I’ll admit it people I am a crier, a big girlie crier. This might come as a bit of a shock to some people as sometimes I can seem a bit hard, fallen out with somebody not a tear, things ended with a bloke normally my eyes are bone dry but put me at a wedding or face me with saying goodbye to somebody and I am crying like a baby.
Twice this week I have been subjected to public crying. On Saturday a friend got married. Her now husband made a beautiful speech about how much he adored her and a lump rose in my throat and a tear came to my eye. The second occasion was today; my wonderful friend Kelly is leaving work, before her manager even started the leaving speech I was in tears, big tears rolling down my cheeks.
I don’t have a problem with public crying, I have a problem with MY public crying. Unfortunately I am not one of these women who looks beautiful through her tears, I get a red nose, make –up runs and my skin goes blotchy and don’t even get me started on the running nose. If I was trying to get a man not to leave me I can assure you crying wouldn’t be the way I would do it as the sight of my snotty, blotchy face would have him running for the hills.
Another downside of my public crying is that like most things in life I find it really difficult to do it quietly. In public places where it is light and people can see me I can usually manage to just keep it to sniffs, but put me in a darken room e.g. the cinema and they become proper sobs. Once my mate Jodie told me to be quiet whilst watching Brokeback Mountain as I think I was embarrassing her.
It’s bad enough when it’s with friends but it’s worse on dates. On a third date I went to see Seven Pounds starring Will Smith, I think my date was horrified that such sobs could come from somebody so small.
I think crying can be very therapeutic but as it makes me look and sound really unattractive and I have yet to find a make-up product heavy duty enough to disguise the blotches and red nose I have decided that from now on if I want a cry I am going to just watch The Notebook in the safety of my own home.
If anybody has any tips for crying and not looking like something from a horror film please feel free to share.
Friday 30 April 2010
Friday 23 April 2010
I am not Bridget Jones
I have a problem that I want to share with you. Why do the media insist on stereotyping single women? I am not married, I don’t have children. In turn this does not make me:
a) A crazy cat woman (I don’t like cats)
b) Desperate to don a white dress and say ‘I do’
c) Have a womb that is screaming out to be impregnated.
Now don’t get me wrong, I know there are women like that who spends days dreaming of a big white wedding and spawning lots of angelic looking children. Each to their own but, it just infuriates me that we are all clumped together as some sad Bridget Jones type that spends her evenings crying into a glass of wine about men.
I can honestly say the only think Bridget Jones and I have in common is that we both continuously strive to lose a few extra pounds and have a love of wine.
I just find it odd that in this day and age where women are supposedly becoming equal it is still seen as weird to be past a certain age and single especially as if, heaven forbid you say settling down isn’t high on your agenda.
Now if I was a man it would be a totally different story, I would be getting pats on the back for escaping the ‘shackles’ of marriage, hell I would even be envied for my bachelor lifestyle.
As a single woman the response is totally different, pitying looks, being told repeatedly how I will change my mind about children (funny how people I barely know assume they know more about my choices and how I feel than I do) and my all time favourite to get me into a rage “you’re too picky”. Excuse me, but how the hell can you be too picky about finding somebody you might potentially spend the rest of your life with? Surely this is one area where we should all aim to be picky. I am picky about my shoes surely it’s important to be picky about somebody that I could end up looking at for the next 50 years.
I think the media and people in general need to accept that all women are different some are happily married, some unhappily married, some seemingly happily married whilst having a fling with Steve in accounts. Some are single and desperate to settle down, some are single and hopeful, some are single with sex lives that give Samantha from Sex and the City a run for her money (said with envy) and some are like me, single and with a mindset of yes it’d be nice to meet somebody special but, it’s not the be all and end all of my life, I am happy, healthy, have great friends and what will be will be. Plus if I don’t meet somebody I can find a love of cats and become a mad cat lady
a) A crazy cat woman (I don’t like cats)
b) Desperate to don a white dress and say ‘I do’
c) Have a womb that is screaming out to be impregnated.
Now don’t get me wrong, I know there are women like that who spends days dreaming of a big white wedding and spawning lots of angelic looking children. Each to their own but, it just infuriates me that we are all clumped together as some sad Bridget Jones type that spends her evenings crying into a glass of wine about men.
I can honestly say the only think Bridget Jones and I have in common is that we both continuously strive to lose a few extra pounds and have a love of wine.
I just find it odd that in this day and age where women are supposedly becoming equal it is still seen as weird to be past a certain age and single especially as if, heaven forbid you say settling down isn’t high on your agenda.
Now if I was a man it would be a totally different story, I would be getting pats on the back for escaping the ‘shackles’ of marriage, hell I would even be envied for my bachelor lifestyle.
As a single woman the response is totally different, pitying looks, being told repeatedly how I will change my mind about children (funny how people I barely know assume they know more about my choices and how I feel than I do) and my all time favourite to get me into a rage “you’re too picky”. Excuse me, but how the hell can you be too picky about finding somebody you might potentially spend the rest of your life with? Surely this is one area where we should all aim to be picky. I am picky about my shoes surely it’s important to be picky about somebody that I could end up looking at for the next 50 years.
I think the media and people in general need to accept that all women are different some are happily married, some unhappily married, some seemingly happily married whilst having a fling with Steve in accounts. Some are single and desperate to settle down, some are single and hopeful, some are single with sex lives that give Samantha from Sex and the City a run for her money (said with envy) and some are like me, single and with a mindset of yes it’d be nice to meet somebody special but, it’s not the be all and end all of my life, I am happy, healthy, have great friends and what will be will be. Plus if I don’t meet somebody I can find a love of cats and become a mad cat lady
Thursday 15 April 2010
MAN UP
Before I even start I must state if you are easily offended, very PC or an ardent feminist then please read no further.
This week my plea is to the men of the nation. Can you please man up? Yes you heard me, man up. I am fed up with meeting men who want to talk about how they feel, how they’ve been hurt in the past, if I say the slightest thing wrong they get upset. We’ve all got issues but I talk about them with my mates not with somebody I am on a second date with.
Seriously when did this epidemic for men going a bit soft start? I know I am not alone in feeling like this I have many girlfriends who have told me tales of men crying because they won’t be getting a third date. What’s that all about? 1.why are you crying about it? 2. If you are going to cry about it why are you letting somebody you fancy know about it?
Another friend was subjected to months of pleading crying phone calls after a break up. I can assure you gentlemen that this sort of behaviour is not attractive.
At present I have been told that I have had the silent treatment because somebody was upset that he wasn’t getting his own way, and no he’s not five years old he’s a grown man.
I am well aware that women do sometimes show signs of this behaviour (admit it ladies we’ve all been guilty of some undignified behaviour in pursuit of love) and maybe that is why I find it so unattractive in a man.
Now I am not saying that men shouldn’t show their emotions (it’s perfectly acceptable to cry when you’re hurt, somebody dies, etc. I’ll even let the odd tear over football slide) and I don’t want to go back to the days of a ‘woman’s place being in the home’, but, for me personally there is nothing more unattractive than a man sulking because he’s not getting his own way, crying during an argument or not taking rejection very well. I’m trying to sleep with you not counsel you for goodness sake!
So to end I will quote the Snickers ad “Get some nuts”
By the way of you were offended by this don’t say you weren’t warned.
This week my plea is to the men of the nation. Can you please man up? Yes you heard me, man up. I am fed up with meeting men who want to talk about how they feel, how they’ve been hurt in the past, if I say the slightest thing wrong they get upset. We’ve all got issues but I talk about them with my mates not with somebody I am on a second date with.
Seriously when did this epidemic for men going a bit soft start? I know I am not alone in feeling like this I have many girlfriends who have told me tales of men crying because they won’t be getting a third date. What’s that all about? 1.why are you crying about it? 2. If you are going to cry about it why are you letting somebody you fancy know about it?
Another friend was subjected to months of pleading crying phone calls after a break up. I can assure you gentlemen that this sort of behaviour is not attractive.
At present I have been told that I have had the silent treatment because somebody was upset that he wasn’t getting his own way, and no he’s not five years old he’s a grown man.
I am well aware that women do sometimes show signs of this behaviour (admit it ladies we’ve all been guilty of some undignified behaviour in pursuit of love) and maybe that is why I find it so unattractive in a man.
Now I am not saying that men shouldn’t show their emotions (it’s perfectly acceptable to cry when you’re hurt, somebody dies, etc. I’ll even let the odd tear over football slide) and I don’t want to go back to the days of a ‘woman’s place being in the home’, but, for me personally there is nothing more unattractive than a man sulking because he’s not getting his own way, crying during an argument or not taking rejection very well. I’m trying to sleep with you not counsel you for goodness sake!
So to end I will quote the Snickers ad “Get some nuts”
By the way of you were offended by this don’t say you weren’t warned.
Thursday 8 April 2010
Love Letters
A few weeks ago I was having a look for something in what is commonly known as the junk cupboard and came across a bag. I peered inside that bag and what I found kept me seated on my sofa for hours, for the bag was full of old letters.
Letters from my friend Helen from when she used to get sent to Scotland for the summer when we were at primary school, letters from people declaring love, letters from people saying why they were annoyed with me, letters from people who had missed me, letters from people telling me about their summer holiday in other parts of the world, a whole array of letters that spanned various times in my life.
This bag of letters was filled with tales of my past, from people I hadn't seen or heard from in years. What all these letters had in common is that they all cease not long after I left university in 1999. I wracked my brains as to why this could be, I still had friends who had travelled, I still had people who since this time had declared love for me, been annoyed with me and been travelling for extended periods. Then it dawned on me that the reason the letters had stopped was we all had email, mobile phones to text from and now Facebook and Twitter with which to communicate. The thought that the art of letter writing was dead left me feeling quite sad. I don't keep all my emails and can't imagine ever rediscovering them and feeling the way I did about finding old letters.
With a sense of sorrow about this lost art I decided to do something about it and yesterday for the first time in years I wrote a letter to a friend. A letter that as we speak is on it's way to that persons doormat. The friend I chose to write to doesn't live that far away and we communicate quite a lot and see each other, but I know they will appreciate the gesture.
I found the whole process very theraputic and quite personal, far more so than a status update on Facebook or a comment on somebody's wall. I also love the feeling that tomorrow morning that when picking up the post and going through the bills and junk mail a smile will come to my friends face as she realises that there is a letter especially for her, not wanting anything (except perhaps a reply). If the response is positive I may continue this practise and see how many replies I get and I encourage you to do the same.
Happy letter writing folks.
Letters from my friend Helen from when she used to get sent to Scotland for the summer when we were at primary school, letters from people declaring love, letters from people saying why they were annoyed with me, letters from people who had missed me, letters from people telling me about their summer holiday in other parts of the world, a whole array of letters that spanned various times in my life.
This bag of letters was filled with tales of my past, from people I hadn't seen or heard from in years. What all these letters had in common is that they all cease not long after I left university in 1999. I wracked my brains as to why this could be, I still had friends who had travelled, I still had people who since this time had declared love for me, been annoyed with me and been travelling for extended periods. Then it dawned on me that the reason the letters had stopped was we all had email, mobile phones to text from and now Facebook and Twitter with which to communicate. The thought that the art of letter writing was dead left me feeling quite sad. I don't keep all my emails and can't imagine ever rediscovering them and feeling the way I did about finding old letters.
With a sense of sorrow about this lost art I decided to do something about it and yesterday for the first time in years I wrote a letter to a friend. A letter that as we speak is on it's way to that persons doormat. The friend I chose to write to doesn't live that far away and we communicate quite a lot and see each other, but I know they will appreciate the gesture.
I found the whole process very theraputic and quite personal, far more so than a status update on Facebook or a comment on somebody's wall. I also love the feeling that tomorrow morning that when picking up the post and going through the bills and junk mail a smile will come to my friends face as she realises that there is a letter especially for her, not wanting anything (except perhaps a reply). If the response is positive I may continue this practise and see how many replies I get and I encourage you to do the same.
Happy letter writing folks.
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