Friday 25 June 2010

Where are All the Single Men?

Again I find myself with yet another problem. There appears to be a shortage of single men. This may sound like I am been dramatic and maybe I am, maybe there are single men all over the place but if so I am totally oblivious. I’m not desperate for a man, but admittedly there has been a bit of a drought on the dating front and it’s dull, dull, dull.

Every time I spot a hottie I then also see a glimpse of that shimmering white gold (nobody seems to have yellow gold anymore) band. It’s now got so bad that the minute I spot a fit man rather than looking at his eyes or smile (my two favourite features on a man), my eyes are drawn to his left hand.

The other problem I have encountered is where do hell do people meet single men? Bars are out as most of the single men in bars are out for one thing (and it’s not necessarily dating) or they are so drunk that their approach my be a bit off, trust me leering and slurring “nice tits love” or “you’re fit” with beer breathe doesn’t do it for me.

I work in a mainly female company so the work place is definitely a no-go, and in a previous life having had a few work based flirtations (which we won’t dwell on) I think it’s best to steer clear, arguing at work and tears in the boardroom are not great for anyone’s career especially his.

Other suggestions I’ve had are getting friends to fix you up. This I think is a massive myth. All of my friends who are loved up claim that their boyfriends’/husbands either a) have no single friends or b) no single friends that I would like. This leaves me with a bit of a complex that either I am so awful (translation a bit of a minger) that my friends think there are no men that could possibly find me attractive or the other option is that I am so mean and a heartbreaker that they don’t want to be around for the aftermath if things don’t work out (to be fair I have been guilty of this, but in my youth, I’m much kinder now, honest). I like to hope that neither of these things are true but I have my suspicions’.

Dating sites aren’t my cup of tea either. I’ve had a look but after a while all the men blur into one. Also I have never been a fan of enforced fun and that’s what dating sites feel like to me, sort of in the same way that fancy dress is meant to be fun but really I spend my time just feeling like an idiot in fancy dress. Dating sites to me are exactly the same and what if nobody on there wanted to date me, confidence crushing or what?

I also know that some of the problem is mine. For example there is a man I find attractive but I only see him walking through the park on my way to work, we’ve gone from smiling to hello, but how do you progress from hello in the two seconds it takes to pass each other on a morning. It’s becoming exhausting thinking about what to wear everyday in case I bump into him.

The other issue I have is when I fancy somebody I am rendered mute. For people who know me well I am sure there have been plenty of times they wish I had been rendered mute, they just didn’t know that the key was putting me in front of a man I fancy. Most of the time I like to think I am quite witty, friendly and good fun (oh and modest), but put a hot man in the room and I become silent and come across as rude, cold and distant, not attractive.

So if anybody knows any hot entertaining men with nice eyes, great smile and without a white gold band, who are looking for somebody who can be witty, friendly and good fun but will instead be silent then let me know. Form an orderly queue boys.

Sunday 13 June 2010

Will I ever learn?

Admittedly the question asked in the title is rhetorical as if my behaviour after 32 years on this earth is anything to go by then I know that the answer is a big fat no.

The main thing I have learnt are there are a few things I never learn about. The first of these is excessive alcohol consumption, no matter how bad the head, how painful the bruises, how shameful the photographs and memories, no matter how many times I wake up and proclaim that my body is a temple and alcohol shall never pass my lips again I have never learnt when enough is enough.

This is a problem. I have never been one of those people who knows when to stop. You know the type of girl who after the third glass of wine switches to soft drinks as she can feel herself getting tipsy. No sir that’s not me, I fall (sometimes quite literally) into the camp of people who believe they are sober right up until the point that all memory and dignity has gone.

There have been incidents crawling through windows, stealing what we (no names mentioned) thought was a Christmas tree only to discover it was a Rosemary bush, losing my keys and having to wake my mate up at 3am (thanks Lisa), falling off a stage, and my favourite, upon been approached in a nightclub and asked to dance by an attractive man stating “no he doesn’t fancy me, I think he is gay. I think he just wants to dance with me because he is the best male dancer in here and I am the best girl dancer here”. Really, the greatest dancer, I don’t think so.

I have never learnt that texting when drunk is a no no, actually, using the phone at all can be a no no. To date I have called a potential date from a toilet cubicle to tell him all about my new shoes, for about 25 minutes, miraculously he still took me out the next day. I have had crazy text arguments that I have no recollection of , one of which resulted in my waking up to a message from somebody I had been seeing saying “well if that’s the way you feel, I agree we probably shouldn’t see each other anymore” oops. These are to name but a few.

I have also never learnt that I can’t just have one piece of chocolate. I know people that can keep a bar of chocolate in the fridge for a week and limit themselves to a square a day. I have tried this and the whole time the chocolate is in the fridge I can hear it calling me “Becky come and eat me”, the outcome is always the same a mouth full of chocolate, feelings of remorse and vows to not eat anymore so called ‘bad’ foods for a week.

Finally what I have never learnt (or never remember, despite the massive window) is that my neighbours can see straight into my flat. This has led to interesting events including indecent exposure (it was only exposure of a bra), them been able to see when I am been nosey and finally them also been able to witness me practising the moves that make me “the best girl dancer” in any club.