Bad Bitches

Its been an age since I last blogged  and my, what a lot has happened in that time. 

In summary;

• I've restricted drinking to twice a week meaning 75% of the people in my life are now intolerable.
  
• I'm three glorious months into my health kick and have the self-righteous glow of a wealthy cleric. 
  
• I've moved into a wonderful flat, the only downside being an agoraphobic housemate who has been driving me crazy with her passive aggressive post-its and eerr...dirty protests... Rather than let her creepy whistling piss me off (much) I've decided to use her as my inspiration to work even harder. Yes, 2012 is about being happy, successful and at peace with myself.

So with this new ethos enhancing my life like Photoshop on Madonna's face, you can imagine my amusement at being labelled "over-confident" by three different men. One being a grotesque middle manager who's flirtations are met with deadpan put-downs, the other, an ex who I think has only just discovered fire, and most amusingly, a random date I had. 

This 'date' was with a guy, who despite having an MA in Philosophy or some other subject people who love the sound of their own voice like, seemed rather simple. He spoke only of his last Black girlfriend (alarm bells), who he took to the Seychelles and she dumped him on arrival. After I listened to him bore on about sending her hate mail, mild stalking, prank calls in which he tells her to fuck off and die, and putting photos of attractive girls on his Facebook profile to make said ex jealous, I decided it was time to put the cocktail down and conceal the nearest weapon under my sleeve. On discovering the entire relationship lasted 5 weeks, I told him to seek help (the only words I contributed to our conversation)  He then proceeded to tell me that I obviously hate men and have a massive ego.

After I finished laughing my fine ass off, I though I'd better come on here and vent some faux-feminist rage.

Yes, after all the things I've been through I am still confident. Sometimes, sometimes it's a mask that protects me from the vile creatures that inhabit this world, but mostly I am confident because I know I am a great girl. 

Now, if you're expecting me to lower my standards for you, or be bowled over when you act like a gentleman, or expect me to accept less than the best treatment from you due to your 'status'- then I'm afraid you'll have to suck my metaphorical.  

 Oh and Liz from Zimbabwe...call the police girl!

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

Don't hate the player, be the player.

I like to keep things simple but alas, simplicity in the world of dating seems to have died like my appreciation for Eddie Murphy. This is because somewhere in our grey matter we have decided to over analyse, over complicate and over compensate.

When you find yourself crying on your girlfriends' shoulder relaying the beautiful night you spent with this months 'the one' and your despair about him being scared of commitment despite the fact that he thinks 'You're wonderful', remember one thing. He doesn't. If he did he would be with you. You see how clear things become when you remove the bullshit? You like a guy and you want to be with him? Yes? Well it works the same way for men too. The difference is men play the field, this is something women should do too. The more you explore the more you understand how the game works and of course you're less likely to cling desperately to the first man you 'connect' with. Cringe.

Now I'm not promoting 'ho'ishness at all. Just because a man buys you dinner does not mean you pay him back by tasting the cotton from his Calvin's. Your company is worth every penny of that lobster and Champagne meal and don't forget it. By dating lots of men you get a clearer idea of what you like, you spot the losers quicker and you have a ball on the path to love. There you go. Simplicity restored.

(Just remember to change your number when you get engaged...) Xxx