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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What I’ve Learnt From Tinder

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CC Image courtesy of TinyTall on FlickrA Super Like is what happens when you drop your phone.

You don’t bat an eyelid at names like Cyril or Bas or Champagne. OK, maybe Champagne.

You start to rely on the bug that shows you people’s profiles twice, to correct all the wrong decisions you made the first time round.

You end up in what can only be described as a phone sex worker-client relationship with a friend of a friend off Tinder. Because, y’know, it might turn into a real relationship. It doesn’t.

You’re on the verge of giving up when, one lunchtime, you open the app to find you’ve matched with The Man from Hampstead.

‘You’re the first person I’ve matched with who I’ve met in real life!’ he writes. ‘Exciting times.’

CC Image courtesy of doug_wertman on Flickr

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What to Expect From Dating in Your 20s

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CC Image courtesy of The Shared Experience on Flickr

You will meet The One, the love of your life, the man you want to marry. Then a few weeks later, by which time you’ll have the order of his profile pictures by heart and all your friends will know his star sign – a few weeks later you’ll unexpectedly run into the guy and wonder what strong drugs you were on.

You will install every dating app known to man. After several weeks of Hinge-ing and Happn-ing you’ll start to wonder if the cute, sun-kissed guys on your screen actually exist… before remembering that cute and sun-kissed isn’t your type.

You will occasionally meet nice, attractive people the old-fashioned way – through friends. Nothing will happen with them either.

A painful experience of unrequited love in your early 20s will teach you precisely nothing.

If you don’t mind paying for his drinks you’re probably in love. If you keep the receipts in a box on your bedside table…

CC Image courtesy of stevendepolo on Flickr

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Happy New Year

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CC Image courtesy of Daniel john buchanan on Flickr

When you look through your 2016 diary, you’re annoyed to discover Valentine’s Day falls on a Sunday again. Even though you’re single, were single on the last Valentine’s Day and have no reason to suppose you won’t be single in a month and a half’s time.

You embrace the New Year as a clean slate in dating terms, an opportunity to start anew: to put aside bad dating practices such as reminding guys who have forgotten about you that you exist. That includes the guy from Tinder who sent you a ‘Happy Christmas’ message but won’t commit to a date.

At 5pm on 1 January you send him a message saying ‘Happy New Year’.

BUT you won’t be carrying memories of failed relationships over into the New Year. No. You’ve decided – and this applies to both parties, to another human being over whose feelings you have no control, as well as your own, over which you have possibly even less control – that feelings are like annual leave: they can’t be carried over.

CC Image courtesy of cygnoir on Flickr

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Maybe Baby

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I survey a broad cross-section of society i.e. Beatrice, Perky, my mother and Adrien, whose response is my absolute FAVOURITE. I print it off and flyer the flat with it, I love it THAT MUCH.

When I start to read your emails

So yeah, I survey my nearest and dearest, and there’s an overwhelming response of:

NOT OK

Which fortunately chimes with how I feel about the whole thing. I know I should be fine with it. I should be, like, that’s totally cool man, shrug it off and go out dancing with my girlfriends.

NOBODY DOES THAT.

But that’s not me. Maybe I’ve got too attached too quickly. Maybe I want a boyfriend so badly I’m ignoring all the reasons it probably won’t work long-term. Maybe this is more about pride and ego and wanting to feel special than my feelings for the guy. But whatever the reason, I’m not OK with it. So I tell him.

CC Image courtesy of Johan Larsson on Flickr

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