10 Signs You’re Nearly 30

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  1. You’re 29.
  2. You go on a date with a guy you met in a club. He’s 25 and, when you reveal your age, he says, ‘Well done.’
  3. You start wondering about felt tip pen as a viable, affordable fix for prominent grey hairs.
  4. You decide it’s now or never with giving the dream career a shot. Hell, there has to be an upside to not having a joint mortgage!
  5. You go to parties and are the token single person there, fielding questions like, ‘What do you think of Tinder?
  6. So you embrace it, cast aside your inner Charlotte, and sleep around.
  7. When that doesn’t prove to be fun (bad sex and, oh, bad sex), you go back to focusing on that dream career.
  8. Which proves to be a nightmare, so you get to wondering if children are really that bad.
  9. And decide they are.
  10. Maybe New Zealand is calling. There’s Tinder in New Zealand, right?

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Size Matters

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CC Image courtesy of princess toadie on FlickrI push open the door and approach the desk.

‘How can I help?’

‘Er I’m looking for free condoms…’

Yes I am that tight.

‘Do you have any preference?’

The kind that stop you getting pregnant/catching STIs?

‘What are the options?’

‘Regular, large, just different sizes.’

‘Err… erm…’

And there, in the foyer of Soho’s express sexual health clinic, I find myself contemplating the size of Tom‘s manhood.

‘Large? No maybe…’

Are condoms one of those things it’s best to buy on the small side? I look round. There’s a guy – staff I think – hovering nearby. But this really isn’t one of those things where you can ask for a second opinion. I wonder fleetingly what you’re supposed to do if you need condoms before you’ve seen someone naked.

‘… regular?’ I wind up. ‘Or… can I have some of both?’

He must think I’m planning a quickie back at the office. Actually, judging by his expression, he’s not thinking anything at all.

‘It’s one pack per person,’ he says.

‘Erm… I don’t really know how this works. I mean, I do, but… this is surreal!’

He looks mildly bored. Hosiery sizing charts swim into my mind. For a mad moment I consider asking him how condom sizing works.

‘Then… large?’

Five minutes later I leave with my allotted pack and walk back in the direction of the office.

(TO BE CONTINUED)

CC Image courtesy of ilovebutter on Flickr
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Things I’ve Said to Tristan

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CC Image courtesy of masochismtango on Flickr

‘I’ve started going grey!’ Before pointing out the offending hairs.

*

‘If I was with someone and they wanted children I’d probably advise them to have them with someone else to ensure they don’t suffer from anxiety!’

*

‘If you were chatting to a girl on Tinder…’

This story definitely isn’t about me.

‘… and you’d been chatting for a while and you invited her round to yours and she came, would you ever consider going out with her or would you just see it as… just sex?’

Just sex apparently.

‘So what should you say when he asks? Just no, or… no, but how about drinks?’

Just no.

CC Image courtesy of Amy Loves Yah on Flickr

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#nofilter

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CC Image courtesy of oddsock on FlickrI discovered the filter function on OkCupid the other day.

I was having brunch with Tristan, Tristan’s girlfriend (don’t ask), Ryan and a couple of others, who were incidentally also a couple. Conversation turned to dating.

‘How did you two meet?’ Tristan says to The Couple.

They laugh. ‘OkCupid,’ they say, at the exact same time.

‘Yeah, when I applied the filters that really mattered to me,’ the girl says, looking fondly at the residue, ‘you were the only one left!’

The residue smiles. I frown. Filters? That’s only available on the paid option, no?

No, so the following evening, remembering this conversation, I start filtering like a SWIMMING POOL, trying not to think about how much time I’ve wasted scrolling through unsuitable profiles.

Single, straight, at least 5’10” (my height), university-educated non-smokers – that’s all I’m asking for. Oh and in the interests box I put the name of my favourite band, believing – perhaps mistakenly – that there’s a much greater chance I’ll hit it off with a fellow fan. I start scrolling through the results. One guy catches my eye.

There should be a name for it, when you’ve seen someone on every online dating platform going, you’ve consistently ‘liked’ them because, y’know, they’ve got great bone structure, are funny and like all the same music and books as you. And they’ve been consistently unresponsive. This time I copy and paste his interests section for when I feel like browsing Spotify for new music, before returning to the search results.

I continue scrolling down, only to be met with the words that there are no more results and that I might want to consider revising my criteria. The band gets the axe and, what the hell, alcoholism and smoking – they have a certain charm, right?

A short while later I find myself back on a familiar profile: a chain-smoking heteroflexible* divorced father of two who lives on the wrong side of the Channel. And who I’m pretty sure I’ve already spoken to.

CC Image courtesy of [Rossco]:[www.rgstrachan.com] on Flickr

*Defined on Urban Dictionary as ‘I’m straight but shit happens’.

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Love Letter

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CC Image courtesy of tanakawho on FlickrThis is a love letter to the men who remind me it’s worth holding out for love. For someone wonderful. For someone who looks at you like you are their world.

Tall, slender Tobias with his stripy socks, throwing around words like ‘Brechtian’ that I’ve stopped pretending to understand. He became a father recently and he will be wonderful at it.

‘You’re the only person I’ve told that story to who got what I meant!’ This is Tristan. When he says things like that I don’t know whether to punch him or throw my arms around him.

Felix is a funny one, literally. When he joined the team I was wary in case I fell for him again, which I did. He makes me smile everyday.

I don’t know how Adrien became my agony aunt, but he did. This is him at his absolute best. He’s beautiful and bright and when I’m having a shit day he puts a bit of rope and a post-it with ‘Bye’ written on it on my desk and then I don’t feel so bad.

This is a love letter to the men I see everyday. Thank God.

CC Image courtesy of CocoMunkii on Flickr

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