#11 A.K.A. Mr Goody Two-Shoes

I met Mr #11 on a night out and few months later he took me on a date.

After speaking to him very briefly on the night we met, I had to rely on texting to get a feeling what he was like. Frankly, the initial picture was perfect: he’s a policeman (hot!); he’s taller than me in heels (a major thing when you’re 5.11’=180cm); he loved snowboarding (finally, I’ll have someone to go on winter holidays with); he had his own house (all sorted and won’t ask to crash on my coach after the date, cause his roommate is having some friends over) and loved doing handy man jobs around it on the weekend (hot!!); he loved animals (being an absolute dog person, I didn’t appreciate him having a cat, but figured we can straighten this out after I move in*) and finally, he was 10 years older than me (just finishing uni I was fed up with uni guys, whose life plan after uni was to start a band and become an A-class celeb).

*I surely am an odd one, but I can promise you that at leat 8 girls out 10 think about things like moving in together before even getting to know a guy properly.

On the first date he rocked in with a broken hand and explained it happened at work as he punched a guy, who was being abusive to his girlfriend. Rescuing a poor woman from a domestic gave him extra 100 points straight away (hot hot hot!). He was being a gentleman all night, we had a pleasant conversation and seemed to share quite a few interests. As we were walking back to the metro, I got that funny feeling something’s not quite right there, but I couldn’t put finger on it. So when I said “Bye. Speak soon.”, I actually ment it.

Didn’t have to wait long till he asked me out again and I happily agreed. Five minutes into the second date it started becoming clear what felt not right about it: Mr #11 was Mr Goody Two-Shoes.

I really appreciate a real gent, but a man always has to be a man! 10 years older than me, Mr #11 wanted me to decide where we going, what we’re doing,  where we sitting, what we’re drinking, starters/no starters, call it a night/stay a little longer.. It got to a point where he asked me if I think he should stay out for a couple with his mates after I leave… A man..? 10 years older..? Asks me..? After the second date..? Seriously?!?!

Soon after that night I told him I don’t think it’s going anywhere.

I know that after reading this most men will think that I’m being a hypocrite: I moan about meeting douches, really bad guys that would treat me like shit. And then I also slag off a guy because he’s too nice. BUT there’s a fine line between being a ‘bad guy’ and being a push-over. And keeping that balance is vital.

For those, who don’t know me (I’m really hoping there are at least a few souls that aren’t actually related to me and find this blog engaging): I can be intimidating at times, very argumentative and overly opinionated about every single thing under the sun.
But, I recognise that and still believe there’s a man out there, who’ll appreciate it as a trait of a strong person and will have bigger balls than me so to put me in my place! (‘YOU BELONG IN THE KITCHEN, WOMAN!!!’ kinda man I’m looking for, you see…)
At the end of the day, I rather do stay single forever than end up with someone, who doesn’t have the guts to argue with me. Or worse, doesn’t have an opinion that would lead to even starting an argument.

Amen!

 

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What Women Want?

So here I am, embracing my mammoth singleness (and loneliness at times, I suppose) on Sunday night. Tucked in all nice, watching What Women Want.

Even though Mel is really at his peak, looking as good as ever exposing his perfect six-pack at least every 20 minutes, I still can’t focus on the movie. My mind is fully occupied by contemplations: what do women want?

While thinking to myself that I really know the answer to this question and still admitting that I would struggle to define it as a solitary thought, I tend to concentrate on different perspective…
I’m wondering is that THE problem? That men really don’t understand what women want. Is that the tussle that makes us feel so incomplete at times?

My thoughts totally take over so I end up not watching the happy ending of the sweet rom-com.

While I agree that it’s blatant that we are from different planets, I don’t understand why we, Venusians, don’t struggle to understand Martians, but it becomes a rocket science when it turns vice versa… It seems that understanding women for men is as complicated as understanding Mandarin for 2-year-old English baby.

(Miss Cynical Self enters.)

I veto this utter bulls**t!

I believe that men understand. Men understand what we (women) want. And at instances, when it becomes a wee bit more complicated, we are more than happy to explain.
If you’ll ask me straight I’ll be more than happy to share my desires.

(Miss Cynical Self totally takes over.)

I strongly believe that men understand. They understand, when they want to. The real problem is that more often than not they don’t wanna. They don’t want to understand because they can’t be bothered; because our desires are more complicated than just shagging and having beer in front of teli; because our appetites are bigger than most of male kind can feed…

I swear, this blog post doesn’t have to do anything with any particular individual. I am not having a go at any poor guy that couldn’t fulfill my neediness and keep up with my drive.

It’s just a general rant provoked by my lonely times, shitty weather and Mel Gibson being and absolute wanker for the first half of the movie.

Apologies to all decent male creatures.
(Miss Cynical Self leaves the room.)
I still believe there are some fabulous men on this earth.

Amen!

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Love. Or blah…?

I think.

A lot.

Even though some of this blog’s readers and my fellow friends may find it hard to believe, I do like to contemplate about all sorts of things…
And when I contemplate I like to light up some candles and listen to some music.

This time it was much-loved  Ben Howard that accompanied me, while I was thinking about what to think about… (Complicated, huh..? Imagine my not-so-wrinkly brains going into these intellectual labyrinths! No wonder they get lost so often…)

So, I was casually contemplating bout all sorts and loving my dearest Benjy, when this song reached its culmination (round 4:oo min). The moment when he starts repeatedly singing “Love love love…”, which after about minute’s LOVING turns into…. “blah“.

That got me thinking, is that how it actually works?
And at this point, I’m not talking bout Ben’s articulation or the quality of the record.

I’m on about love turning into blah after so long.
Is it just me being very cynical and hearing things the way my lonely, slightly miserable self, prefers to hear them on this rainy night? Or is it the sad truth that love can no longer last, in these times of day-long marriages, polygamy, bride shopping and other XXI century crap?

I haven’t been lucky enough to grow up in a family, where love didn’t eventually turn into blah. In fact in my childhood’s home the most PDAs must have been expressed by myself towards our old and very loyal cat.
But is my family a rule or an exception? In other words, is love turning into blah, after a certain time, a rule or an exception?

When I look around, the statistics are sad.
And I’m not scrutinising my friends’ relationships.. Oh no no, not talking bout twenty-somethings looking for their perfect matches.
I’m looking at time-tested relationships. Or at least, what should be time-tested relationships; I’m looking at my parents, my friends’ parents, their friends… And I can only think of a handful of couples that lasted… That passed the time exam and been happily together for at least 10 years. The couples, which saved their love from turning into blah..

Only a handful out of dozens of couples.

 
As I said: the stats are sad.

Thus, my further contemplations takes me to questioning how am I supposed to believe in love and it’s infinity? How am I supposed to believe in something that I’ve never seen in my family? Or my best friend’s family? Or my neighbour’s family? Or anywhere but couple of odd real life fairy tales, for that matter…?

I gotta tell you kids: these contemplations ain’t leading anywhere pretty.

And even though this post raises more questions than offers answers, I can assure you of one thing: I still believe!

I don’t care about blahs. I don’t care about stats. I don’t care bout nada!

I believe in true love!!!

And I believe that it doesn’t have to turn into blah… no matter how many years passed and how much water run under the bridge. It can still always be love.

So for those ones, who already found it: hold onto it tight.
Put some effort in it. Work on it. Make it last.
Cause you want to be that exception, not the rule! That handful out of dozens!

And for those ones, who haven’t found it yet… DON’T LISTEN TO BEN HOWARD.
Nah, I’m just joking. You HAVE to listen to him. There’s no discussion.
Just keep on hearing that “love“, not the “blah“. Hearing and believing.

Buona notte, my cherished insomniacs xox

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Mate Tales

So lately I had quite a few encounters with people who heard some Mate Tales, where I got to feature.

What is a Mate Tale, one may ask?

A Mate Tale, is a nice story mates tell each other about their cheeky ventures. For a better understanding I will point out some particular features of Mate Tales:

  • 9 times out of 10 they are told by a male individual. Girls just gossip!
  • It always involves an opposite sex (in the case of being a hetero) participant in the story, who’s never around to hear it when the tale’s being told.
  • It usually is mostly fictional and only based on couple true facts to make it any believable.
    And most importantly:
  • It paints the teller of the story as a super macho, every women’s dream man, who can make Megan Fox and Eva Mendes to fight for his attention.

Now I can carry on with letting my rage out in this sophisticated manner of a blog. As I’ve mentioned, lately I was made aware I was/am a character of couple Mate Tales. And it frustrates me. A lot.

So I’m talking to this guy who’s a regular at the bar I work in. He tells me I’ve been out with his mate once and blogged about it straight after the date’s finished.  At that point of conversation I got irritated! Why? Cause it’s a big fat Mate Tale!!!
By the sound of the story, the date was so great I couldn’t wait for any longer than 5minutes to blog about it. And he (the guy I went out with) obviously wasn’t as fascinated by me as I was by him, so we only went on that one date.
What doesn’t match?! In the first place, if that big-headed, ignorant t*at would have ever read my blog, he would have known that it’s about guys, that I genuinely wasn’t best impressed with, not about all the prince charmings who, sadly for me, have discarded me. Secondly, it was Mr. #10, the ‘Meh’ type of guy. So even though I did blog about him, it was more than half-year later after we gone out and it definitely wasn’t anything he’d want to brag about.

But there are worse cases…

There’s this guy from uni. We occasionally talk and we’ve been out a few times (three times if I’m being precise). He seems like a clever guy and we share some interests, but I would never look at him as more than a friend and he’s been told about it since we started talking.

So, one time he asked me why I never blogged about him. We’ve been out – was his argument. I explained I only blog about my dates, guys I see more than just friends. I blog about something that had some romantic potential in it, not about my casual catch ups with my male friends. He wasn’t too content with my reply cause he told me he fancies me million times before and even though he was told we’re in a friend zone as many times, it would still be cool to be on my blog. NOT GONNA HAPPEN. Rules are rules, man! Even if I set them up myself…

As the time went by I got questioned by our mutual friends whether one blog post or another was about him. No no no, I patiently explained. Being naive, I always thought it’s just other people, who used to create rumours about us, cause they’d see us out together and wouldn’t trust just the body language to prove we’re only friends. But the number of people telling me that we’re romantically involved or being dead surprised that we’re not proper making out or even talking, when we’re out with our friends, has dramatically risen recently. And… dom dom dom … I found out, it was the same guy  who I thought was my friend, creating all the rumours. Mate Tale or what?!?!?

Apparently, all this time he was telling people we are occasionally going on dates  and by the sound of all the stories we just couldn’t decide where we stand.
Pathetic! That is all I can say…
At least he got this post that is partially about him.. There you go, bud!

There are many more Mate Tales that I’ve heard and been involved throughout the years. But this post is already way over 700 words … Congrats and massive thanks if you’re still reading!

The moral of the story (not being sexist, but had to differentiate it for M and F as it’s so different for the hero and the heroine of the tale):

Male – mate, stop biggin’ yourself up and rather just be funny and genuine. Stories about shit dates or girls you fancy and cannot get will just prove you’re confident and happy with who you are. And you don’t have to stir sh*t all over the place to convince people you’re cool.

Female – sister, if you ever hear Mate Tale about yourself and I’m well sure you will… don’t get dragged into it. Don’t start running around trying to tell everyone the truth that you’ve never been out with the guy or that he was the one, who acted like an absolute idiot on your date. You’ll never win and people will still gossip.. Rather than that, just walk out with your head high and acting like a lady. Soon everyone will forget all the lies and you will be the one, who came out as the bigger person.

AMEN!

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The ‘meh’ type

This post will be more about a certain type of guys, rather than a story of one particular date of mine. It is so, because #10 was the perfect example for the ‘meh’ type.

The ‘meh’ type of guys are those ones, who single girls go out with and come back being absolutely unsure whether they want to see them again or not. They’re that kind of men that don’t blow you of your feet; don’t woo you; don’t blow your whistle; don’t crack you cracker; and all that sh**!

After meeting Mr #10 at work and texting for couple of weeks we finally gone out for wining and dining session. Italian’s, where I always had to keep the conversation flowing, were followed by some bar, where third glass of rose was saving me from boredom. After, two hours, three glasses of rose and too many sneak-peaks at my mobile, I said “no” to one more drink and told the guy I’m quite tired and I think I should head home now.

After coming back and sharing experience with my roomies I still could not decide whether I’d go out with him again or not. He was good-looking, paid for the dinner in a decent restaurant he took me to, walked me home and said he would love to see me again.

Did he do anything wrong? Not really… Other than not opening the doors wherever we went; showing more interest in the food than me, when it was just served; failing to keep the conversation flowing and not complimenting me at least for my efforts to look good for him; he was quite a gentleman. He just was a MEH type of guy.

Lessons to be learnt from this story?

To my dear (nonexistent..? HOPE NOT!) male readership:

  • Always compliment a girl, when you’re taking her out. Even if you think she’s wearing too much lip gloss and you don’t like the hair-do… She, most likely, spent half of her day getting ready, so you need to name something you like.
  • Always remember that you’ve gone out for a DATE not for a MEAL. If you’ll be more interested in the food than the girl, you will certainly lose her interest too.
  • Don’t use your phone while wining and dining! Common sense? Not to everyone. And if there’s something urgent, just apologize and make a quick phone call rather than text your mates with stupid grin on your face.
  • Stay super conscious bout your gentleman act at least on the first date! Open the doors for her; don’t leave her walking behind; don’t stare at other women… Many to follow, but you know what I’m on about!
  • Show a general interest in her. If you don’t care what she do, what she likes and what’s her pet’s name, you might as well just take out a Barbie: she looks nice too and the date will cost you way less.

To all the single gialz out there:

Unless, you’re 34-year-old, with no potential relationship and desperate for children: don’t settle for a ‘meh’ guy. I know it can be really difficult at times! Even though, I’m 12 years away I usually feel like that 34-year-old (30 on a good day), who just really wants her prince charming to come along so she could start settling down. And if you have to keep yourself intoxicated so to not die of boredom on your first date: I can assure you, he’s not the one!

Hugs and kisses, #believer

 

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I just really wanna. . . VOL2

As I’ve mentioned before sometimes I get super sloppy. True love, the special one for me, love at first sight… In certain stages of my life I do honestly believe in all that crap and get all upset thinking why I didn’t find it yet.

I tend to be the worst, when all the crazy parties are over, when all my friends have gone back to their families and loved ones, and I’m, most of the times, just left on my own. I go home to my lonely bed, tuck in with all my handsome teddies and dream about all the little things that would make my life complete… And even though, for the majority of my life I’m very cynical about romances and I believe in true love as much as in unicorns, I do enjoy my sloppy moments. The worst part is, when these occur I tend to feel an essential need to share them! So here we go…

 

My perfect future man, the father of my children, there are two things I wanna tell you:
1) you better move your ass and find me ASAP!
2) at this very second you should turn your teli down and read carefully cause all I really wanna…

I wanna buy my very first ion so I could ion your shirt.
I wanna wake you up in the middle of the night by putting my freezing feet between your legs cause I know you won’t mind.
I wanna go snowboarding with you and let you make fun of me, when I fall over for the millionth time.
I want to add them disgusting marzipan chocolates to my shopping list just because I know you love them.
I want to steal your tshirt and give them back smelling like me.
I really want to shiver, when you whisper something to my ear.
I wanna spoil you with attention and treat you like a baby, when you’re unwell.
I wanna fight like crazy for the remote control on our chilled night in and still finally let you watch whatever you wanna watch.
I wanna travel a lot with you so just to realise I don’t care where I am as long as I’m with you.
I want to call you silly nicknames so you’d chase me and try to fight me, which would turn out into a sweet smooch.
I want to take on massage classes cause I know how much you love getting a massage.
I want to move my girls’ night out so I could attend your special event.
I wanna get to know all your little flaws, which would make me love you even more.
I wanna tolerate all the sexist jokes your mates are making just cause I know their your friends.
I wanna see the pictures of your childhood and secretly photograph them so I could put them on my phone’s screen.
I want to liaise with your siblings, when they’re taking fun of you and then make it up to you, when we’re home…
I wanna try to learn to make sushi with you and just end up getting drunk on sake and being all silly.

And most of all, I just really wanna love you more than a fat kid loves McDonald’s!

Goodnight, my prince charming x

P.S. Fingers crossed I’m not gonna be reading this post and crying my eyes out in 1o years time. While surrounded by my 12 cats…

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Now seriously…

Rejection is a powerful tool. And not so much because of the action itself,but more cause of the effects it causes… The subject that carried out the action of rejection all of a sudden becomes miles more desirable. And that is where the power underlies. Rejection gives you the upper-hand,when you never dreamed about it before…

I’m sure everyone knows the feeling of desperately wanting something as soon as you realise you cannot have it. I believe it underlies in our nature. Fair enough, you may not be a Christian, but you certainly know the story of Adam and Eve: they could not resist the apple just because it was forbidden. And whether you believe the whole story or not,it’s too blatant to try to deny that human nature is soooo messed up we always want things that are forbidden… or people that rejected us.

One might think it’s the perfect tactic to make someone keen on you, but great carefulness is necessary in this case. Once you rejected someone you might never win that someone back. Even though, as I’ve said, I believe that rejection makes you want something even more; I also believe that not all of us would still wanna come back to the game after being rejected… Some just might walk away.

And if you’re the object not the subject of rejection… well choose your path and stick with it. Either keep on fighting for what you want or just let it go. Closure takes time but it does happen. Don’t stay on the fence cause it’s the worse you can do – it will just make you miserable.

All in all, rejecting or being rejected: you can always find your way out of if and find piece with yourself. So don’t hesitate, just do it!

I did.

Good night, kidos xx

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