Ooh la la avec les hommes Francais

So after an hour of feeling pissed off on Thursday after hearing Mr Double-Barrel on the radio, Miss America and I decided to go out on the piss and I was under strict orders to pull me an Irishman. I failed, dismally. And picked up a Frenchman instead. We went out for dinner and met a group of French guys who were in Ireland for a fishing trip. They were all the same age, 32/33, and all of them were lovely, compounding the stereotypical image of unfriendly French natives!

There were three of them who lived in Westport, I’m not sure what their relationship was to the guys who we were talking to but they seemed nice enough. And one of them took a shine to Miss America – never mind the fact he was there with his girlfriend. He was seriously cute and honestly, if looks could talk his would have said ‘I want to eat you now’. Intense wasn’t the word.

I’m sure you’ve already gathered, but Miss America is a great wing woman. I can be shy around guys but she thinks to ask leading questions and keep them interested. So we ended up going on for a few drinks with them and I got chatting to the one I’d had my eye on from the start. I’ll call him The Frenchman. He was very much my type – snowboarder, indie looking. He reminded me of a cuter Fred Durst and I used to love him back in the day. Over the course of some drinks we chatted and swapped English and French. When the club got ready to close, we went back to their cottage and Miss America was more than happy to keep me company.

Once there, the champagne and whiskey came out. Looking back, it could’ve been dangerous – two girls getting drunk with five French dudes, but hey, it was fun. And I fancied the pants off The Frenchman. Miss America decided she wanted to see the sunrise and suggested we go for a hike up the hill, but as time moved on, she ended up nudging me, telling me that if I wanted to pull him, I’d better get on with it before I lost the chance.

You already know I’m shy. I hadn’t even kissed the guy, though we had been flirting over the course of the evening. So I put my 50 Shades hat on, gulped down the rest of my drink, took his hand and into the bedroom we went.

Who needs an Irishman when you can have a sensual Frenchman instead! Remember my blog post where I said I couldn’t remember the best sex I ever had? Yeah. I do now. I don’t think I’ve ever slept with anyone who was do focussed on my pleasure before. Plenty of kissing, massaging, intense staring…yum. I missed out on the sunrise (it was cloudy anyway) but I didn’t really care. I remember Miss America shouting that she was going to take my hiking boots, but that’s about it. A couple of hours later they came back and after a quick hello and a drink, we all went to bed. After a few hours kip cuddled up to The Frenchman, he told me he only had one hours sleep, because I was in his bed. It was apparently a ‘great, great moment.’ And no, Miss America, I don’t think he meant my snoring!

It’s safe to say Friday was a write off, but after such a fabulous night it was an even price to pay. It took my mind off Mr Double-Barrel completely and it put a smile on my face. Not bad 🙂


A Jubilant Jubilee Weekend

One of the best things about being British is our penchant to celebrate everything. I definitely wouldn’t class myself as a royalist but thanks to Queen Liz being on the throne for like, ever, we got a four day weekend to celebrate her diamond jubilee. And what a weekend! Where to start?

I swooned over a work colleague who doesn’t warrant a name in the blog yet, but he’s a looker alright. On Sunday I met up with my girlies all at the same time. Nothing new right? Well my friends have never met each other until now, we tend to meet up separately, but since we’re going on holiday together I thought it was about time. So myself, Miss Sunshine, Miss Yoyo and Miss America met up for lunch and I think it went very well! We were meant to all go shopping together but schedules got in the way, as ever. When I finally got home at around 9pm I got a text message.

Introducing Mr Pensive. He’s a security guard from my work who I’ve been eyeing up for a while. He managed to find me on Facebook and we swapped a few messages and it turns out he lives 4 streets away from me. So he asked me out for a drink. At first I thought ‘I can’t be arsed’. It was late and I was tired. But then I thought ‘fuck it, why not’ and so I went to meet him. To say he’s cute is an understatement. About 6 foot 4, brown hair, nice eyes. And 24 years old. Another young ‘un. Oh dear. It won’t go anywhere. The spark wasn’t there though I’m not sure if he’s just shy or his English second tongue was a hindrance. But he’s very sweet, walked me home and gave me a peck on the cheek. We’ll see.

Monday I had drinks with some girls from work organised by Miss Effervescent, who organises our girls nights out. Cue 7 hours of 8 girls occupying a corner of a pub. And lots and lots of fun! Too much food, too much wine and one very hot barman. Seriously I could have dragged him outside there and then, he was that hot. Aussie, blonde/brown hair, cheeky smile and a great arse. When we left I gave him my number. I must be getting bold in my old age.

There’s a saying that things always happen when you least expect it, and it’s true. I didn’t expect to get a text from Mr Music asking me out for drinks, but I got one anyway. Imagine that. So after our drinks with the girls I headed up to meet him and his flatmate. Long story short, it was a repeat of how it always is with him. Lots of talk about not wanting to ruin our friendship because it’s one of the few he values, blah blah blah. I just wanted to get laid. I didn’t. We went back to his, fooled around and then decided that actually, having sex might just push it too far. Come morning I got up, made myself a coffee and fully intended on sneaking out. And then he woke up, asked for a cuddle and apologised for being an arse. I told him not to worry about it, I know he’s an arse. And cue more fumbling. And last minute backing off. If I had balls they’d be bright blue. I left and haven’t spoken to him since, nor do I intend to. I’m treating this like a guy would and I’m not about to obsess or over analyse what we spoke about. Though I think I must’ve been on heat because I was noticing hot guys everywhere. When I met Mr Music, the most gorgeous American made conversation with us. He was tall, very tall, with tousled curly brown hair and the most piercing blue eyes I’ve ever seen. We lost him in the packed out bar though, which was a shame. I blame it all on Fifty Shades of Grey. Yes, I’m reading it, don’t judge me. I need a Christian Grey in my life is all I can say.

And as for Mr Double-Barrel? I’ve decided to cut my losses. I’ve had enough of the analysis and uncertainty. I’ve not blogged about him since I met his friends but that’s a whole other post by itself. Suffice it to say, I think he’s playing games. So I intend to speak to him and see what he has to say for himself.

And now I’m getting ready for a trip to Ireland where I hope to meet with NaughtyLittleSecrets (check out her blog). If anything it will give me some time away from my mental gymnastics about Mr Double-Barrel because I’ll be going off-comms. Can’t come quickly enough!

Written in the stars

As you may or may not have picked up from previous posts, I’m a little into astrology. I read my horoscope every day and a colleague and friend, we’ll call her Miss Comeback (because she always has a witty comeback) even brings in a copy of The Metro for me to see what the stars say for me. You may also have picked up that this week has been, well, pretty shit to be honest. So a few days ago I delved a little deeper into my stars (mainly out of boredom, very quiet week) and couldn’t help but smile when some personality traits were identified in my birth chart.

Now I know some of you will shake your head and say ‘as if every person can be broken down into 12 personality types’. Of course they can’t, that’s just silly. But when you do a birth chart, based on your time and location of birth, it breaks it down and gives you quite a comprehensive overview of things. Of course not everything marries up, but for me anyway, a lot of stuff does and actually it made me feel much better about the crap week I’ve had. So, let’s see what I’m talking about here.

I’m a Taurus – but not a stereotypical one. In fact, I hardly identify with many of the supposed Taurean traits such as having endless patience, being placid and hating change to name a few. When I went through the individual areas of my birth chart, these are what I found and what struck a chord:

  • Moon in Aries: lack of restraint (tick), impulsive (huge tick), impatient (even bigger tick). Instant gratification rules. Anyone who knows me (and that probably includes you guys by now) knows that when I want something, I want it instantly. In fact, I can barely distinguish between wanting something and needing it. To me, they’re pretty much one and the same thing. Prone to emotional outbursts/tantrums (erm…yes that’s also true) and easily bored. Crap with money (definitely true). It all sounds terrible, I know, but the good things? Lunar Arian’s play it straight – no games. We love the thrill of the chase when it comes to relationships (true, to a point). We like real men, and reading this made me laugh. I’d told Mr Double-Barrel (still in the bad books) that I don’t do pretty boys. He was initially offended until I explained that by pretty boy, I meant a guy who takes longer than me to get ready, gets pedicures/manicures/facials…essentially, someone who possesses the air of Zac Efron. We like our men rough (hell yes) and ready. And they better be able to fight back.
  • Venus in Aries: so by now, I’ve realised Aries is one PUSHY sign. And I have a lot of it in my birth chart. It was this section that really struck me as being accurate on the many, many websites I read up on. Things I identified with? We pursue our love interests like a fly around shit (massive tick), even to the point of obsession. We’re intense and we fall quickly for the object of our affection but we’re prone to losing interest very quickly. We don’t appreciate game playing or having to over-analyse things when it comes to matters of the heart. The word impulsive comes up (again). I sense a theme, here.
  • Finally, I have Mars in Scorpio. Apparently, this makes me a formidable opponent, prone to angry outbursts. Well, I can get a bit over-competitive at times. Passionate, intense and a bit obsessive. Yeah, OK. I do research into my love interest. Starsign, interests, yada yada yada. Again, a theme occuring here. And, if you believe everything you read – a raging nymphomaniac. This is apparently the highest sexed of all placements. Could explain why I’ve been grouchy the last few days. At least if Mr Double-Barrel hadn’t cancelled on me I’d have had the option of getting laid.

I found it all very interesting and in some ways comforting too. If you believe in astrology like I do (beyond the ones printed in the papers and magazines) then it means this is just part of my make-up. And if someone doesn’t like it, there’s nothing I can do to change it. I’d thought this week that maybe I was too intense for Mr Double-Barrel, or Mr Music etc. Maybe I should learn to tone it down a bit. And then after reading this stuff I thought, actually, no. It’s like I have a licence to be these things now. It’s OK for me to really, really need xyz because it’s just part of my personality to obsess about getting it until I do. It’s fine for me to fall totally in lust with someone because it’s just the way I am. It doesn’t mean I’ve actually met the love of my life and we should skip down to the registry office to say ‘I do.’

Of course, this may all just be useless mumbo jumbo, but at the moment, it’s putting things into neat little boxes and making things seem a bit clearer in my life. And that, surely, has to be a good thing.

You’re on your final warning

Ok I’m not a happy bunny today. I was supposed to be meeting with Mr Double-Barrel after nearly 2 weeks since I saw him last. This morning I got a message cancelling due to work commitments. I’m not in the business of being cancelled on twice and I told him so (with a bit of sugar coating). He apologised and said he’d been really looking forward to seeing me blah, blah, blah. But I thought, fair enough. Life gets in the way and we all need money to survive, so I said fine, but don’t keep me waiting another two weeks, to which he replied he wouldn’t.

One of the things I was going to talk to him about when we met up was this festival abroad. I’d spoken to him last week and said I was up for going. The response I got was positive and that they were trying to book flights and accommodation as quickly as possible. All was well, I thought, so I booked my ticket, not wanting to miss out if they sold out by leaving it too long. Knowing that we wouldn’t now meet until some yet to be determined date, I asked him if he was definitely going. The reply? Yes. He’s booked his flights with his mate and his missus, as well as one of his friends who also happens to be an ex. From what I gather they’re still pretty friendly. I left it a good while before replying with a nonchalant but pissed off ‘right. Ok’

If it were me, I’d have thought, I should let Freechick know because she wants to come. Now I know that men and women think differently but come on. To give him his due, he doesn’t know I’ve booked my ticket yet as I was waiting to see if it was worth my while to go, but even still, booking flights would’ve prompted me to ask if I were still interested in going.

I don’t like to be kept waiting, trifled with or played. There’s only so much sweet talking that’s going to win me over. Of course there’s the possibility that it’s really not how it all sounds etc but I don’t suffer fools gladly. He’s on the end of a plank and he’s in severe danger of being pushed off. If he’s not interested in anything other than a bunk up I’d rather he just tell me so I don’t end up wasting my time.

From here on out I’m not contacting him. It feels like I’m the one making all the effort and at this stage it should very much be a mutual thing, so he can contact me.

He’d better tread carefully.

Getting rid of emotional baggage


As much as I love social media, it can be a challenge to understand the protocol when it comes to break ups. Do you remain Facebook friends? Do you block them? Do you keep all the pictures of you as a couple?

Over the last month or so I’d been getting a bit fed up of seeing pictures of me and my ex on my profile page. It felt like I was looking at pictures of someone else and I might as well have been because I’m not that person anymore. Mostly it felt like I was hanging on to a lot of emotional baggage. I’d already deleted the text messages I’d kept from when we were trying to patch things up, and any photos I had of him on my phone were long since deleted. So last night I deleted the pictures of us together on Facebook, and I feel so much lighter! It really got me thinking about how I’ve got through the last 5 months. Now I’m no expert in relationships or break ups, but here’s what helped me:

1. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Unless you cheated, abused or did something equally heinous, don’t beat yourself up too much. One thing I’ve come to realise is that people change and grow apart. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s just the way it is.

2. Your ex is not the only man/woman in the world. There really are plenty more fish in the sea, and probably better fish at that.

3. Keep your friends close. There were times when I really didn’t want to see anyone, including my best friends, but I made the effort and looking back I couldn’t have got through it without them. So a huge thank you to (in no particular order) Gym-Buddy, Miss America, Miss Yoyo and Miss Sunshine (newly introduced but she’ll know who she is).

4. Get laid. A friend told me that the only way to get over someone is to get under someone else. She was right. A rebound fling is inevitable, do it, get it out of the way.

5. Do something you never thought you would. There’s many a number of things I’ve done so far this year that I’d never have dreamt of. Even small things like going to a gallery by yourself or booking a girls holiday to somewhere hedonistic. Do it.

6. Use social media with caution. I had to go back and delete a load of Facebook posts where I’d poured my heart out. I sounded positively suicidal and I cringed when I read them back. Be careful.

7. Don’t stalk. Don’t make your ex a ‘close friend’ on Facebook. Do you really need to know every little thing they’re up to? Don’t spend hours pouring over your past holiday photos either. It’s not going to make you feel any better.

8. Treat yourself. This year I’ve done just that. I had planned to save a heap of money as a bonus of moving back home but I haven’t. I’ve spent shitloads, but I figured I deserved a little niceness. Go buy an expensive pair of shoes, a nice dress or get your hair done. You’ll feel fabulous.

9. Fall head over heels in lust. Remind yourself that you are attractive and had you can feel strongly about someone else.

10. Lastly, have FUN! Go out with your mates, go to concerts, parties, shopping – whatever it is that makes you happy. Your life isn’t over, it’s just a new chapter beginning.

And if I could add another to my top ten, it would be to start a blog. It’s so much more effective than having a diary and made me feel a whole lot less alone.

Break ups create a lot of baggage, but they’re meant to. I feel a lot stronger and comfortable in my own skin than I did even just 8 months ago. Realise that not everyone is going to hurt you – don’t become bitter or you’ll miss out on all the sweetness 🙂

The Rules of Dating

Well my birthday drinks went very well. Despite not a lot of people turning up, I was on top form and had a great time with those who came along. The venue was fabulous, with cabaret girls and fire-eaters, and the music was good. Mr Double-Barrel also came along with his best friend, which was nice. Everyone seemed to like him and he held his own. Given that our date was two weeks ago, I had started to think that maybe he just wasn’t interested anymore.

And this is my problem. He said all the right things. Complimented me on my clothes, my perfume, and talked about the next date, and the date after that. He mentioned that I should go with him to a festival abroad at the end of June, and he was a perfect gent all night. He carried my ridiculously high heels for me and found a club for us to go onto where I’d feel comfortable in my back up flat pumps. He didn’t take me to a pretentious place either. It was in fact a converted public toilet underground in west London and the crowd was most definitely eclectic. I caught him staring at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. He paid me random compliments in the middle of our conversations. We laughed, we talked, we danced, we kissed, we…well. Enough of that. But now I’m stuck. The thing is, I like him (obviously). I mean, I like him in a ‘thinking ahead’ kind of way. And I have no idea what the ‘dating rules’ are.


Am I supposed to wait until he gets in touch with me? And if so, how long is an acceptable wait? Or am I meant to be as upfront as I want to be? After all, it was me who chatted him up in the first place. There’s a balance to be struck between letting him know I like him, without scaring him away. What to do, what to do?

This is all very new for me. Despite my antics so far in 2012, this is the first time I’ve found myself in a dating situation. Mr Music (as much as I liked him) dicked me about. Funnily enough, he called when Mr Double-Barrel and I were in a cab on our way to the club to find out if I was still out and when I told him I was with Mr Double-Barrel, I got an ‘oh’ in response. Oh well. Time waits for no-one. That said, it would’ve been nice for me to flaunt myself in front of him because I’d made probably the most amount of effort with my appearance in my life. A little part of me wanted payback for the night of his ultra-crap leaving drinks. But I digress. My point is that we never dated – and while I did agonise over whether to text him, whether he’d reply etc etc, this is not the same situation.

MOD is incomparable. We’ve known each other since we were at school and with the distance, dating is definitely not what I’d describe our ‘relationship’ as.

How the hell do people do this? I don’t play games, I find it next to impossible to – it’s not in my nature. I have a hard time disguising what I’m really thinking or feeling. I believe in fate, that everything happens for a reason and everything that’s meant to happen will, eventually. But I also have that little thing called ‘impatience’. I like attention. I want Mr Double-Barrel to be almost breaking my phone with a flurry of text messages (though if this really happened I’d feel claustrophobic and suffocated and he’d probably end up in the same situation as Mr Clingy – gone).

I was out with Miss America last night and we were talking. She’s similar to me in many ways in that she doesn’t like not knowing what’s going on. My problem is that I go for attractive men (attractive to me, obviously), and literally every guy I’ve been out with or fancied, has always, always attracted attention when we’re out. I can’t fail to notice when the guy I’m with/have my sights set on is being eyed up by a girl or a group of girls in whatever bar we’re in. And Mr Double-Barrel is an eligible guy. I’m not going to say bachelor because I hate that term, but you get my drift. He’s good looking, he’s ambitious – everything is good on paper. And combined with my inbuilt crap timing, I don’t want to be too relaxed and then get introduced to his new girlfriend a la Mr Music.

God, this is such hard work!

My ambulance ride

I don’t do things by half do I? So I had a lovely day for my birthday, really lovely. And then I went to bed and woke up in the night with a fever. Add to that a soaring temperature and a numb face – deep joy. Thank god I live with my family, I’d have been terrified if I lived on my own, I can’t cope with illness at all. When I woke up in the morning I felt much better, until I fainted in the kitchen and knocked my head. Cue a call to 999.

Turns out I have a viral infection coupled with tonsillitis. My timing is, as always, perfect. I have no idea if I’ll be having my drinks come Friday – I may put it off a week just in case.