Single bells.

Oh god. Please do not even remind me that soon it will be November and Christmas party mode will be in full swing. I literally cannot stand another Christmas of watching couples curled up next to the Christmas tree, trading thoughtful gifts. I am a deep, heartfelt romantic, but I’ve been single for too many a Christmas now and I’m starting to lose my soppy, sentimental edge.

‘Tis the season to be jolly?' Clearly the person that sang ‘Deck the halls’ met their true love in high school or got absolutely off their face at Christmas time – and by the slurring of the lyrics, I’m going for the latter. You may think I’m taking this to the extreme, but not many people can say that they have never had a boyfriend at Christmas. I’m still deciding whether this is, in actual matter of fact, a curse.

I’ve recently realised I should start buying Christmas presents soon too. Otherwise I’ll be another one of those stereotypical shoppers that leaves everything to last minute, and has to elbow some old lady out of the way, so she doesn’t pick up the last cashmere cardigan that I had been planning to get for mum. Because of course, everyone commits this obscene act.

It’s so hard to think of presents to get everyone! But hey, at least I don’t have to think of one for a boyfriend, since he doesn’t exist – oh lucky me.

Scrooge much? Well actually, no, not really. However if you were I, I’m sure that you’d be fed up of transforming into Bridget Jones, minus those fabulously large pants, around this time of year. I don’t get the hideous woolly jumper either, but I suppose everyone feels sorry enough for me, without inflicting any more misery.

On the other Grinch-like hand, I do truly love Christmas. It’s time off uni for a start! One whole month - can’t grumble at that. But more seriously, it’s a period where I get to spend time with my family, not have to feel guilty about how fat I’m getting, and kick everyone’s bums at a family game of ‘floaters’.  Now you tell me, who wouldn’t want to be part of that?!

Regardless of being single, I will always love the holidays. It’s something in the air that just springs excitement; the crispness of the ice on the floor, and the warmth of a cheeky Baileys by the fire.

Who knows, I might even meet someone at the Christmas turn on of the lights. Just so long as he’s not wearing matching tops with me, I’m alright with it. And if his name is Mr Darcy, well I suppose I can live with that too.

The Chase - Love and Loathing.

When a single girl starts the long and hard search for another potentially decent boyfriend, it is not a quest taken light-heartedly. It seems that plenty of decent people come up to you when you’re taken, but as soon as you stick your single hands up to Beyonce at a club, the idiots run your way. You end up with a sudden need for a loo break, and the next 20 minutes are consumed with asking every girl that enters the rest room if there’s still a short, snively guy waiting outside.

I much prefer the chase.

The chase means that neither of you are looking for a one-night-stand. If you were then you’d just get it over and done with. It means that there’s some wit about the person; a somewhat protective side to not give in to easily to temptation, without making sure the opposition is mentally stable. The chase has certainly got to be one of my new favourites.

On the other hand, some people like to be chased, but when it comes to returning the favour they get bored and opt out. What let down’s these people are! But they’re the ones missing out. Unfortunately for these individuals, they have not obtained the skill to work tactfully, which brings me to my next point – a chase shows a man has brains to think carefully with their head, not just in the nether region.

This wonderful tool eases your way back into the world of dating, because it gives you the rush of having someone, without the commitment for a while. You can test the waters and if you don’t like them then you have no obligation to an oncoming date.

Regrettably though, it doesn’t always work in your favour. Sometimes it goes on for too long, or you can get confused about where the game is going. A Kate Winslet look-alike you become, pacing after Jasper in ‘The Holiday’. Sometimes its just time to realise it’s not working out. But it’s still my favourite thing to do in dating at the moment. So bring on the next contestant.

My pre-halloween blooper.

Have you ever come to that point in a relationship with a guy, where you don’t know how much sharing is too much?

I got this recently when some things in my life caused me to change from being the happy, chipper person I normally am to a pre-halloween doom-fest – significantly freaking out the guy I like.

It got to that awful part in the conversation when you get gut-wrenching butterflies just waiting for him to respond, so you know how he took your message; feeling like the whole worlds rotating existence depends on his vital reply.

Naturally checking my blackberry every quarter of a second, I cursed myself for maybe being a bit too truthful about the reality of my life at the moment – that I’m carrying more baggage than a 747.

Of course, he would have to be in lesson when I sent this message (or so I would hope due to the shameful time span in which it took for him to reply) and I can’t say a tiny wincing noise didn’t come out when I did end up reading his response to my brutally honest life story.

Yes, letting him no that my life isn’t perfect caused him to slide into ‘brain fart’ mode and more or less say ‘Ok, please stay away from me.’. As you can imagine, I immediately started booking my ticket to Pluto. I’ve heard it’s nice this time of year anyways. Free from anyone who’s going to see the bee-sting red cheeks I had at that moment in time.

I felt like Michelle from ‘How to lose a guy in 10 days’, committing classic pre-dating crimes. I was just thankful that I stopped myself from telling him everything that I had eaten that day. But what harm can it to now… some toast, Doritos… and a foot apparently.

Fear not though, because after some serious relaxation and realisation later that night, a bottle of wine and a Friends episode that I’ve seen 1000 times before later, I had a revelation...

Australia’s much prettier than Pluto any day. What WAS I thinking? 

Im so sorry!

I can’t believe that I have been away from blogging for so long. But I suppose when things crop up, you have to deal with them as and when they come along. Unfortunately for you my wonderful readers, not much of what has happened as been boy related. I’m still deciding whether that’s a good or bad thing.

But the main thing is that I’m back – and I have also gone back to uni. So whilst my lecturers pile on the work in class, I’ll be trying to keep up with this as much as possible. Plus, it’s the perfect way to vent at the end of the day. And there’s already so much to talk about. So until then...

Speak soon and take care.

Ex Syndrome.

I am now on a playing field where I feel like it is not worth going out with another guy, if it isn’t Mr. Right (as unrealistic as that sounds) – because ex’s are absolute terrors.

Anyone would think I walk into relationships regularly with my eyes stitched shut. It’s so incredibly unexplainable how I end up with the ex from hell when he seemed so perfect at the beginning. Seriously, it is like breaking up with a guy turns him into this Voldermort creature that just wants to suck everything great out of life – without even the consideration of leaving one of those cool lightening scars!

Granted I am the biggest sucker for smooth talking and promise of an unforgettable romance, but I should have learned over the last 20 years that things are never what they claim on the tin. Especially when they come with ingredients such as testosterone.

When I look at some of my ex’s, I think, ‘I would never go out with someone like that’. Suddenly they say things I trusted them not to say when we were together, and the painful truth is outed that he only ever wanted his ex when he was with me. Fabulous times * insert sarcastic face here *.

The worst part is I’m a person that wants to stay friends with the majority of my ex’s when sometimes that’s just not possible (even though reading this, your probably wondering why).

This leads me to another explanation as to why I’m on the playing field I’m on now; I’m getting to frightened that the relationship won’t work out and I will lose another person from my life. Going out with someone usually means they are one of the closest people to me, so why would I want them going anywhere permanently?

If you thought things couldn’t get any worse, just wait. The ex in question will be living a few doors down from me in about a month, and I wont be able to escape seeing him!! Regrettably, I think somehow he will still recognise me when I try walking along with a Primark paper bag over my head and a sash across me with the words ‘yes, I’m your ex, trying to avoid ever seeing you again’. Another cunning plan from me – destroyed.

So I guess I shall have to be strong; walk with my head held high and my eyelids stitched open. Along with being really careful the next time I walk my local streets. When the next tin of testosterone comes flying towards my head, I’ll be sure to duck.

The Guy on a Tight Leash

I had a conversation a couple of weeks back with a guy I have been friends with for around 6 years. We’ve always been close, but when he got a new girlfriend 3 years ago things changed considerably, as the girl in question took a sudden disliking to me purely because I was a just that – a girl.

Now I’ve seen over-protective girlfriends in my time, but this somehow takes the crumpet. For a girl that has never met me, to suddenly inform me that I shall not see her boyfriend (previously my friend) seems slightly funny – or at least it did after getting over the shock from realizing she was being serious.

I mean, my parents used to get it in the ear from me, when they told me what to do when I was younger. I’m sure they understood my serious disliking when I went into an almighty strop and slammed my bedroom door, saying that I wasn’t going to come out ever again. Then again, I highly doubt the girl in question would respond to these tactics as well nowadays.

This got me thinking about how far I would let a partner of mine dictate what I can and cannot do. Following this I made up my mind that my friend wanted to ‘have his cake and eat it to’ – meaning he wanted to still be with his girlfriend, yet see me as well, and was willing to go behind her back if it meant getting it.

Now come on, I know I’ve been single for a few months now, but surely this was still considered wrong on both parts (though flattering on my behalf). The dating world hasn’t gone corrupt on me already has it?

So as we sat in my baby Clio, and I tried to maintain my attention on the road, I thought over what I would do in his situation. He claimed that it was difficult for him, as he had to go home to her every night, and if she was mad at him it wouldn’t be pleasant. But I just sat there thinking to myself, ‘no, you don’t have to do anything, you choose to; and yes I do think that’s wrong. But as long as your happy, who cares what anyone else thinks?’

I am now greatly in debt to my troubled friend. He made me remember that there are some perks to being unsettlingly single. For instance, you don’t have to save up your money only to buy an anniversary present instead of that dearly loved designer handbag you wanted. You never have to spend time with the in laws, and pretend that you always dreamed of being quizzed on your life to within an inch of your existence (as they secretly then reach for a documented folder they received from the spy who’s been investigating you, to make sure you follow the right political party and don’t have a part time job as an assassin.) And you never have to text anyone and to let them know where you are and what time you’ll be home (unless you have parents like mine).

Needless to say, the atmosphere got a bit awkward in the car that night, and I haven’t seen him since. Guess the girlfriend chained him up when he got home, and he won’t be going for ‘walkies’ again any time soon.

So I said to him, ‘yeah, I’m single. Boys are too much hassle’.

This was after 10 minutes of him driving me around in my car, claiming he was trying to find out why the wheels were making a funny ‘rrerrr’ing noise.

When he asked my mum if I was going to be getting out, I started scooping up my belongings and reaching for the car door handle, only to be re-informed that I would be going along for the drive; which I found out from my mother later, he wasn’t overly upset about.

Mechanic Man was 3 or 4 inches taller than me, and covered in oil from changing other people’s tyres. Shamefully all I could think about was him getting it all over my car seats. I cringed as oily clothes hit clean seating – then my third degree commenced.

Granted, Mechanic Man was lovely. Making light conversation and banter, I later realised he got me to spit out almost everything bar where I was born and what shampoo I used.

For a few minutes we debated about who’s got the best holiday plans.

‘I just got back from Portugal’ I said, flashing my new golden tan, hoping with all my might that I hadn’t started peeling yet – because that would be super attractive!

‘I’m going to Ibiza with the lads later this year’ he came back with. ‘Oh really now’ I thought to myself. Well if your upping the stakes..

‘I’m going to New York in December, and Tokyo next year’ I replied with a slight grin. He informed me he’d love to go to New York and I couldn’t resist slipping in that I used to live outside of it when I was younger. As he laughed and granted me 1- 0 he asked for my name. ‘Helena’ I said, ‘and yours?’ ‘Robbie*’ he replied.

By the time we pulled up in the car park outside the garage he was asking me if I was single – about the only information left to gather from me by this point. I looked at him as his cheeky smile shone through and I replied, ‘yeah I’m single. Boys are too much hassle’.

Whilst he fixed my car, my mum found it her sole mission to embarrass me by announcing loudly that she thought he liked me. Mums are great like that aren’t they? But it turns out that wasn’t the deal breaker.

As he handed the keys back to me, and I got in the car to drive off – there was only one thing he could do ruin our whole conversation. And he did it.

‘Bye Anna’ I heard, as I sped off into the distance.

Close but no cigar Robbie*. I drove on.

*Name Changed.

Where's my 'Dean'?

Have any of you ever read ‘Guitar Girl’ by Sara Manning? Well if you have, then you’ll understand what I mean when I say that I want, without a shadow of a doubt, to have a ‘Dean’ in my life.

Dean is the captivating character in this teenage romance book. He’s the converse wearing, acoustic playing god that I admire because he’s just so perfect for me. I dare say he could be the love of my life!

A modern day Mr Darcy it would appear; he’s etching away at the surface of the girl he loves most – and she can’t stand it. And she can’t stand him.

Just by his purely disruptive and unwelcome presence, he rattles Molly - the main character who is trying to start a band. However the teasing that goes on between them both, amongst the ‘banter’ and carelessness, leads them to fall in love.

Being of a ‘super sarcastic’ and teasing nature myself, I find this deeply intriguing. The thought of a guy that is willing to stand his ground and have his own opinion, yet worship the ground you walk on and love you to the stars and back is kind of attractive don’t you think? For me it’s a bit unheard of, but I’m willing to not give up hope … just yet.

Overall my past boyfriends have been very predictable. Of course sometimes there was a shock teddy bear or crème egg thrown in there but I could usually tell the outcome of every conversation we had.

I can’t help but now search for a guy that I can’t figure out; somewhat like this Dean character: someone who will debate with me, and not just agree with everything that I say, as I do find this immensely annoying…

I don’t want to know what’s waiting around the corner, and I certainly am tired of knowing what the guy I’m dating will do even before he does.

Unpredictability is an attractive quality, and it’s a shame more guys don’t know that. Or maybe I’m just difficult to impress.

So ‘Dean’, are you out there? If you are stop taking so bloody long, and come find me already! I don’t want to wait till the end of MY book!!

The Rules of a Singleton.

There’s nothing worse than walking along the street and seeing couples holding hands, when you’ve recently gone through a break up.

I’m sure each and every girl, (and maybe even guy) hopes that the couple in question don’t see where they’re going amongst all the lingering eye contact or wet-kissing, and instead just walk into a tree. That would teach them for torturing the new Singletons of this world, by rubbing their deep affection for each other in our faces!

It’s like every little thing now only exists to emphasise this painful new status we’ve incurred. There are no more romantic meals, and instead questionable looks or even winks from male waiters, when you eat out with your best girl friend. It never seemed to be the case that restaurants were only for the loved-up – yet somehow now you realise the unwritten law is just that.

So the new love of our life becomes the film channels and wherever sells Ben and Jerry’s at a discount price, since another unwritten law is that Singletons are meant to comfort eat their way into a coma; or at least until they have a mild case of diabetes.

Furthermore this rulebook implies that Singletons have to experience the ‘third wheel’ situation (Who would want to miss out on that ey?). It is unknown to the friends in question that your sitting there twiddling your thumbs, so you don’t text your ex asking if they miss you… and then regretting it about 10 minutes later when you see them across the bar, stuck by the face to another girl.

The only good thing about rules is that they are made to be broken. So grab your ‘galpal’, head for the nearest Pizza Hut, and order yourself a ‘Hot Cookie Dough Desert’. Perhaps even wink at the waiter – because men will be men, plus who ever liked going by the rules anyway?

Been in this situation like this? Let me know and comment below :)

The 21st Century Fairytale.

I hate typical sayings such as ‘there's more fish in the sea’ and ‘Mr Right will come along when you least expect it’ because I’m really not expecting him to arrive any time soon – therefore where is he?

I know that it’s unrealistic to expect Jude Law to knock on my door at three in the morning, drunk beyond belief and asking for a place to stay - one, because I’m not Cameron Diaz, and two, because I don’t live in Surrey.  But it has got to be said that films do give me false hope that my love life will be a fairytale, and I now refuse to give in to anything less  - as unrealistic as this may sound.

From a young age I have had an understanding that a prince was going to canter into my life on a white horse, and kiss me whilst I’m sleeping - this much I know is definitely fairytale. However, I would now quite happily settle for a man to walk (as I have a phobia of animals anyways) into my life, and take me out on a date. This 21^st Century fairytale is much more feasible – though unfortunately this also remains only a fairytale in my mind.

Through the relationships I have been in, I’ve not once been taken out on a true ‘first date’ – where both parties get to know each other on a relaxed common ground. The closest I’ve had to this was a meal with my ex to try and salvage our relationship. Not exactly the situation I was looking for.

So until this first date appears, I will take Miss Diaz’s advice and drink my amaretto and coke, (because I don’t like wine) and sing ‘Mr Brightside’ as loud as I can - enjoying myself whilst waiting for the doorbell to ring. After all, the Pizza Delivery man is on his way, and if he looks anything like Jude Law, he’s not going to know what’s hit him tonight.