The one that is too keen.

You know that feeling when you really like someone and they actually seem to really like you too?! They text you all the time, tell you how much they want to see you and even tell some of your friends how much they like you?

Well why is it that when you don’t like someone, or don’t know if you like someone, this sort of behaviour is completely and utterly off putting, no matter how early on into the acquaintance.

Maybe I’m just stone hearted and handle things badly. There was the time this guy told me drunkenly but honestly in a club that he “really, really” liked me after one hook up. My response? To say nothing and dance away whilst trying to mask my panic. Terrible I know. It’s not that I don’t care, I am a very caring person and I always want the best for the people I know. But I also don’t know how to handle this sort of situation without appearing like a monster. And the reason is simply that I can’t bring myself to hurt the other person so bluntly and brutally. Of course, face to face is the honest way but it just seems so hurtful. My method of texting is a complete No No but in a complete panic, it is usually the route I’ve had to take.

But all this aside, it doesn’t change the fact that it is always incredibly difficult to deal with that one person who is all heart and who just won’t give up, no matter how much you try to explain you’re not interested in them in that way.

One boy formed a strong attachment to me in very little time. One kiss too many on my part lead him to believe we could be together and I had to explain I wasn’t interested. Unfortunately he wasn’t deterred. We worked together so it was hard to avoid contact and my normal persona seemed to be taken as flirty, despite my immense efforts to ensure the opposite. He would tell our colleagues how much he liked me, creating great sympathy for himself and an unwelcome aggression towards me for not giving him a chance. But you can’t help how your heart feels and this constant pressure only made me feel more and more uncomfortable, pushing me in the completely opposite direction to what he intended. When we came to part, having worked only temporarily and with both of us having plans to move to different cities reasonably soon, he questioned whether I didn’t want things to happen because we were going to live apart because “we could easily get the train back and forth.”

Poor guy, I know he meant well, but knowing he was taking something that I saw as nothing and he was trying to turn it into a commuting, long distant relationship only made me feel more uncomfortable. Our last few working days were difficult and eye contact proved awkward. He would make sarcastic comments at me in his bid to deal with the situation, only making me feel worse, like I was a bad person. But we are all entitled to our own feelings and I simply couldn’t make them change. We’ve all been there, I have been the spurned girl before myself and I know that it hurts. However, the best way to deal with it is surely to take the hint, try and be friends without any pressure and see if things change, or otherwise just become accustomed to being just friends.

So I beg of you this, future men. Please, please take a chill pill. I will no doubt only like you more if you play hard to get (but not too hard!)

League Politics.

It may seem to be a very American thing to say, but the concept of leagues when choosing a partner is also a pertinent part of British society today. We have some understanding or estimation of how attractive/cool we are and then we weigh that up against potential partners to decipher whether we are equally balanced or whether one is far superior/inferior than the other.

It’s an ugly game, and one that many of us are kind enough to play only in our heads. But it can’t be denied that some people can be a lot more vocal about it, often those who believe themselves to be the be all and end all. Boys in bars turning their noses up at “skanks.” And of course there are those who feel they are not attractive enough for the girls in their company. It doesn’t have to be boys, it goes both ways. I for one have often been aware when I am out of my depths, surrounded by far more attractive girls than myself in a room of Adonis like men.

But this summer things changed for me. I am not saying I am extremely beautiful, for that would be a lie. But in the last year or two I have come into my own so to speak. The minutest of weight losses, a bit of hair growth and a better idea of how to apply my make up led me to become attractive or so I have been led to believe thanks to the increase of interest that I have received from the opposite sex (that’s not to say it’s led me any further to a boyfriend).

But it is amongst this increased attention that I’ve been made more aware about the whole league system. I don’t see myself as one who follows it…the men I’ve dated or had dalliances with have varied greatly in looks and background. I certainly don’t require a type or expect a certain level of attractiveness or specific interests to draw me in. Despite this it seems that other people do like to make themselves aware of all this type of rubbish.

Recently when working with a large number of people my own age, I heard of a boy discussing how he wanted to test out all the single ladies on site by talking to them all before deciding which, if any, he would bite the bullet with and attempt to woo. However, he announced that two of the girls were out of his league. And I happened to be one of them. Flattering but odd. Whilst it’s nice to be ruled out on account of being seen as attractive, it is also depressing to discover that people would avoid you or not give you a chance because they deem you to be out of their league. Well what if I don’t care about leagues? What if I can’t control who I like and it happened to be you? But that seems to be the way our system works.

And it didn’t end then. I told one dalliance of mine that I wished for things not to go further, something he had hoped was a possibility. Having turned to many of our mutual friends for advice on what to do about me, one girl took it upon herself to be as blunt as possible by telling him to look at me and look at himself to understand that I was far more attractive than him so how he could possibly think this could amount to anything. She then proudly told me this, leaving me mortified that someone would have had to hear such sharp, painful words. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if someone told me I simply wasn’t good looking enough to have a chance with a guy I really liked. For me, his appearance hadn’t played a factor in my decision. I had made the decision based on a simple lack of spark. There was no lightening flash like the ones that appear on the Sims (And I thank one of my best friends for coming up with such a great analogy) and it should have been up to me to tell him that, not for someone else to come up with their own theories based on unjust societal influences.

Unfortunately though this is how we work. We think less of the science behind attraction and care more for the rules that society puts down. Yes, as I’ve said it can be a flattering aspect but it shouldn’t be our focus. Can’t we just accept who we like and forget about the aesthetics of the situation? There’s nothing sadder than when people are embarrassed to reveal their true feelings because they feel inadequate. Or worse still are those who are too preoccupied with appearance that they are embarrassed to reveal their new partners because they deem them to be less attractive than them. It’s ridiculous and we all should stop being so shallow. Maybe this way, more people will be happy rather than putting up some sort of facade with people that they actually aren’t all that compatible with because society says they should be.

What Men Want

Drunken fibs

One boy didn’t want a relationship. We called things quits, remained friends and things were seemingly going well. We would see each other several times a week, watch films, share tales and the occasional tipple, both alone and in the company of others. My feelings, whilst not waning completely, altered and came to terms with the situation and began to lessen over time.

In hindsight maybe it was inevitable that after a rather lengthy four months had passed, I would drunkenly find myself in bed with him. The next morning we exchanged vague words – “I’m not opposed to friends with benefits”, “me neither”, then the change of mind…”actually we probably shouldn’t make a habit out of this.”

And then once or twice for the following four months we would find ourselves there again. Usually, but not always, after a glass too many of ethanol. At first he gave me the “I like sleeping with you, but I feel like it’s stopping us from seeing other people” speech, which, not wanting to lose a friend and already having acknowledged he hadn’t wanted anything more months earlier, I nodded along to without revealing, perhaps even to myself, that I still had hope of something happening. But after that nothing was ever said, it was like a silent rule underlying our weird relationship that it wouldn’t be discussed, much like we wouldn’t discuss other potential men or women in our lives, even though we knew we weren’t allowed to be the only ones for each other because we were just friends.

Then things became rocky. He became distant and it was clear he was actively avoiding letting things happen anymore. He would flirt with anyone and everyone around me, as if it were to prove a point, but still neither of us discussed it. I was angrily hurt inside but with only myself to blame for letting myself get to this place. There are warnings against friends with benefits everywhere but I had hoped for the best regardless.

It was about a month after the the coldness had began that I received a horrendously drunken phone call from him, barely able to string a sentence together. He asked me to come and help him, he was too drunk and couldn’t get home. And so I went and found him in a heap where he proceeded to be sick as I rubbed his back like good friends do.

And then he flung around, happy as Larry, wrapped his arms around me and declaired “I love you!” Then “ahhh you’re gorgeous and I don’t deserve you.” Taking it with a pinch of salt, he continued to repeat how gorgeous I was and how much he didn’t deserve me and how he wanted me to take care of him. When I replied that I was taking care of him he replied that he wanted me to take care of him properly, from which I can only determine that he meant more than just in this weird vomit ridden environment.

On the walk home he asked strangers passing by if they were good enough for me because he didn’t deserve me and compared my looks to what he described as a “gorgeously manicured lawn”, in reference to a french boules pitch.

All in all it was flattering, including the sicky passes he tried to make at me as if I were his own girlfriend. It didn’t last long and on my revealing to him all the things he had said, admitting I knew he had meant nothing by them, he turned further away from me again, abandoning me mere weeks later alone at a party to lock himself away in bed with one of the hosts.

And it hurt to have gone from hearing such sweet words, no matter how drunken, to being actively rejected. But again, I could only blame myself for getting involved.

And so it stopped there. We actively had dalliances with other people to each others knowledge, and whilst I didn’t stop caring entirely for him, I stopped caring about who he flirted with or took home and accepted my place in his life.

But it didn’t really stop there did it? Because now four months on again, we found ourselves back in bed together. And what should slip out of his drunken mouth but the words, “you’re the love of my life.” And said so sincerely I assure you.

I replied laughing that it wasn’t true and he too gasped embarrassingly and laughed in agreement. But I still question why his drunken mind leads him to say so much untrue rubbish when sober him actively acts like he couldn’t possibly see me in such a light.

But there is no real answer. Some research shows drunkenness leads to trueful expressions, whilst others are more likely to lie. I wish there were a clear answer, or that I were better at approaching such topics to find out what’s really going on in this boy’s head. But for now I can only take it as lies, because that’s all my heart can take.

“I really want a girlfriend, I just don’t see it being you”

Cuts like a knife. Anybody who has heard the above words, whether in as brutal a form or not, will understand how painful/awkward/uncomfortable they are to hear.

They were especially sore coming from someone who had previously seemed particularly keen, professing how lovely they think you and how beautiful you are inside and out.

What made it worse for me was that this person was really not my type and yet I’d fallen pretty quickly into thinking that my keen interest in this new, unfamiliar specimen must actually mean something.

Not to mention the eagerness to see me when we were first back in the same place after holidays and the like following our initial summer “fling” and the encouraging signs of actually wanting to spend reasonably regular time together (3-4 times a week). It seemed like for once it could actually be going somewhere.

Until along came the first signs of friend zoning, literally overnight. One day was normal and the next it had changed. Fewer texts were sent, nights leading to the bedroom were avoided and I was sent into confusion and distress. What have I done? Why has it changed? And then two weeks later, when I finally plucked up the courage to ask what was going on (I’m shy when it comes to confrontation), I was met with those words.

I really want a girlfriend. I just don’t see it being you.

Yes, it happens. Not everything can be reciprocal but it was as though he had gone to bed content and woken up the next day feeling completely the opposite. And I’d have appreciated an alternative choice of words. A simple “I just don’t think we’re right for each other” would have sufficed, after all he knows himself best. But rubbing in how much he wants a girl and how much you aren’t said girl is a pretty harsh thing to do.

What was more interesting was that this was followed by an explanation of how much he loves talking to me and how he thinks we can be good friends. It was an odd place to be in, being told how much you are appreciated but how you can’t be seen romantically. And you know what, in classic poor-life-choice style, I agreed. Cue further sagas.

We are still friends to date and a fair amount of time has passed, but it has been very difficult and if anything it has come with a lot of anger and jealousy. In some ways our friendship is hanging on an extremely fine thread and I can’t say I can see it lasting in the long run, which is both sad and liberating. I will be documenting some of these related experiences in the future, whilst hoping desperately that he doesn’t stumble across this blog…

Until then I bid you farewell!

A x

Sixteen orgasms

I must admit that as a Brit, dating hasn’t really been a major part of my life. As i’m sure many fellow Brits will agree, we are more accustomed to meeting potential love interests through school/university/work etc or thanks to having mutual friends and ending up at the same parties or gatherings. In fact, dating for those of us who do not live in London, where it seems to have taken off New York style, is quite a scary concept. However, with online dating websites and, more notoriously, apps such as Tinder, or Grindr, dating has been brought into the picture.

Now, I must tell you, I can be shy with strangers so it took me about 9 months of using Tinder before I actually had the courage to meet someone. And quite frankly the resulting date has left me only just able to begin contemplating going on another first date through Tinder after a whole 6 months. I am not saying that this man is terrible, in fact I’m sure he’ll be right for someone with his chirpy, bubbly and chatty personality and cute smile, but he simply wasn’t right for me.

And so here ladies and gentlemen is the story of what happened:

We had agreed to meet for coffee at 2pm. In order to prevent embarrassing stomach grumbles I ate in advance only to be told he’d come from the gym and was starving. Despite my offers to sit while he ate, or get something small, we somehow ended up in Subway (yes, I kid you not) where I was made, albeit perhaps due to my own inabilities to put my foot down, to eat a foot long. He paid (although I would normally prefer to go dutch),which I must admit softened the blow of having to eat something I hadn’t wanted in the first place.

Following this great start were a couple of compliments, i.e.,

“So how come someone who looks like you is single? What’s wrong with you? There must be a reason.” – whilst appreciating his appreciation of my appearance…fathoming an answer to such a question is horrifying. Do I have some sort of personality disorder? Is there something wrong with me? Maybe I do, but I have a reasonable number of lovely friends which I like to believe means I can’t be all that terrible really…

The next section of the date was okay, nothing awful to note. He was a big talker, which I suppose is a good thing really as it removed awkward silences from the equation. Unfortunately for me, it was also a killer. He told me within an hour that he was interested in taking things further (future men, whilst it’s flattering, it’s also very bold and in some cases, as with this, will scare a poor shy bairn away). He also told me one of the reasons was because, unlike other girls, he could tell I didn’t care what people thought because I hadn’t spent my time checking my reflection in the window. Again, flattering but a rather early observation of someone who actually took a good length of time to achieve the “I’m casual” look.

For some of you, all of these things would have been fine, They wouldn’t have pushed you away and you’d have had a great time. But for me it was all a bit much and the Game Over point came when the conversation turned to sex (1.5 hours in). Don’t get me wrong, I am no prude. In fact I love talking about (and having) sex. What I don’t think is appropriate however is to ask a girl you’ve just met, who has just been open enough to admit having been single for three years, if that means she’s not had sex for three years and, if she has, when was the last time it happened. None of your business my friend! (Though I would like to tell you all that it had not been three years but rather a few weeks). This somehow led onto a conversation about his sex life and the following mindblowing confession:

Him: I once made a girl cum 16 times

Me (in disbelief): oh wow, like in what time frame?

Him: About 40 minutes.

Me (thinking): Well, anyone would be lucky to get one out of me in that time…

Me (out loud): ohhh.

Him: Yeah I could tell from how wet she kept getting.

HOLD THE PHONES!!

Now I can’t speak for everyone, but I’d be very impressed if someone really could orgasm sixteen times in 40 minutes (that’s one every 2.5 minutes!) and for him to know only from her body rather than from her words, I simply can’t believe that it’s true.

For me, someone so sure of their sexual abilities in off putting. A little modesty can go far. And it is for the reason that our relationship never took off. Equally, perhaps I am wrong and I am missing out on the best sex of my life…we shall never know.

And so that concludes Tinder date one, but hopefully there will be more to come. And maybe just maybe I’ll meet someone who doesn’t need to brag about how many orgasms he can give to get into my pants….

A x

Hello!

Hello, hello, hello,

Yet another single girl moping around about her relationship status I hear you say! Well, first things first…yes, I am single however that does not mean I am unhappy. So please do not see this blog as an expression of my desperateness for I assure you that is not at all the case. Rather I will be using this space to report on any dates I go on (although few and far between I warn you now) and recall past horror stories, as well as happy memories.

Equally I wish not to use this as a place to attack the opposite sex. Whilst I may indeed moan and groan on about what ex boyfriend 1 used to do or how terrible a date I’ve been on, I am perfectly aware that I am flawed and that the poor guys involved would also have plenty of negative comments to say about me. Having said that, the most disastrous situations and people make for a good story so it is somewhat unavoidable to expect me to be nice all the time.

So I hope you enjoy reading about my blunders and hopefully the light at the end of the tunnel will come eventually too.

Bisous,

A x