. In fact, when you’re single you can get away with doing what ever the hell you want, whenever you want, without the fear of upsetting the other half!

So when you agree to date number two you’re in that ‘slightly unnerving’ territory. You’ve decided not to follow your normal protocol of ignoring their texts/emails/phone calls until they get the message that ‘you’re just not that into them’ and instead you’re wondering if they could in fact be ‘the one’.

Date number two either says, ‘yeah I like you, lets see where it goes’ or ‘I wanna have your babies’ (Natasha Bedingfield style!) depending of course on how long you’ve been single for and how much you like them.

So, should we be embracing date numero deux or running for the hills?

I’d be lying if I didn’t say anything beyond date number one scares the c**p out of me. In relationship terms date number two shows signs of commitment or endurance - heck you may as well be agreeing to marry them! After date number one and beyond you can no longer perform a disappearing act on them that any worthy illusionist would be proud of, and neither can you ‘pretend’ to have lost their phone number.

When you get into date number two, three and beyond territory it all just becomes a bit more serious. And as a friend has kindly pointed out - more than one date and you have to officially give them a reason for breaking up.

So will it be harder to go your separate ways if after date number four you decide that, actually, you hate the way he coughs. Mr Date number four would demand a reason why. Can you reveal that his slightly girly splutter drives you round the bend? Or is it just best to bring out those pathetic excuses exes have used on you in the past, which range from the slightly cheesy – “it’s not you, its me” to the downright pathetic ‘I have no balls’ spiel – “I think the spark’s gone.”

Of course it’s fine when you both know that date number two doesn’t mean anything. On a recent second date we both knew it wasn’t going to end in marriage and 2.4 children – mainly due to me declaring that I had two other dates lined up that week and him boasting about his plans to marry a stripper in Vegas. A fun night was had by all and we both went out separate ways knowing that a relationship wasn’t on the cards – but second dates don’t always end up this way!

For the last few months I have tried to avoid second dates like the plague. ‘He wasn’t my type’, ‘he lived too far away’ and ‘there was no chemistry’ were just some of the excuses I used when friends asked if date number two was on the horizon. Even though I was dating I knew it was just a bit of fun rather than a life long commitment.

And of course it all boils down to if you’re really ready for a new relationship? Do you (and of course I’m talking about myself here) really want to get into all that mushy, lovey dovey complicated stuff that you’ve been avoiding for the last god knows how long?

And what does a second date mean for him? Are we just second date fun or potential wife material?

Can you just enjoy someone company without thinking long term? Or before you know it are you meeting their friends, family and being classed as a ‘cute couple’ with people dropping marriage and kids into the conversation.

Going from ‘single’ to ‘in a relationship’ - (and that’s just on facebook!) is a BIG deal! Nearly as life changing as being dumped - so of course we’re going to be a teeny tiny bit freaked out at the prospect of it!

Being in a relationship changes your life dramatically – so I suppose it poses the question: Am I really ready to give up the single life just yet and jump into the uncertain world of dates two, three and beyond?

Play dates....

2009-09-21T22:50:00.000+10:00

There’s always that disagreement between friends, which goes a bit like this: “Why would you date an immature idiot who thinks the Playstation and WWE is a form of entertainment?” while the rest of your friends come back with: “Well rather that than being stuck with an old fuddy duddy who doesn’t know his Coldplay from his Lily Allen?”

The same goes with my friends. Some of them associate older boyfriends with maturity, stability and potential husband material. But a few years ago two of my close friends were adamant that young-uns were the way forward: “They’re way more fun,” they would say. And they would gallantly go from one barely post-school date to another, always claiming that they wanted exactly the same from the relationship that their toy boy did. Until the day one of them gave them up for good.

Breaking up with at least three guys, in a row, all of which were at least two years her junior, she became bored of being the ‘teacher’ girlfriend. She would show them how grown up serious relationships work, but then dump them for not understanding, only for them to go on and find the one – living happily ever after.

Me? I’ve always been a fan of the older man. For some reason, unbeknown to me, I’ve always preferred dating older guys. When I was a mere 12 years old the guys in my year just weren’t good enough, if I couldn’t date someone in the year above then it just wasn’t worth dating. And I went on to date my fair share of ‘older boys’ – ones which weren’t as immature as the boys my age and somehow so much hotter.

My peak came when at 22 I dated a 36 year old. To begin with age didn’t matter – he made me laugh and we had fun together. But slowly those little things crept in that made the fun turn to fear – like how he had to google every band I mentioned, how he was the one taking the meeting while I fell asleep in the back, and of course there was that C word. At 22 I was unable to understand the meaning of commitment – never the less actually putting it into practice.

Of course I’ve run off track a few times – dating someone a year junior than me, for him to become the most insecure, jealous boyfriend of all time. But mostly, my dating history reads like a who’s who of Last of the Summer Wine.

So when a mere 21 year old stumbled into my existence and pleaded, with his northern banter, that I could write about dating a toy boy (well if I must!) – somehow, possibly through my drunkenness, I agreed to date him.

And so the date commenced one Friday evening not so long ago, and he very clearly helped me realise why I should stick to dating the ‘older man’.

To make matters worse I thought he was 22, not that it makes much difference – but anything more than a five year age gap, in my book, makes me feel like I’m babysitting rather than dating.

Now let me set the scene - I can take a bit of banter, an odd joke here and there. But too much and slowly I start to get irritated. The joke feels like an insult and I wonder if this person actually likes me at all. But like any young boy he was apparently insulting me ‘because’ he liked me – ‘go figure’.

It started with jokes about my age: “Well you’d be too old to know about that,” he said. Then there was my job that got a battering: “If you had a proper job, like the rest of us, then you’d know what hard work means.” He even went on to criticise my dating habits: “I bet you just serial date to get free drinks and meals out of these poor guys, don’t you?” he said, while I attempted to stifle a laugh.

At this point I could have been whisked back to my yonder years, uncomfortably placed in my school PE kit, while the young boys in my year attempted to make fun of me or hit me as they ran past me on to the playing field. At the time I was of course clueless about boys: “Why are they so mean to me?” I would ask my older sister, as she sniggered, knowing full well that they only did it because they had their eye on me.

And so the real low point of the date came when he not so much insinuated, but actually asked me, out of the blue, if I slept with all the dates I went on. Gob-smacked I tried to brush it off with a laugh and a witty comeback, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. Did all 21 year olds think that dates ended this way? Or did he merely think he was going to insult me in to bed?

I would like to say that the date got better, that his sarcasm faded with his nerves and he made me see that dating a younger man can trump the older one. But it didn’t and he didn’t, and sadly, I’m still yearning for that 'special someone' who knows the difference between playground flirting and something which resembles proper grown up dating.

Dating in the Dark

2009-09-15T00:23:00.000+10:00

An ex boyfriend once said to me, “I just don’t get it - how do ugly guys get good looking girlfriends?” His only natural assumption was that they were either minted or were above average in the downstairs department. And of course he brushed off any sort of attempt of mine at playing the ‘personality’ card.

It would be nice to think that we don’t live in shallow world where looks matter, but sadly we do. Film stars are just that because of their looks and models get paid millions because of their natural beauty, whereas some people don’t even get a look in because they’re just not what society claims as ‘pretty enough’.

And when it comes to dating it doesn’t get much better. A lot of us judge a ‘book by it’s cover’ – thinking that Mr Good Looking in the bar is just our type, while the ginger guy in the corner is brushed off when he attempts to even mutter in our direction. And online dating has become the visual portal for our prejudices too - we all apparently have a ‘type’ and if Mr So and So doesn’t even conform to those criteria are we even going to read his email? Have there been missed opportunities because Mr Average ticked all the boxes apart from his non-model type looks?

So what would dating be like if looks didn’t matter and personality counted for everything? Living TV are taking this concept to the extreme with their new show - ‘Dating in the Dark’ – where contestants meet each other in the dark and date without knowing what each other look like.

Most of us freak out about going on a blind date, let alone an ‘actual’ blind one. So of course it has caused some mixed reactions between the contestants, especially when they find out their ideal partner looks nothing like they expected.

We would be lying if we said looks didn’t matter – after all, you have to fancy them – what’s the point of dating someone who you’re repulsed by? But surprisingly, on Dating in the Dark, some couples end up together even though their date doesn’t meet their expectations. So it must be true to say that when someone’s personality shines through it makes them more attractive.

And of course we are always going to be swayed by our friend’s reactions. When I recently dated a guy for a London newspaper, accompanied by a picture, it came with mixed reactions - from the slightly reassuring: “Yeah, he’s okay,” to the damn right blunt text I received saying: “Surely you can do better than him?”

And it hasn’t stopped there – exes have apparently had big noses, weird hair, been too short and ‘not my type’ according to friends.

And when friends suddenly play down the fact that looks don’t matter you know it’s for a reason. If they rattle on about their new boyfriend’s great personality and how well they’ve bonded of course we’re not expecting them to waltz in with a Brad Pitt look-alike.

We're all going to be attracted to that stunning looking guy at one point in our lives – but if that’s all he’s got and there’s nothing upstairs then we’re never going to be able to contemplate a future with him. So yes, mister ex boyfriend, personality does count. In fact personality counts for so much more than we put emphasis on. It makes date number two so much easier and gives relationships that longevity we are all looking for.

So maybe dating in the dark should become a necessity for anyone who is looking for their perfect partner – either that or we should, for once, give that okayish looking guy a chance when he attempts to chat us up.

Miss Cynicism

2009-08-25T00:23:00.000+10:00

When you’re single you become slightly cynical about love, ‘The One’ and anything to do with romance.

You question why anybody would travel half way across the world to see their boyfriend, give up a perfectly good Saturday night ‘out’ to spend it ‘in’ all cuddled up with a man, and argue with them until you’re blue in the face, about something so insignificant you’ve forgotten the point of the argument by the time it finishes.

So when you see moments of true love before your very eyes it reminds you why you’re holding out for Mr Right. Walking through St Pancras the other day I saw a girl run through the Eurostar arrivals and leap into the arms of her man. Of course my heart melted when I saw the look of love in both their eyes, a smile quickly spread across my face and warm fuzzy feelings appeared from nowhere, but then just as quickly a pang of jealously popped up and made me think - ‘why couldn’t I be that girl?’

Being single used to fill me with dread - what would I do on Valentines Day? Who would I go on holiday with? I even hung onto boyfriends who I knew weren’t my forever guys just because I couldn’t face being single. However, now it’s a reality I love the freedom attached to my single status.

But when you see genuine acts of love right before your very eyes it makes you miss being in a relationship and everything which comes with it. So is it possible to be a romantic at heart but still cynical about love and its many complications?

I’m a total sucker for romantic films, from Danny and Sandy swooning “You’re the one that I want” to Mr Swayze declaring those famous words, “Nobody puts baby in the corner” - I would happily give up my love life for one in the movies. But we all know that’s about as realistic as a man offering to do the washing up – right?

Even if a relationship starts with a dreamy love affair I know that most guys get comfortable after about 6 months and think that making rude noises in front of you is a perfectly acceptable form of communication.

So lately I have found myself criticising complete strangers – just because they’re attached. The couple walking past me holding hands will undoubtedly break up in a matter of months. The girl who is looking adoringly at her boyfriend will find out that the sod has not only cheated on her, but with her best friend. And what about those who share with us their PDA’s? Yep they're probably having an affair!

And every time I go on a date my cynical frame of mind appears from nowhere. Instead of listing all their good qualities I am mentally noting why they’re not quite boyfriend material. Take Mr Italian stallion who I enjoyed a couple of drinks with recently. Under normal circumstances I may have given him a chance – but when Miss Cynicism rears her ugly head its hard not to judge someone.

First were the shoes – beige timberland boots?! Then the East End accent that I don’t remember from our first encounter. And did I sense some commitment issues there? Or possibly a little bit of arrogance? And the real deal breaker – “I don’t really drink much alcohol,” he said, as I was drowning in a sea of wine and keeping the bar afloat with my alcholic purchases. I mean, a girl needs to have a drinking partner in a man – if nothing else!

And it’s not just the Italian which has been cursed by the hand of my cynicism. There is always something which isn’t quite ‘boyfriend’ material for me – the way he wears his shirt, his whistling, his sense of humour (or lack of it!), the love (for himself!) and the list rolls on until I’m back to square one.

It’s not as though I’m after perfection – I think I’ve been there and we all know how that story ended. Maybe I’m just not in the ‘relationship phase’ of my life at the moment. I’m finding other parts of my life that make me smile so why do I need a man when I’m smiling without one?

I suppose my time will come when I meet that certain guy who just blows me away. Those little things that annoy me will be accepted. Maybe he’ll challenge me, impress me or just leave me wanting more. Arguments will be solved and I may even get some of those ‘movie moments’ I’m holding out for. Maybe I’ll even find myself running into the arms of my true love at St Pancras station one day.

But until that day comes I’m going to try and keep Miss Cynicism at bay, avoid ‘movie embraces’ at London train stations and most importantly enjoy being young, free and 100% single!

“But…what about the water jug moment?!”

2009-08-20T08:35:00.000+10:00

Being the grand old age of 27 I would like to say that I’ve figured men out. But of course I haven’t and probably never will.

What I think I can safely say is that they are creatures very unlike us. They think differently, act differently and of course date differently.

Talking to male friends they usually say exactly the same about us, “Just when I feel like I have them sussed – they go and do something which completely confuses the hell out of me,” one poor soul complained to me recently.

I had, up until now, had quite a smooth ride when it came to dating and men. But it seems I had been living in dating fairyland – where men called me if they liked me, guys who had girlfriends didn’t flirt and attempt to date me and game playing was something which had existed at school, not in the confines of my dating sphere.

Since the start of my newly single life I have encountered not so much a fairytale, more of a disaster movie of potential suitors.

My latest possibility seemed great on the surface but to quote Katy Perry: “You’re hot and you’re cold, you’re up and you’re down….” if this song wasn’t written about him then I’d be gob smacked.

Even the stupidest dating books have got it right when they say if he’s not communicating with you – then he’s just not into you. Those rules were completely blown out of the window with Mr ‘Indecisive’ – one minute he was hoping I wasn’t dating other guys, the next he had disappeared off the face of the planet, and then he resurfaces and ‘can’t wait to see me again’.

Dating can always be a bit hit and miss - 'do they like me? Should I call them? Why haven’t they text me back?' But when game playing or just plain arrogance is mixed into the equation it can just get messy. So sorry, but mixed signals confuse me – if you like me - date me, if you don’t then STOP calling me!

And it’s not just dating where men and women get their wires crossed. Even when we’re in a relationship we still come across the what ifs, mixed signals and conclusion jumping – that our men just don’t get.

A close friend of mine wants marriage, kids, the whole works. And she wants it with her current boyfriend. Being a man, of course, he doesn’t know what he wants. So like most girls any signal towards a potential future with him is not taken lightly.

She recently recalled a conversation about a water jug with him. “Do we really need two water jugs? We have no need for them,” he said. She agreed but then he went on to say, “but I suppose if we get a bigger place we might need two.”

Her heart nearly stopped – what did he mean by that? Was he thinking about their future? Was he proposing? Should she start thinking about baby names? And the list goes on…..

But her ‘water jug’ moment is not uncommon. Because when we like someone we women see the little things as potentially life changing moments.

If a man introduces us to his family we assume he thinks we’re a keeper, if he tells us to leave our toothbrush at his we think he’s planning a joint mortgage and if he so much as talks about the colour white and churches in the same sentence we’re hoping he’ll get down on one knee any day.

So if he dumps us two weeks after meeting his family, a mortgage agreement fails to materialise and the word marriage doesn’t even exist in his vocabulary we wonder where it all went wrong.

Of course the water jug moment won’t be remembered by my friend’s boyfriend. If she started casually looking for ‘family sized houses’ he would get all hot under the collar and wonder why she was jumping to ‘further commitment’ conclusions. “But what about the water jugs?” she would proclaim, and he would wonder what the hell in gods name she was talking about.

I suppose if men and women were the same it would be a very boring existence. If men ‘got’ everything we said or did then we’d be at a loss. And most importantly - what would we have to moan about over a cocktail or two??

When dating becomes a full-time job….

2009-08-11T23:13:00.000+10:00

Most dating books tell us to play it cool when it comes to men. To be the girl that the guy sees from the other side of the bar and is intrigued by.

BUT what if he doesn’t see us? What if we play it so cool he thinks we're not interested? What if we're so ‘whatever’ in our attempt to get the guy that we realise that we haven’t been out on a date for what seems like years.

When I became single – nearly six months ago now (eek!) - all of a sudden I was in an in-between place where I was slightly heartbroken about my lost love, but also wondering how the hell I was supposed to move on. And to even contemplate dating seemed like cheating and out of the ordinary.

Emailing, texting or phoning guys, that of course bore no resemblance to how I felt about my ex, seemed like a chore, a mistake or just plain weird.

But like anything if you don’t put in the hard graft then you’re probably not going to see any sort of promising results. So after a couple of months of feeling like ‘the girl who lost out on The One’, a few drunken incidents involving my mobile and my ex and lots of facebook stalking, I knew I had to step back into the dating world before I either faced an angry new girlfriend or I just went mentally insane.

So as I gingerly positioned myself on the conveyor belt of dating I realised that a few emails, a couple of winks (virtual obviously) or even a smile in a crowded bar weren’t going to find me Mr Right. Just like one of my typical school reports would claim – I realised that ‘a little bit more effort was required’.

I was going to have to be the girl who asked guys out, gave them second chances and tried all those things that seem a little scary for us singletons. Online dating – tick, speed dating (yuk!) – tick, dating agencies - tick, heck I even auditioned for a TV dating show.

Basically I was happy to try anything in my attempt to find Mr Right. And now whenever I proclaim to my friends that I have ‘another’ date they huff - ‘You’re always going on a date, that’s not newsworthy!’

But maybe that’s how I found myself learning how to make sushi with a cute guy in London last week. They say good things come out of being spontaneous – and this had been on a total whim. A London newspaper was asking me in big bold print ‘do you want to date this hottie?’ He was good looking, had some interesting profile answers and was obviously ‘ballsy’ enough to appear in a newspaper asking for dates - so who was I to say no?

Of course I wasn’t expecting to be picked, or to even get on with him. But a sushi lesson, some cheesy photos and a bottle of wine later I found myself sipping cocktails in Notting Hill with him - while he questioned me about date number two.

I’m not saying we should defy all the rules of dating, especially the sensible ones. But sometimes we have to just think f**k it. Call him if you like him, give that cute guy in the bar your phone number, and why not apply to date a ‘hottie’ in a London newspaper- you never know where it may lead! After all who wants a boring ‘how we met story’? My sister poked a random stranger on facebook – a year and a half later she’s still dating him – now if that’s not ‘spontaneous’ fate for you then I don’t know what is!

‘Don’t worry…you’ll be single forever’

2009-08-02T06:41:00.000+10:00

Sometimes my girlfriends are just too nice when it comes to my dating habits. ‘He definitely likes you, maybe he’s just busy.’ ‘He doesn’t deserve you anyway, you’re far too good for him,’ ‘don’t worry you’ll find someone great one day - and it will be worth the wait’.

And of course that’s what you need to hear – most of the time.

But it comes as some sort of light relief when my male friends just tell me how it is. “Your ex was gay wasn’t he? Well he definitely cheated on you – why do you think he broke up with you?”

One male friend even laughed when I told him about my latest break-up. But hang on a minute I was really heartbroken. Cue more laughter from male mate showing he really didn’t care – and after a while I was laughing along with him too.

It’s no secret that a man came up with the concept for the book 'He’s just not that into you' – and staring honesty in the face can sometimes be a good thing.

Thanks to these self help dating books some of us girls have managed to claw on to a bit of common sense when it comes to dating. But even the cleverest among us will still fall for a wrong-un now and again and some of our girlfriends will encourage us to give them the benefit of the doubt. So our male mates become the Simon Cowells of reasoning – "YOU’RE A LOSER – he would have phoned you if he was interested" or "Come on - do you really think you’re girlfriend material? Wake up - he was using you!"

Men don’t care about hurting your feelings, after all they don’t go around being careful not to tread on their boy mates toes, they merely say – “Don’t worry mate she’s probably shagging some other guy by now, let’s have a beer.” Then they all get wasted in an attempt to make him forget.

Don’t get me wrong I love putting the world to rights with my girlie friends, over a cocktail or two. Every sip makes you feel more empowered and with that encouragement from your friends by the end of the night you’re thinking ‘Yes, I’m so much better off without him’.

But I just can’t get enough of that boy mate banter too. And if my male friends are anything to go by then I’m sure I’ll get my fix quite regularly. Because being one of the only singles among my group of friends they seem to think it’s their duty to remind me of this every ten seconds.

“Don’t worry Sarah we’ve got you your very own special single chair,” one of my friend’s boyfriends joked, as I planned to spend the night with my coupled up friends.

“Marriage – what? You’ll never find a man – you’ll be the old lady with the cats,” another male friend ever so nicely told me.

And they thought all their Christmases had come at once a few weeks ago when an ex date turned up at the same bar as us – with another girl in tow. Their little faces lit up as they realised the predicament I faced - “Why don’t you go and talk to him?” they egged me on as I squirmed my way into a hole never wanting to resurface again.

Obviously there comes a point when the boys can go overboard (they are men after all) but most of the time their harmless banter (or harsh advice!) is just a way of bringing me down to earth with a ‘big’ bump. Serial dating my way through single life, I suppose, gives me hope that one day I may find the man of my dreams – until of course they remind me that I’ll be single forever and probably still ‘attempting’ to date when I’m old and grey – yeah thanks for that guys.

Just courting....?

2009-07-31T08:05:00.000+10:00

Talking to someone about your dating history and hopes for your future love life is like talking to a shrink and Cilla Black all rolled into one. But that’s what I found myself doing one evening. After getting bored and becoming quite exhausted by today’s conventional ways of trying to find dates I decided to put my quest for the ‘one’ into the hands of professionals – a dating agency.

Now I’ve never actually been on a blind date, unless being blind folded, escorted into a room and made to flirt with two guys in front of a camera crew counts. Before you start to wonder I hadn’t made the wrong turn on a night out and ended up in some adult movie - I had, of my own free will, decided to participate in an audition for a TV dating show. But that’s another blog……

So rocking up to a date that Just courting had set up for me was a new experience. It was technically a blind date because after speaking to the lovely Kate (my matchmaker) about what I was looking for in a guy, it was down to her to pick me a winner, which I imagine must be a hard job when there are millions of singletons out there looking for totally different things. All I knew was his name and what he did – but apart from that I had no clue and was hoping that she had been listening when I said my preference was more Jude Law than Mr Bore.

So my obvious main worries were that he wouldn’t be my type, would have no sense of humour and the night would be as much fun as spending a night with your coupled up friends. But she had done me proud – he was cute and the conversation flowed just like the wine did.

Handy that, as we were wine tasting that night, which was quite refreshing and great to be doing something different instead of just chatting over a couple of drinks. Because sometimes you need something more on a first date - a conversation starter or something to talk about when the conversation dries up - so I jumped at the chance of doing something else.

So while learning the basics of how to taste wine (apparently gurgling is best - but not so attractive on a first date) I found out that he’d been wine tasting before but been so drunk he couldn’t remember it, that he’d had a terrible blind date once (I was hoping this wasn’t a hint!) and gradually found out that my love of wine drinking was mutual.

But as the night went on I knew he was more mate material than second date material. Which was a shame as after the wine tasting (was I possibly a bit tipsy now?) I decided he was a cross between Steve Jones and Jonathan Rhys Myers, and I fancy those two guys so why couldn’t I fancy him?

Obviously it comes down to that inevitable ‘spark’ - which this date had failed to ignite. Whether it’s that special gaze, a shared interest in music or something far cheesier, there has to be that moment when you both realise that you could possibly have something special. Either that or they need to be an amazing kisser.

But on a serious note, I enjoyed my first blind date. It was slightly unnerving not knowing who I’d be spending my Friday evening with – it’s not every day you tell your friends you’re spending the evening with a complete stranger. So as blind dates go I think it was a success, well apart from the fact that I won’t be seeing him again of course. But it’s renewed my faith in blind dates and dating agencies, especially after all the horror stories my friends ever so kindly shared with me….. before my date!

The men you 'try' to avoid

2009-07-12T00:03:00.000+10:00

There’s the guy that totally wouldn’t then there’s the guy, at a drop of a hat, in a beat of a second, would. And the guy that cheats is the guy you’ll never be able to settle down with, however hard you try.

And as one of these ‘drop of a hat, in a beat of a second’ guys turned up last weekend I ended up being the ‘other woman’. Not that I knew this of course, he had cleverly removed all evidence, the first being lack of a girlfriend present and the second how he refrained to mention any knowledge of her existence in our three hour conversation, and eventual kiss. It was only when I mentioned seeing him with a girlfriend that he admitted to still being with her.

So is it the effects of alcohol, plain greediness or just his downstairs department talking when a guy cheats? My man’s excuse was that he liked me before he met his girlfriend, so of course it didn’t count. Thankfully I’m not foolish enough to fall for that – but it had in fact been true. About nine months previously when I had just started dating my ex he had chased me out of a bar asking if he could take me out for a drink, without I’m sure, even knowing my name. Embarrassingly for him, I turned him down – in front of one of his mates. So when I bumped into him last week it was inevitable that something was going to happen.

But whenever I mentioned him to friends it was obvious that his playboy reputation had preceded him, the reaction I got even before anything had happened between us was – ‘he’s so not boyfriend material’ or ‘he’s a bit of a player – don’t expect to get anything serious from him.’ So with guys like this, it always make me wonder how they get a girlfriend in the first place? Maybe they like the idea of having a girlfriend, but they can never be a one woman man. And the girlfriend must either know this and be doing exactly the same to them or think that she can somehow tame his wicked ways.

When you’re in a relationship you wonder why girls attempt to date players, arrogant types or just total w**kers. When you’re single you still wonder, but you sort of understand too. They start off as a bit of fun, someone to make you forget about a messy last relationship or the previous idiot you dated, then all of a sudden you’re hooked by the attention, or sometimes lack of, that they’re giving you.

So are us single girls just too distracted by looks, charm, arrogance and maybe a bit of bubbly when it comes to these type of guys?

In my case it was probably all of these ingredients. My ex was so prim and proper compared to Mr ‘I have a girlfriend, but forgot to mention it’ that I suppose I just welcomed the change. Owning the bar that we were drinking in probably helped as well, along with the obvious arrogance and bubbly that came with it.

So alcohol and these type of guys never really mix, especially bubbly, as it just blurs our vision, and possible sense, turning us from the – ‘talk to the hand player’ sensible gal we normally are, into the party girl who is falling for every trick in the book.

And I’m not going to lie…looks help, I’ll admit that I have readily fallen for guys just because they’re drop dead gorgeous – I think my last relationship was actually based 90% around looks, (shallow – moi?) so no wonder it was doomed from the outset.

It would be nice to think we don’t fall for charm in a guy, but most of us do. Unless you have a rare ability to spot one from a mile off then you’re probably going to come across at least one in your lifetime. Whether you succeed in making them more than just a blip on your dating radar is probably another thing, as once the chase is officially lost then they’re quickly onto their next victim.

But it doesn’t matter if they’re a player, arrogant or just drop dead gorgeous it never excuses a guy from cheating on their girlfriend. Or us in fact, for letting it happen. Hopefully I get a free pass because I was oblivious to the truth. But then again – with his reputation maybe I should have known the outcome.

So the lesson I’ve learnt from Mr ‘I have a girlfriend, but forgot to mention it’ – is never assume anything. He may look unattached, he may act unattached, but under all that charm, arrogance and the booze he’s throwing down your neck, the truth is there somewhere. ‘Do you have a girlfriend’ is five words which I think I will be using more often.

Dating...for dating's sake....

2009-07-08T20:49:00.000+10:00

As I wait for yet another online date to show up I’m faced with the same thought that always crosses my mind at this point ‘what the hell am I doing?’ I’m doubting my ability to remember what he looks like, if he was even my type in the first place, what we had in common and wondering how long I should wait before I can officially leg it home and pretend he was a no show.

This is, of course, a common case of first night nerves. And it’s not a rarity – as I wait for my knight in shining armour to come and sweep me off my feet and into a world where single isn’t my middle name, I regularly feel as though I’ve dipped my feet into a freezer.

It’s not the actual date I’m scared of. After all I’ve been on enough of them to know the protocol, but it’s what I’m anticipating. What if Mr ‘knight in shining armour’ is a stone heavier than he admitted, a foot shorter, or worse – older than my dad? So you have to sympathise with me when I mentally freak out if men, who don’t quite fit my date’s description, come within 10 metres of me. My thoughts usually constitute of the following – “What? No, no - is that him? It can’t be…but…no, oh, phew…of course I didn’t think that was him,” usually repeated at least ten times before my date makes an appearance.

And depending on what kind of day I’ve had I’m either hoping beyond hope that this is him, the one I’ve been waiting for - the man of my dreams, or that he’s just Mr. Flash in the Pan, so I can make a quick escape and get home in time for Grey’s Anatomy to start.

In the fickle world of online dating sometimes I’ve made my mind up about the date before I have even set eyes on him. And if it’s a no go, which quite regularly it is, it poses the question – why am I meeting up with him in the first place? Maybe I am just setting myself up for the possible or inevitable rejection that will follow? Or am I just dating for dating’s sake?

When you’re single you feel that if you’re not dating, then you’re just not trying. It’s the whole ‘you’ve got to be in it to win it’ thing – what if one of my potential no-go’s turns out to be the man I’m destined to live a long and happy life with? How can you ever tell from a dodgy photo, a few emails and some similar hobbies whether a) you’ll fancy them, b) there’ll be any sort of chemistry between you, or c) whether they’re as boring as your first primary school teacher was? So missing out on a date is not advisable – unless you’re happy being in a loveless, boring relationship??

But it probably doesn’t help that I’m picky. When I met up with a guy called Sam recently I knew that I could never date someone so tall that even my sky scraper heels didn’t make a difference. Then there was Richard, who looked great in his photos, but reminded me far too much of one of my gay friends. Homosexuality and boyfriend material just don’t go together very well. Chris was too honest, Ed lived with his parents??! And Mr 'I have a girlfriend, but forgot to mention it' – well that’s a whole other blog.

Then there are the ones that you thought went so well that you’re convinced there'll definitely be dates two and three. But your daydreams come to a grinding halt before you’ve even planned the bridesmaids’ dresses, because…wait for it….he’s just not that into you! When you like them your phone suddenly becomes the most important thing in your life and you’re willing it, to just, please, please send you any form of communication from them. So when it doesn’t come after the first hour, day or week – you could say rejection, disappointment and failure all spring to mind.

But that’s the thing with online dating, if at first you don’t succeed, you can try, try again. As long as you can stump up the cash to keep your online dating profile running then you could be dating a handful of men every week.

As for the first night nerves and rejection, I suppose it all gets easier the more dates you go on. Some say that dating can be soul destroying – but it’s just like life, it has its ups and its downs, and usually the ups are worth waiting for when they finally come around.

So I’m all up for dating, for dating’s sake – I may not find a knight in shining armour to take me to a land where couples roam and lonely chairs are forbidden, but at least I’m out there looking for someone who may just fit the bill.

My ‘Bridget Jones’ existence

2009-06-19T22:25:00.000+10:00

After a particularly bad speed dating incident with a friend of mine, I left feeling fairly deflated and through the (obviously one too many!) wine I wailed at the top of my voice ‘Oh my god I’ll never find the one’. My friend reminded me that I had only in fact been single for two months and if anything it was her turn next to find a possible Mr Right. So maybe I was over reacting, but why, when we get to a certain age, do we feel like the clock is ticking to find the one?

I keep trying to reassure myself that now is the time to concentrate on me, my career and anything else I have severely neglected over the past 10 years because men have got in the way, but somewhere in that stupid head of mine I seem to think that I need a man to make me happy.

And I know I’m not alone in my thinking - but why? Is it to prove to exes that we’ve moved on – like they have? And even if we do find someone else it’s not as though we’re going to appear at their front door with a speakerphone saying ‘ner, ner, ner ner, ner I’ve got a new boyfriend’, he’s cuter, smarter and nicer than you – so there!’ Then stamp on their foot and run away, because that would of course just be plain childish.

Or is it purely just to fit in with the status quo? When you’re nearing thirty you’ve surpassed those ‘lets have fun’ years and most of your friends are contemplating marriage and babies. Being the single one is like a zebra attempting to fit in with a herd of goats – the likelihood of standing out is quite probable.

Of course your now attached friends have all been there, worn the t-shirt and have felt like a spare part once in a while, but when I was newly single ALL my friends seemed to be happily, smoochly and deliriously in love. They dragged me out and promised that it wouldn’t be coupley, but of course I found myself speaking to a bunch of star crossed lovers by the end of the night - in fact I think I even heard the lonely chair next to me make a whimper or two.

And it’s not just my friends that I have to keep up with - as I stalk old university friends, school friends and work colleagues it dawns on me that half of them are now married, engaged or having sleepless nights because the little one has arrived. I even bumped into an old school friend the other day who said: ‘So have you had any kids or got married since I last saw you?’ – as I muttered under my breath that I was newly single she reeled off how she ‘can’t believe how quickly her young uns are growing up’. Her kids will probably be Mum’s before mine are even a twinkle in their daddy’s eye – that’s if I ever find him!

So did I miss the boat somewhere which was heading to grown up land? Or did I just fall off and wash up on single island? And if it’s as hard to escape from as the one on Lost I think I’m a bit screwed!

It’s not like I want any of that stuff yet. Having to look after a child scares the living daylights out of me, and how, when I feel like a teenager still can I possibly even fathom the thought of getting married? But when everyone else is doing it you sort of feel left out, it’s like being the only one who doesn’t go on that school trip – frankly it’s just not fair and you hate your parents for being so mean.

And yes now I mention them, parents don’t help keep the worrying at bay either. My Mum is quite frequently heard moaning, ‘When am I going to be a grandma god damn it?’ and conversations like how I should start considering freezing my eggs and which fascinator she’ll wear at my wedding aren’t a rarity.

I suppose it’s the whole ‘Bridget Jones generation’ – soon I’ll be singing at the top of my voice “all by myself, don’t wanna be all by myself anymore…” and accidentally making blue soup – but being single after a certain age is still frowned upon. It’s as though people think that to be whole you should be part of a pair and it’s probably drummed into us round about the same time we learn how to make a pineapple upside down cake and the ins and outs of algebra.

Maybe I’ll stop the clock for a while and just enjoy the view. After all I’ve got plenty of time to spend with the ‘one’ when I’m old and grey – maybe its just time to have some fun…… right?

Bumping into the past

2009-06-09T06:18:00.000+10:00

When you date someone, and it all goes a bit haywire, you kind of hope that they’ll get sucked into a vortex, never to be seen again. Or you just wish them bad dating luck and hope their next girlfriend cheats on them!

So when a former date of mine walked into the same bar as me the other week, with another girl, three days after our date, my reaction was of course ‘What the hell???!’ – well that and a sprinkling of embarrassment mixed in for good measure. It’s not that I liked him, in fact there was no chemistry between us – but bumping into anyone who has sort of rejected you is slightly uncomfortable.

Unfortunately for me my ex works at my gym so bumping into him mid-sweat session, when I’m ultimately looking my worst, has become a bit of a habit. I should have known this would be inevitable when I met him there in the first place. But when love comes a knocking we stupidly think it’s a good idea to date a work colleague, your best friends brother or any other sort of inappropriate dating material. Of course sometimes it works out, but most of the time it’s just a road traffic accident waiting to happen.

When you see an ex you want to be looking your very best. You spend hours coming up with scenarios where you’ll just happen to bump into them. You want it to be when you’re wearing that new figure hugging dress or you’ve just come back from your holiday – all tanned and looking radiant, and of course they’ll wonder why the hell they dumped you in the first place. But very rarely does it happen. The reality is you’ll bump into them when you’re having a bad hair day, you’ve just been caught in a downpour or when you’ve drunk one too many tequilas and just projectile vomited over your mates shoes.

A friend of mine dated, then got dumped, by a guy who worked at one of our favourite bars. For ages she would beg us not to go there as bumping into him was probably as much of a highlight of the night as being asked for ID ever is. When we finally badgered her into it, it would have been nice to be discreet about his obvious appearance, but in my drunken haze of course I mentally scarred her by shouting out his name, attempting to call him over for a chat and generally being the worst ever friend I could be.

I suppose that’s one good thing about long distance relationships, if you want to, you can get away with never having to lay eyes on your ex again. Okay so maybe you don’t actually see them when you’re together, but at least you’ll never have that fear of a quick trip to the shops ending in an embarrassing reconciliation when you, or worse they, have their new love interest in tow.

Of course there are situations where couples still have to see each other after a break-up, whether they like it or not. Owning any of the following together, a house, a child, a pet or mutual friends – pretty much means you’ll have to see their face, albeit one you want to smash in, for the foreseeable future. Cue the awkward, irrational or needy ex who just can’t be professional about such matters – honestly!

I suppose the solution for the above is simple – we merely just have to uproot our lives, move across the world, find new friends and most importantly find a new bloody gym. Then again, you’ll probably still manage to find them on facebook.

How quick is too quick? Moving in and moving on…

2009-06-03T07:45:00.000+10:00

A friend of mine recently told me how her and her boyfriend were moving in together after dating for barely more than a few months….I thought she was joking. But she was dead serious.

Had I missed something - was it a life or death situation? Or had I side-stepped that trend where couples decided to share bathrooms before they had even had their first kiss?

So how quick is too quick? ‘You just know when it’s right,’ my sister said, who has just happily started to co-habit with her boyfriend of a year and a half. ‘Whether it’s a right after a year or just a month after you first started dating, it’s different for everyone.’

But personally I don’t see what the rush is, unless you’re about to become homeless or you have your eyes on marriage in the foreseeable months then why the hell would you want to put up with a man in your space?

Maybe that’s a typical single girls reaction, but will a man ever let you fall asleep watching Sex and the City, appreciate your shoe/magazine/bag (delete as appropriate) collection or understand why you eat cold pizza, a handful of haribo or a mars bar for breakfast?

I suppose for a girl who was lucky to even get a share of her exes bed I may be slightly sceptical, but usually in my experience anything that is going too fast usually comes to a grinding halt before it reaches its destination.

And it’s not like I haven’t been there. When I was a naive 22-year-old I couldn’t wait to move in with my boyfriend – I was imagining sex on tap, romantic evening meals and cosying up in front of the telly. Instead I got ‘wait a minute, I’m just going to finish this level on the playstation’, arguments about the washing up and my two pet hates – cold tea bags in the sink (why couldn’t he put them in the bin??) and WET towels on the bed!

I quickly tired of his behaviour, which was frankly nothing like I had seen in the movies and moved out sharpish, and it left me with a bitter feeling that moving in with a boyfriend would mean goodbye to the happy, spontaneous relationship you once had and hello to being their mother, cook and cleaner all rolled into one.

And is moving on as easy to do as moving in with someone? My ex seems to think so. Two weeks after our break up he had declared his single status on facebook and deleted all existence of me, after a month he was happily flirting with members of the opposite sex, and two months later he was claiming, ever so loudly (are you sure New York heard you?) via his facebook status that he was in a new relationship.

Yes I know, it means I’m facebook stalking him (doesn’t everyone do it?) and I’m probably a hypocrite – after breaking up with my ex before my ex I was happily flirting with men just weeks after we broke up and my online dating profile wasn’t far behind that – but of course it’s different when its you.

So for how long should we be holding on to the past? I suppose if we’re still dreaming up scenarios of them begging for us back – 6 months, or even a year after they dumped us it’s maybe going to be a problem, and our friends will probably commit us to some sort of insane asylum if we keep dropping their name into ‘every’ conversation months after he’s said goodbye.

But when they’ve got rid of you it’s always harder, it’s that personal rejection. And when you see them happily skipping along with someone else the seething fangs, bulging eyes and feelings of jealousy, which you thought were safely hidden away, find their way back to the surface again – and there we are right back to square one.

I’m getting there. The ‘him wanting me back’ daydreams are closing in on less than one a week. His number has nearly vanished from my memory. And the facebook stalking…yeh that’s probably not going to stop - isn’t that what is was invented for?! But date number four is underway – he’s cute, not too tall and seems to have a good sense of humour and so…I can’t still be that hung up on Mr Perfect.

Whatever happened to the ex?

2009-05-21T06:12:00.000+10:00

I nearly choked on my cornflakes the other morning when I found out that a past flame was now married with a kid. I sat there open mouthed for a good five minutes before I even so much as mentally digested it in my brain. Marriage. Baby. Okay so maybe he was thirteen years my senior and possibly in the age bracket where those things were on his to do list, but I just couldn’t work out how in the three years since I had last spoken to him he had even had time to do any of this stuff - when I’d broken up with two guys and been on a string of unsuccessful dates since then.

But it’s not just us girls who wonder what becomes of the broken hearted. Tom Mitchelson did just that for the Daily Mail recently, with a somewhat mixed reactions from his exes.

So is it a good idea to even venture backwards or should we just be leaving the past where it belongs and charge full steam ahead into the future? I recently had two brushes with the past.

The one that got away

Chris had been a mate at school. Nothing more than that. He was a guy I’d have a laugh with at the back of a boring Media studies A’level class and one that, which he ever so rightly reminded me of, cooked me fish finger sandwiches at his house once.

So when I bumped into him a few weeks ago, ten years since I used to hang out with him, it was very strange. His first reaction was ‘you look really different’ – I was hoping he meant it in a good way. But he looked different too. Gone was the slightly too big shirt, trainers, curtain hair cut, and instead was replaced by a more grown up look. His hair, I decided, was much cuter, his dress sense, as my friend put it, was mouldable and his ability to drink copious amounts of alcohol was quite impressive.

So after lots of shots, a night of flirty behaviour and dragging myself to work with a hangover the next day, before I knew it I’d arranged a date with my blast from the past.

Weird doesn’t even come in to it. Before the date all I could think of was fish finger sandwiches, what and if I’d learnt anything in my media studies class and if I’d actually accomplished anything worth talking about since I’d last seen him. I went from ‘not sure’ to ‘what the hell’ and I couldn’t even bring myself to think about snogging him.

But he kind of surprised me. He was funny, honest and nothing like the guy I remembered from school. Phew.

He wasn’t, by any means, my dream man but a slight distraction from my ex, which was definitely a good thing. Then again, snogging him was kind of like a cringe filled playground snog - I don’t think I’ve ever made such a hasty exit from a car.

The x

Even though my friends think I'm shallow enough to actually sleep with or get back together with my ex before my ex, I never would.

He had been nagging on at me to meet up with him for ages for a ‘catch up’, but when I even mentioned it to friends their faces were enough to make me realise that they didn’t approve. So, I just didn’t tell them about it.

As the day neared I was strangely looking forward to it. But as I quickly found out meeting up with this ex was a terrible mistake. Half an hour in I was bored of the stories that he took so long to tell me, after an hour of telling me he had chilled out I saw that aggression-look return in his eyes, and by the end of the night I realised I just didn’t enjoy his company anymore.

Some people are good for you, they enrich your life, complement it or make you see things that maybe you’re blinded to.

He turned me into an annoying mother figure that would cringe every time he opened his mouth or make any sudden movements. And every minute I spent with him I saw that side of me creeping back in. I spent three hours with him and even though it was nice to catch up I really never want that part of me to come back again. Its not me - its who I became when I was around him. We all change, but when a guy makes you change for the worse, whether you’re with them still or not, you really have to question why.

He obviously hadn’t felt the same. The next day I received a text asking me if I wanted to meet up again in a few weeks. Erm…no. Time to delete him out of my phone and my life for good this time.

I’m starting to think my first boyfriend had the right idea, he’s pretended I haven’t existed ever since I dumped him – even after my many friend requests on Facebook. Meanie!

We're just not that into you

2009-05-13T23:45:00.000+10:00

Sometimes we go off men too, and before we end the relationship we usually treat them quite badly. So here are 15 signs that ‘she’s just not that into you.’

She argues against every opinion you have, and you were so sure she felt the same way about how well Marmite and jam go together.

You haven’t seen any of her mates in ages and every night she does go out, conveniently, it happens to be a girlie night.

When you mention a lad’s night out, a boy’s holiday or a trip to a strip club she vaguely acknowledges your existence then goes back to more important things, like checking her facebook or reading that girlie mag.

When you moan about so and so from work no longer does she comfort you with soothing words and how she hated Dave from accounts anyway, instead she starts playing her imaginary violin and tells you to grow up and start living in the real world.

She treats you like a lost puppy, or her kid brother, “Right, have you remembered your keys? Your wallet? Your backbone?”

She criticises your taste in clothes, food, mates and basically anything that belongs to you or you ever cared about.

When you do go out in a crowd she forgets you’re even there, to the point that she gets a cab home without you, and is asleep before you can even say goodnight.

Texts or emails from her are verging on a military command rather than a loving gesture. Need milk and bread. Get before come home.

She loves her kitten, puppy or even tiddly-winks, the goldfish, more than you. And tells them on a regular basis. You’re lucky to even get a kiss.

She farts and burps, without so much as a blush, or an apology.

She yawns half way through sex, or says “Just get it over with already.”

She de-tags all the pictures of you and her together on facebook, and when you ask why, she merely shrugs and says ‘dunno’.

Your arguments are more like a one sided conversation. She’s more interested in watching ‘America’s next top model.’

When you ask ‘Where do you think our relationship is going?’ she laughs and says ‘god you’re such a girl’.

And when you mention the idea of marriage, mortgage or kids she screams ‘ARE YOU SERIOUS?’….but not in a good way!

Very, very quick dating

2009-05-10T23:39:00.000+10:00

When I signed up to do speed dating I thought it might be fun, but now that it’s only a matter of days away I’m wondering what I’ve let myself in for.

Will it be like an adult version of musical chairs – fun and slightly competitive, or more like prime ministers question time – intimidating and way out of my league?

And doing speed dating in my hometown puts all sorts of fears into my head. What if an old work colleague or the spotty kid from school turns up and starts to flirt with me? It’s not like I can pretend I have a boyfriend, I’m at a bloody speed dating event.

The biggest fear of all is bumping into an ex, or one of their friends. I can just imagine the scene, “So erm….what have you been up to?” I say, as I shift uncomfortably in my seat and the three minutes tick by incredibly slowly, beads of sweat gathering on my forehead as stilted conversation turns into silence and the wall behind them becomes incredibly interesting.

And who came up with the idea of speed dating anyway? I’m going to guess it originated in London or somewhere similarly as busy, by someone who just didn’t have much time to date. I’m not complaining, if you can eliminate half the men in a bar as arrogant twats, boring bankers or ‘not a hope in hell’ in a few hours then that’s fine by me.

Apparently we only have a matter of minutes with each potential love interest. In some cases these minutes will be way too long – mind numbingly, awkwardly, finger tappingly long (and if it’s really bad, a chance to pop to the loo) or just not long enough. It’s like seeing that really cute guy on the tube, you make eye contact, you share a smile and before you know it the doors open and he’s lost in the crowd of London never to be seen again – in this case he’ll be lost in an array of women who’ll gobble him up before my very eyes.

I've also wondered if taking a notepad and using my shorthand would be acceptable. At least I would remember the Tom’s from the Paul’s, and when my friend says ‘I really like Ben, what do you think?’ I could consult my notepad with enthusiasm and either say, ‘hmmm, yes he has a good job, above average looks, laughed at my jokes, yeh go for it’, or vigorously shake my head at her, after all I had only given him three out of ten for GSOH and a big fat zero for marriage material’.

Repetitiveness also springs to mind - will I get bored of saying the same old thing? ‘I’m a 27-year-old journalist, who likes spinning classes and a few glasses of Pinot. NEXT’. Maybe I’ll come up with a different story for each guy I meet – ‘I’m an entrepreneur who made her first million at 12 and is planning to retire at 30’ or ‘ I get bored of saving lives, as a doctor, I do it on a daily basis.’ Then again it may get complicated remembering who I shared my business wisdom and ‘saving lives’ tips with, and I could be outed as a fake before the night is over.

Most importantly my friend and I are wondering, with trepidation, what type of guys we’ll be faced with? I know that my friend and I are braving it, and of course we’re not desperate, losers or anything else that resembles bad date material, but guys aren’t as adventurous as girls when it comes to the dating scene. Are they doing it for a dare? A last resort after five years of failed attempts at finding a woman? And quite possibly I’m worried that half the guys there could just be looking for a night away from the missus.

Maybe I should stop being so cynical, my friend and I may have the night of our lives, meet the men of our dreams and skip happily into the sunset with them. Or does that just happen in the movies?

Realistically the night will probably be more repetitive than a Hollyoaks storyline and I’ll probably go home having had one too many wines, and not remembering what Paul looked like, let alone that Tom was even there.

Note to self: Never mix tequilla and texting

2009-05-08T23:14:00.000+10:00

The other day I woke up and wondered what ten ton animal had managed to stomp on my head, then mangle it up and spit it out for breakfast.

Oh the bliss of being in a comatosed state, then to be horribly woken by the reality of mass dehydration, last nights dinner wanting to resurface and the feeling of a woodpecker peck, peck, pecking away at your brain. And just when you’re coming to terms with this an even worse realisation burns into the back of your skull and suddenly makes the sickening feeling seem slightly appealing.

It dawns on you, through the bad singing, kebab eating and fuzzy focussing that somehow, by a mass miracle, a text was constructed and shame upon shame it was sent to ‘he who shall not be named’ – yep the ex.

My shame came after I had consumed one too many shots and even joined the boys in a round of yega bombs. Which apparently give you memory loss. I say apparently because I can’t remember. Apparently I also fell head-first into a taxi, was ‘a little bit sick’ when I got home, and according to my half there, half not there memory I may have sent my ex a text.

The annoying part being was that I had been doing so well. After a few embarrassing drunken incidents when we first split up I vowed never to text him again, deleted his number and painfully went at least six weeks without so much as a drafting him a message.

I have now decided I hate my friend who told me to memorise at least one number in my mobile phone, ‘If you lose or break your mobile then at least you can contact one person’, she ever so helpfully advised me. Thanks a lot! But the part she failed to mention was how I shouldn’t go around memorising a boyfriend’s number, especially when he is due to dump me in a matter of months.

And it must be inscribed into my head somehow, because if I can remember it after that many shots then I’ll probably remember it until my death bed. Which is slightly irritating.

The most discomforting thing was that even though I knew I’d written a text, my mind was painfully unsure if I’d actually sent it. Stupidly, and much to the amusement of my friends, I don’t have sent messages on my phone. At least if I’d known for sure that I’d sent it, in all its glory, I could prepare for the embarrassment if I happened to bump into him.

So with an excruciatingly sore head, and an even more dented ego I decide to text him (again?) with a ‘Hey – so just wondered if I happened to declare my undying love to you last night?’ – either it would be an apology for last nights drunken antics or it would let him know that I was pissed out of my face and ‘thinking’ of sending him a message - either way I wasn’t on the winning side.

Turns out I had been clever enough to send him one. I always knew I was good at multi-tasking, I just never thought puking and texting would go hand in hand, but hey I am a modern girl an all.

So the moral of the story – Don’t drink and text. It’s not big, nor clever. It may not ruin lives but it will definitely kill any chance of looking like a sane human being.

A men's guide to online dating

2009-05-08T04:20:00.000+10:00

Now I don’t want to be patronising or even seem arrogant, but when it comes to internet dating some of you men, and girls I think you will agree with me here, need a tip or two.

So first things first you are actually on a dating website. Like the rest of us you have succumbed to the world of winks, pokes and stalking your prey with every inch of a fine tooth comb, assessing the pictures, salary and how well your possible match made in heaven can spell (sorry but you can't get away with saying you're ‘intelligent’ if you spell it wrong!!).

So when it comes to your profile please don’t say things like, "God I really don’t know what to say here" or "I don’t usually do this kind of thing". Yes, we would rather not be reminded we’re single, still looking for love and on a dating website either but hey ho that’s how it goes.

And whatever happened to an icebreaker??? If you met a girl in a pub would you really approach her and tell her your life story without so much as a breath? The first email should be an introduction, not an autobiographical account since your complicated birth. So no, I don’t want to hear about how your pet goldfish was gobbled up by the toilet bowl when you were 6, and why would I want to know that you have trust issues because your last girlfriend turned out to be a stripper at Stringfellows? If we really want to get to know you better we’ll ask!

Make us laugh, be cheeky, surprise us. Whatever you do make it count, don’t ramble on about your day at work or how you’re feeling really miserable. Would you want to date someone who sounded boring, arrogant or a bit of a loser?

Personality does count, and if you sound like a decent kind of guy we may take note. But anyone without a picture will get us wondering. You’re either stuck on a desert Island with no means of taking a photo or so god damn ugly that you don’t want us to see what you look like.

And lastly, take it like a man. If we haven’t got back to you that’s usually it. Sending us ‘a few more’ emails is annoying, finding us on Facebook is just plain creepy and stalking us to our nearest coffee shop/place of work/pub will scare the living daylights out of us.

So no pressure men, but most of us girls, if you haven’t realised yet, have quite high expectations when it comes to dating!

Can we really date Mr Perfect?

2009-05-06T19:11:00.000+10:00

As he uttered the words, “I won £50,000 on a game show once,” my mouth fell open in utter amazement. Here I was standing with a guy, who not only had the guts to appear on a game show, but was intelligent enough to actually win thousands of pounds on it too.

And that was just the icing on the cake, for me it was like all my dreams had come true - because I was dating Mr Perfect.

We’ve all met Mr Perfect. He’s the one that girls flock around, even if they have a boyfriend. The guy who’s willing to do a sponsored run, in the rain or with a hangover, just so he can save the lives of thousands, and the guy that your family seems to like more than you.

And I had the pleasure of being the girlfriend of Mr Perfect, for six whole months, but unfortunately it didn’t really finish in the happy ending I’d read about in fairy tales.

My Mr Perfect was gorgeous, or as my Mum put it he looked like he’d just stepped off an LA beach, tanned and toned, with blonde hair and blue eyes, he’d got my attention straight away.

His jobs were pretty perfect too, yes he didn’t just have one job, but two. By night he served every women’s fantasy by saving cats, old ladies and people from burning buildings and by day he had the patience and know-how to teach children how to swim.

But it didn’t stop there, unlike my ex, who thought that one trip to the gym was enough to give him biceps the same as Arnies, he actually visited the gym more than once a month. He did spinning classes, abs work outs and swam like a fish, and all this was just preparation for the three hour bike rides, 10k races and triathlons he did.

The rest of his life was quite perfect too, he was a genuinely nice guy, but he also had the car, the house, a good selection of friends, a family that thought the world of him and work colleagues that loved him. Basically he ticked all the boxes, the guy of my dreams, he was my Mr Perfect.

Of course when I met him I wasn’t even looking for Mr right, I was on the look out for Mr right now, someone to have a bit of fun with, to spoil me and help me get over my latest break-up. I was happy to be selfish, find my independence, and concentrate on my career. But out of the blue he swaggered, shining with confidence and perfection and like many of the other girls before me (there had been a lot) I instantly thought he was ‘the one’.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been the commitment sort, marriage, babies and things like mortgages just send a shiver down my spine. When past boyfriends had even mentioned moving in with them I shrugged it off with lame excuses like money and timing. But when I met Mr Perfect I was ready to hang up my dating shoes, jump into his perfect world and make compromises and decisions that I never would have made before I met him.

And the most exciting part was that he was into me too. From the moment he met me my phone didn’t know what had hit it, he was a serial texter, and if it wasn’t my phone which was popular it was my inbox with sweet messages and ideas of dates three, four and five. His facebook status wasn’t deprived either, Mr Perfect was announcing to his facebook world that he couldn’t wait to be with me again, and after a month he even committed to a relationship with me on facebook, a done deal, or so I thought.

And for the first few months we played happy families, I was the girl who Mr Perfect would tell his friends and family about with a smile on his face, the one who he’d plant sneaky kisses on at the gym, spend lazy Sundays with and the one who he would rescue in her hour of need.

But just when it all seemed too good to be true, it was, and cracks started to appear in the perfection. The first dent was my friend’s opinions of him.

“He’s really lovely but how can you trust him? He’s far too good looking,” my friend Emily said.

“Don’t you just want to slob out with him?” Another friend said, “You must get bored of the constant spinning classes and healthy food.”

My sister’s boyfriend went as far as to give him a nickname for his perfect ways. After about a month of me dating him he started to refer to him as ‘Perfect Bob’, because being the same age as him he was slightly annoyed that Mr Perfect, with his ‘I save life’s’ job and fitness track record, was frankly, just showing him up.

My Mum even committed the cardinal sin, that any Mum can make when you're dating someone, to tell me she didn’t think he was ‘the one’. At first I thought she was joking "Don’t be silly he’s far too perfect Sarah, how could you marry someone who’s that perfect?" she’d said. When I realised her seriousness I declared my hate to her like a spoilt brat, “Oh my god your soooo wrong,” I screamed off in a strop “I’ll show you.”

But soon I started to see what she meant. Being a perfect girlfriend around Mr Perfect wasn’t easy. I loved the fact that he knew what the inside of a gym looked like but when he was leaving my bed, with me naked in it, at 6am for swimming sessions you could say I was more than slightly miffed.

He’s culinary skills also put mine to shame, although I was no Nigella in the kitchen I was definitely more than a microwave meal kind of girl. But all of a sudden I was aware that maybe I was cutting an onion the wrong way, and why was I asking his opinion on how to drain spaghetti and make scrambled eggs? I’m sure I’d got it right when I’d been single just a few months ago.

The green-eyed monster also struck when it dawned on me that he probably had more ‘girl’ friends than most guys could account for. His friendly nature meant that most of the women he came in contact with, whether they were work colleagues, mums of the kids he taught, or just any woman with a pulse, would text him on a daily basis, comment on his facebook statuses or come over all giggly when they just happened to bump into him. Most of them were just that – friends, and I tried to let it not bother me, but after about four months paranoia set in and I spent hours trying to decipher what girls ‘actually’ meant when they wrote on his facebook wall.

Independence in a man is attractive. And Mr Perfect’s independence was one of the things that attracted me to him. But too much of good thing is quite plainly – a bit weird. It’s very rare to find a man who actually knows what an iron does, let alone how to use it. But Mr Perfect had nights when he would do just that – iron. Also his washing machine was constantly in use, he hated leaving the pots and pans for tomorrow and never once did I have to remind him to send a birthday card to a relative. It was as though I had been introduced to a super new ‘Perfect’ breed of man, and while my friends were moaning about how their boyfriends didn’t do so and so, I was left wondering if he was thinking the same about me.

Towards the end of the relationship he also made me feel like my life, next to his, was more like an episode of Coronation street, boring and a bit pointless, where as his could have come straight off an action-filled episode of Lost or Prison Break. My job meant I spent a lot of time alone, in front a computer, his job meant action, stories and being a hero. And compared to him my life was far from sorted, while he moaned about a measly £500 overdraft I tried my hardest to hide my credit card debts, I was no closer to owning my own house or car than I had been when I’d left primary school, and however hard I tried my stomach never would have been as flat as his.

In a word, he was just too perfect.

So when he ended it with me I wouldn’t say I breathed a sigh of relief, it was more like a small weight had been removed from my life. I was glad that I no longer had to worry about looking perfect in the mornings and or have that ‘please don’t dump me’ money talk with him, but I was also slightly gutted.

It’s hard to get over a normal break-up, but being dumped by Mr Perfect is so much worse. It’s like winning the lottery and being told that you can’t claim your prize. Basically, a big disappointment. How could my Mr Perfect not have been perfect for me? Was I a loser that needed to sort her life out before I was good enough for him?

Of course not, but it did make me think that maybe the reality of our perfect guy will never actually live up to our expectations. If by some miracle, in real life, we happened to bag our dream man, say George Clooney, would it be so great? Or would it just make us jealous, insecure and unhappy? Reality would set in and anyone, next to a movie star who had millions of women falling over him, would pale in comparison. So perhaps we all just need to stop chasing perfection and be happy with what we’ve got.

Dating Mr Perfect was an experience, of course it had its upsides, I got some pretty nice meals cooked for me, he made me care more about my fitness and I got to kiss my Mr Perfect for six months. But if another potential date lists game shows, 6am swimming or putting out fires as his hobbies I may just have to run in the opposite direction.