Showmantic

"If I had to choose between loving you, and breathing, I would use my last breath to say I Love You"

If the above quote made you feel all gooey inside, you should probably stop reading this and go here instead.

Don't get me wrong, I adore romance in all its tacky, scattered rose petals, chocolate covered, champagne guzzling glory. What I'm not keen on is an entire commercially driven day dedicated to public displays of affection between: couples who are far too old to be tonguing each others dentures in public, couples who think it's OK to dry hump against you on the tube, couples who obscure your view at the theater with their stupidly large Valentine's teddies, emo tweenagers who bandy the L word about like they invented it and, most vexing, the Kooples

Lets be real. Valentine's day is all about the showmance and nothing else. It's dead behind the eyes like a lonely atheist on Christmas day and, like chrimbo, it's all about bragging to the other kids about what you got from 'daddy'.

I don't want to celebrate anything that doesn't come with a day off work. I don't want to feel obliged to do something special just because Hallmark wants me to and I don't want to feel like a sour faced rixatrix if I'm alone on the day. I want to fill (almost) everyday with romance, every Sunday morning with sumptuous breakfasts in bed and make Valentine's day redundant...we're in a recession after all.

Having said (or ranted) that, I'm not averse to receiving plenty of roses tomorrow, and I don't mean the shitty chocolates either... ;-)

XxX

The F* word...

I was watching some stand-up last month and the comic came up with the following brilliant, but very crude comment on the state of modern relationships:

“I’ll tell you why teenage pregnancy is so high these days, fingering has gone out of fashion”

Ok… I’ll let you recover from that one… He has a very valid point though. Despite being comfortably out of my teens I still feel pressure to conform to this skip all the bases, casual- multiple –monogamy culture. Being a rebel, I don’t conform but there is undeniable pressure to do so. If you don’t you’re seen as backward, will probably be left behind on the scrap heap, be rubbish when you do meet ‘The One’ or you are simply the anti-Christ of feminism.

Why are we rushing to get to the bit that ultimately lasts about 3 minutes? And why is everyone giving it up so easily, worse still, criticising those who chose not to? You don’t have to be a man of the cloth to believe that sex should at the very least be with someone you know reasonably well…or at least their real full name because I’m almost certain you didn’t pull William Windsor in All Bar One.

Going in search of some random, sweaty, meaningless encounter just sounds a little bleak to me. A lonely generation of shallow, unhealthy, Twitter obsessed people looking for something to fill the void. I’d rather not, thanks. I'm no nun (I don’t think I'm kinky enough for the role) but what is the point of all of this indiscriminate sexing?

Are we so pressed for time that we can’t participate in little romantic gestures any more? We even have the time saving magic of text... But then I forget the messaging rules, never more than 15 a day and you can only put kisses at the end if they do something exceptional unless they respond with a kiss first, in which case you have the option of reciprocating…YAWN. True romance is dead. Here is it's tombstone and underneath lay a thousand sonnets written in vain.

Every trend comes to an end, so I hope that this one does too. And soon. I don't want to cut to the chase, Kiss chase is the best part! So let's bring it back along with heavy petting, sharing your last rolo and making puppy dog eyes at each other over loveheart sweets. I don't care what everyone does privately but I'd rather not be part of an age-group that has record STDs. It's just not sexy fresh.

Besos Xx

So hard...

London Underground at rush hour…looking around at the old man who hasn’t been offered a seat, the disinterested mother ignoring the fact that her feral offspring are disturbing us ‘would be in a better mood if I wasn’t so late and hung-over’, city workers, one can’t help but wonder, when did we all become so hard?

This morning whilst making the unnecessarily complicated transition at Kings cross from the Piccadilly line to the Northern, a lovely young man smiled at me as we crossed paths on the stairs. Rather than smile back immediately, my initial thought was, ‘what the devil are you looking at?’ Then I remembered the skilled make-up job I had completed between Turnpike Lane and Caledonian Road, and I thought, ‘oh yeah, I’m looking pretty cute today, better smile back’. But alas the moment had passed… and I realised my pre-elevenses self is a bit of a…well… you know.

In my opinion, state of modern women today leaves a lot to be desired. Scowling when men hold doors open for us, drinking ourselves to the point where we could be mistaken for someone with severe learning difficulties, using obscenities (yes, I say some pretty crude things myself but very rarely swear.) Scary pregnant women, with the threat of impending under-carriage down-pour, splattering on your beautiful shoes, brusquely demanding your NON FREEDOM PASS SEAT as her horribly large (no, I’m not sorry for that one) abdomen casts an expectant shadow over your Evening Standard. Undercuts and Dr Martins? Lord! Where has that feminine softness gone? Bring back the pretty dresses and flowing hair (weave allowance permitting.) Feminine charm is alluring and very powerful in the right hands so why are we so opposed to it?

How far does this modern ‘edgy’ attitude transcend into our romantic lives? Too darn mutha double-dutching far, I’d say. All of this power-suit wearing, ball busting, androgynous, feminist overhang from our parents making eyes over teeny portions of food in some Thatcherite eatery.
Yes women are equal to men…in terms of intelligence. There is no need for us to be drinking pints and adjusting our underwear in public. We are not men and why the hell would we want to be? I cringe at the thought of having to endure a random semi or worse still…smegma.

Wearing pink in the office does not make you a bimbo. Wearing stilettos does not make you a loose woman. Using your feminine wiles to get your male colleagues to help you with your work load is fine because in life you must use whatever advantage you have to get ahead. I’m not suggesting that this is the only power that women have. Far from it. It just seems to me that we are displaying overtly masculine behaviours, with our (not myself included) foul mouthed, binge drinking, rugby playing, shagging around, gave birth at my desk-to hell with maternity leave-if baby needs me tell it to hit me up on my BBM, ways. If that is feminism then I don’t want it! Testosterone and women is just plain ugly.

So let us embrace the fact that we are different from men. Lets not judge a woman who is content to be a housewife. Lets be nice to our female colleagues and stop this passive aggressive back stabbing. Lets accept compliments gracefully, and smile when doors are opened for us, and not be offended when a man wants to pay the bill. After all, men are here to ensure our happiness so what’s a flutter of the eyelashes in return?

XxX

A little S&M...

Having tried it, I must say I am not a fan. I'm not talking about gimp masks and spanking, I'm talking about the torture we inflict upon ourselves daily. Are we thin enough, tall enough, rich enough? Does it matter? HELL YEAH IT DOES! So after years of obsessing over my ass, crying over boys and banishing carbs I decided to give myself a break and get on with being happy. This is my secret guide to a less tortured life.

1. The ex. Remain perfectly calm when you see him,even smile and ask him how he's doing. If you're finding it difficult to play nice (believe me I know it's hard) then imagine the various ways in which you could kill him (my favourite is an American history X biting the pavement style execution) whilst you discuss how well you're doing. Crying and acting like a demented crack-head will not remind him of the amazing girl he is missing. Breaking up is sad but it's a great time for reinvention and focusing on your talents so don't waste it nibbling on Ben & Jerry's. (Unless Ben and Jerry happen to be stunning models...mmmm giggety)

2. Your fat thighs. Moaning about this does not burn calories. Take immediate action and put on a pair of stilettos, stat! You'll look taller and thinner and tone your thighs as you go about your daily routine. Let's be honest, we're all happy being slimmer so don't buy into to this big is beautiful and I'm really happy shit. Save the lies for Jeremy Kyle. Cut 300 calories from your diet and exercise during your lunch break. The pounds will drop off quickly with minimal effort and the effect on your confidence is incredible. Have you noticed how your skinny friends always give you highly calorific gifts on your birthday? The sabotaging bitches! Send them pork scratchings as a thank you...when you leave the room, trust me, then will eat it. They get fatter, you get thinner. Win.

3. I HATE MY JOB!! This is a serious affliction and I'm sure no one is immune to the Monday morning dread. Take some time to think about what you really want from life. What makes you happy? You spend so much of your life at work so if you hate it do something about it before you turn suicidal. Make a plan. Think of all the little steps you need to take to make your dream a reality. What's holding you back? It won't be easy at the start but think about the big picture, struggle now and be happy later or have an unhappy but easier time now. As for the fitties out there... you know how to get to the top anyways
;-)Yes, it's unfair but it's life.

4. Am I pretty enough? No? Are you wearing MAC? No? Well there you go then.

Make the best of yourself. You only have one life to live so don't save the Victoria Secret lingerie for a special occasion. Breathing is a special occasion. Put it on now. Doesn't that feel sexy? Good. Put on your favourite scent, spend an extra 5 minutes on your face and wear a smile. If you look great you feel great. Simple, shallow truth.

XxX

Hidden depth?

When men talk to me all I seem to hear is blah, blah, vacuous and blah. From bankers to lawyers, when faced with an attractive woman all eloquence seems to go out of the window. Some men even act foolish to the point where you want to call their parents up just to tut down the phone. I don't care if you saved a life with your bare hands today, keep them off my ass!

With highly educated men who are prized for their intellect I am disappointed to find that universally, the sought after trophy wife sits very well on the mantelpiece with the MBA ACA PhD...

At first you love the attention, to be the pretty thing and object of desire. When I say at first... I mean when you're 17 and it's all exciting and new. Give it a couple of years and you start seeing the dull reality of it all. The world is full of beautiful faces and pussyfat-trolls have easy access to Maybelline! You realise that outer beauty fades and that any relationship based on appearance fizzles out pretty quickly when you're knee deep in baby shiz and tripping over your tits. (So I hear...)

With this in mind, any serious commitment becomes epically scary. What happens when you're older, fatter and grey? Do you get traded in for a younger model? Do you sit around looking at each other in disgust wishing you had someone interesting to talk to? What REALLY scares me about this question is... what happens if I wake up next to an old, fat, wrinkled, hairy, smelly old bastard. Yes my friends...I too am a shallow and hypocritical monster and I am petrified of it!

I loathe worship of the superficial. But, BUT I do have a strong preference for a certain type of man. Though to distinguish myself from the shallow I like to refer to this as a set of standards befitting to an entrepreneurial goddess who takes meticulous care over her shrine, subjects and manifestations. Translated into bollocks non grata: I'm a smart up-start who takes very good care of herself and I expect you to be the same.

To be shallow, in part, is simple human nature. We all want the best for ourselves and the future lives we'll create. If that means coming together (ahem) to conceive 6foot tall, Abercrombie modelling astrophysicists then hooray for evolution. Just put some thought into it. None of this marks out of ten nonsense that seeks to gratify women by aesthetic value alone. This is particularly amusing when you think of who is holding the score cards. How many 5's do you know who insist on having a so called 10's? The system works both ways and we are tallying up your rating too! At the end of the day, we are all pretty similar in wants, needs and desires. We all love the pretty! All I ask is that you use that gorgeous mind of yours and try and make it a little less obvious boys ;-)

Only the shallow know themselves. Oscar Wilde
XxX

Mr Perfect.

In order to get to my ideal, I must first warn you about the types of unsuitable men who seem to be in frightful abundance.

1. The wasteman. This man calls the guy behind the counter at 'The Chicken Cottage', boss. This is because, being unemployed, he does not know the correct usage of the word. He spends his days delighting the passengers on London transport with his MC-ing skills but can't be assed to sing his own kid/s to sleep. He approaches you on the bus (normally eating chicken & chips) by asking 'What you saying B? You gotta man? Child please, I noticed you didn't touch your oyster card on the reader as you got on the bendy. If you can't afford to take yourself from A to B then don't expect to C me.

2. The bully. This man will tell you the sky is green, not because he thinks it is but because he expects you to believe everything he says without question. He will use emotional blackmail, public humiliation, physical and mental abuse to achieve this. If you were the one who was wronged and end up tearfully apologising to the wrong doer, get out of there A.S.A.P!

3. The egocentric. The world revolves around this charmer. His constant need for attention is draining and often leads him to seek affection from other women. He is deeply insecure, self obsessed and a complete bore. He usually spends hours in the gym and may take steroids to build up those guns. Darling, your body is getting bigger but your manhood has shrunk, jog on.

4. The stray. You are gay, don't fight it. Stop wearing my French knickers, you are stretching them.

5. The cretin. The troll that won't take no for an answer. Some women are worn down by all the constant flattery and awkward offers of dates. Don't give into this pity peddler. When you refuse his advances for the 15th time, he'll spread a rumour that you are a lesbian. Lay off the tuna sarnies at lunchtime, you'll only fuel the rumour.

6. Peter Pan. You are a 50, I am half your age... the answer is obviously no. And the skinny jeans. Stop it.

7. The double dipper. Ashley Cole, Tiger Woods, John Terry, Eddie Murphy, Jude Law.... enough said.

There is a special type of man known as 'The Boris Becker', but this deserves it's own special blog...

Now the mythical beast I like to call Mr Perfect is defined as thus: Simple, (not mentally) ambitious, funny, honest, loving, (nothing like numbers 1-7) loyal and intelligent. How can such a short and uncomplicated list feel like an impossible ask? Is the answer to find a man for each of these qualities? Nice...but impractical. I like to think that we all possess these qualities in varying measures making Mr Perfect a little more human. Just be real, don't settle for anyone who doesn't treat you like a princess and don't make the mistake of assuming outer beauty reflects inner...

Lots of love,

Ms Perfect. XxX

Facebook is full of sexual predators...

...as well as sexual prey and it can be a very dangerous place to loiter.

We have somehow managed to remove the 'I wonder what so-and-so looks like now and is he single?' because it's so easy to find out. One little click and you are presented with a small selection of carefully selected, taken from the most flattering angle, helped by the seductive lighting of a swish bar, uber-gorgeous photos (from 2006).

So you add-reminisce- flirt and the 'fun' begins. Here is where the danger lies or perhaps lays is more apt... This is the dotting the i's and crossing the t's of modern dating. No stone or pretty boy left unturned, no old flame left unburnt.

It seems like everyone is at it or has tried it so I must ask this question. Why? Why are we hiding behind the safety of cool online persona's? Why are we reincarnating crushes that have disappeared from our lives for some reason and should probably stay in the sanctity of infallible daydream?

And then I thought a little more... What are the alternatives? What happened to random chance meetings (with sane, good-looking, intelligent and employed men)? Where has all the spontaneity, fireworks and epic romances vanished to?

In an era where people rarely have time for a leisurely lunch and in an age group too young and beautiful for online dating it seems that F-Booking is the way forward. Texting is the new love letter and posting amusing youtube clips on each others walls is the new mix-tape. And why the hell not? Just remember one thing: The same rules apply! (See previous post) and the boy you went out with in sixth form is probably not as perfect as your hazy sepia toned memory. Do it anyway.... it's fun.

But have a look at this article before you do. http://http//www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/facebook/7508945/Facebook-linked-to-rise-in-syphilis.html

Play safe XxX