Yo Bro...Daily Sketch Hot!

So after just over two weeks and me remaining well behaved and ambivalent, I went out with The Contender (TC) yesterday and had a lovely evening in his company, which was peppered with a few frustrating highlights.

When TC rolled up in the late sunny afternoon, we sat chatting in my flat catching up on the weekends events, before I casually steered us out the door into the sunshine in search of a nice pub for us to have a drink in. It was glorious outside and there was a nice comfortable atmosphere between us as we strolled to Queens Park, where we found a nice pub for us to flop into the seats. Whilst I was at the bar ordering the drinks, TC got talking to a guy sitting next to us and 90 minutes later we were all still chatting away. At some point he introduced us to his brother and a girl that we assumed was the brothers girlfriend. His brother was taking the 'girlfriend' to the station and after a short whispered chat between the siblings, he bade us farewell, or so I thought...

A short while later TC got up to go to the bathroom and as soon as he was out of ears shot, the conversation became 'interesting'...

Stranger: So........my brother really likes you.
NML: Oh that's nice. He seems like a nice guy.
Stranger: No, I mean he really likes you. He thinks you're hot!
NML: (Laughs nervously) Huh? Isn't that his girlfriend that I just saw him leave with?
Stranger: Her. Oh she's just some girl he's just had a one night stand with. He's coming back so he can get to know you better.
NML: Nice! (Obviously being sarcastic) Well thanks for telling me that but I'm here with...

And of course TC chooses this moment to return to the table cutting the strange conversation short, or so I thought....

TC had only been back a couple of minutes when Stranger 'subtly' steered the conversation in an embarrassing direction.

Stranger: So, you two seem very comfortable in each others company. It seems like you've known each other for a long time.
For some reason I start to feel uncomfortable and watch Stranger closely.
TC: Really.....(smirks at Stranger)
Stranger: Yeah, you seem like two people that have known each other for a very long time. (looks mischievous)
TC: Oh yeah? So how long do you reckon we've known each other for.
Stranger: Well actually I think that you're brother and sister.
TC starts howling with laughter and when he clocks the look on my face it seems to make him laugh harder. I know that at that moment I had a face on me like a smacked arse.

Brother and sister! Brother and f*cking sister! And TC laughing his arse off with that twat! One part of me wanted to laugh and the other part of me wanted to be a bitch. Because TC was laughing, admittedly with it now pittering out with the sense of awareness a man has when he knows that for some reason he's in deep doo doo, I sat there in silence with a strained smile. Fortunately my bladder chose that moment to send me to the toilet, where I promptly phoned B to have a bitch and she howled with laughter too! Fortunately when I explained my annoyance she was very sympathetic but told me not to be too hard on TC. When I returned to our table, I took advantage of Stranger being on his phone and whispered to TC about the earlier conversation regarding Stranger's brother.

TC: The cheeky f*ck! How sneaky is that? As soon as my back is turned he's trying to get his brother in there with you. Bastard!

Yeah, who's laughing now?

The conversation became less comfortable after this and TC and I talked more between ourselves for our last half hour in the pub, and then brother returned and made a beeline for me. He kept smiling at me and eyeing me appraisingly and after a few weird minutes, TC and I said we were heading off for something to eat. As we walked out, they walked out too and wisecracked that we were following them, and that's when TC suddenly pulled me in and put his arm around me.

Now I mentioned before that when it comes to public affection, TC is no showman, so I was initially caught off guard but instinctively put my arm around him. TC was smiling away at the two brothers who were looking at us and it took about thirty seconds for it to click.

There I was thinking, 'Oh TC put his arm around me. How sweet!' and then it suddenly occurred to me that he wasn't doing it because it was a gesture of affection. He was doing it because he's showing ownership.

NML: You're unbelievable!
TC: What? What?
NML: Here I am thinking how nice it is that you're displaying a bit of spontaneous affection, when in actual fact you're doing the dog equivalent of marking your territory with p*ss!
TC: No! It's not like that. I did it because I thought you might be uncomfortable with that guy lusting after you.
NML: (Flashed his arm off me) You're a dick! Do you know that? Nice way you have of making a woman feel special. (I don't know what it is about TC but I am angry but trying not to laugh)
TC: A dick?! (Bursts out laughing) Oh! I'm sorry, I was just trying to send him off, not marking my territory. (He moves towards me to put his arm back around me)
NML: Get off me! I can take care of myself.

Ten minutes later we were seated in the restaurant and had made up and we were giggling like children. I let myself down when the waiter explained the pizza and I giggled at the 12 inches reference (I blame the wine).

Waiter: She very naughty eh? (Winks at TC)
NML: I swear I'm not laughing at it for those reasons.
TC: Oh yeah?! (Gives me a big grin)
Waiter: You obviously have 'other' things on your mind!
NML: Oh no I don't.....this is my brother!

I know, I know, that was very naughty and the look on TC's face made me tell the waiter I was joking and I promised to behave myself after that.

We had a great dinner and I was a little tipsy as we made the walk back to my place. He did stay over but I fell asleep half an hour into watching a new Chris Rock DVD and apparently snored which made him crack up laughing at me. I don't normally snore (that's TC's role) but I think overtiredness, a possible cold and a few days of partying may have taken it's toll. I sleepily denied snoring, then promptly fell asleep and woke myself up moments later with what I call strange breathing and what TC calls snoring. I was wide awake for a while with him but we were quite well behaved (NML patting herself on the back!) and all in all, it was a lovely evening. He emailed me this morning telling me as much and he also apologised for the brother/sister fiasco and told me that he knows that he should have set the guy straight instead of being ambiguous. Being gracious, I told him that it was fine and that I did see the funny side of it.

Now, onto a man who definitely knows how to make a woman feel appreciated without him being called a dick! - The Daily Sketch (formally Dating in Miami) has done a fabulous drawing of me. It's not a nude, obviously...., and is instead a fantastic picture of his interpretation of me in a wedding dress and FMB's. My boobs are looking real bouncy, just like in real life, eh? The Daily Sketch, you're hot! - I've gone all American with Visiting Friend being here ;-)

Family Affair - No more drink

My mum rolled into town on Friday morning and we all met up for lunch where there was a lot of squealing. When I left my brother at 2pm I made him swear that he wouldn't get too drunk on his afternoon with the boys. He poo poo'd my request and by the time we all reconvened in the 5th Floor bar at Harvey Nichols (posh department store), my mum and brother were legless. Visiting Friend (VF) and I had to share a lift to the 5th Floor with two women that could only be described as ho's, because, well they were. I always wonder why some women who work as prostitutes look like a stereotypical prostitute. Skirt skimming crotch, tits out, hair that looks decidedly fake and clothes and accessories that are either made of spandex or look seriously counterfeit. This is strangely attractive to the clientele at this bar as men joined them in moments. Hmmmm...maybe it's my dress sense where I'm going wrong with pulling men. I don't have enough of my wares on show.....

NML: VF wait! We're not walking in with those two. I don't want everyone to think we're with them!
VF: Huh? What?
NML: I. Think.They're.Ho's.
VF: Ohhhhh! Good thinking. They totally are! (I love my friends Americanisms)

My brother the major pisshead decided that he didn't want to spend his time in a bar full of working girls no matter how posh people think the place is so we headed off for dinner at an overpriced Italian restaurant. He annouced himself in loud Italian to the owners and we all trooped in and took over the restaurant with our noisy selves. My mum tried to convince us all that she wasn't drunk but failed miserably as she weaved and bobbed her way to the toilets. I nearly died laughing when after discussing whether a guy was good looking or not, my brother piped up with:

Is this the moment when you say that you're not worried about how they look when they're on all fours?

Cue tumbleweeds and my mum spluttering her drink at all of us.

We left there and headed off to Sketch which is this uber trendy club where you have to be on a guestlist. Normally I don't think much of the whole guestlist thing because in London you practically need to be on a guestlist to use a toilet, but I was bowled over by this club. It is without a doubt the most decadent, lavishly decorated club that I have ever been into. The futuristic toilets (imagine giant white eggs for toilet cubicles), the very cool circular VIP bar that seems as if you're in the hold of a spaceship, the white opulent dining room, the marble, the frighteningly expensive furnishings, and the funky house and techno music - Wow! The only thing that it was missing was hot guys! (note how a few days with VF and I'm saying hot!) We had a few more drinks but due to the late eating, the tiredness crept up on us so we called it a night at 2am.

VF and I headed down to south London to meet everyone for some lunch at 4pm yesterday and I can honestly say that I don't remember what time I got in this morning and was very confused when I woke up fully clothed in the bed beside my mum at 8am where she was blabbering on about reeking of cigarette smoke, and the fact that she thinks the steroids are having some side effects on me because she was looking at me in my sleep. Ok.......

As soon as we arrived at the pub yesterday and sat outside in the lovely sunshine, my brother and his flatmate Welsh Boy started plying us with Pimms or Pwine as my brother now refers to it. Pimms is a summer drink with gin as it's basis for all of those not in the know and I don't quite know what else is in it, but it gets topped up with fruit and gets you pissed on the quiet. My brother and his flatmate Welsh Boy didn't think the Pimms was enough so they topped it up with white wine hence the new name Pwine. We were all legless within a couple of hours from the lethal combination of the Pimms and wine. My mum had us in tears of laughter and she looked so funny when she was begging VF not to go onto a party and she was swaying from side to side slashing the air with her lipstick (she stayed with us in the end).

My brother as usual felt the need to show up Welsh Boy.

Bro: Have I told you that Welsh Boy's family are racist?
Welsh Boy: Oh here we go! Go on, tell them all about the dog then.
Bro: Welsh Boy has a dog called Kizzy (Yes from Roots fame!) Not just any dog, a black poodle! (He slugs back the Pwine triumphantly as we all stare at Welsh Boy and then collapse in giggles)
Welsh Boy: Yes, yes, it's all true.
Mum: Jaysus, next you'll be telling me you've a cat called Kunta Kinte!
Bro: Nah, but he has got a cat called B.A. Baracus!
Mum: Well Welsh Boy must have some sort of secret life because he knew where all of the black hair shops were this morning.
Welsh Boy: Just call me a G, as in gangsta.
NML: Yeah yeah, we get the idea. If you were that gangsta you wouldn't need to explain what G meant! How do you know where all of the black hair shops are? You hanging around there looking for black women?
Welsh Boy: I'm just super cool! Bumbaclam man!
NML, Mum, Bro, VF: What?!
Welsh Boy: Bumbaclam man (pronounced mon)
Mum: Er, don't you mean bumbaclaat (Bumbaclaat is a horrid Jamaican swearword which basically means ass cloth)
Welsh Boy: I'm telling you man, it's bumbaclam. Or maybe you're right. No wonder that black lady looked a bit confused when I said it to her this morning.
We are all laughing so hard there are tears rolling down our faces and we're doubled up in our chairs.
Bro: I just realised! Welsh Boy's saying bumbaclam which is basically Ass Clam. F*cking hilarious! We've just invented a new swearword!
Welsh Boy: Shabba! (As in Shabba Ranks speak)
NML: Shut up!

Then a while later.......

Welsh Boy's Bro: I swear this is the truth. I was in a cab on my way to NYC and I was taking a picture. The cab driver said to me 'What make is that?' and I said Pentax. He said 'Oh that's strange. I'm sure that's what my wife buys for her time of the month!
Mum: Why would a woman want to put a camera up there?
NML: Seriously ma, you and pwine are dangerous! He meant Tampax!

We went for a few drinks at a friends flat in attempt to behave ourselves for a bit but we got bored with that and headed into a bar where we took over the place within minutes of arriving. The night is a blur of me chugging back wine, dancing on the sofas twice and being threatened to be thrown out by the bouncer. I vaguely remember going wild when Never Too Much by Luther Vandross came on, moonwalking to MJ, jumping up and down when Jade's Don't Walk Away came on, and booty shaking with several men. I was on flirting form last night and with my mum being my pimp and telling guys I fancied them, I wasn't short of dance partners! My mum is 47 but looks early 30s at most so she had her own flock of men. VF managed to outdo us all and pulled Welsh Boy's Bro - loving that bit of holiday loving that we hooked her up with!

I popped home for a bit this morning and went back and met my mum and bro for an alcohol-free lunch where I'm sure we were all still a bit drunk from last night. It was an entertaining affair with us all taking the piss out of each other until we finally put my mum on the train to Gatwick. My brother has gone off on another boozing session but I can't take anymore. I need my rest. I don't have the stamina that I used to and it's at moments like this when I almost feel glad that I don't have a boyfriend because if I'm this tired, how wrecked would I be if I had to shag someone too!

Bob Marley & Me - Introducing NML

Yes folks, that is baby NML being held by Bob Marley just a few months or so into my now almost 28 year old life. And before anyone jumps to conclusions, I am not a lovechild or any child of Bob Marley's! My family were good friends of his though and when they threw a party for him to celebrate him being able to return to Jamaica after him not being allowed to, half of the Midlands turned up. (I think this photo was taken late 1977, early 1978 and the reasons I think were political) I am proud to say that even back then I liked being a show stealer, and apparently he held onto me for most of the evening and I show up in most of the photos.

My mum has scribbled out her face (she's going to beat me to within an inch of my life for publishing this photo of her not looking her best!) and I think I am trying to grab something from my grandmother. Evidently, even back then I couldn't be charmed by a man, even one as famous as Bob Marley!

Everyone in the photo is a family member and I know that there were a lot of scuffles between my fro-headed relatives over who was going to be in this photo and of course, who got to hold NML!

Some of you are probably confused though. For most who read this, your thoughts may be along this track:

'What the f*ck? NML's Irish, but that baby's black? Is she a relative of Michael Jackson?'

I am black, I'm not a relative of Michael Jackson and I'm not partial to a bottle of bleach or hit with the same 'disease' as MJ. My mum is Jamaican (with all sorts of heritage lingering there including Spanish and a Jewish great grandfather) and my dad is Jamaican Chinese (my great grandfather is full Chinese) making me 1/8th Chinese. I was born in England in 1977 when Donna Summer was no.1 with 'I Feel Love' and moved to Zambia (yes Zambia in Africa) when I was eight with my family including my stepfather (couldn't be more English, white and a farming boy if he tried) and then to Dublin, Ireland when I was 10 where I was brought up.

This is where my exoticness stems from I guess. How often do you come across a caramel coloured seemingly English girl who when she opens her mouth, sometimes sounds English, often sounds pure Dublin and occasionally has a twang from a few stints in the US. Throw in the Chinese looking eyes, the comedy boobs on the small frame, and you get NML.

Even though I was born in England, most people consider me to be Irish, until I do something wrong, and then I'm English again! I spent the bulk of my life there and it is my home. I love Ireland, especially Dublin and it's where I finished primary school, and went to an all girls Irish Catholic convent secondary school where I was the only Protestant and the only black person! I had my first kiss and all of my teenage and early 20s experiences in Ireland and I think that country has given me a unique experience that is difficult to quantify. If you ever want to have a unique upbringing then living in Ireland when there were hardly any black people is definitely the way to do it. There is a small town called Portumna that is probably still recovering from the day a black woman rolled into town back in 2000 - It happened to coincide with the first time a lesbian band had played (I wasn't in the band - I don't swing that way!). Within minutes of getting off the bus, the whole town had been alerted to my presence and came to have a look at me. I naturally made sure that I turned the interest into free drinks and I will admit that purely to play on the deep rooted fears of the less hospitable folk, I pretended to be from 'da hood'. That soon sorted them out........

I have lots of friends back home and due to 'standing out', even in this day and age of a multi-cultural Ireland, I get recognised and know a hell of a lot of people in Dublin. I have very rarely been able to go abroad without bumping into people from back home who recognise me. I used to walk up Grafton Street (main shopping street in Dublin) and people would stop me and say, 'You're NML. You went to this school, you went out with such and such, your mum works for XYZ, your brother is a ride bla, bla, bla...'

My upbringing has been a blessing and a curse in some ways. I am very fortunate to have had a varied upbringing which gave me the opportunity to travel and live abroad but there comes a time when you don't want to be a spectacle at the feast all the time, which has a lot to do with why I moved to the US and then to London in 2000. I had what many see as a 'upper middle class' upbringing and the 'confusing' aspects of my origins and upbringing don't always endear me to my own race, or even to the Irish. However, I love being NML and I wouldn't change my upbringing one little bit. Ireland isn't perfect, but it will always be home..my home!

So I've finally used this photo function to reveal a little bit about me and turn perceptions and any ideas you may all have about me completely arseways! I didn't go out of my way to say that I am black on the blog, but I didn't go out of my way not to. There is a little bit of me that quite enjoyed playing with that nugget of information. I hope I haven't ruined any FMB(f*ck me boots) fantasy that (DD, The Daily Sketch, Alan, Bedshaped etc) may have had regarding a freckle faced Irish girl with flowing red hair, and a penchant for FMB's.......... ;-) and I look forward to some 'interesting' comments!

NML's Feeling Moody

Annoying Colleague: Aaaaah...Is NML in a bad mood today? Actually what's wrong with you NML, you've been pissed off for a few days?
Boss: Yeah, she's had the right hump for the past few days.
I am silent but fuming.
Annoying Colleague: Is it boyfriend trouble? Go on. Tell us.
Boss: Leave her before she takes it out on me.
Annoying Colleague: To be fair, she can be moody at the best of times (winks at my boss)
NML: Haven't you got a girlfriend to go and annoy?
Annoying Colleague: You've fallen out with the boyfriend, haven't you?
NML: Don't I need to have a boyfriend to fall out with?
Boss: Trouble in paradise eh? No wonder she's been so quiet.
NML: Oh, f*ck it! (loses patience) Sh*t the f*ck up and go home instead of annoying me. I.AM.PISSED.OFF. I have been in a foul mood for 3 days and I don't need to listen to this sh*t. This place is driving me insane, I've got problems galore with clients and on top of that I have to put up with you guys taking the piss out of me over a non-existent boyfriend, PLUS I have PMT. Seriously. Leave.Me.Alone. (I'm sure I had a face on me like a smacked arse)
Conversation over.

A few minutes later........
Irritating Colleague: You off home NML?
NML: Well that's what normally happens when it's just after 5.30 and you have your coat on. (I can't help but smile at him because he makes me laugh)
Irritating Colleague: Oooh. Is it (makes a clock motion to indicate time of the month)?
NML: God you're such a dick at times. Why do you always assume that I'm in a bad mood because it's the time of the month?
Irritating Colleague: Oh, I don't know. Because it annoys all of you. Tick tock!
NML: Gosh your HR file must need it's own room?!
Irritating Colleague: It needs its own bloody floor!

I have been hideously busy for the past few days and my friend that I visited in the US last month arrived tonight for a week, plus my mum rolls into town from Dublin on Friday. I'm loving having my friend over and she wants to meet guys so hopefully I'll have some stories! I think I might see The Contender on Sunday or Monday when he sees fit to squeeze me into his 'hectic' diary. I know I'm being a PMT bitch, but I don't care. Don't worry, I won't take it out on The Contender.

My friend is endearing herself to London:

Visiting Friend: £39.50 for a weekly ticket! Do I get a discount because I'm black?
Mr Tube Man: No, but I'll give you a black case for your ticket!

The Ex Factor

I was devastated when my relationship with my partner of almost two years came to a not quite so sudden, but definitely a dramatic end at the beginning of June 2003. While at the beginning of that year I had felt that our relationship was moving forward, and that I was growing individually, a couple of months into the year, my relationship began to unravel. I'm not quite sure how. There isn't one great thing that I can put my finger on, but one thing I do remember is that one morning I woke up, and I knew that trouble was on the way. I felt it, and it came over like a great black cloud, and no matter what I tried, I couldn't shake it.

When you have loved someone and been loved intensely, you feel it when their soul leaves you. One day my partners heart and soul just upped and walked out of the relationship, and while in the ensuing months that followed, they occasionally crossed the threshold back into the relationship, they always edged back to the door and left me. I, suffused with this knowledge and the insecurity that followed, tried to pull them back in, and when they retreated even more, I sometimes grabbed on and tried to hold on for dear life, but I eventually lost my grip.

It felt like the sun had gone out of my life. In it's place I had light showers, hail stones, snow, and sometimes I had a thunder storm, which temporarily bought the sun back in, until something came along to alter the weather, and push the sun out. Quite frankly I was frozen out of my partners life, and left out in the cold - A pretty horrid thing to happen when you both still live under the same roof. In the early days of the storm there was distance, a lack of interest in anything I said or did, and mystery excuses started to appear for why he couldn't do things with me that he had either promised to do or would have done before.

Gradually over time he admitted that he had been distant but that he didn't know why. I'm quite shrewd, and have done my fair share of relationship counseling to my friends so I gave him reasons, lots of them actually. I believed that he had grown tired of the relationship. There had been some dramas that we had had to deal with the previous year, and coupled with what must have felt like being a constant support for the student girlfriend, it seemed that his brain had called last orders, and I could no longer get a drink from the bar.

Weeks went by and the arguments gained pace, and it seemed that we talked about the 'situation' every weekend. I seemed to be like the psychiatrist on the one hand, and the very frightened, insecure girlfriend on the other. I felt that if we talked things through, that eventually we would get to a breakthrough. I felt bad that shared problems, and some of my personal problems had put us here, and I thought that I must work hard to get things to work and resolve things out.

About a month or so into it, when we were having a break for the weekend, he said he wanted to finish it while we talked on the phone. Initially I was calmly upset, and then I broke down in tears, and I remember saying to him that I couldn't believe that he would do this, and that I had thought I could trust him, and everything that we had been through, this was unbelievably painful. After almost two hours on the phone, he said that we should give it another try and came to collect me and took me to our home.

I felt quite shell-shocked and embarrassed. I kept expecting him to let out an evil laugh, and tell me I was stupid, and to pack my stuff and get out. Instead he was quite loving, and we even listened to music and watched films together that night, and we slept together afterwards, where I cried, probably with the sheer exhaustion of my emotions. As time went on it became apparent that he was using the fact that he had stayed with me as some sort of leverage against me. I didn't expect or need him to be throwing it back in my face like a wet rag. I remember saying to him that I would never place myself in that position again, and I told him how the whole episode had made me feel, and that also felt that I had put my self respect and dignity on the line, something that definitely wasn't going to happen again. That wiped the sneering look off his face quickly enough, and he quickly backtracked and told me that I was silly to feel that way.

It took another 6 weeks before our relationship took a complete nosedive. We'd had some stinking rows in the run up to my finals and he was so obnoxious that every time he opened his mouth, I wondered what I had ever seen in him. He was downright nasty at times and at times I hated him. One night he told me he was going to collect a friend at 1am and that he'd be back in an hour and came back twelve hours later. He didn't call or text until shortly before he arrived home, and laughed at my anger and annoyance. He brought me an expensive dress a few hours later as if that could make everything OK. Six days later I was gone.

I walked away from my engagement, my home, the future that I had planned and walked into a life of uncertainty. I think the stress of the whole thing was the straw that broke the donkey's back and plunged my immune system into my illness. The amazing thing is that almost two years after I walked away, I still don't regret what I did. I think most people would have thought 'Shit, have I made the wrong decision? Should I have stayed with him?' Not for one moment did I think that because NML was back and was certain of my choices, certain of my conviction.

Whilst I was 'devastated' when we broke up, I think those feelings stemmed from things not working out how I planned, not because I was actually still in love with him. I was devastated at the loss of plans and the change of identity. Loving myself again had changed the status quo and created chaos. Loving myself again made me wise enough to realise that I was well rid but the fragile ego and emotions pondered the loss of everything that being in a relationship and being engaged represented. You try telling the same story of the break up over and over again, to your friends and family all over the world and you'll know what I mean!I'm a swimmer, not a sinker and I always rise back to the top. I recognise the choices I've made and I'm determined to learn from them.

There's obviously a hell of a lot of things that happened in my relationship with him. It wasn't all him and it wasn't all me. What I do know is that only one of us tried and lets just say that the one that tried didn't have a willy swinging between their legs.

I loved my ex but it wasn't the right type of love. I think he worked very hard at breaking down hard NML and creating an almost dependency on him. He worked very hard to snare this woman who he viewed as being ambitious, outgoing, determined, with 'looks' but worked really hard at breaking that down once he nailed me. Bit by bit he jabbed at my self confidence to bring me to heel and due to lots of family and personal stuff that was going on at that time, it was easy to break me.

I feel that I grew in my time with him, and that a lot of it was positive. I eat different things, I'm knowledgeable about things I never even thought of before, and I grew as individual and found myself as a result of our relationship, the problems that we had in the early days that he feels that he had to be strong for, and the subsequent breakdown of the relationship.

I am a richer, rounded individual that not only recognises her strengths but recognises her weaknesses too. Maybe I have been too quick to love before, or feel that I am being loved, but it is all experience, and as long as we are learning from it, it can only be good. While I did love him at the time, it wasn't anything that would last and was partly emotional dependency. I realise that while he may have bought out some of the best of me, he couldn't love me for me and made me very unhappy. He had some aspects that were right, but fell down in areas that are important to me.

The person that you settle with should be somebody that accepts you for who you are, not what you could be with a bit of work. I want somebody that shares the same values, that respects, loves and trusts me, and is able to share himself and his life. We'll be individuals, but we're a team. Sure, we'll disagree, but the fundamentals are there to provide a sturdy foundation.

If I had my time again, I wouldn't want what happened to me to happen again. But time can't be turned back, so I say this to him:

Thank you for teaching me some of the most important things in life, and showing me what I do and don't need. Thank you for testing my strengths and reserves, which have led me to a more fulfilling life, enriched with the wonderful friends and family. Thank you for leading me to what is a much happier life. I hope that you have the same.

And because you know I can't help but be flippant when I lay out my emotions, my last piece of advice to him would be: Don't wear brown from head to foot.

I Used to Love Him, But Now I Don't

We've all been there and wondered what it would be like to walk into a room at a social occasion and make an ex's eyes almost pop out of their head/tongue hang out. Well, I did it last night and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Human nature means that for most people, on some level we like to feel a sense of retribution when we bump into an ex. This person used to share our life with us. No matter how much of an arsehole/cow they were, whatever the reasons for the breakup, this person used to see you every day, warts and all. They knew all of your favorite foods, TV programmes, grievances, things that made you laugh, things that made you cry, and have seen you naked more times than you care to remember. They've made you cry and they've wiped away your tears when life chose to poo on you from a great height. When it was all over, they left a gaping hole where they used to be and it hurt like hell.

I made sure that I was dressed to kill last night. The hair was curled in a sort of wild way (not quite Beyonce, but not too far off!) and I wore a sheer black top, with sexy skirt black skirt that was above the knee but had sort of flouncy fishtails at the side. I topped it off with my purple suede heels which are toeless and have straps that wrap and tie around my ankles and a cardigan which covered me but left a nice hint of the sheer top underneath.

As I walked into the room, people were saying a hello and I was talking to my friends at the same time. We were late due to some problems (too long a story to tell) so everybody was sitting down when we walked in making us look rather conspicuous which worked for me! I couldn't even see him at first and I was determined not to look around for him. We went to get food from the buffet and it was only when I went back for a second time to get my forgotten cutlery that I saw him. He smiled and gave me a far too enthusiastic hello. The look on his face suggested that he thought I would go over to him and do the whole kiss, kiss hello thing. I waved and said hello, picked up the cutlery and headed back to the bar. It was all I could do not to start laughing!

Various guys came over and said hello and I smiled and chatted away, sensing that I was being watched. People were complimenting me and twirling me about to show me off. Now I can't say I'm afraid of a little limelight and lapped it up! It took him only a few minutes to arrive at my side and he gave me a kiss on the cheek and started to do some chit chat. I noticed his close friend was standing next to him and I know what my ex is like, he was planning to try to 'get the upper hand' and end the conversation and turn to his friend, so I excused myself and thwarted his plan.

The evening passed in a steady parade of people coming over and being very complimentary. I saw a number of people that I haven't seen since just before I broke up with him and they too seemed quite caught off guard. I was polite and said hello, but didn't have any conversations with them. These people are not friends of mine and no doubt that wanted to probe me on why I had left my ex and find out titbits of info about my current life so that they could gossip.

He came over half way through the evening and we chatted for half an hour or so. It was easy, friendly and polite. I watched his face as I chatted away and could sense the underlying discomfort. He's an image man and me turning up dressed to kill, looking happy and not mashed up from pining for him doesn't really fit with it. Having to watch me chat away to all of his friends and be complimented by them must have been galling and a blow to his ego. It was clear that I don't love him anymore and that I have moved on. It was a pleasant conversation but I was detached.

The best moment in the evening came when I was heading for the bathroom. My ex has a friend who is quite possibly one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen. I partied with him a few months ago and he flirted outrageously with me. I didn't actually know him whilst I was with my ex, so in my ex's mind, I don't know this guy. They were chatting away and as I approached Mr Beautiful said hello to me, and asked me how I was as he touched my arm and told me he'd catch up with me later. My ex's mouth was flapping open and he looked completely confused. I knew that it dawned on him that at some point I have been out with his friend and it wasn't mentioned to him. Oh no....smirk!

I don't love my ex and if anything I feel sorry for him. He's so image focused, and a perfectionist, with a lack of any real emotion that I'm surprised that he's not cast in ice block like the cold fish that he is. He was dressed so neatly in brown from head to foot, he was in danger of looking like one big lump of poo. If he'd spent a minute too long in the toilets, someone would have got the tissue out to wipe him off their arse.

I know it shouldn't matter whether I made his eyes pop out of his head because I've moved on and bla, bla, bla, but I'm human and I enjoyed seeing him squirm. And boy did he squirm. I was told by a few people that he watched me all night. With any luck he will have picked up the message that radiated from me:

'You had it, you wasted it. Look at what you lost and how fortunate I am to have had the good sense not to marry you.'

He left a little early claiming that he was tired, but I didn't care because my work was done. I went back to the hosts house where the party continued till the early hours and I chatted away to his male friends who have the balls to stay out past midnight. Mr Beautiful and I chatted away and I engaged in some harmless flirtation for the hell of it. This guy has the combination of looks and personality but he's not a good idea. For a start, flirtation aside, he's a bit too close to home but he's also a playa. A man that knows he's good looking is a dangerous man. He actually tried to convince me that he's really sweet and not a playa by telling me that he hasn't slept with anyone in a year.

'Mr Beautiful, the chances of you not having had sex for a year is about as likely as me growing a dick overnight. You'd better save the sob stories for the women that are foolish enough to believe you!'

And do you know what, he stopped trying to fill my head with nonsense after that and we had a really good laugh. I finished my evening with the horrid memory of being cornered into dancing with the DJ who had a serious case of bad breath - think the smell of rotten guts and dodgy gums. It was an Alicia Keys song and I had to turn my head away and put it on his shoulder to avoid the stench and stop myself from fainting. I think he misinterpreted this as interest from me but I can live with that as long as he doesn't ever breathe in my direction again!

I spent most of the day dying with a hangover but it was worth every last drop of cheap wine! (Hot tip: If you have a party, get some decent vino in!) Last night was a definite result!

Case of the Ex

Tonight I am going to my friends husbands surprise birthday and my ex-fiance will be there. This will be the first time that we have been at a social gathering together for almost two years. I don't have feelings for him anymore but I have been ensuring that I look hot to trot tonight as you must always ensure when an occasion like this happens that you remind them of exactly what they lost.

A guy asked me if I had thought about modeling last night whilst I was out in a bar. It was obvious that it was a come-on and evidently my face said I felt as much.

Model Wannabe: Come on. This ain't a chat up line. I've got my own fanny thank you! (front fanny for the Americans)
NML: Really?
Model Wannabe: Yeah she's at home.
NML: (Snorts with laughter) Sorry I thought you meant that you actually had a fanny!
After he's gotten over his embarrassment he bores me to tears with an explanation of the modeling industry.
Model Wannabe: I've done a some modeling myself
NML: You have?
Model Wannabe: Yeah, do you not recognise me from the blood donor advert on TV? I got £700 for that!
NML: The f*cking blood donor advert! Are you serious? Of course I don't remember you! (I think I laughed for about five minutes)

As my friend and I walked out we were bombarded with loads of guys trying to give us fliers.

Guys: Here gorgeous. Gorgeous.

My friend took a flier.

Guys: Here gorgeous. Gorgeous.
NML: Er, I thought my friend was gorgeous.
Guys: No,that's the name of the club!
He was telling the truth as well! Mort-i-fied when I looked at the flier and it was for a club night called Gorgeous!

I have to run as I need to finish getting ready. I'm quite looking forward to tonight. With all the exes of my friends at this party it'll be like an episode of Dallas or Dynasty!

Testosterone, WAAAY Too Much Of It

I have just got home after spending the past seven hours with so much testosterone, I had to check between my legs to make sure I hadn't grown a dick in the last few hours! I am happy to spend my time in the company of guys and I'm more than capable of holding my own, but I will be reveling in female company when I return to work tomorrow.

My poor boobs have been spoken to so much I should have Kleenex handy for the saliva droplets and I wish I'd had a mace for every time my bum was accidentally on purpose brushed over. It's not as if I was even showing very much cleavage as I had the good sense to foresee the potential deluge of testosterone that I was going to face.

I headed off mid-afternoon with two colleagues to a product launch and as I listened to the two guys get a bit raucous on the journey over to Leicester Square, I knew that these guys were going to go hell for leather on the champagne reception and the free booze. What I wasn't prepared for was a 90 minute presentation where I fell asleep twice in the first 30 minutes, I had to go to the toilet to wake myself up, and my old boss who was sitting beside me was texting me because he was so bored.

You'd think that an event with a load of men would be ideal for me but trust me when I say that there was not one guy that I even remotely fancied there! It was half the bloody reason I turned up in the first place!

I had planned to leave hours ago but somehow I got roped into chatting with various colleagues and clients. It took about four hours for me to realise that I was the only woman in our now very large group and one of about five women in the entire room. None of the women spoke to each other and I know I'd made the right decision in leaving early as I didn't want to be felt up on the dark dancefloor when the music started. When I got up to leave and said my farewells, the disappointment was palpable and I thought 'Ha, ha! No groping or dirty dancing on me this evening!'

Unfortunately one of the guys chose this moment to chance his arm with a very letcherous and obvious grope of my bum in front of of everyone and I actually slapped him very firmly on his back. 'Get off me you freak!' I hissed at him as I extricated myself out of his slippery grip. I enjoyed seeing him look like a rabbit in the headlights when one of the guys said 'NML, you can report that to HR you know!'

As I made my way to the cloakroom, a guy from a rival publisher closed in on me and kept shaking my hand, telling me how wonderful I am and how delightful the magazine I work for is, which prompted me to ask if he was trying to work for us. He had so much hair on his chest, I could have stood on his chest and my feet would have sunk into it. He had his shirt open one too many buttons and the great bush was poking out and I tried not to giggle as I imagined thr toom filling up with fur-balls. As he chatted me up, I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw about ten of the guys making faces at me and pissing themselves laughing about the fact that this guy was chatting me up. When I finally managed to get away from him, the guys shouted over before he was even out of earshot 'Hey NML, saw you getting chatted up by monkey boy there! OOOOOOh!' and I had to remind them that being chatted up by the 'monkey boy' was a damn sight better than being touched up!

The latest on The Contender is that I'm being so laid back about the whole thing, I'm in danger of being horizontal. I haven't kept a mental note to keep some time free for him and as it turns out, I'm now busy pretty much until June 2nd. Oh dear........

He text me last night and I knew I was doing the right thing by not letting his situation get to me or let myself get too into this thing when he told me that he'd planned to phone me but that he couldn't because she had come back to the house unexpectedly. This then reminded me of when he told me that he deletes all of my texts just in case she decides to check his phone. I understand why he does all of this stuff as he is obviously trying not to rock the boat but whilst this guy may be broken up he's definitely not free. I'm not stressing though because there is no point and I've got my own life to lead. He's a nice guy, who knows what can happen? Time will only tell, but in the meantime my life's for living.

I chatted to him a while ago and it was fine. We laughed and chatted but I think that the spark is disappearing and he's in danger of slipping into friend territory. I could be wrong (hormones, PMT) and being a bit sensitive so I won't react to anything and will stick to my plan of just going with the flow. If the feeling continues then I know what I have to do.

Changing to be a wifey

I've wondered if I need to be preparing for a future boyfriend and that if I am more proactive and more 'wifey' that I'll snare a man. So I've put together a hypothetical list of things that could potentially up my chances.

7 Hypothetical behavioral Changes That Could Make Me A Wifey

1. Be a bit quieter. I'm known as a 'people person' which is polite for loud mutherf*cker that doesn't seem to know when to shut up. I can talk for England and sometimes it's good to take a backseat and let the guy have his moment.
2. Cut down on the swearing. I was brought up in Dublin and the Irish are wonderfully expressive (Think of that fine ass Colin Farrell!). I admit to being partial to the F word and I am fascinated by the word 'mutherf*cker'. I don't say it all the time before anyone gets the wrong idea but it can make a story very funny and it's lovely and horrible when you want to be mean about someone. It probably won't get me any brownie points with some guys though so an adjustment in anger vocabulary and storytime adjectives may be necessary.
3. Dress less sexy and fashion conscious and more homely and wifey. I think that for some crazy reason, some guys look at stylish women and think unobtainable, difficult, career woman, ambitious, money hungry as opposed to thinking woman that likes her clothes but probably wouldn't buy as much if she got the house, husband and the 2.4 children. Okay, that's a lie about me not buying as many clothes but I'm wifey material, I swear. I must have a look in Selfridges and see if they sell housecoats...
4. Be a virgin. Again. Wipe out the past and be what most guys egos want, which is for him to think that he's the only one who's had you.
5. Learn how to cook elaborate dinners. I can cook, but maybe if I step it up a notch and demonstrate this to a guy I date, I'll be able to reel him in. How I would learn to do this when I'm cooking for one, going out loads, and slobbing out on the couch when I get home, hasn't quite been figured out, but I'm sure I'll think of something.
6. Start to like ironing. For some reason I've always attracted men that seem to iron really well, and even though I can iron, I hate it like most women I know. The ironing has become a bone of contention a few times and my ex fiance shouted at me in one of our last arguments 'And by the way: Don't bloody bother to iron my shirts because you leave more lines in them than a London Underground map and I hate having to thank you for them.' What a sh*t, but I did wonder today that instead of dreaming about burning holes in all of their shirts when they whinge, I could instead learn how to love this chore.
7. Be a damsel in distress. Every single guy I know thinks that I am super strong and even if I cried like a freakin baby tomorrow, they'd still think that I can cope. This means that guys often don't feel like they get to play their needed role that much with me because I'm perceived as being self-sufficient and strong. This means that the girl who does emotional will always win even if she secretly wrecks his head because he gets to play the 'male' role really well. Now it would be a big act to pull off but I think I could learn how to look vulnerable and as if I need to be propped up by a sturdy man. I think if I do this alongside being quiet, guys will be keen to rescue me and be my problem solver.

And 7 reasons why I won't....

1. Me? Quiet? I don't bloody think so! When I'm quiet, people are convinced that there's something wrong. It is my civic duty to be my noisy self. Quiet comes when I'm asleep or watching one of my favorite shows.
2. Do bears sh*t in the woods? Swearing is naughty fun and funny enough, I pick and choose when I want to be 'expressive'. I do it more for it's entertainment value and when I'm angry but I don't say feck and arse after every word. I think it's more a case of when I swear, it has impact...
3. I don't do the whole Plain Jane thing. I'm not a dedicated follower of fashion and I have my have my own style. I'm not walking around with my boobs out and whilst I am prone to having my skirts blown up, I don't think there is anything wrong with how I dress. I like to look good and there is more to me than how I dress. If a guy judges me because I have a too stylish clothes on, we're probably not destined for each other. Funny, I doubt that I will lose brownie points for wearing my lovely FMB's (F*ck Me Boots)
4. I have not been around the block, but on the few occasions where I have tested people out and told them that I'm a virgin, they've all pissed themselves laughing. Apparently nobody believes that I would have gone out with a guy for an extended period of time without road testing him. Too bleedin right!
5. I'm trying to keep down my little steroid tummy not bloody increase it! I can't go on a big learn-to- cook-drive because I would have to eat every recipe I tried. Once I've done my recipe, what am I supposed to do? Have a candlelit dinner by myself? Jaysus!
6. When I was a little girl, I didn't think 'One day I want to be really good at ironing'. I'm sure that when I've got a family I will just get on with doing it, but in the meantime I will keep walking past the linen basket of clean clothes that are screaming to be ironed for God knows how many months. What they need is a good strong man to take the creases out. Oh, I know, I'll call my eager beaver ironing ex!
7. When I was a little girl I didn't get the parts in the play like Cinderella, Snow White and whoever that woman was in the King and I, and there was a reason. I'm sure being a shite actress may have something to do with it, but NML doesn't do damsel in distress. What any half decent guy needs to realise if he steps up the plate is that underneath my so-called hard exterior is a soft centre. I may be quite self-sufficient but that doesn't mean that I'm not a soppy cow! For Gods sake, this is the same woman that cried in my bed on Sunday morning, when Ryan Chappelle got killed in 24 and when Jack Bauer cried at the end of series 3!

So I managed to talk myself into and out of being a new NML all in one post!

Authors Note!
I did not actually cry because Ryan Chapelle had been killed but more for poor Jack that had to kill him under orders from the President.

And the Voters Say Stay!

Before I get onto the inevitable subject of what I am going to do about The Contender, I've selected a few random things about my day, just for the hell of it.....

- I forgot my sports bra so had to work out in my normal bra and I half expected to see my boobs on the other side of the gym. Oh the heat rash........
- Due to forgetting the bra I had to go home braless in a wraparound top. If you've never tried this, don't. That's all I'll say.
- This is probably too much info but I had to go home commando because I forgot new underwear for when I was finished in the shower. Of course, this happened to me on the wettest, windiest day we've had for a while........
- I'm on the dried fruit trip again. Several pitted prunes, a bag of apple rings, and half a bag of dried cranberries. Yes this seems like a lot but I'm PMT'd up and staying away from the chocolate bars. I've already told my boss that if I do get a dodgy tummy at work from my fruit splurge that I'm going home as I don't believe in people doing #2's at work! With any luck I'll be having some days off work this week! (Joke!)

Anyway.........

Well I think it's safe to say that the general consensus is to stick it out with The Contender (TC). Fortunately I have decided I will stick it out (not because this is like Big Brother and everyone bar Blug has said that I should) but because:

1. It is still relatively early days
2. I knew what his 'situation' (God I hate that word) was when I met him, I just didn't recognise the implications of it. I have thought about the whole thing and recognise that whilst it isn't ideal, it isn't time to call it a day.
3. I am not going to date him exclusively. There's a lot to be said for American-style dating and if I can only find some guys to do that with, we'll have lift off (excuse the pun).
4. I like TC a lot. He's funny, nice looking, makes me laugh and smile till I hurt, and we share a lot in common. He's definitely not perfect, but he is lovely. I think if I keep things in check, I'll focus on these nice things about him and the fun times I have when I see him, and think less about the times when I don't see him.
5. I need to learn how to be a bit more patient.
6. You lot told me so. (joke!)

Now this does not mean that I will be doing the online dating thing again, and I'm not even sure if I'll be doing speed-dating or a lock and key party, but watch out London, NML is on the prowl! I spoke to TC a couple of times today. I actually called him first just to show that I'm not a total ass (we hadn't actually spoken since I left him on Thursday night although we had exchanged a couple of texts). He then phoned me this evening and we had a laugh and a chat. It was completely fine and I didn't ask him about meeting up and he told me he'd call on Wednesday. I was completely nonchalant about the whole thing and I am very pleased with myself!

Alan recently wisecrackingly suggested that I should do a form for seeking out my potential suitor. Well there may be something in it, if only purely for entertainment on the blog but also to drag out of myself what it is that I'm looking for in a man. In fact, NML's brain has been churning with lots of ideas recently, so watch out!

You'd think I'd let myself down enough today but no, there was more. I received a phonecall earlier today that had me mort-i-fied!

NML: Hello! (Silence) Hello! (I was probably a bit sharp with the 'ole tone here)
Caller: Is that how you always answer the phone?
NML: Who is this? (I'm thinking it must be one of the lads trying to be annoying)
Caller: It's (MD - Yes, as in Managing Director of a company of almost 300 people). (FUUUUUUUCK)
NML: Oooooh.....(Giggle nervously)
MD: Who did you think was calling?
NML: Well not you! You should have spoken up! (Shit, shit, shit!)
MD: (Bursts out laughing) Soooo, is Big Boss around?
NML: No. He's in with Boss of Big Boss. Will I leave him a message?
MD: No, don't worry about it NML. (Starts to laugh again) I'll er...let you get on with whatever you were doing before I called you!
NML: OK. Bye!
MY BOSS: Gosh NML, you're all red. Who was that you were telling off?
NML: Telling off? That's a bit of an exaggeration. Oh and it was.......MD.
MY BOSS: Oh f*ck! (And then cracks up laughing)

I think from now on I will answer the phone saying 'Hello, this is NML, #1 employee that definitely deserves a payrise. How can I help you?'...........

Is it Time To Break Up?

I'm at a funny old place in my life. For a long time I loved (Male Best Friend) MBF and I had the good sense to see my love for him for what it was and move on. Just like a rom-com or a fluffy contemporary fiction book, The Contender stepped into the frame not too long afterwards. He seemed to be a lot of what I needed right now. He's available (or is he?), he makes me laugh till my side hurts and we share many of the same values, are sometimes frighteningly similar in our outlook's, and of course I fancy the arse of him as well. When I've been talking to him or been around him, I grin from ear to ear and beam so much that my male colleagues get paranoid that I must be up to something. The cleverer ones, like B's boyfriend John, my boss and the guy I 'manage' all realise that it is down the presence of this particular man in my life.

I think it's been about 6/7 weeks since I started 'seeing' The Contender (TC) and it's been great, but....... That's the thing, I keep hesitating and a but keeps coming in, and I know why.

Firstly though, I must say that I had a really nice evening with him on Thursday. We met after work and went to a bar in Soho and regaled each other with tales of our day at work, philosophised about love and relationships (other peoples not ours) and generally took the piss. It was comfortable, relaxing and really enjoyable. He couldn't really drink because he was going to drive home later but I had a few glasses of wine, which definitely makes me even more straight up than I usually am.

I don't quite know how we got onto the conversation, but somehow I ended up telling him that I don't know how to read him at times, that I don't know where I am with him, and that he can sometimes blow hot and cold. Now for my pals and commenter's that read this, you know I'm not talking out of my bum. I have been confused by his actions at times. He seemed genuinely surprised but did admit that he has probably been that way because he is on guard because of his 'situation'. (I hate that word, as it's MBF's most overused word!) He admitted that he sensed that I had thought that about him and that he had been wary of me thinking that he was using me. Feeling like I had sweet F all to lose, I told him that the thought had passed my mind (probably wouldn't have been wise to mention that I had been deliberating this on a blog) and that I had pondered whether he was passing time with me. Apparently him coming in to meet me on Thursday night was his attempt to show me that he doesn't just 'pop in' to see me.

I told TC that sometimes I feel like he's really, really interested as he's full on and I hear from him lots, and that at other times I feel like he really, really isn't interested...

This wasn't a 'serious' conversation and I stressed that I really wasn't busting his balls because I know that he's not an asshole and that I recognise the fact that he's in a rather awkward situation right now. For anyone who has not been privy to the whole tale, TC broke up from a serious relationship of 8 years a few months ago and is in the process of trying to sell the house that he shared with the ex. He told me that I am right to think that the stuff he does is down to his situation and that he knows that the whole thing must be awkward for me. And then he said something which resonated with me:

'I've thought about how I would feel if I was walking down the street with you and bumped into someone that knows me from being with her (the ex) and I wondered if I would feel guilty. I mean, I don't know how I'd feel........'

The weird thing was is that we were having this totally honest conversation where he was telling me that he had liked me for ages (since last summer when he was still with her), that he likes being with me etc and we were totally fine with and having a giggle at the same time. I am not joking when I say that at some points in this conversation we were both doubled up with laughter, which has never happened to me when I've been having a frank discussion.

I even mentioned the fact that I know he's not the type of person to do public displays of affection and we somehow managed to be falling around laughing about it! It was a strangely funny evening and as we got the tube to his connection station, I jokingly asked if he was going to wave to me by way of goodbye and he howled with laughter. He didn't wave, he gave me a few kisses that were definitely not friendly!

So here's my honesty about this whole damn 'situation'.........

I like TC a lot but I'm not sure if I want to be involved with a man who may be available in the sense that he hasn't got a girlfriend/fiance/wife in the picture, but isn't available because he is sorting out the big stuff from his previous relationship. I have spent a lot of time placing my needs way down the ladder for people (MBF, the ex-fiance) and I don't really want to go down that route again. Why is it that I can't find a man that can be with me and treat me where I am high up in his list of priorities?

I don't want to be a secret. I don't want to be with someone who feels uncomfortable about admitting that they're with me to anyone beyond our circle. I know everybody has baggage, but this is a little bit more than some carry-on luggage! I don't want to be a comfort zone that he can meet up with once, maybe twice a week if I'm 'lucky', because he's remembered that he must try to see me this week.

Who knows how long it's going to take for him to get the house sold? As long as he has all of this other stuff to deal with, I am not on his priority list. Is what I have with TC so far enough for me to take a chance and hope that when he is all sorted that he'll want to commit to me? I don't know the answer to that right now. What I do know is that I am sick and bloody tired of it always being so f*cked up when it comes to me and this whole relationship thing. I can't make excuses for TC because they aren't for me to make. I'm not going to keep saying 'Oh, but he's got a lot going on right now' because if he does, he needs to be saying it, not me.

Why can't I meet a guy that meets me, wants to be with me, we start going out, we move in one day, there's an engagement, marriage and some kids. I know life doesn't go according to plan and that whoever I'm with it's not going ot be perfect, but how the hell am I supposed to even get a good start at something if the guy is stuck in some freakin timewarp whilst he sorts out the remnants of the old relationship?

Even if he can't put my needs on his list of priorities, I need to take care of number one and I'm not sure if I feel like being a sacrificial lamb whilst he sorts his life out.

So I don't know what to do. I need to think about this and I'm not going to knee jerk, but even if I do decide to 'break-up' with TC, do I actually have anything to break up from?

Oh Brother!

Have any of you ever got off the phone and said 'F*ck, shit, wank, f*ck, mutherf*cker, bastard, shitbag........'? Oh you haven't? Well I have lots of times over the past few days because I am horrifically busy at work due to a deadline on a project we've been working on, which is making everybody tetchy, hypersensitive, and itching for a fight. There has been a lot of swearing, accusations, and eating of all things branded Haribo (God I love those sweets) and those delightful giant Marks & Spencer chocolate chip cookies.

For some light relief, last night B and I met up with my brother, who had me laughing so hard my face ached, within moments of arriving. My brother is a ridiculously funny, obnoxious but immensely lovable f*cker who doesn't seem to give a shit about anything. Within moments of arriving we somehow got on the topic of cheating and B asked him if he'd ever cheat on a girlfriend. With a horrified look he said, 'Oh no! I would never cheat on a girlfriend.' followed by a slight pause and then the completely straight faced addition of 'And that's why I don't call them girlfriends!'

This was the start of much screaming of laughter from myself and B. Other classics included:

On his newly acquired tiger tooth chain from the pawn shop:
'I like to buy jewellery from the pawn shop. That's p.a.w.n B.' Winks at her and then 'I think it's great to buy things with a story behind them.' He fingers the tiger tooth hanging from his gold chain. 'I mean look at this. This guy probably couldn't pay his electric bill or something. Did I mention by the way that medallions are in this year?'

On children:
B: When do you see yourself having kids?
Bro: Oh definitely by the time I'm 32
NML: I thought you said you were ready to have a kid now (He's 26)
Bro: Oh I am. I could definitely have a kid now.
NML: So you're ready to get a girlfriend then?
Bro: Jesus no! I said I wanted a kid not a girlfriend!

On the ex:
Bro: I like a girl to be a bit mysterious. You know, hold a little something back. You don't want to suggest something to a woman and she's doing it before I've even finished asking. I mean come on man, keep a little something back. Act like you don't want me or something!
NML & B: (Both jumping in with the same scuzzy thoughts) Why, did you ask her for anal sex? NML: Actually, don't answer that.
B: Is that seriously why you don't fancy her?
Bro: Well men like to have the chase and the bit of mystery. You don't want the woman to want you all the time.
B: Like being up for sex?
Bro: Yes. Sometimes you want her to say she has a headache, she's not up for it. Then I know that I have to try harder and next time I bring around flowers. You know, it keeps me on my toes. It's keeps the interest there.
NML: What? So even when you get into a relationship with a girl and she's become your girlfriend, you still expect her to do all of that shit?
Bro: Hold on now. I never said anything about a girlfriend. I told you I don't do girlfriends!

On my sex life:
Bro: Sex life? What sex life? You're a virgin and don't you forget it! It's not like my sister has been having sex. (Tries to give me a very stern look and then turns to B) Oh, and you're a virgin too!

On his sex/love life:
Bro: I'm just a bastard. I'm no good for a woman. I travel so much that I can't be around and when I'm here, I don't want a woman trying to pin me down. Next thing you know she's calling all the time, wanting to know where I am, wanting to know when I'll see her, and then she wants to see me at the weekend.
NML: I thought you didn't like them to want to see you during the week.
Bro: Hmmm, yeah that too.
NML: I thought you were a virgin (Struggling to keep a straight face)
Bro: Yeah, course I am (Winks at B)

On B and I finishing work at 5.30:
Bro: Gosh, they really work you guys like slaves in there.

On his morning routine:
Bro: I wake at 6.30 am. Then I kind of lie there and watch Sky News and then BBC News. Then I get my breakfast of porridge and watch Friends, followed by Everyone Loves Raymond and at least one episode of Will and Grace.
B: F*cking hell. Do you not have to be at work?
Bro: Mmm, I don't really like rush hour. I like to take my time getting to work. I try to get into work for 10/10.30 and try to get finished up by 4. I get all the shit I need to get done between those times.

Ladies and gentleman, my brother is an instant cure for a bad day at work. My face ached last night when I got home from last night, and I laughed even harder when B told me that he paniced when a hobo got on the tube with them last night. He's scared of crazy London people - apparently London is full of people trying to rob him, crazy people, ho's and pimps. Hilarious!

I spent almost 90 minutes talking to The Contender when I got back from yet another drink with my team to make us feel better (twice today). I am seeing him tomorrow night and looking forward to it. I'm meeting him after work so I'll have to make sure I look hot to trot when I head off to work. I know that I like him because he mentioned about spending more time at his parents place for the next while, which is a bit far from London. I must have held my breath or something as he went to pains to stress that it was only for a few days a week and temporary until the house gets sorted with his ex.

I try not to read too much into things that are said because it's easier on my brain and my emotions. That surely can't be a bad thing........

Bigus Dickus - Does Size Really Matter?

Willies are all the rage at the moment. Or depending on your turn of phrase, dicks, c*cks, penises, dumbsticks, lovesticks, magicsticks, willies etc. Whatever the word, the fact that size matters seem to be a topic of conversation with those around me. Now it could mean that everybody I know is dick obsessed, but I think people just like to banter about dicks because they make a good topic of conversation.

When I was out on Friday, in super-NML fashion, I got a girl to fess up on the details of a hot romance with a certain blogger that shall remain unnamed! Now I was looking for her to tell me how the hell the two of them had gotten together in the first place, and whilst she did give me the details, what she seemed to focus on was the fact that he had a big dick. In fact, she told me it was the biggest that she'd ever had. I howled with laughter as I know this guy very well (not that way!) and his head (the one on his shoulders!) would swell to massive proportions. Now I did wonder if she was doing the whole cliche thing because he's black (seemingly every black man is supposed to be hung like a donkey) and she made such a song and dance about it being a big one, but her fascination with his size seems to have explained her near obsession with him. It didn't seem to matter that he wasn't interested in anything long term with her..........

Or take my friend John (B's boyfriend) - Every opportunity he gets he goes on and on about how big his dick is. I keep telling him that those who talk about it don't usually have anything to talk about, but he insists that he has 'plenty' to talk about. He is really, really proud of it and I'm sure that it's his best friend in the universe. John, it's not how big it is, it's what you do with the damn thing! B will of course have her own 'views' on such things!

I was over at Breakup Babe's and she also had some Bigus Dickus, and it made me realise what we are willing to put up with a man has a big willy and knows how to work it like a pro. We will forgo conversation, a meeting of the minds, and a chance to build a relationship for men that have little else to them other than what hangs between their legs. I know women who have lost everything over a man that will sex them right. I know women who are so blinded by how good they get it from guys that are mucking them around, that there is just no reasoning with them.

Fortunately I have never been one of these women because I've always been able to separate dick and good sex from the other stuff that I need to be paying attention to. Sex is not a weapon when you're around me! I don't care how good you do it. If you mess NML round, I'll turf your arse out. Just ask my exes! ;-)

And I mustn't forget the 'debates' I have when I get together with the girls. I find that the women I know fit into 2 clubs:

1: The Just Enough To Make You Feel A Little Uncomfortable Club
2: The So Big It Feels Like it Could Tip Your Throat When He's Inside You Club

And harsh as it is, I am yet to come across any members of the yet to be formed The So Small That I Mistake It For a Finger Club. Let me know if you want a membership card......

I'm from the first club, and a distinct believer that size does matter. Whilst I won't claim to have been around the block, I have enough experience to know that I do not like being ridden ragged by a big willy for ages. For me personally, it is a one way ticket to a UTI/cystitis, and being left feeling more than a little raw. Some people seem to like this because for the next day or so, they can relive the memory of every ecstasy filled moment (or in my case wince inducing moment) with every step they take and every wee they make.

I am positive that the prospect of cystitis (guys, you have no idea what it feels like to feel like you're passing glass!) is enough to actually make me tense up further. I may take steroids and have got a little bigger in places, but not where it matters in this case!

I believe that a healthy combination of girth (nobody wants a pencil) and length is just what is needed. You know it's there, but you don't have to think it's still there for days after you've left him! Also, maybe it's just me, but what if you had so much bigus-dickus that you got all wide down there?

I know lots of women that claim to love big dicks or 'Bigus Dickus' - all card carrying members of the second club. Part of their excitement is just seeing one and the prospect of what it will do to them. For some of them, the fact that it's big (width normally has its part to play here) is all they need to get pleasure and he doesn't have to do much to get them going. I don't think there's very much creativity to this - It's just that thin line between pleasure and pain......

And then there's dicks so small that, well, you can't feel a thing. Now I must say that small is in the eye of the beholder/receiver. The only time when we're all going to agree that it's definitely small is when it's the size of your thumb/cocktail sausage. There is no disputing the size in that case! But I think it's safe to say that one woman's small dick is another woman's average dick.

Think about it: If you're a woman that has been getting a good seeing to from lets say something that's the size of a large banana, and then you get something more reminiscent of a cocktail sausage, of course you're going to friggin complain! But if you're a woman who has had average sized dicks then you might be able to accommodate something slightly smaller.

Ultimately great sex is about a connection between two people, but size or how you fit together will help to make that great connection in the first place. Has anybody ever had amazing kisses with someone and felt like you've got an unbelievable connection, only to be left disappointed between the sheets? I'm sure it's happened to us all.

One of the things that will make every man paranoid is when you're out having a few drinks and you measure the distance between his thumb and index finger. Apparently this old wives tale claims that it indicates the length of his dick and you'd be amazed at how the guys try to stretch their fingers to impossible lengths! Or just look at a guys shoes for long enough and he'll get a little paranoid!

Oh and just so you do know guys, it's about what you do with it. You can have the biggest dick in the world, but if you don't know how to do it, you've got a drill with no drill bit, a nut with no bolt, bread but no butter, sugar but no Koolaid, ham but no burger. The sh*t's not right!

Now I'm off to bed. All this dick talk has left me feeling.............tired!

10 Reasons Why I Know I'm Single/Living Alone

Yesterday I had yet another moment of clarity that I am single and maybe just a bit of a dizzy....when I set my wok on fire. This has prompted me to blog about the Ten Reasons Why I Know I'm Single/Living Alone. Now before I get to the list, I must of course tell the story!

Now I must admit that the reason for my distraction was non other than the wonderful Dating Dummy, who was celebrating his 30th yesterday (Happy birthday my boy!) . I put the oil in the wok, turned the cooker on, and then remembered that I hadn't pressed send on the email I had composed for him. So I went and pressed send, got distracted, and next thing you know I smelt something odd. I hopped up and went into the kitchen and there is the f*cking wok up in flames.

Now I know what I should have done, but I'm not going to lie. I'll tell the truth. I froze. Then I snatched the bloody thing off the hob, shoved it one side, and stared at the flames. And then Lord knows why, but I slammed the kitchen door behind me, grabbed my mobile phone and spent a few seconds deliberating on who was the best person to phone in my crisis. And then a rational thought crept in and got my arse in gear:

'NML, what the f*ck do you think you're doing? Your bloody kitchen could be burning down right now. In fact, my arse might be toast very soon if I don't get back in there and sort it out. Now move!'

I went back into the kitchen and fortunately the fire had gone out. It was so full of smoke, I had to cover my mouth with a towel and try to open the window. It was then I noted that there was a fire blanket thingy on the wall. Then I started to have a choking fit and made my rapid escape out of the kitchen slamming the door behind me.

I told The Contender about it last night when I spoke to him on the phone and he howled with laughter and then told me off for being so silly. Oh dear....

So here are Ten Reasons Why I Know I am Single/Living Alone:

1) Emergencies!I had a choking fit the other day and if I had keeled over there would have been nobody around to save me. Not being able to breathe and flailing around for that non-existent someone at your side is horrible. Also running from the scene of a fire could have been curtailed by the existence of a sensible male at my side. Or I could have just used the poxy fire blanket!

2) For some profound reason, I am fascinated by the possibility of dying (obviously when I am old but still single) and being found dead after 2 weeks with Alsatians feasting on me. I told this to The Contender and again, he pissed himself laughing and asked, 'NML, where the f*ck do the Alsatians come from?' I don't even like big dogs and I would never own an Alsatian.

3) I own a rabbit. I may not use it very often (used a total of 3 times meaning that the cost per use is £6!) but it is there as a reassuring comfort blanket that should I never see the light of dick ever again, there is plastic to keep the fires burning. Did I say fire? Bad word....

4) I throw away sh*tloads of food each year. Cooking for one and grocery shopping for one is a wasteful experience. The supermarkets seem to think that all single people want to do is eat meals for one and when you buy fresh food or anything that isn't microwaveable, it tends to be for 2 people or more. I can't eat as quick as the food goes off, and I'm not going to eat the whole lot in one go otherwise I'd turn into a ten ton tessy and potentially reduce my chances of nabbing a man even further! I do freeze stuff, but I forget to take it out the freezer which means I have to go to the supermarket or eat out and start the whole process all over again!

5) I shower/use the toilet with the bathroom door open. This is a bad habit and I've come close to doing this when I have visitors! Fortunately I've caught myself just in the nick of time!

6) My mothers queries about my lovelife and her future grandchildren are becoming a little more frantic. The funny thing is, if I had become a single mother a few years ago, she'd have beat me to within an inch of my life (or at least threatened to!) but now she would be overjoyed. She's started calling me a 'Career Woman' which is codeword for Disappointing Daughter That Hasn't a Steady Man and is Showing No Signs of Producing Grandchildren.

7) My friends that are attached all seem to have this desperate, overwhelming need to see me settle down with someone. They all want to know about the lovelife, and on Monday mornings I always get asked by my colleagues if I met a man over the weekend. It makes me want to shout, 'I am a complete person on my own you know!'. If one more friend introduces me to a man with a knowing look or tells me that they only wish that I could experience some of the happiness that they are, I will scream!

8) I dress to impress every day from the underwear down to the shoes. Always wear nice underwear even when you have the painters and decorators in is my advice. This isn't because I am afraid of being run over in a horrid pair of knickers, but more because I might just get whisked away by the man of my dreams or Brad Pitt/Morris Chestnut/Mark Wahlberg /Colin Farrell might just hear my desperate pleas and come and save me. Not that I'm saying that a man would see my knickers the first time, but they help you feel good!

9) I daydream about weird stuff. Whenever I get talking to a guy for the first time, I find myself imagining if I could see myself out with him, and occasionally I have wondered what the kids would look like. Once when I went on a date with a man built like an American footballer, I was horrified with thoughts of what would happen if he was on top of me having sex. Or there was the guy that blinked incesstantly (like a bloody porcelain doll with those funny blinking eyes) and I had visions of me married to him and being surrounded by him and our four incesstantly blinking children. Oh dear....

10) I find myself crying at silly sh*t on the TV. I was watching something with The Contender a few weeks back and had to pretend I had got dust in my eye. I cried today when Junior got married in My Wife and Kids. I sometimes purposefully watch things to have a weep, like Boys In The Hood. I am sure that if I was attached and getting a regular seeing to, my emotions would be a bit more balanced and I probably wouldn't have time to cry over such ridiculous things. Did I mention that I always cry at the end of Ghostas well?

Reading this back to myself, I wonder if I'm a bit nuts. Then I wonder if this is why I am single. Then I wonder if I think too much. Then I realise that this is why it would be good to have a man as I wouldn't have the energy to think about such sh*te! Then I would be burning up my energy pondering the hows and whys of his behavior. Jaysus, I can't win!

Just got off the phone with The Contender. He seems quite keen at the moment. I am behaving myself and being cool, calm and collected. I promise!

Are men really afraid of crowding women?

Due to my recent dramas and also my journeys as I surf through my blog pals blogs, I am discovering that a lot of guys are afraid of smothering a woman and want to ensure that they give her space.

On the flip side, as usual, women such as myself are wondering when the hell they're going to see their guy, hear from him, and pondering how much he likes her.

It's the old adage, that with a lot of men, it's one extreme or the other. You either hear sweet f*ck all from them or they're stalking you and you've got a restraining order to keep things under control. Can't they all just strike a balance?

If I'm casually seeing someone (American style dating), I'm not particularly fussed about how often I hear from a guy. If I haven't actually been on a date, I despise texting because it makes me feel like a dick.

Example:
'Hey there sexy. Hope ur well. I really enjoyed talking to you last night. How was ur day?'

Now I never know how to reply to texts like this. Do I say 'Fine';'Great';'Work was shit. I woke up late....';'I feel terrible';'Horrid period pains...'. You get the idea...and yes I am being sarcastic re my responses!

I always get edgy when I get lots of texts/phonecalls/emails from a guy that I haven't gone out on a date with yet. It does make me think they're clingy and a bit too eager beaver for my liking. If they text etc as much as this without putting up with me for an evening, what the hell will they do after that?

However, if I am seeing you that is a whole different kettle of fish. Take The Contender. I am not calling him my boyfriend but we are seeing each other. Before we both went on our respective trips, we heard from each other in some way, shape or form pretty much every day since we got it together 5/6 weeks ago. Before we kissed, I heard from him most days. He gets back from his friggin holiday and I haven't seen him for 2 weeks and it takes him till the 2nd day to get in touch. I know he's busy. I know he's got a lot of stuff going on, but for crying out loud, would it have killed him to text or email me on Tuesday?

He shouldn't be afraid of crowding me or not giving me space because he hasn't minded edging his way into my life, kissing me till I swoon, cuddling me and making me laugh till tears roll down my face. Don't you think it's a bit late for him to worry about such things?

If he is worried about that, it's because he needs the space and he is afraid that I will crowd him at this difficult time in his life. Well I bloody well won't!

As for the crowding issue in the general sense, a woman wants to know that:

1. He is interested
2. He is consistently interested
3. That he's not leading a double life (got somebody else on the side - wife, girlfriend, fiance, boyfriend even!)
4. That he is thinking of her

This can all be done by being a little bit more attentive, by a guy calling when he says he will and not giving her many opportunities to think about whether she's being messed around.

In the typical way of the world, men are worried about crowding women, women are worried about the men not being wanting to be around them enough. Once again, there is a miscommunication between the sexes. Once again, men have taken something completely literally. Let NML break it down for you:

If you are a man and you hardly know a woman you shouldn't be:

1)Bombarding her with calls even when she says she'll call you next time
2)Turning up at her office demanding to speak to her
3)Calling in the middle of the night
4)Hanging around at her hangouts in the hope you'll bump into her even though she has told you when she'll see you next
5)Crying down the phone
6)Getting jealous and possessive
7)Kicking the sh*t of men that she talks to or about(or threatening to)
8)Be doing anything that will make her consider getting a retraining order, blocking her phone, having a few burly blokes come and sort you out.

If you're a man and you've had a few dates with a woman, being seeing her for a few weeks, consistently dating for a while (into months) you should:

1) Call the woman. Consistently. Regularly.
2) Call her unexpectedly because you thought of her, not just because you normally phone her at 6pm on a Wednesday. (Unless of course you're doing long distance)
3) Show her your interested in a flattering way which affords you both your space to have your separate lives whilst you conduct your blossoming relationship and discover whether it has the strength to go long term.
4)Stop worrying about crowding her or not giving her space, unless of course you have committed the above offences when you've hardly known a woman, which is when you should take heed!

So The Contender, if you can hear me (I hope to f*ck you can't because you don't know about the blog...yet) NML doesn't mind if you up the ante on the calls or seeing me. Crowd me a little!I'm a woman with my own mind and I make my own space.

Sometimes I Need To Shut The Hell Up

Well, it seems that my phonecall dilemma struck a chord, which only makes me feel very guilty!
Where do I start......

About half an hour after I got into work yesterday, I received an email from The Contender telling me that he had been really tired when he got back on Monday, and that after another long nights sleep on Tuesday after watching the football, he was feeling miles better. I replied back a while later (didn't want to appear too keen) but kept it brief but friendly. About two hours later I got another reply, and at the end of it he was asking what I was doing this week. I knew where this was leading and when he replied a while later saying that he was busy all weekend (trying to sell house, mates etc) but that he was around last night or Thursday. I've got to admit it, I felt just a little bit pissed off because I felt like I was being shoe-horned into his hectic schedule. So I phoned up B for a bitching session and I was pleasantly surprised!

Now I must point out that normally I am the voice of reason, dishing out advice to all of my friends. It's that old chestnut that it's very easy to be wise when it's not your own relationship. I have counseled B many an occasion so it was a lovely surprise to have her give me very soothing words of advice and a gentle, but firm verbal smack on the arse telling me the following:

The Contender has got a lot of stuff going on and I should let him have the space to sort that out. - Selling the home he shared with the ex, dealing with the ex etc

- Stop analysing the fact that he chose Wed/Thurs evening and recognise the fact that he does want to see me.

- Not to be a bitch when I see him.
- Enjoy his company.
- Chill the f*ck out.

But that she also understands my feelings and would and has felt exactly the same way in the past.

I do love B and she spoke a lot of sense. Reading all of the comments this morning, all of my blog-pals talk a hell of a lot of sense too. I love all of this support!

So I saw The Contender last night and we had a really nice evening. We had takeout from Nando's (chicken so good, black folks would have their Sunday dinner there) and caught up properly on each others lives over the last couple of weeks, and laughed and teased each other through various TV programmes. He even pretended not to be jealous when I spent an hour drooling over the eventual winner of the UK version of The Apprentice and I gave him lots of compliments to make up for it. I didn't do a heavy duty chat because I had got my sanity check (B and the blog-pals) and when I realised how much was going on with the house etc, I was thankful that I hadn't behaved like an arse. We were both smiling when I left him this morning and I'm back to being Miss Chilled Out. By the way, the smiling wasn't caused by a wild night by the way...........I was somewhat well behaved!

So yesterday was rather eventful. To add to it, MBF was being a little bit flirty with me yesterday (what is it about men sensing when you need a bit of attention?) but I put him back in his box!

I will respond to all of the comments from the previous post later on but thank you!

When Should A Guy Call?

The Contender got back yesterday from his few days away on the stag weekend (bachelor weekend for Americans) and I half expected to hear from him today. Now for all of those who've told me to be chilled, I am being, but my thinking about whether he should call had me pondering a few things.

How often am I supposed to be hearing from The Contender? Should I be annoyed if I don't hear from him for days at a time? If a guy is genuinely interested in you, doesn't he want to have regular contact?

It is at the back of my mind that he may call me before the evening is out, which will make me look like a right dick, but the beauty of having this blog is that I can offload my thoughts and ask for an opinion.

I don't want a guy who is so full on that I don't have a moment to breathe, but I'm at a stage in my life where I haven't got time for this playing games bullshit, and I want to know that he is interested. If he's not, he needs to speak up so that I can decide whether I want to be around. Much as I like The Contender, I don't want to be the woman he is passing time with after his big relationship, and then when he's done passing time and had a 'break', he'll skip on over to a new woman. Also, whilst I appreciate that he's only a few months out of his last relationship and still sorting out the house stuff, what about what I need and what I want? Is it all about him?

I'm not one for waiting by the phone. I'm not one of these women that will pace waiting for a phone call, and I certainly won't lose sleep over it. What would be the point? I must be missing something in my genes because I can't be arsed. It helps that I have had a whopper of a headache (I had a sneaky Hershey's Kiss courtesy of my US trip which seems to have kicked off this headache) so I came home early and have been dozing in and out of the drivel that is on TV. Until I started writing this post, I swear I hadn't given the whole phonecall thing a huge amount of thought, but at least I have let them out, so I won't be dwelling on them.

Am I being a bitch? Jaysus, this relationship mallarky sure is hard work, and that's just when I'm on my own thinking about it!

I just got off the phone from my boy Soho Knight who entertained me for 45 minutes about life out in Dubai. It sounds so cool and he also sounds like a right tart, but hey, he's enjoying himself!
One of my colleagues came into visit with her gorgeous month old baby. I was the first to hold her and I had the piss taken out of me by the guys as they think I'm really maternal and a hit with babies. I think I have shattered their arse-kicking, computer game playing, naughty swear words using, f*ck-me-boots wearing illusion of me. I vow when I have gotten over this hideous headache to bring them crashing back to reality!

Must go...........the pain is creeping back.

Say What?

The Bank Holiday weekend has come and gone and I am shattered. This is partly down to going out every night from Wednesday to Sunday and also going to the gym on Sunday and Monday. I didn't realise how much pain I was in until I attempted to walk to work from the bus stop and looked like Whoopi Goldberg/Tina Turner. Oh the pain! I smiled at a guy as I was crossing the road and then promptly slipped on a mystery puddle. Mor-ti-fied! Naturally I pretended it hadn't happened and walked into the office with my head held high, inwardly grimacing!

I went to a charity do at a tennis club on Sunday and it was then that I was reminded that when two single women turn up at a do full of couples and defensive wives, we are the predatory singles. The women were unbelievably rude which only encouraged me to give beaming smiles to their boyfriends and husbands and pull out the moves on the dancefloor. Fortunately it had been really sunny that day so I was in a short summery skirt that swayed nicely when I shook my bum on the dancefloor. What cows!

They started playing disco tunes and about ten people started doing a routine which was reminiscent of being at an exercise class. I tried to continue dancing but the aerobic/jazzercise carry on made me feel as if I was losing my rhythm, so being a pisstaker, I broke into scissor snaps and started bending over and touching my toes, and strangely enough, the dance routine came to an end....... My friend had tears of laughter rolling down her face and all you could hear was me saying 'This dancefloor is like being in a bad 80s music video. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em!' And a 1,2,3,4....step 2,3,4......

I went to the gym again yesterday and spent just over half an hour on the treadmill and did some stomach crunches. Today my arse feels like someone gave me a good hiding and my legs are stiff. I will not cave though and will force myself into the gym this evening.

B called over to me yesterday and we had a good catch up. John has gone away and I whilst I will take the piss out of her a bit for having loads of time to see me now that he's gone, I will also enjoy getting some quality time in. Maybe the day will come when I won't have as much time for the girls because of a man in my life so I am enjoying her company when I can.

The Contender should be back from his weekend away so I should be hearing from him at some point today. And if I don't I won't call him a bastard.......or sulk.

Wonders will never cease. I had a man apologise to me a few moments ago without any prompting from me. He is a reader of one of our magazines and he was so unbelievably rude to me about something that had nothing to do with us. As he mouthed off at me, I told him not be so rude to me, which inflamed him even more.

Reader: Go on. Say it. Say it. I just want to hear you say it
NML: Say what? (Wasn't trying to be ghetofied here, it was a genuine question)
Reader: Say thank you for calling you up and letting you know this. Just say it! (Now shouting)
NML: Yeah...... thanks.
Reader: See. All you had to do was say it.
NML: Bye! (I hung up at this point as it was very tempting to be a horrible cow)

When I got off the phone I was raging and used a volley of expletives which caused my colleagues to crack up laughing. Then he only goes and calls me back to say that he'd made a mistake and that he wanted to apologise. I accepted it graciously, but I must say, I was surprised. It's not even my job to take calls from readers and it is very difficult for me to take stick from people that will not listen to reason. Still, he did apologise.........

Right I must go. Duty calls and I really should do some work. I'd have posted last night if Blogger would let me.......