Walkies!

Once again I am totally wrecked, but it’s because I was up at the crack of dawn because there was a tube strike. To be truthful I’m not a great believer in strikes, and whilst I respect a persons decision to do so to a certain extent, I don’t believe in people being held to ransom. When I’m not happy with my job, conditions or pay, I cannot go on strike. But then again, whilst I could certainly do with some more money, I have chosen to do a job with reasonable pay.

I am always a little bewildered when tube drivers, bus drivers, firemen, nurses, teachers etc go on strike, because I think that surely when they started the job they realised what they were letting themselves in for? You don’t think: Oh shit, I’m going to become a bus driver, and in 5 years I’ll be on £100K. No, you realise that certain professions bring about a certain lifestyle and pay conditions, and whilst I am all for striving for better conditions and pay, the majority of people do not have the luxury of jacking in the job for the day whilst millions of people suffer.

Now, I really need to get off my soapbox!

To get back to the point, it took me 2 bloody hours to get to work this morning, when it normally takes about 30 minutes! I thought I was doing well when I got off the bus in central London and decided that I would get another bus to my office. But no! Every bloody bus was full, so I had to walk.

Now anybody who reads this has probably gauged that I’m not a woman who does the walking, exercise thing, although I think and plan it all the time. Luckily I had put my trainers (sneakers) on so I got my darling iPod on, and after waiting 40 minutes for the poxy bus I started walking, and walking, and walking. It was quite nice actually and 35 minutes later I found myself at my desk.

My boss took the piss out of my lipgloss as soon as I arrived, which caused me to say a few words that were variations of the f’word. By the time I went home today, I felt like I had been in work for 2 days.

This is a sign that I need to do more exercise………………

I have got one eye on Big Brother and I am convinced that they are possibly the most awful, dumb, nasty people I have ever come across. Almost none of them have any redeemable qualities. Michelle has just found out she is up for eviction and gone absolutely ballistic, demanding to know what she’s done wrong, and wanting to leave the house now. She has thrown a total wobbler. In fact, all the nominees are behaving like obnoxious, childish, idiots.

Michelle, the reason why you’re up for eviction again is because you’re a cow. That’s me being polite, because I don’t like to use the ‘See You Next Tuesday’ word (If you all know what I mean!)

PMT (or PMS, I never know which one it is) is with me like a vengeance. My hunger knows no boundaries and I have bumps on my forehead, albeit very small ones. I don’t seem that irritable, but I am being quite bitchy as I think about it, so maybe I am……….

Did I mention that there was lots of cute men on the way to work? I’d almost be tempted to walk in more often, but hmmmmm, that seems a little radical……

Note to self: Must start the yoga dvd again, or give in and join the gym, or find somewhere that does classes.

My friend that stayed over last night suggested on the bus this morning that I should only take 2 pairs of shoes when I go on holiday. The ones on my feet and the ones in the case. I must admit that my tummy felt quite upset!

I counted my ‘frequent’ summer shoe collection and there were 37 pairs out…….. Under my sofa I have 2 tubs of winter shoes, flip flops, boots, trainers (sneakers), and miscellaneous pairs. I would estimate that I own about 50-60 pairs. I daren’t do a count. Oh, and I keep at least 1 spare pair at work.

Either way, 2 pairs only is out of the question. She’s mad!

Got to go. I have to get my washing out of the machine. I’m being very organised in the run up to my trip!

The Housewife & The Letter P

Still feel a bit ropey today and I’m not sure whether I am coming down with something, still overtired, or whether it’s PMT. Or maybe it’s a mixture of all 3. Men are so lucky that they don’t have to deal with PMT, periods, pregnancy etc. Funny how just like pee, many things that stress women out seem to begin with the letter ‘P’!

Speaking of the pee saga, my housemate seemingly cleaned the toilet. What’s disturbing is that whatever he ‘cleaned’ the toilet with made it smell like a urinal, or maybe the floor needs to be mopped because he might be peeing on the floor. Bloody hell! By the way, we have these wood like floors in the bathroom which is why I can’t tell whether he has peed on it. The point is, at 7.30am I found myself scrubbing the toilet because I didn’t like the smell. What was the friggin point in me asking him to clean it if I’m bent over the toilet half naked giving it a scrub? I feel like slapping him!

Toilets seem to be the name of the game because the womens toilets at work are annoying me and my work colleagues. It seems that women have some foul toilet habits. Going for a poo at work is something that should only be done in desperation. It should NOT be something that is a daily habit or if you do have to, why do I have to know that you did it? Sometimes I have gone to the toilet and had to restrain the heaving because the smell or the log pile left behind is so rancid I think I’m in hell! Yes it’s true guys-Women can be foul too. At least some of the women that I work with can be!

We even send ‘Toilet Watch’ emails to warn each other about fouled toilets. Some of us are thinking about suggesting to HR that we have a No.1 or ‘Pee Only’ cubicle…………..

I must go as my one of best friends is staying over with me tonight. I’m going to be a bridesmaid for her in a couple of months and we’re having a catch-up. We had a lovely dinner earlier and she seems really happy. Her fiance is really lovely as well. At 25, she is almost 2 years younger than me. I think that because she is getting married my mother feels a little fearful for me with my current single status!

Adios until tomorrow. BG. I love the Charlie Brown comment!

One Tired Housewife

I feel unbelievably rough today and I attribute it to my poor nights sleep on Saturday night. I was yawning repeatedly from mid-afternoon, and I fell asleep after my dinner for over an hour, and I feel dire! What’s happening to me? I wonder if I’m turning into a geriatric! I remember when I could go out and party 5 or 6 nights a week and go to work, and it wasn’t a problem! Now I go out for one night and I suffer for a couple of days! Shame on me!

I’ve booked my flight to NYC although I thought I was going to shed tears as it seems that every Tom, Dick & Harry is flying out that day and my ticket wasn’t quite as cheap as I had planned. It was all quite close to the wire, but at least its booked. I’m flying Air India and naturally my brother wisecracked that it might be curry that I have to eat on the flight, which I hate. Looks like it’ll be a veggie meal for me!

I’m very excited though and I’ve been mentally running through my wardrobe imagining what I can pack light with. I’m still thinking 4/5 pairs of shoes not including the ones on my feet. I suspect that may be too much………..

I popped to the pharmacy (drugstore or chemist to others) to buy pantyliners (nice!) and left with 3 bottles of deoderant, 2 bottles of shower gel, a tube of mini toothpaste, and baby oil gel, oh and no pantyliners. I do need all of the things I bought and the reason why there are multiples of some items is that they had buy one get one free etc. I do wonder why I can’t go into shops like this and leave with what I went in for!

There was a TV advert here in the UK for black pantyliners which basically promoted the idea that when a woman goes on a night out with a man, the black pantyliner makes a new pair of panties. My brother was horrified and fascinated by this as it seems a little cruddy and unhygienic. As you all know, I’m not getting any or meeting any ‘tiring’ mem, and I certainly don’t use them for that!

Moving on as I feel slightly quesy thinking about all of that!........

I didn’t even start that to-do list at work. That’s not a very good start!

The guy I ‘manage’ was late (again) and was late back from lunch (again). Sometimes I wonder if when a woman asks a man not to do something, if the man does a Homer Simpson and everything gets translated into ‘Blah, blah, blah’. Despite the fact that he openly admits that he is scared to piss me off, what do you know, he pisses me off every day by not heeding anything I say. Something doesn’t seem right.

Sometimes I feel that between the maid duties for cleaning up pee and my problems at work that I am becoming a nagging housewife. Yet I don’t have a man, I don’t own a house, I don’t have any babies, I don’t get housekeeping, and I’m certainly not getting any! Something has gone wrong in the great plan!

House Warming

I had a really good time at the house warming last night, where I had plenty of giggles and pulled out a few dance moves to get the crowd going. It’s amazing how people still get into a circle to dance, even though they’re not in a nightclub? So we took it in turns to break out the party moves which proved to be hilariously funny. If you managed to make the CD jump, we figured that you had a really good dance move!

There were no new single men at the party which I must admit was an oversight on my mates part! All the men that I didn’t know at the party were gay or attached to a woman. Typical!

When it came to the sleeping arrangements I managed to grab one of the sofa beds in the sitting room with my friend. On the other sofa bed was one of the gay guys and his friend. (Not sure which side his friend was batting on!). Anyway the lights were out and we were just getting ready to go to sleep, when the gay guy bounds into the room, flicks the light on and says, ‘Er, sorry guys, but I’ve decided that I’m going to watch a movie.’ This is after 3am when everybody is going to sleep!

For some reason I repeated what he had said, probably out of disbelief, and he says, ‘Yeah. Sorry love, but we’re going to watch a movie now. Love Actually. Sorry’, without a remote hint of sorriness!

So 5 of us ended up cramming into my friends bedroom after dragging the mattress from our sofa bed upstairs. 3 in the double bed, and my friend and I on the floor, and of course we started to have a lot of laughs. 2 women and 3 men was always going to be hilarious! The TV was quite loud downstairs and it was really starting to piss me off, so when I realised that I’d forgotten my handbag, I decided to use the opportunity to cause a disturbance. What I hadn’t counted on was falling down the last few steps on the stairs on my way back down and literally crashing through the sitting room door straight into the 2 of them! Rabbit caught in the headlights springs to mind! He was not happy but the others were falling around laughing upstairs though!

All the men snored which drove us girls mad, but I live on busy road so I can pretty much sleep through anything. Luckily the room didn’t have that overwhelming smell of man when we woke up so that was an added bonus!

I got the tube home early and I was under my duvet by 9am and slept into the afternoon.

My no-aiming housemate needs me to call some hotels as he is booking a room for a friend that’s visiting in a few weeks. Evidently those English classes aren’t going to well…………

I will use this favour I’m doing for him as leverage. Fortunately when his brother leaves, which should be in the next few days, the toilet seat will return to its rightful position - with pee under it no doubt!

I’m going to get into bed now and get some sleep. Only 5 full days to go until I head off to NYC and I’ve lots to do at work. I vow that not only am I going to write to-do lists, but I’m going to use them as well! I figure if I plan my week rigidly I will get everything done on time.

I am also going to start my packing early, and I’m swearing that I’m not going to pack too much. I’m thinking 4/5 pairs of shoes max, and easy on the clothes and cosmetics, plus I need to pack an extra bag for all the shopping!

Note to self: Must pack light

Last year I went to Antigua for a week on my own, and I got searched in customs on the way back. They asked me at least 5 times how long I had been away for. I got really pissed off and told them but they kept looking at the mountain of clothes and shoes. I looked like I’d been away for a month!

Did I mention that I accidentally bared the bottom of my bum cheeks to two men outside my flat on Friday? I was bending over to pick up my shopping as I tried to get in the flat, and I felt a sudden breeze on my cheeks (I was obviously wearing a skirt). There were 2 men in a parked car directly behind me and I heard them snickering with laughter. Bastards!

Sometimes I think I’m a careless and clumsy cow!

Running Late

I’m off to a friends house warming tonight so I’m mentally running through my shoe collection and wardrobe as I write this, trying to decide what to wear. I had planned to do this earlier but the day seemed to disappear so quickly and I had a little nap when I got back from a walk around the shops.I'm supposed to be there in 45 minutes! Will probably get there in about 90 minutes. Oh dear!

I’m very impressed with myself. I went into central London to go and get my old engagement ring valued, only to discover that the place is closed at the weekend! As I was looking for the place I passed nearly all of my favourite shoe shops, and all were having 50% off sales. I actually started to palpitate when I saw Bertie, one of my favourite shoe shops, was having their reduction. But 6 shoe shops later and I hadn’t seen anything that was begging me to buy them. I did try to try on one pair of black heels which would have been perfect for work, but they were too narrow. Oh sorrow!

I decided that due to his incident, it must mean that I am not a frivolous shopper that will buy any old thing. Anyway, I’m saving myself for NYC! Yippee!

I did buy a very nice saucepan with lid from one of my favourite home stores as it was reduced from £27.99 to £12.99 and I had been looking for one for ages. Am I nesting or something? I must check my temperature!

The toilet saga continues because this morning with a couple of additional dried drops of pee, I spotted a blondy/brown pubic hair. Oh dear! I barely even batted an eyelid over it. He hasn’t cleaned the toilet yet, but when I see him, trust me, he will be. Do you know I bitched to a male friend of mine that popped in to visit me last night, about my no-aiming flatmate, and what did my friend do? Left the bloody toliet seat up! Give me strength!

Right, I must run as I’m now officially late and I’m not even ready!

Piss Poor

Men must put the toilet seat down. It is not the job of a woman to continuously be putting it back down. The toilet doesn't even look right with the seat up. It looks so bloody unsightly!

Picture it. One white toilet, seat up. Walk up to toilet. Rim is orange where it should be white. You can actually see the dried drops of urine. To an outsider it appears that there are small boys living in this home. No. Just one bloody overgrown idiotic, no-aiming fool of a flatmate, and his visiting no-putting-the-seat-back-down brother.

I am going to get crude. How would you men like it, if when a woman has her period she left drops of blood on the toilet seat? Or what about if we left used sanitary goods in open view in the bathroom?

My own brother at 25 is still bewildered by anything to do with periods and many of my male friends can't bear to hear the word period, never mind being actually confronted by evidence of one.

It's called respect and cleanliness. Just because you are in your own home doesn't make it anymore acceptable for a man to piss all over the toilet rim, leave the seat up as if to flaunt his rubbish aim, and even worse, piss on the floor. Yes, there are men out there that miss the rim entirely, or shake off a little too enthusiastically, and piss on the floor. My ex-fiance was one of them, and at 37, he had a good 11 years on me!

There is no conspiracy, and us women do not enjoy nagging men contrary to popular belief! I just don't like looking at pee, dry or wet after it's left the human body.

Jonny, whoever you are, I didn't know whether to laugh or reel in shock when I read your comment. That is some sick sh*t! I pray that you are joking about trying on your housemates underwear and masturbating in front of a mirror. (By the way, here in England we call male masturbation 'wanking'. There's a new word for my foreign readers!)

In answer to your question, your confession, if it is false does take the piss. If you have been a sick boy, it doesn't. I don't think your housemate will find it very funny. I just pray you haven't left any skids!

Almost forgot! I know about those Japanese toilets, and I would love one. The Japanese certainly have the right idea. Any man who wants to impress me, knows what he can buy me now!

Pitstop

Unfortunately this is going to be a flying visit as I got waylaid this evening, and I must go to my bed before I keel over with tiredness.

First things first. My housemate is going to be getting a really stern note from me in the morning which will be asking him and he is filthy brother to: 1) Stop pissing all over the toilet rim, 2) Put the toilet seat back down, and 3) Clean the toilet. I will also be stressing that I am not a bloody toilet cleaner and that if this continues he will have to pay a cleaner to come in each week. I really could do him some damage right now!

Do you know that I haven’t been able to wear a skirt for days because the weather is so sh*t here? It’s been trousers all week now and it’s becoming annoying. It seems though that I am destined to always embarrass myself as for some reason I have exposed either bra or bountiful cleavage this week, which creates an eyeful. Sometimes I wonder if I smoke crack in the morning blind as I’m getting dressed because my clothes don’t behave the way they are supposed to! Today I wore a open neck white shirt with a pink vest underneath and what I thought was a bra that wouldn’t be seen. But by the time I got to work, the pattern on my bra could be seen and I looked rather busty. Ah well!

England is out of Euro 2004 and I’m gutted. I dread going to work tomorrow because all of the boys are going to be heartbroken. Men really do take their sport very seriously. Whilst I know female sports supporters, when they wake up tomorrow morning they’ll be over it. I sense that there will be a period of mourning………..

Did I tell you that I have decided to go to New York at the end of next week? I haven’t booked a flight yet as I’m going to do a late deal, but I’m gonna be writing from the Big Apple, and hopefully meeting men! Yippee! I swear I am going to pack light as I am going to shop till I drop, but I’m also going to do cultural things like the museums and the sights, and obviously I’m going to look for decent man.

Right, I’ve written more than I planned as I have a habit of getting carried away. It’s supposed to be quite hot tomorrow, so I may have to get my skirts back out! I have decided that tomorrow I am going to clear my backlog of paperwork and ever growing to do list, and I will not allow the guy I ‘manage’ to cause my blood pressure to soar……..

Taking the Piss

This is a flying visit, but I have had a request to explain what 'taking the piss' means. I forget that not everybody uses the same terms of phrase outside of the UK & Ireland!

It means to make a joke of or make fun of something, but in a nice way.

Murdering Thoughts & Nice Encounters

It seems that each day this week I am destined to do some serious damage to a male, and if it continues like this I may commit murder. Remember on Sunday I was thinking about bludgeoning my flatmate with the toilet brush because he pees all over the toilet rim? Well his brother is visiting and he has a nasty habit of leaving the toilet seat up and on Monday I thought about ramming his head over the bowl of the toilet and repeatedly banging the toilet seat down on his head.

Last night I went to use the kitchen roll and discovered that he had used all but the last piece of it. Everybody knows the last piece of toilet or kitchen roll is crap. Why didn’t he just throw it in the bin? In fact, why the hell was he using it in the first place when it’s mine? Without being too graphic, I felt like ramming the tubing where the sun don’t shine.

And then today, when I’m already stressed, the guy I ‘manage’ is intent on driving me to an early grave by failing to communicate with me, and like a typical man, failing to multi-task. I couldn’t get a straight answer, and despite explicit instructions, he seemed to do the opposite of whatever I asked. I was plotting along the lines of a telephone cord wrapped around his neck and pulled tightly…..

Yesterday my boss actually made me laugh so hard I had tears rolling down my face and thought I may wet myself. We sat on the quiet carriage on a train and he decided that it was a great opportunity to play my iPod loudly and sing along (or should I say screech along) to Mariah, Whitney and repeatedly play Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough by Michael Jackson, hee-heeying all the way. Walking off that train was cringingly embarssing. I didn’t dare to look at anybody!

So to answer the big question. Have I had any nice encounters with any men? Yes, but naturally the bad encounters far outweigh the good ones.

Admitedly when I try to think of specific situations, I struggle because some of my nice encounters have turned about to be future pain the arse exes or dates. So I’ve decided to steer clear of thinking of the ending or even the middle and just thought back to first encounters.

Guys that have made me laugh and not been afraid to take the piss out of themselves have always been able to make it to a date. One of my exes told great stories and dirty jokes (I only know dirty or rude jokes!), and he made me cry with laughter the first time I met him which created the attraction.

Note to everyone: Whilst my boss also has the ability to make me cry with laughter, I am not remotely attracted to him. 1. He’s married, 2. He’s so ridiculous it beggers belief, and 3. I don’t fancy him remotely.

Whilst it’s a bit like slipping in the backdoor, a lot of my nice encounters have been based around having a nice, friendly conversation with someone that wasn’t obviously flirty – the friendship track I guess. Play like you want to be a womans friend, get her to like you, and then strike when the time is right. Well, it works.

On of the very notable nice encounters was when I met my ex-fiance for the first time at a work do, but it was just an introduction and we went our separate ways. When we bumped into each other at another work do months later, we got into a conversation which involved taking the piss out of the hosts and the horrendous hotel food, and I remember thinking, ‘What a nice guy!’ When he called me at work asking for a date I had very pleasant memories that made me say yes.

The encounters that have led to dates over the past year were obviously nice to start, although I had my reservations on each occasion because I know what I like and don’t like. But it’s all the fun of dating isn’t it?

The first few dates I went on after the breakup have been with guys that were persistent in trying to talk to me the first time I met them. The first one said he’d been watching me all night, which I found a bit unnerving. He was very charming and flattering though, and he had a way of sort of making you feel like you were very special, but he also did a fine line in bullsh*t chat up lines!

Another seemed quite sweet and unassuming, and we had a nice little dance where he didn’t try it on, I was impressed with his gentlemenly ways and said yes to a date.

I’ve spoken to lots of guys in between and the ones that I’ve actually chosen to have a conversation with and even sit down and have a drink with have all made me laugh, been quite charming, and most of all, been quick to recognise the fact that I hate chat up lines and false, slimy behaviour.

There was of course PC Plod, my Mr Nice Guy from a few weeks ago, and I still believe he is one of the nicest people I have ever met. I gave the date a chance because when a man is so nice, sweet, and unassuming it’s like a breath of fresh air. I could have pranced around naked and he’d probably have averted his eyes!

I promise that when I do have a nice first encounter, you’ll all be the first to know. I am, after all looking for the elusive decent male so I know I’ve got to have some more! Whilst I am tired of men, I haven’t given up on men!

Average Is As Average Does

In the interests of not writing endlessly, as promised is an insight into 'average men' that have been in my life, and tomorrow when I update I will tell you about a good encounter (trust me, there aren't many!), and also update you on what's going on in my world. I will warn you that my boss has been at it again, embarassing me on the train on the way back to London! The shame! More tomorrow.....

In the opinion of all my family and friends, I have only dated average guys. I personally feel that I have often gone for personality and chosen to see what I wanted to see. Experience has told me that an average guy doesn’t mean a better relationship and it certainly doesn’t mean less aggravation.

I have consistently dated and gone out with guys that according to those who know me, defy logic. Below is an insight into my experiences. It was actually written by me almost three years ago in a drunken session with the girls! I keep it as a reminder to myself that I must try harder and that old habits are hard to break! It doesn’t make for pleasant reading………….

“I am a smart, independent, outgoing, attractive woman. The thing is I want a particular type of man. You must be alright looking or ‘quirky’, manipulative, controlling, jealous, possessive and self absorbed. The more, the better.

You must be either sexually dysfunctional – talking about it constantly, propositioning my friends for threesomes, or be demanding in the bedroom, while needing a well lit flight path to be guided to my clitoris. Or, you will be amazing in the sack and use it as a controlling device in the relationship as it’s about the only thing you’ll be good at.

You will demand near perfection from me, while barely scraping the 5% you would get for writing your name in the exam. You will be professionally passive or jobless, looking to everybody but yourself for your failures.

‘Leech’ will be your middle name. Whether it’s money, emotions, or my personality, you will want to rob me of something, and I will have to fight you to get it back.

Secretly I’ll despise and be creeped out by you, yet it will take months, even up to a year, before I tell you where to go.”

Embarassing to read after all this time, but very much true. Average Joe has given me a more than average headache. I believe that I have subconsciously gone for average guys because something internal is convinced that I want to dominate, when in reality I don’t. By choosing to be with the people that I have been, I thought that I was making my life easier in a weird way and I never had to really ‘work’ at getting it together with anybody. Until now, every guy I’ve been out with pursued me for a few weeks, sometimes months, until I ended up getting to know the personality and somehow got sucked in.

Every single one of the men that I have been in a relationship was attracted because of the personality etc, but then worked very hard at trying get rid of the very essence of me. Every one of these ‘quiet’, ‘average’, ‘less dominant’ men suddenly developed strongarm tactics to try to get me to toe the line. And very often for a period of time, I adjusted to accommodate them. Being quiter, less extrovert, pandering to their needs, being all sweetness and light, and taking the back seat. Not one of them is in my life today.

I take 100% respinsibilty for where I have been, where I am and where I will be with my relationships. Nobody held a gun to my head and said go out with me, but I have made poor choices. I don’t run around in life with a bag of regrets, but naturally if I had my time all over again, I wouldn’t touch any of my exes with a 20ft barge pole!

In my pursuit of love now I recognise that I’ve had some undesirable patterns that I certainly don’t want to keep. I recognise my own downfalls, and I’m hoping that I am learning because I really would like to think that I’m not blabbering about another worthles piece of sh*t that I’ve let into my life again!

The good thing is that I can laugh at myself and I’m not beating myself up over things and I’m making my experiences entertainment! Life is an experience, and if I’d dumped every one of the men I’d gone out with when my friends and family said to, I would have doubted myself. Remember if you ever end up dating me: Whilst I’ll give you warnings and hints along the way, I operate on a give you enough rope to hang yourself with policy, and then I yank it tight when I’ve had enough and it’s game over.

I need a man who will challenge me mentally. I’m not looking for a wife-beater (I’d beat his ass anyway), but I do need somebody who can keep me in check, and I guess put me in my place. We need to share common life values (family, children, religion, lifestyle, attitude to money etc), and treats me right. If he comes in the form of Joe Average or looks like an absolute dream with a flash car and a fat wallet, so be it, but he must have the basics. I don’t think I’m asking too much, but only time will tell.

To the guys who call themselves average, it’s all relative. What’s average to me is golddust to somebody else. A bastard’s a bastard whether he’s got no looks, good looks, a fat salary or no money.

Death by Toilet Brush

Unfortunately tonight’s entry is going to be brief as I am dashing off to the football shortly after working late. (Bring on the violins!)

Last night I was tempted to bludgeon my flatmate with a toilet brush. I have a weird flat arrangement because technically I live on my own. I share a first floor flat above a shop in a large Victorian house with a guy, but we only share a very decent sized kitchen and bathroom, and there isn’t a sitting room. There is a flat above us, but it’s self-contained and we all very rarely cross paths. I’m pleased to say that my bedroom is enormous, although I have managed to make it look small with the sh*tload of shoes in one corner!

Anyway, I digress……

Why can’t my housemate pee in the toilet instead of the rim? It really winds me up and I’m starting to feel like his wife or girlfriend, or worse still his friggin maid, having to clean up after him. Last night I went into the bathroom and the toilet seat was up (big mistake) and the piss stains were nothing short of horrific. The shame! I’m a clean person! I’ve even bought those antibacterial toilet wipes so he could have at least cleaned up after himself.

Like most women would do, I’ve ended up cleaning up after him because it’s just easier to get on with it and do it. I felt like puking when I saw how yellow the wipe went! The worst thing is, I only cleaned the toilet about 4 days ago! What the hell did he do? Shower the toilet in pee? I decided to give the toilet a good bleaching while I was at it, and the stupid git had not even bothered to shake off the tissue when he used the toilet brush last!

What I struggle to comprehend is how a grown man of 24 can do this and why his aim is so poor? The biggest joke is that he is over here studying English (he’s from Eastern Europe somewhere) and he’s had a girlfriend from back home for 5 years and she visits quite a lot. He is cheating on her! The little sh*t can barely speak English or aim at a toilet bowl to save his life, but he’s managing to lead a double life! Bloody men!

He is extremely lucky that he wasn't around last night because I was really in the mood to scream my head off at him, and club him with the toilet brush!

I almost did his washing up this morning because he's had a plate on the worktop for 2 days, and then I gave myself a mental slap on the head. Taking care of a man who gives you good loving is one thing, but I draw the line at doing it for a guy who doesn't mean jack to me!

I have had two comments posted last night, both from men. One having a little rant (I love eliciting reaction!) because he thinks I’ve no time for the average guy, and the other wanting me to describe my better encounters with the opposite sex. I will tackle both comments, but it won’t be tonight as I do have to run.

I will deal with the average guy issue tomorrow (Tuesday), and on Wednesday I will tell you my (brief) history of my better encounters with men.

I’m so tired today it is unreal. I’ve been running around like a blue-arsed fly all day as I had to go for a doctor’s appointment that took ages. I’m still at my desk at work because I’m playing catch up, although as you can tell, work has not been my top priority!

Adios until tomorrow. Pray for England with the football tonight because I do NOT want to be looking at miserable men all week!

Sorry, No Man Yet!

I’m so tired today, I can barely type! I will definitely be having a very early night tonight, after Big Brother (BB). Since they’ve started behaving like wild animals and assaulting each other in the house, BB has become daily viewing. I think I have it bad trying to get a man, but I’m thankful that I have none of the idiosyncracies of that house of prima-donna nutters!

I came home with no numbers last night despite being offered a few, but I certainly met men. Unsuitable ones, but nonetheless men.

It took me an hour to get ready, which is unusual for me as I don’t normally fart around. It wasn’t because I was tarting up for the men, but because I couldn’t find a suitable bra for either of the tops I wanted to wear! What the hell have I spent all that money on foxy varying styles of underwear for if I piss about for a ½ hour looking for a suitably shaped bra?

Each of the bras seemed to be on show, which was a no no. I eventually found one, but the only problem was that I felt I looked a bit busty. The first thing I said to the girls as I got in the car was, ‘Are my tits hanging out?’, but they insisted no and that they looked fine, and they were impressed that I wore the denim skirt and got the legs out.

I was paranoid about the bloody boobs all evening though, and after dinner I pulled my cardigan down, and asked the girls if they were sure it didn’t look as if I was breastfeeding. The waiter piped up and said, ‘No, you look great. She looks great doesn’t she?!’ Good Jesus I wanted the ground to open and swallow me! I decided to forget about my boobs for the rest of the evening before I shamed myself any further.

At the club lots of odd men were waiting to annoy us. It’s like there are signs on our forehead asking weird guys to talk to us. Do nice single men even go out anymore?!!

Now don’t get me wrong, there were a few cute men out, but once you weeded out the ones that were attached, and then the ones that were badly behaved, we were left with………nothing. Nothing but men giving me the female equivalent of ball-ache!

The biggest joke is that I was on the prowl for a man, but spent the majority of the evening lying and saying that I have a boyfriend! It was the only way I could get rid of some of the guys, and for some it seemed to make them try harder!

One guy lurked for 20 minutes and wanted to know all about my imaginery boyfriend, tell me about his real girlfriend, and asked if I would like to have his babies! He slurred that he hoped my boyfriend realised how lucky he was, and that if I went with him instead he’d treat like a queen, and that I could provide the looks and he the intelligience for our yet to be made baby. Naturally not resisting the opportunity to be cheeky, I told him I was more than able to provide the looks and intelligience! What was he trying to say? That if i’m good looking I must be thick? When I got back from the toilet he had started on one of my friends. Charming!

And that seemed to be the theme of the night. Almost every guy that spoke to us, once one of us had got rid of him, he’d try it with the other.

I refused all offers of drinks because this is London after all, and accepting drinks from someone you barely know, could be like signing up for a night of rohypnol, and that’s not an option for me!

We had a good dance and chatted to lots of guys but meeting a decent man wasn’t on the cards! It struck us that we seemed to have no problem meeting men, but they were just the wrong types. It’s also possible that we are the wrong women!

It struck me that if I dressed as if I shopped at Ho’s R Us for my clothes, let myself go a bit, or didn’t behave as if I was strong and independent, I would probably have a boyfriend, or even be married off now! Trust me. With no disrespect to some of the women I saw last night, some of them fit those bills, and they had boyfriends or engagement and wedding rings. It’s not an ego thing, but as an individual you know if you’ve made an effort and how you look and come across to the outside world, and women and men do compare themselves to each other. Where are we going wrong? Well I’m sure I’ve countless nights out ahead to find out!

I’m off to make my dinner now and I’m going to make an attempt to get organised for work this week. The weather is nothing short of sh*t though, so the skirt look may have to be abandoned until the sunny weather returns. Boo hoo! It’s supposed to be the bloody summer, which means London should be stank and hot!

Lastly, did I mention that I think the Selfridges sale is starting tomorrow. Must avoid at all costs. I don’t believe in buying on the first day anyway! My advice is to wait a couple of weeks then you see the good stuff. Yippee…

Note to men: This woman (and her friends) don’t like when you touch before you speak! It’s so invasive and creepy. Can’t you just speak to us without touching our arms, shoulders, legs, hands etc?

It's The Weekend

Well I made a right cock-up out of last night!

Remember I said that I was going out for the birthday last night? Well it’s actually tonight, and I’m actually quite excited about getting a nice skirt and top on, with heels and literally prowling for men! (Of course it was going to be a skirt, although I’ve had my doubts as the weather has not been great. But I’m prowling for men, not prowling street corners!)

I made plans to meet up with a friend for a quiet drink, but I decided to lie down while I was watching TV and crashed out! How crap am I?! I woke up dazed and confused after 9pm, and felt so tired I cancelled my friend and stayed home! Not very good for a woman on a manhunt, but evidently this woman only has so much energy! I do work hard though, and the weekend is also rest time, and I will make up for it tonight.

I have been quite a busy bee today. As I approach 27 next month, I have found over the past few months that as well as finding a man to settle with, I would like to get on the property ladder and buy somewhere. Of course, I live in one of the most expensive cities in the world, and despite earning a decent salary I can barely even afford a pot to piss in!

I went to view some brand new shared ownership properties (I buy a minimum percentage of 30%, and the government buys the remainder, which you rent from them). They were in the edge of South London, which for me is like going to the dark side! It is the abyss of tube lines and I had to walk about 15 minutes to get to get to the properties! Bloody hell!

After getting lost, and being 25 minutes late I finally saw the apartments. The 2-bed was really nice and put me off the 1-bed. It has an enormous sitting room with a fabulous view of the river, and in the hallway there’s a walk in closet! It’s as if they knew I was coming!

It is grossly expensive at £285K! and I’d only be able to afford a 30% share, and even that could make a dent in my lifestyle! I am going to seriously consider it, but it is very far away from where the bulk of the people I know are based – North London.

I met up with my brother for brunch and a stroll around Notting Hill. He’s 25 and works in fashion, and definitely not into committing to women. I love him dearly but he definitely fits into the category of ‘Tiresome Men’ from a single woman’s perspective! He is not on the look for love, and is very happy with non-committal, free and easy ‘relationships’ with women. The names change all the time, so I try not to remember them as I get confused!

His idea of being hassled by a woman is when they start calling him each day or asking him to meet up with them all the time. As soon as that starts, they get the chop and he moves on! I would hate to be a woman on the receiving end of it and I’ve given him quite a few ear bashings over his behaviour.

My addiction to pig continues, and I had a bacon and egg bap for brunch – delicious!

I couldn’t help but notice that there are a lot of men with poor dress sense out today. When I was on the way to view the apartments this morning, I saw lots of guys in awful suits and/or shoes on the way to the horse racing. I was also asked for directions by an Icelandic couple at the tube station today (I must have a charming face!), and I looked down at his feet and he was wearing a pair of brown sandals with grey sport socks! What the hell is that all about? Not only does it look hideous, but it must be uncomfortable! The thought of being with a man that does this leaves me feeling hot and sweaty with fear. But I’m worried that this makes me shallow!

All of these things are changeable though, and I think most men need some steering in the right fashion direction when they don’t have a woman’s influence in their life. Trust me - I’ve impacted on all of my exes wardrobes, and I even do it to the guys at work!

I’m going to start getting ready for dinner and clubbing, and I’ve firmly decided it’s going to be a denim skirt, nice top which accentuates the cleavage, but doesn’t have it all hanging out, with a nice pair of heels that won’t cripple me (that doesn’t leave me with many choices!)

No doubt I will have plenty of stories to tell after my evening out, so I’ll be back tomorrow!

Addiction

Have I mentioned the fact that I have recently become addicted to eating BLT’s?

These aren’t your ordinary run of the mill BLT, but the most amazing bacon, lettuce and tomato on this home-made Italian bread which has black olives and herbs stuffed in it. Toasted, the whole thing tastes absolutely amazing, although I wouldn’t say it’s as good as sex!

My addiction started round about the same time that I started this blog. I wonder if my sudden addiction to pig, is because I’ve said that I’m tired of men and that I’m on a quest for love? Hmmmmmmm……..

I have now managed to watch two entire football matches, AND all in one week. Surely this must make me a better prospect for a man? I’m even thinking about supporting a team in the next premiership season, although I’m not sure which one yet. It seems obvious to choose the winning one, Arsenal, but apparently that’s not in the spirit of support. Arsenal or Tottenham are my local clubs though……

As usual, men never fail to amuse me or show me how odd they can be. It was horrendously packed in the bar yesterday, but they had lots of 32” plasma screens, as well as a big screen, so I don’t think anyone was in danger of missing the match.

At 5ft 3”, I’m hardly the tallest and I watched it standing up, yet I listened to grown men whinging at guys that were taller than them, saying that they needed to move because they couldn’t see. I think it’s that whole Short Man Syndrome thing, where to compensate for the lack of height, the short man acts like a dickhead in the presence of a taller man. These same men can tend to be really cocky with women as well. (Not all short men are afflicted with this syndrome, but many are!)

I must dash, as I’m still on my lunch and I’ve a few personal calls to make! It’s a friend’s birthday this evening, so hopefully we’ll be going somewhere good that may even have some prospective men.

To the guy who asked if I had considered wearing trousers:

Yes I have considered it and often do wear trousers, but as soon as it gets hot here in London, I do tend to live in skirts. It’s the summer and I like to get my little legs out. I also have a large summer shoe collection, which isn’t adequately showcased with just trousers alone!

Boobs, Boys & Babies

The words ‘tireder than a muther’ spring to mind…..

Despite saying that I will have an early night the past couple of nights, the earliest I have managed to get to sleep is about 12.30 am, and I’ve woken up at 6.30am each day. I’m one of these people that need a minimum of 7 but ideally 8 hours sleep a night. I always wonder how people manage on less, although I often do it, but feel like sh*t!

Left for work feeling that I looked quite good in my summer uniform of a skirt and top, but when I was standing on the tube and looked down at my very nice new top, I realised that there was a bit of an eyeful in terms of cleavage.

I’m sure I’m not the only woman whose boobs seem to grow and shrink over the day, and I think mine did that this morning! I was quite preoccupied then with covering up the cleavage a bit as I had a client coming in this morning, but probably succeeded in giving a few men a bit more than they intended to see…….

To add to my embarrassment woes, those lovely shoes I bought last week seemed determined to slide on the floor at Oxford Circus. I managed to save myself from falling over twice, only to just about stop the wind from baring my arse as I went out the exit! I think that embarrassment curse could be back!

Absolutely no male talent on the tube or walk to work. I don’t even bother to look at men at work, as I’m friends with the decent ones, and most are attached.

My boss spent the day interviewing for our next graduate intake and I should have known better than to think that any of the recruits could be possible boyfriends/future husbands. They all looked startled and like they had just hit puberty. At 26 fast approaching 27, it’s these moments of clarity that the ‘boy look’ isn’t a turn on, that make me realise I’m maturing, or God forbid, becoming an adult!

Naturally I spent most of the day adjusting my top, and I was very conscious of it in my meeting, but as some of my colleagues helpfully pointed out to me, it was cleavage, not a load of breast!

I saw the most gorgeous baby being paraded around at work today, and I did feel a tug at something somewhere within. I love kids, and whilst they don’t figure in my life at the moment, I have said that I’d like to have one by the time I’m 30. That gives me about 3 years and a month. I have my work cut out for me, but it’s not impossible!

I did chance upon Baby ER on BBC1 tonight, and saw a caesarean birth of triplets, which nearly made me lose my dinner! I’ve never been good with blood, vomit etc, but the added bonus of childbirth never fails to make me queasy. I saw another woman pushing a baby out, and whilst she was making a few noises, and a bit upset, she seemed calmer than expected. I KNOW I’ll be calling the future father of my children every name under the sun!

The father wasn’t present at the birth, and whilst I have no idea who he is, I couldn’t help but think, ‘What a prick!’ It’s the woman who literally bears the brunt of the load in pregnancy, and the least he could do is drag his ass into the labour room!

The programme reminded me of my experience with the programme Real Births, that was shown on Channel 4 a few years ago. I threw up after watching a woman give birth on all fours (think doggy style and then some), while her lesbian partner helped her along. It wasn’t the gayness that bothered me at all, but the thought of being in such a compromising position whilst everybody looked on, and the horrific pain she was in, and all that blood!

Enough! I feel light headed!

Off to bed now to no doubt dream of childbirth, and tomorrow brings a new day, and the prospect of men. Hopefully……..

One Long Day

There wasn’t really an opportunity to meet men today, as I had to go to Lincoln for a client meeting. The fact that I woke up extra early after falling asleep late, and spending most of the afternoon waiting for a poxy connecting train back to London from the ‘tiny town’ of Newark, has left me feeling rather cranky!

My saving grace was my boss because he is such an entertaining character (think David Brent, The Office, and then some!). His antics throughout the day made what could have been a long and tedious day, into a day of comedic quality. At one point though, I did think about putting him out of his misery and smothering him with a pillow, because he just wouldn’t stop moaning about the train and behaving like a naughty, fidgety child!

It was an uneventful journey on the way out, although I think we shocked the locals on the platform, when a dated, one-carriage connecting train arrived at Newark to take us to Lincoln. Very loudly, my boss and I could be heard saying, ‘Jesus! What the f*** is that?! We must be in the arse of nowhere!’ Filthy looks from the entire blue rinse brigade meant that we had to shut our big mouths very quickly!

I knew the day was going to be hilarious, when my boss fell up the stairs on the way up to the meeting, and sort of lay on the stairs confused for a few seconds, whilst the client and I howled with uncontrollable laughter! Even now, thinking of it, I’ve been reduced to a fit of the giggles!

The toilet was located right beside the meeting room and when he decided to go during the meeting, he was warned that people can be heard, and my boss made a wise crack about how he was thankful that he was going for a no.1! Everybody fell around laughing, and I’m just thankful that the comedic element seemed to help the meeting in a very odd way!

When we were waiting for the bloody delayed train, I decided to go into the quiet waiting room because it was warm, and nearly died of embarrassment when he came charging in and demanded to know if I was trying to hide from him (It was a glass room, so he was obviously taking the piss!). He followed this up by yelling that he wasn’t going to be able to cope if the f***ing train didn’t arrive right then!

The poor guy beside me had been fast asleep and his face was totally bewildered by my portly boss kicking off! I told him to shut it, and asked if he hadn’t noticed the guy sleeping, which meant that when he sat down, he fidgeted, rustled his paper continuously, and talked really loudly. I was trying to read a magazine and ignore him, but after a while I gave in, and I was actually crying with laughter at the ridiculousness of him. After a while, the other travellers were too!

With only minutes to go before the train arrived after a 90 minute wait, he told me far too loudly as a joke, that the train was going to be delayed for another hour. The volley of expletives from me, and the confused and angry looks from other passengers meant that he backtracked very quickly, and got on the train very sheepishly 2 minutes later!

Naturally he struck up a conversation with the other two men in the four seater on the train, but as the talk turned to sports and gambling, I quickly tuned out and immersed myself in a magazine. How many times can men relive the same sporting moment? When women talk incessantly about the same thing, we’re accused of whingeing and nagging!

To further annoy me, I had to use the toilets on the train, and I think that my poor toes touched pee! Yeuch! Bloody men! (I have some very strong views about women peeing on seats which I will attack another day, but I really don’t think that they pee on floors!)

Today, whilst I have been entertained, I am quite tired of men. Between my naughty boss, the train guys who don’t seem to understand that the service is rubbish, the football overkill, stepping in pee, and of course, the lack of any male talent on my journey, I am in dire need of female company, or even just voices, so I’m off to run up my phone bill!

The Football

All together a rather uneventful weekend in terms of meeting men. This is quite surprising since I spent most of last night in a room full of testosterone – Ah the footy!

Never one to miss an opportunity, I got myself down to the pub in a denim skirt (not too short), and a nice halterneck. I figured that the subtle ‘pretend I haven’t made an effort to look nice approach’ was best. After farting about for half an hour trying to find the bar on Charing Cross Road, and cursing my wedge heels for not being cut out for a half hour of hiking, I finally got there.

The place was heaving with men, and there was roughly 1 woman to every 50 men. I thought I was on to a winner! Whilst a few guys made eyes, once the football started, I could have ridden through the bar naked on a horse screaming, ‘Come on France’, and they’d have probably told me to shut up without looking away from the screen!

To be quite honest, I was just as bad. I actually watched the entire 90 mins, and whilst I wasn’t moved to tears or going berserk like some of the mad fans in the bar, I certainly enjoyed watching the game and the tension on the field.

As an added bonus, and I know that I annoy the men when I say this, but how bloody good do David James, David Beckham and Thierry Henri look? David James is unbelievable! I felt slightly weak when I saw him and couldn’t take my eyes off his unbelievable legs. What a man!

As a result of my stern concentration on the game (and the players), I did scan the room for male talent at half time and on my trips to the ladies toilets, but there was little to see. I have drawn the conclusion that whilst I enjoy supporting my country and watching the game, men wearing football shirts or the flags over their back don’t do it for me. The same goes for the men that paint their faces or even worse, throw their drink around when they get over-excited, or like last night, upset at the turn of events in the last 90 seconds.

Those last minute goals were agonising, even for me………but I won’t dwell.

My skirt didn’t blow up at the tube station this morning, which means I didn’t start the week on embarrassing note……….

I certainly haven’t met any men today but I never fail to get an insight into the ‘workings’ of the male brain.

Women as a rule don’t tend to say that they are going out with somebody unless they actually are. I.e. You’ve been seeing each other for a while, it’s exclusive, and the two of you spend a lot of time in each others places. If it’s just dating or nothings happened, we’ll say so.

A male colleague had his pants in a twist because he claims that he’s seeing two women and he has to finish it with one of them. Apparently it wasn’t an intentional thing……….. He had finished it with his ex-girlfriend, met someone else, and now the ex-girlfriend was back on the scene. I admit to feeling slightly confused because he had been moaning about not ‘getting any’ or having a girlfriend since his relationship had broken up, and now I was hearing this!

After interrogation with a torch in his face (joke!), it has now been established that he has been out with this girl once! I’m not even sure if he’s kissed her, but she’s called him a few times! There is nothing to finish! He just needs to call her back and say he’s not interested.

If women took his approach, we could all have a lot of boyfriends! The funny thing is that if women described our encounters with men the way that he does, we’d all be called bunny boilers and stalkers! Hilarious!

I worked late tonight (I usually finish at 5.30 and left at 7.30), which is something I try not to get into the habit of doing, otherwise I’d have no life! I intend to try to do my yoga dvd, which I bought 2 weeks ago. I started out really well, and it has lapsed already as I have had too much on! I’ve just finished stuffing my face with dinner, so it seems more likely that I will be partaking in some weight lifting via the remote control………….

Oh, and to the lady who asked why I went to a meat market to meet men, I didn’t actually go to a meat market! Just like football shirts, an actual meat market holds no attraction for me!

By ‘meat market’ I meant bar/nightclub where women are like cattle on sale, with the men ogling and selecting women (cattle) as they parade on by. It is understood that the venue is ideal for ‘picking up’ someone. If anybody has any suggested alternative words for ‘meat market’ let me know!

I think I hear barking

Last night after work, I went out with 3 of the guys for some Friday night fun. For the first couple of hours I was the only girl, & whilst not much shocks me, I really cannot get over the male species at times.

I knew what sort of direction the night was headed in, when one of them said, "I must have sex tonight." He explained that he was going to find an easy, well up for it 'bird' to give him what he needs. The pedigree of his future shag was not important, & the 'dirrrt-tier' she was the better, because it would be sex with minimum hassle.

Last week he told me that the whole one-night-stand thing was becoming tedious & boring, & I suggested that it could be because it lacks any intimacy & they’re just random women. He agreed & said that it might be time to find something deeper & meaningful........

Well one week on, & he may have gone deeper, but it's certainly not in an emotional, relationship sense! As for meaningful, last night he 'meant' to get shagged, & by the time I left it certainly looked like he 'meant' business!

I love being out with guys because not only is it great fun, but I get a fabulous insight into the very weird world of the male. The funny thing is that they think that they will offend me, but I always manage to represent for the ladies & shock them into submission.

The same guy said he couldn't believe that a girl that he had had a one-nighter with had expected him to not only buy all her drinks but to pay for the taxi home as well! He’s lucky.

I know many women that would have let him buy the drinks all night, & then told him where to go at the end, with nothing to show for it. It seems that many men think that they are doing us a favour by sleeping with us. Trust me. There is no dick in this world that is worth us being treated in this way. Just say no!

What I find even more amazing is that he said that I, & any woman, would be lucky to be with him. He actually thinks that he's a good catch! I’m sure he’ll make a woman happy one day, but right now he is doing what a lot of guys his age do – shag ‘em & leave ‘em. (At 23 he’s a few years younger than me) Coming to think of it, he’s doing what a lot of guys do. Period. The only thing that we're likely to catch is a 'case' with all of his nocturnal activities!

I actually almost wet myself laughing when the same ‘conquest’ that made him pay for drinks & a taxi appeared. She’d spotted him & came over to ask his friend if he was the guy that she had slept with one night. He’d promised to call & never did. He actually gripped my hand in a vice & begged me to have a conversation with him until she disappeared.

Whilst I was happy to help him out, the last thing I wanted her to think is that I was anything more than a friend. She actually had the bad grace to look me up and down! I'm not one to diss my fellow ladies, but let's just say that there are things that you can do to try to stop the male race from taking advantage of you, & she’s not doing it! He did speak to her in the end & God knows what he said to her, but she finally scuttled off.

With the addition of another female, we had plenty of laughs and dancing, and it was a really good night. I watched him trying it with various females on the dancefloor and where possible, I scared them away. Call it my good deed for the day!

I did not however, meet or see any potential mates, but I was in one of London’s biggest meat markets! Having not planned to go out straight after work, I found myself out in my lovely new work shoes, & I thought I was going to cry with the pain at the end of the night. Still manless, I dragged myself to the tube afterwards. Anybody who did see me walking probably thought I’d just had a good seeing to!

A friend in need

One of my friends has asked me if it's ok for her to sleep with a guy just because she wants to get some. (It's been quite a while!) Whilst she does feel attracted to him and she thinks he's a nice guy, it's a purely a one-night-stand that she is looking for.

I don't see what the problem is, but he has indicated that he would like something more to develop between them. Well, men have a habit of saying what they think is true at the time when it comes to trying to get a woman into bed. I'm not saying all men, but there are lots of men who droll out the lines when they are literally trying to charm the knickers off you, and then they suddenly lose the power to speak to you on the phone or face to face after they’ve hit the jackpot!

She has two clear choices:

a) Be honest and say that she just wants sex and hope that he goes along with it
b) Keep quiet, sleep with him, and worry about the consequences (if any) later

Personally I feel that plan b is the better option. Don't open a can of worms that doesn't need to be opened, and get the booty call that you need.

My only concern is that most women tend to be emotional, and are unable to detach emotions from sex, as it's a mind, body and soul thing. Men on the other hand can relive football moments whilst they screw without conscience. Just check with the millions of offenders out there! So I just her to be sure that it really is sex that she does want, and if not, she needs to go in with a clear head and be aware of the consequences, or wait for someone who she really has no conscience about…..

I have acquired another pair of shoes. I needed them although others will say I wanted them. Absolutely not. I need every pair of shoes I own, and they all serve a purpose. I needed a sexy, black, toeless pair of heels for work as I've been wearing mostly flats or slightly heeled shoes since the sun came out. I'm very pleased with my purchase and I'm mentally trying to plan my outfit for work as I type!

I also went into Agent Provocateur with my friend, and found the most exquisite underwear, but left with none. I haven't anyone to wear a £30 pair of knickers for, and I have lots of pretty, sexy and colourful stuff that I can wear for myself at about half the price………..

However, I was horrified by the shop assistant that was wearing the very tight uniform with the biggest bloody VPL I have ever seen! I was actually mesmerised by it and it hampered my browsing, and I wondered if they could see it from Mars…

Lastly, I met up for a chinwag with another one of my close friends. Even I've managed to outdo myself with the chatting and bitching this week! Her new man turned up during the get together, and I really liked him. This is the first guy that she has dated in a very long time, and whilst I do feel very protective of her, my first impression was very good. It's nice to see my friend so happy, but it does mean that she'll be the one spending the money in Agent Provocateur!

Once, twice, three times a lady

It seems that I am hell bent on embarrassing myself each day this week. No, my skirt didn't blow up at the station, but I did have the brief feeling of what it's like to be a criminal.........

I had to pop into Boots (big pharmacy for those who don't know) on the way home yesterday to get some of those cleansing wipes that you can't live without in London - Isn't your face and neck just filthy after being on the tube??

Anyway, I very determinedly tried to avoid looking at anything en route, as I have a terrible habit of over spending in the place. It's those bloody 3 for 2 offers, and when they offer extra advantage points. Despite my best efforts, I ended up leaving with more than I planned, as I felt really hungry all of a sudden (period hunger). Whilst looking for the food, I passed the condom shelf and it suddenly occurred to me that I should really buy a box to be on the safe side.

Now, it's not that I think I'm about to get some, but every single woman should have a box in her room, just in case....... (Jaysus, my mums probably about to keel over if she's reading this - Close your eyes!) When I get my period, I do all sorts of illogical and occasionally logical things. They make fantastic sense at the time, and seem so urgent. It's just like when you have those PMT tears. Anyway, I'm deviating……….

After I paid for everything, I realised that the bag was see through, so I put the condoms into my bag. After all, there is no need to broadcast to everyone on my way home that I hope to get a seeing-to 12 times! As I walked out already chomping on my Mars bar, the loudest bloody alarm I have ever heard went off. Because I had my earphones in, it took a second for it to register that it was me, and as I approached the security guard I froze at the thought I what was in my bag.

He looked through my plastic bag and seemed a bit bewildered by the fact that a Mars bar, bottle of water, and some cleansing wipes could set off the alarm, until I opened my handbag and brandished the condom box at him, babbling that I had the receipt. (Love the way I automatically slot into guilty thief mode!)

He couldn’t even disguise his smirk as he did whatever they do to stop the alarm going off, and then he said to me, ‘Good luck!’, and giggled to himself! Honestly, I felt like ramming them all in his mouth there and then!

There is a time and place for men to be men, and whilst I’m not sure when that is (!!!), I know it’s not when my bags are getting rifled for potentially stolen goods. Even when a man is on the job, he’s still thinking with his willy!

Summers Here!

For the second morning in a row, my skirt blew up as I went down the escalator at my tube station. Luckily I grabbed it in time, but the woman in front wasn't so lucky, and I got an eyeful of some rather unpleasant granny pants! I'm sorry, but I'm one of these women who thinks that big pants are for period days, and even then, they're not even necessary for that anymore!

It was gloriously hot today, but of course I spent the majority of my day in the arctic temperatures of my air conditioned office, and the muggy tubes. I did however get to stand around in the heat outside the pub, and it was great to bask in the summer vibe, and check out the lack of fit blokes!

I had to leave work early to go for a doctors appointment, and due to poxy London traffic, I found myself having to jog in my lovely Bertie wooden shoes (like the Dr Scholls but much nicer!), and I honestly thought I was going to give myself a black eye with my boobs!

Whilst I'm only 5ft 3" and slim, my boobs are slightly out of proportion, and I found myself gripping my chest with a heat rash by the time I got to the reception! Again, no fit blokes on route, just weird, pervy old men leering as I jogged by, and honking their horns. Honestly, men can be pathetic at times. Women just don't do the same things!

Have just finished a massive bitching session with one of my closest friends about the cheating, worthless ex of mine, and after two days I feel quite indifferent about the whole thing. I'm actually seeing the humour in it now, and if anything, I feel sorry for the woman who's replaced me. She really has no idea what she's dealing with. I don't feel hurt, but the natural thing is to feel embarrassed.

It is quite funny though, because the worthless git was crying on my shoulder, and as soon as he was done, he skipped off down the road to a fresh piece of ass. Just goes to show, men really do think with what's in their pants. Fortunately I'm not a vengeful woman otherwise he'd be permanently mentally incapacitated......

Tummy is still swollen and tense. It's hard to be a woman sometimes.....

When it rains, it poors

Mondays are not my strong point, but today I dragged myself into work on less than 3 hours sleep. I'd love to say that I went for an impromptu bender last night, or that I was being wined and dined by some lovely guy, but anybody who read the previous entry knows that I've definitely had my quota of 'nice' men for the week, possibly even longer!

No, my restless night of sleep was caused by a dodgy tummy (I think some of the food I ate at a picnic with the girls yesterday may not have combined that well when it digested), finding out that my ex is a worthless sh*t, and the fact that I am due to get my period over the next day or so. Hmmmmmm........ And men think they have it hard.

Last night my friend told me that a woman that she met at a party on Saturday night (my ex was there), claims that she has been seeing my ex for a year.......this week. I left my ex on June 1st 2003.

She claims that it's not serious, but she'd like it to be, and apparently she lives in Australia, and travels back and forth between there and the UK.

To give a little bit of background, when I walked away from my relationship of 20 months, I had been engaged for 15 of those months, and shared a flat with him. Despite a promising start, and what was obviously a whirlwind romance, the last few months of our relationship had been nothing short of difficult. Not one to miss much, I noticed immediately when things changed and he became increasingly distant. Despite lots of long chats, unpleasant words, and 'attempts' to work it out, he had become so distant in the last couple of months, I felt like I had been frozen out of our relationship and a stranger in my own home.

So I left, because I knew that it wasn't working, and that we weren't going to resolve things under the same roof. He was annoyed and upset when I moved out, but agreed that we would try to work things out apart. I very quickly realised that this was very much not the case.

Since I moved out, I have seen him twice (three times if you include the time I spotted him for a split second when I was out somewhere), and I've spoken to him on a handful of occasions, but not at all since the last week of August when I told him how pathetic I thought he was. (Another long story)

I met up with him at the flat that we had shared about ten days after I moved out. He actually cried his eyes out and said how hurt he was, and my natural instinct to care meant that I found myself comforting him.

I went to collect some post from the flat just over a week later, and picked up the house phone to see if there was any voicemail. There were 7 messages (6 for me), with the first being from a couple of days after I had left. The last one made me almost want to chuck up the contents of my stomach. It had been left just after 5am a few days earlier, and the caller (a woman) said, 'Hi. It's me. Just to let you know that I've landed. I'll try you on your mobile now'.

When I tersely informed him about the message, he totally lost his temper, and said that I had made it up, and that he had been checking the messages. When I pointed out that the first message was from just after I had moved out, he backtracked and said he hadn't. After having a right go at me, and telling me that I had no right to be accusing him of seeing another woman, I found myself apologising, he told me it was his friend letting him know that she had gotten back safely to Australia. It was that woman.

Looking back, this was an extremely painful period my life. Despite walking away, I had thought that I was giving the relationship a chance to breathe, but my whole life was quickly turned upside down. One minute I was a fiancé sharing a home with my ex, next thing I was living at my aunts, pondering my future, and things seemed so uncertain.

I had to explain what had happened to family and friends repeatedly, as word travelled fast of the unravelling of my life. Fortunately, I seem to have survival instincts, as I pulled myself together, got myself a good job, found a flat, and enjoyed my new found freedom. I had 2 options: Sink or swim, and sinking was not an option. My mother taught me better than that!

On June 1st 2004, I marked the passing of a year in a rather unorthodox fashion. I bought a caterpillar chocolate cake from M&S, which I shared with my colleagues at work! All the guys nearly choked when they realised what I was celebrating, but if I can't look back now and realise how far I've come, then what else can I do?

The revelation last night doesn't hurt, but it does anger me, but even that has passed. They say the pen is mightier than the sword, so I'm fairly sure that what goes around will come around.

So what else happened today?

Well I've been awake since just before 5am after 3 fitful hours of sleep, which started at the end of Jerry Springer on ITV2, and ended with an episode of Trisha. What a nightmare!

I tend to find that I'm like those women in that sanitary advert, as I can't sleep properly when I'm due, so I got up, ate at 5am (this has never, ever happened before), went online, and eventually tried to go back to sleep. Nothing happened.

Jumped into the shower at 7 with plans to go to work extra early, but spent almost ten minutes somehow tangled in a shirt. I struggled to get it over my head for some reason (It's this weird over-the-head with a zip at the side thing), and when I tried to pull it back up over my head, it refused to co-operate. I then tried to pull it over my hips, and whilst trying to wrench the bloody thing over them, I tripped on the PS2 controller and crashed into the bed!

These things only happen when my period's due.

Oh, and then I get this insane urge to wear white. It's like this in-built thing when my period is due. It was only when I was on the tube, that I thought that I would truly die of shame if the bloody thing arrived!

Last, but certainly not least, my lovely white skirt blew up and revealed my g-stringed backside to everybody on the escalator this morning at my station. Thank God I moisturise.

Work was everything that you would expect from a Monday - long and tiring. The fact that it was scorching outside, and my hormones had given me the mental capacity of a 3 year old, only sufficed to make it even more horrendous.

I'm going to have an early night, with my swollen and tense tummy, and I hope that tomorrow is easier. Today is definitely a day when this woman's fed up!

One Nice Guy Coming Up

I am fed up with men, and quite frankly, I'm actually a bit fed up with myself. I love men, and have no intentions of giving up on them, but they really wear out my brain. Whilst there are lots of good ones out there, they don't seem to be knocking on mine or any of my friend’s doors. Except for on Saturday night..........

On Saturday, I went on a date with what was probably one of the nicest guys ever. He was kind, sweet, quiet, shy, unassertive, reliable, steady, and a little bit boring, but just very...........nice. He wants to settle down, doesn't go out much and is quite tight with his family. He has a steady pensionable job, owns his own home (even though it's in the arse of nowhere miles outside London!), and seems so.....nice.

On paper, he sounds like a dream. In reality, he was just too nice. Not too nice for me, before anybody misunderstands me. I want a nice guy, but I need one that is going to stimulate and challenge me mentally, emotionally, and physically, and I think that this guy is almost too nice to stimulate himself! I would literally run rings around this guy!

I've told some of my friends, and most of them understand where I am coming from. They think it's great that he's nice, but we're like chalk and cheese, and it would be difficult for someone with my personality to forge a relationship with someone like that.

I'm loud, cheeky, very sociable, and I'm not exactly shy about coming forward. I actually had to ask this guy to repeat something he said FIVE times, because he spoke so quietly, and unassertively. A lot of the conversation consisted of 'I'm sorry, what did you just say?'; 'Can you repeat that again?', and after a while I just said, 'Speak up'. And trust me, my hearing is just fine, and the music wasn't loud. Surely if someone asks you to keep repeating yourself, it makes sense to, oh I don't know, talk louder for instance!

To make things even worse, there were a few times in the evening, when I was sure that I had inadvertently offended him, and found myself checking to see if he was ok a lot. I come from a family of smart arses, and sometimes I forget that people don't sometimes get that type of humour.

The stand out example of this, is when he thought he'd left his mobile phone in the car, and went back to get it. I said that I'd wait for him, and didn't expect to see him return from the car park for ten minutes. So imagine my surprise when he returns in under two minutes looking sheepish. He then admitted that the phone was in his pocket, and I wisecracked that he shouldn't hurry to be a detective. He works as a policeman........

It was literally like I had given him a verbal slap in the face, and I succeeded in feeling like the biggest b*tch on earth! I must have apologised about 20 times, but I don't think he'll be forgetting that one in a hurry!

I did however end up feeling fed up with myself, because I looked at him shortly before I left to go home, and couldn't believe how nice he was and how I didn't fancy him. I really wanted to though, because it would be easier. After all, what am I trying to say? That I only want to go out with pricks that make me jump through hoops?

I was actually having an internal argument with myself trying to make myself fancy him, with the good angel saying, 'Stop being a b*tch, he's a lovely guy', and the bad angel saying, 'Be a b*tch and run like a muther. He can't handle you!' What the hell is wrong with me and many other women out there? Why don't we fancy nice guys?

We whinge about all men being worthless, and that there are no decent men, and then we spend an evening in a nice guys company, and we say he's too nice. I don't think that we actually know what we want. We can give you a big list of don’ts, but the do's are looking thin on the ground.

I don't fancy bad men. I like a man with a bit of edge, but I like the edge to be a mental thing. I want someone I can be friend and lover to, and it's like a meeting of the minds. I have been out with a guy, where I've called him every name under the sun, and he's been stupid enough to agree with what I am saying. That is a man with no edge, and quite frankly, no balls.

I know of men who live life a little bit too much on the edge for my liking. They can't commit, won't commit, cheat, lie, steal, beg and borrow. Some of the men think nothing of trying to get their women knocked up, but they still aren't sure about commitment! So I guess I should have considered myself lucky with Mr Nice Guy.

So it's back to the drawing board for me, and I really must have a think about the type of guy that I do want to be with, because it's quite clear that meeting a nice guy, that treats me well, isn't all it's cracked up to be.

I've also decided that I'm going to set him up with my friend, I just haven't quite figured out how I can slip it into a conversation. Maybe I should just let them meet accidentally on purpose........

Whilst she is quite outgoing, I think that her mothering, organisational character may lend itself to his 'nice' personality. She has more patience, and probably won't mind finishing off his sentences!

My friends and I are thinking about trying speed dating, which whilst I think it's a sad day when you have to pay to meet men at 26, I also think it may actually be money well spent. After all, I will get to understand the types of guy I go for, and what turns me on or off in the first few seconds. The lesson I will be taking with me though, is not to make any wisecracks about a mans job. It's like kicking a man in the nuts, and even I don't want to do that on a 3 minute date!