Sunday, 26 October 2008

The Accidental Fuck Buddy

I have always felt that women get the raw end of the deal in dating. There is this immense pressure to behave the right way in order not to scare off the object of our affection. You don't want to seem too keen, because you might scare them off, but too distant and they think you are not interested. You seem to need to create the impression that you are interested but you don't need them, you fancy them but you could get someone else if you needed to. Possibly the hardest balance to strike! As a result we are thrown into the world of rules, forced to keep track of things like whether or not he was the last person to text/e mail and whether you should call him or wait for him to call you? You met him on Friday so you have to wait till at least Sunday before you text him, unless of course he text's you in which case you wait an hour to reply and fabricate some reason for the delay. "Sorry It took me so Long to reply, I was busy being fabulous" or something to that nature. In reality if I like the bloke I have a tendency to watch my phone with beady eyes until it vibrates then do a little happy dance when it goes off.

So you can imagine my trepidation upon landing myself in this situation. Everyone has that guy, from their past, that guy who even though your lives have changed dramatically, still makes you go weak at the knees. For me it's Bad Timing Guy, even though there was an attraction growing up, it was always the wrong time, he had a girlfriend of I had a boyfriend, or something else. So, fast forward 3 years or so and we are all grown up now, and I get a friend request on Facebook (wonderful invention). Bit of chatting, bit of flirting and before I know it he’s at my door! One thing lead to another, after all reminiscing can be a huge aphrodisiac, all those memories and old feelings. I find it’s very easy to convince yourself you still feel something you felt before when confronted with the historic vassal of previous affections. But that wasn’t what this was about; BTG was still as hot as ever!

So here I am, having just wrinkled the sheets with BTG and unsure of what was going to happen next. Then he invite me to see his flat, and we all know what that means, so I go and the inevitable happens, c’est la vie, right? Then there is confusion, he thought. I would stay over, I didn’t want to assume so hadn’t brought anything, so I went home. So to cut a long story short we ended up, accidentally, chatting and fornicating, then I would go on my pretty little way. How did that happen? I mean in this day and age a girl can have sex without being branded a strumpet, but surely when you enlist to being a fuck buddy someone has to ask you first. It’s probably my own fault, I should have asked him what was going on, but I guess I didn’t want to be That Girl. You know, the needy girl, the ‘where is this going’ girl. The girl who want the label, so she can go trotting around town saying this is my boyfriend. It’s one of those rules that we women have to follow, don’t ask where things are going. You never ask a man to clarify what you mean to him for fear of him running for the hills.

Queue the soul searching, it’s fun. The sex is hot, he’s hot, and do I really need to know where this is going? Relax! I told myself, live life for now; don’t worry about where this is going, just enjoy what you have got. And what I got is a Lover, we chat about life, we have sex, we share music and our passions but all within his four walls. So I decided that it was enough for me, I could deal with that, maybe it would end up being, more, maybe not, but I was ok with not knowing.

Why should women need to put a label on everything, didn’t Samantha teach us anything? We can have men, we can have cake, and we can eat both! Viva le revaluciĆ³n!

One day he just stopped calling, oh well, never mind. The irony is I will never know why, because I never asked the question is the first place!

Thursday, 16 October 2008

A Poem I Have Always Loved

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.

By Mary Elizabeth Frye

I have always loved this poem, I think it is so hopeful and comforting to people who have lost someone.

I often think about death, I do not mean to but it comes to me when I am lying in the dark waiting for sleep. I try to hard to believe that I will go to Heaven, I try not to think about the other place, in truth I guess I believe that I am a good enough person not to go to the other place. What scares me is, what if I am wrong, what if there is nothing? Nothing scares me most, the idea that when you die, that's it. Your mind, you consciousness will cease, you will not remember, you soul does not leave you earthly bound, just nothing.

Sometimes I think I can feel the passage of time, in the evening you think about a point in the day, and it's still close enough that you can remember clearly what you were doing, how you were feeling, but it's gone. That's Time. Hazy memories never have the same effect, but at 4:00 when you are wishing that day away, and then suddenly you are in your bed and you can quite clearly remember thinking, "when will this day end” but now you are thinking "it has."

These are the thoughts that plague me before is sleep, I tried to explain this to a friend of mine once, I don't think I did it very well, any way she didn't seem to understand, she did say that I had very Deep thoughts and that she didn't think about things like that. I wish I didn't think about those things either, maybe then I would be able to sleep!

Tuesday, 14 October 2008


1. little man syndrome
"Napolean complex" is already a term. The "little man syndrome" is less literate; unneccessary.

2. Little man syndrome
Condition whereby undersized men compensate for their smallness by physically asserting their presence.

That Puerto Rican just freaked on me when I stepped on his puma—he’s got a bad case of little man syndrome.

Courtesy of

I'm not sure I totally agree though, I don't think that men need to be short to have LMS. I have known short men who are perfectly ajdusted, I have also know very tall men who have a chip on their shoulder larger than most boulders.

Tuesday, 7 October 2008

Little Man Syndrone

During Life I daresay we will all meet men like them. Even Men will meet Men like them. You know what I'm talking about, the type of man who feels he need to prove himself, the type to shout down the competition, the one's who will pester you constantly in order to get the job done. Yes Ladies, I am talking about Little Man Syndrome. This is especially common in short men, in which case it can be identified immediately, or men with short equipment, which can be harder to spot. (insert obvious joke here)

Little Man Syndrome, or LMS, occurs in Men with little self esteem or a chip on their shoulder resulting in a number of symptoms. Firstly the inability to drink alcohol without starting fights with men much bigger than themselves. Picture an angry Jack Russell Terrier.

Another symptom is obnoxious behaviour. They become addicted to the sound of people laughing at their jokes and will strive to hear it as often as possible. This can result in bullying and mocking behaviour as their need spirals out of control. Like a Crack Addict they start off paying for their fix out of their own money but soon begin stealing from other people to feed their habit.

LMS is often caused my bullying in early life but can emerge with no recognisable source, some men are just born Dicks. I bring this up as it has come to my attention that a lot of LMS sufferers seem to choose Recruitment as their career paths. I believe that the egotistical nature of the job feeds their addiction to attention and self vindication. Unfortunately for me I have to work with these Losers.

As a result I am constantly pestered by their petty attention grabbing behaviour. Finally I understand what it was like for my Mother. Today for instance, I was being bothered incessantly by one such LMS sufferer, we have since determined the cause of his disorder was him be bullied at school for his auburn hair. He was wounded by me telling him that his candidate was already submitted by another agency, his insecurities skyrocketed and he spent 3 or 4 emails trying to convince me that this was my fault as he had rung me to find out if the candidate had been submitted, which he hadn't. True he does ring me occasionally with this line if inquiry but not on this occasion. I'm afraid that after he had piously told me that he did not in fact want conflict (Jack Russell Terrier) and that mistakes were made. Meaning my mistakes. To which I replied that if he indeed did not want conflict that he should stop bothering me.

Now you see the injustice of the situation is that my two colleagues, who thank god are free from the LMS disease, promptly roared with laughter and told me that I was not a subtle person but they knew what I meant. Unfortunately for me my Boss didn't find it so funny. He saw the email and rang me to tell me how badly I handled the situation. I could feel the old injustices bubbling up, the arguments about us being a Team and so fourth, so I'm afraid I may have been a little clipped. In fact I was practically glacial. This loss of temper has now landed me in another meeting tomorrow, with my Boss. Sigh.

When will I learn? LMS is a thing to be pitied and that there is no point fighting against it. As a gender, females have to rise above their immaturities and provide an example, we need to show stability so those that have hope, recover, and when they do come blinking and stumbling into the light we will be there to catch them and sooth their hurts. The only other option would be to round them all up into a cage marked DANGEROUS: WOEFULLY INEPT and only let them out once they have learnt their lesson, but I fear there would not be a cage big enough.

Monday, 6 October 2008

Getting into the Habit

It’s funny how you can get into the habit of doing things. Recently I have found that I have gotten into the habit of going shopping with my Mum, both clothes and food. This is never a good idea as I always come back having spent more money than I would have had I been alone! My dearest Mother, the woman who gave me life, who brought me into the world, who always says to me “Get it in every colour”…

That is the first part of the shopping extravaganza, the next part is when it get’s really interesting, next we go to Tesco’s! I know, my life is practically a movie it’s so exciting. So off we go to Tesco’s, and I do what any normal girl would do when put in that situation, I entertain myself as we go round. So if I am not throwing myself in front of the biscuits in slow motion shouting “noooo!” Then I am marching up and down the aisles with the new mop, humming to myself the Elephant song from the Jungle Book, occasionally pointing it at opposing vegetables and shouting “CHARGE!” while my mum rolls her eyes at me. Also, inevitably I end up picking up bits and pieces on the way round. I can’t seem to resist all the tiny little things that Tesco’s provide, it’s an act of restraint not to come our loaded with loot the way those clever store managers place all the tempting things around the place. So when we finally arrive at the till, mop intact, enemy’s defeated, I nearly always have to section off a little part of the conveyor belt to myself. My mother pointed this out to me the other day, and do you know what I had? Three DVD’s and a pot of olives. Sad or what? At my ages I should be buying condoms and vodka.

Mental Note: Next time buy condoms and Vodka.

Thursday, 2 October 2008

All this fuss over a sandwich?

Ok, picture this; your on your way to work, mentally going over the things you need to do during the day. I have to book this, file that, speak to such and such, you with me? As I am walking up the street I realise that (oh no!) I had run out or cereal the day before and had forgotten to put a new box in my bag. Now as we all know breakfast is the most important meal of the day, I decided to pop into a sandwich shop and get myself - bacon, white bread, brown sauce! Lovely. Now when aforementioned sandwich was purchased I spent the rest of the walk pondering on two things, 1) could I afford them luxury of a £4 breakfast? I am not earning loads and in my experience it's always the little extravagances that will haunt your overdraft. 2) A moment on the lips and all that...

Then it happens. All this fuss over a bacon sandwich?

I arrive at work to the usual goldfish experience, the head snap up as you arrive, gormless attention following you as you take your coat off put, down your bad. Then they see the sandwich.
"Where's ours!?"
"One call it would have took!"
Yeah one call and about £20, what do they think I am made of money? I though the £4 was a stretch.
"We are a Team!"
"Yeah, were a team," I retort, "Only when your hungry!"
Possible a mistake, a rash statement, but I was angry. Were we a Team yesterday when I got Tag Teamed by the Terrible Duo? Were we a Team yesterday when my work wasn't up to scratch? Where was the 'support' there?

Then, the icing on the cake, my boss says to me...

"Oi, Happy. You sitting in on this interview?"
I ask you, why would I want to take anything from a man that can behave like an obnoxious child? So I say no, I have other things to do. He then promptly throws his toy's out the pram, the way only he can, and tells She Who Cannot be Named that she can do the interview instead.

It's amazing the drama, two pieces of bread and some bacon can cause, and it's only 9:30...