Hi, I am A**** and suffering from depression.

I have  become the master of masking my true feelings. I never pretend that everything is rosey, as thats just stupid and fake. But for me to truly open up is hard. Even more so as I have been a secret thing, girlfriend, side piece or whatever you want to call it for the three years.

I am not sure if it is because of the whole new year crap and you realise over Christmas just how great or fucked up things are. But I have truly lost my shit, I have never been so lost in my life. Shopping, eating, not having the will power to work out  ( I am not even mad busy), but my mind just won’t let me do it. I used to be obsessive about working out ( I wouldn’t say that I was crazy, I just had my routine, especially as I love my food).  I can’t even pull myself to do the one thing that I can actually afford to do. I have let him take everything from me, and I dont even know how this has happened. I have always been in control of feelings to some extent and now I am trying to keep it together but i am scared of what I will do. My mind wonders and I think I am somewhere but it’s just a dream. It’s rather confusing and scary.

I written as I know it would be a process of my analysing stuff, which I didn’t want to face. I liked being “normal” for once, being in love, feeling loved and somewhat fake. Not having to worry about some stupid man messaging me, dreading first dates etc.

I can’t even finish writing this as I am tears, but I have to publish now so I can achieve something today (bar work). Hopefully I can workout tomorrow…baby steps.

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The Bitch Is Back

Sorry for the lack of posting. My new job has turned me into a mini jet setter (without the salary to match). Plus I am seeing some one. Yes, I am now a one man woman!

I promised I wouldn’t talk about him, which I have managed to keep sincerely starting this monolog. Well, to be fair it was mainly due to the fact that we were just having sex and dinner. Basically the type of relationship I am familiar with and more importantly comfortable with. No feelings, no drama, easy.

This relationship blossomed into everything I’ve wanted. Bar the fact that he is recently separated and over 15 years older (you can’t have it all I guess).

We’ve spent a weekend away in late April. It was the first time I went away with a guy for the whole weekend. We have a fantastic weekend and filthy sex :-). The inner porn star came out that night. I mean proper filthy porn. It comes as second nature…I know what he wants and I do it without him asking me. I feel like it is my duty to please him in every way (mentally). Like a marriage.
In June, we had a ten day holiday in Italy. At this point I was ready to walk away. Recent text messages made me feel a bit “under valued”. I felt like the NSA chick and not the girlfriend. Crazy, as I am known at the “NSA Chick”. You could say it is literally written across my forehead. But for the first time ever I voiced my disappointment and overall thoughts. I could see it in his eyes. He looked distraught, knowing he made me feel this way. Looking back at it, I was definitely on a OTT rage. The hormones are making me become extremely temperamental as I get older. But he accepts that. I was afraid of the unknown. After the crap that happened with Mr Big, I wasn’t sure if my head could take it.
I had the BEST ten days ever. I was afraid that he would do my head in. Fight or crave for some alone time, as we both love being alone.
But we didn’t want to leave each others side. We were basically those cute couples who are not too OTT, but just enough for you to throw your coffee at them.
I even walked around in the hotel room naked with a face mask. A face mask! Driving from town to town. Wine, sun, good food and culture! The holiday made me realise how much we value each other. It’s something I’ve never experienced before. I don’t feel venerable. I feel safe.

Guys, I think I’m in love. And it feels great. I can tell him ANYTHING. I have no fears, we are completely honest with each other. Now this is love.

The Big Bad Bully

Don’t you love it when you receive a random text from a random guy? You secretly hope it was the hot guy you swapped numbers with on a night out a few months ago. Or that one date, which seemed perfect, but as life does, crap stirs up and you go your separate ways.Or it was that twat, whom you have completely forgotten about, but clearly he hasn’t forgotten you. Well, that’s my luck! I got the twat!

A couple of years ago, when I had my first stab of online dating I met a guy called Matt. A 37-year-old detective. He seemed ok on paper, I didn’t fancy him much, but he seemed calm/mysterious. I couldn’t quite read him, which always makes me more interested. I think I’m attracted to indirect danger!

One afternoon he got home from work and to sleep. Being the cheeky girl I am I proceeded to say “good night granddad”. Let’s just say it didn’t go down too well.

Standing in Soho Square, in my heels and nude fitted dress, I didn’t know what to think. As a girl who is comfortable with men sexually and socially, dating makes me feel sick. I was a nervous wreck, fidgeting like a child in anticipation. Walking towards me with this sorry figure of a man. The first thing that came into my head was “Fuck, he looks like Danny” (my ex boyfriend). This kind of made sense, a familiar face in a foreign situation.

Dinner was somewhat awkward. I couldn’t be myself, as he made it clear that he did not like me talking about my work or boss.  My head was on repeat, “don’t talk about work, you know he doesn’t like it”. I managed to survive dinner without a dirty look, so I was doing well. Sitting in a bar, we shared a bottle of wine. “Its your turn, I’ve paid for dinner” he shouted in an unattractive drunken manner. I was speechless; non-the less I paid for the drinks. I just wanted to go home without any drama.

Matt noticed me drifting off, as I do when tipsy and slightly bored. He gently touched me to wake me up. In my drunken state I jumped to my feet like a kinky kangaroo and singed “let’s go granddad”.

Before I knew it, he went into a rage and rushed out of the bar. Trying my best to run down Soho in my heels to catch up. Within in a blink of an eye, he was gone. On my way home, I called Mr Big to tell him about the disastrous date, trying to understand what I did wrong. Jumping out of the taxi, the driver commented on how beautiful I was, which boosted my ego.

I called Matt to apologise, I did make it clear from the start of my dry sense of humor! I did call myself a grandma a few times as I was drifting off. He went on like a menopausal woman, saying how he no longer found me attractive, how he thought I was immature etc. At this point I was running around my room getting ready for bed, pretending to actively listen.

Then I fell onto my bed in shock. Let’s just say he called me the C word…and I don’t mean a Cow. Now I have no issues with the word, I use it a lot, in and out of the bedroom. However when a man is calling you that outside the bedroom, in an extremely aggressive manner. Shouting at you continuously, it was like he was in a middle of riot.   Although it was over the phone, I felt frightened and confused. What did I do wrong?

The next day he called up to apologise, as he partly blamed me for what happened. “Forgetting” that he called me the C word!

It dawned on my age and fundamentally me that he had issues, with women, who are rather confident. I guess he assumed, that because I’m younger, I would be “easier” to control. He soon found out, that I can fight back.

The Headf***

Sorry for my lack of posting. My issues with dating and slight ( ok well rather large) habit of casual encounters has meant I have very little to write about.

I have tried several times to write about “Mr Big”, I  finally think I am emotionally ready for it. I am still mourning our friendship more than everything else. He has completely cut me out. Although he was the one that said the “yucky” stuff first.

Anyway, I’m having a brain “fart” as I am writing this, so please bear with me. Mr Big and I started our “relationship” (an extremely loose term) three years ago. It was great, meet up for a Friday or Saturday night. Do the dance and off home. We got on well, but I didn’t see the need to go out socially (what’s the point, we aren’t dating?). I’ve always tried to be very simple with this. I’m great at casual relationships. I’ve had a couple which others may have seen as dating, as we would go out for dinner or drinks. But it’s something I don’t generally do. I see very little need to mix the two. I still don’t know why maybe as I am simple minded? God knows.

On a night out, I called Mr Big to see if he was in town to give me and a girlfriend a lift home. A bit tipsy, he proceeded to tell me about some big titted thing he played with, but he said, “she doesn’t have a patch on you”. Now I don’t take words seriously, as I have had a few head fuckers, especially in my early teens, but that’s a different story. As I laughed when he told me this, I was thinking “ I wish you could find a girlfriend, you’re a good one”. The conversation turned into something I was not prepared for. He told me, he had feelings for me. Not one where he felt very protected, but love. I tightly squeezed my friends arms as he mumbled away. She went slightly red, but that’s the price you pay for being my friend :-). The conversation lasted over an hour. I felt all warm inside, something I can say I have never felt before.

About a month went by when I responded to tell I’m I do have feelings for him. I wanted to give it some time, to see if I am having a knee-jerk reaction. Months went by where the conversation never came up again. I’m certainly not going to bring it up. I didn’t want to appear to be “that girl”, who catches feelings. I am the Queen of non-committed relationships. But I couldn’t hide anymore. This foreign feeling of love made me sick both physically and mentally.

Christmas 2013, a month after we declared our feelings,  I invited him to my home. This was a big deal for me, as it’s the family home and I never let my ex-boyfriend through the front door, even if I was alone. Somehow that seems more personal. I made lunch, great sex as always and we exchanged Christmas gifts. Well, I gave my gift later as it did not arrive. Anyway, he presented me with a ring. A simple wedding band sorta ring, which wouldn’t have cost no more than £15. But that’s’ not the point. It’s the gift. Why give me that type of ring? I just remember smiling, like your face is about to have an attack, it is was intense. But I was happy and somewhat surprised. “Does he really love me in this way?” Not that I would have gotten married to him, but some sort of commitment. This is something that still hurts if I am honest. Like I’m being laughed at in some way.

Over the course of 2014, Mr Big kept on saying crap, which I am not going to bore you with. Stating that I need to sort myself out etc (which was true to some extent). In a nutshell, he failed to mention that he had a girlfriend. I slept within maybe once or twice whilst he was dating her.  Bearing in mind he knows what I am like. Rejection is fine, scary but better than being played.

The only thing I still ask myself is why couldn’t he have been honest? He knows what I am like. Plus she works in a pub and looks like a 1990’s throw back, but then again he does like them slutty. Enough with the bitching! But seriously, I am happy he has found someone. I just hated the way he has treated me. I thought him and I were mates. He wouldn’t even meet me for a coffee over Christmas ( I found out he had a girlfriend in December 2014). Thank god for Facebook hey! I actually screamed when I saw the status update and cried when taking my little cousins back home. I couldn’t control my emotions.  There is nothing worse than a three-year-old stating that you are crying. I was ready to set off. I cried myself to sleep for days, only to wake up 30mins later. Seeing images in my head. It was crazy, it still happens from time to time, but I think it’s more the hormones (well I hope it is).

He is 20 years older, and it may not have lasted more than three months to a year, god knows. But I thought our friendship would have lasted until death. That sounds really emotional but true. I haven’t sent the long email, text or voice message. Is there any point?

This is why I hate feelings because no matter how honest and easy going you are about this. Someone always knows how to fuck with your brain/emotions.  I laid myself bare, having panic attacks when expressing how I felt. I was scared. Scared of the unknown. It’s even worse when it’s someone that you respected and cherished, as a friend.

PS. I haven’t cried writing this (yay me).

Opps I Did It Again

I haven’t posted for a while as I’ve only been on one date in January…well if you call it a date.

Heath, whom I exchanged numbers with when I first joined Pick, resurfaced.

For me, when a guy does this, it means that I was on his reserve list. Some women wouldn’t give him the time of day. But I didn’t waste much time on him, so why not? You never know what can happen? I guess he was on my reserve list too! I was speaking to about eight guys the first time Heath and I spoke. I had arranged to meet seven guys but only two happened. The dating game in London is something else!

He invited me for a drink and arranged to meet in his part of town. Let’s just say the date (if you call it that), lasted an hour.

So there I was in his apartment, looking back at it, I totally walked into this situation. He suggested an option of a bar or his apartment, as it was cold etc. As he’s Scandinavian, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Note to self; don’t follow national stereotypes!

This hot, 6’1 blonde guy sitting next to me. We were talking about how long we’ve been single and past dates from Pick. The usual dating questions. “So what do you want?” he whispered as he leaned over and looked me straight in the eye.

“I go with the flow, but I don’t want a fling. Whatever happens, happens”.  I smiled. And it sure did. As he leaned in for a kiss, I slightly pushed back, but hey, he was a good kisser. I tried my hardest not to give in fully, but my body couldn’t resist any longer. Before I knew it  I was on top of him in an oasis of passion. I don’t mean romantically, just an attraction. Good sexual chemistry. We took it to the bed and BAM! I was serviced. I’m having flashbacks writing this now!  😉

However for the first time in my life I was speechless and ashamed. Me, a girl who has done some things that would be put 50 shades of grey to shame. But yet, it not being my first time sleeping with a guy I hardly know, I was embarrassed. I guess I have matured emotionally. I can’t do the mental aspect of dating. I know I can’t. Having just had great sex, we both laid there. We didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t planned, but it felt right. We both felt dirty (not in a good way) but turned on at the same time. He stroked my arm and asked if I was ok. As I stared at the wall, I replied “yes” and  if he had done this before. “No”, he replied “You?”. Of course I lied, and said “no”. But technically I wasn’t lying as the other times where more “casual dates”, with no intentions on both parts.

As he dropped me back to the station, we both quite couldn’t handle what happened. It would have been awkward to stay for dinner and I just wanted to go home and slap and high five my self at the same time! Surprisingly he contacted me for the next couple of days. I thought I’d blown it, I just don’t mean dating wise.

What’s wrong with me!? Take Tony, the teacher, a lovely guy and great boyfriend material. But there was no spark. Instead of telling him this, I told him I’ve been offered a job in Copenhagen and I might take it.  He was so excited and supportive. We wished each other a happy new year, but I never kept him updated with my “plans”. I do feel like a bitch for lying. I’m just not willing to deal with the drama/emotions. Yet I don’t just “disappear” as I find it rude (it has happened to me a lot). Yes- I realised I’ve contradicted myself.

I don’t want to be obsessed with trying to do the dating thing properly, as let’s face it, I can’t. It’s like there is some spell enabling me to have a relationship. But I can see myself slowly going back to my old ways. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I just need someone who can handle me in every way. Knowing that I am a minx, but one with a brain. Although this is part of my makeup, it doesn’t define me as a person. It’s just a shame mainstream society can’t accept it.

Heath did text me again on Sunday to meet and it wasn’t for coffee. My response was “you have hands for a reason”. I’d be surprised if he contacts me within the next month or so.

It’s That Time Of Year Again

New year, new start as most people commit to. But only a handful manage to succeed.

My hope for 2014 was to try a relationship with my “Mr Big”. it was clear it wasn’t going to happen. So to get my mind off him I went on dates. Lots of them. Some fantastic, some okay and few terrible, very terrible.

I had one guy who wanted to be his sub in EVERY WAY. Me being me, I played along with it during the date. I find it fun, “hitting” their spot. Watching their facial expressions.

There was another guy, whom at the age of 27 has had 11 “serious” relationships and wanted me to be no12 after two dates! I somehow managed to get out of that one.

The worst date in history let alone 2014 was Nick, a 32 year old aspiring chef. It sounds good so far right?

It was in March him and I went on a blind date. Wes spoke a few times on the phone. The conversation didn’t flow too badly. However, I could always hear him whispering something when we would hang up. Things like “fuck”. I just assumed he must have forgotten something.

We met at the station and there he was. An extra from skins. He was extremely fidgety, pulling his jumper and coat like a five-year-old way. As we had  a drink in a bar, all I could think of is ways to get out of the date. Too late, he asked where we should go for dinner. This sounds bad, but I didn’t want any more people looking at us. It was a “why is she with him?” look. I am not a snob, I’ve been with builders etc. However, this was different, he was on edge like he was on some drugs.

For the first time ever I was lost for words. So I said to myself, think like a girl. This is where American television has it’s purpose.

I asked simple things, such as how many kids he wanted?  Three he said. As I sipped my drink, I asked him how soon do you envision this? “Two years he smiled”.  I wanted to cry,  as I slightly choked on my drink. I nearly shouted “ it won’t  be me, so I am off”. I managed to keep my big mouth shut. Moving the questions I along, I asked how many siblings he has. A neutral question, nonpushy. Out of nowhere he loudly whispered “ I can’t do this..”. My head was shouting “GET OUT MISSY”. It was that moment in time I wish I had a code with a friend to get us out of bad dates.

As he went to the bathroom, I frantically searched my purse. I had no cash. I couldn’t walk out and not pay towards dinner. What if he tried to call me? I can’t handle the drama! As he reappeared, he seemed very calm. Too calm, no one slouches on restaurants chairs and tables like they are at home. This confirmed my theory, he’s on drugs. It was on my mind all evening. I sometimes have no issues asking difficult questions.  it makes the date more interesting. The date only last two hours, but it felt like six.

Walking to the bus stop he asked me the question. “So, can I keep your number?” “Sure” I said. But my head was thinking, “fucking hell if you say no, no matter how nicely he will be pisssssed”. I jumped on the first bus that came my way. that evening he sent me some mixed up text messages, rude ones. But even for me (I’m dirty minded to the core), it didn’t make sense. Weeks went past and I managed to ignore him with one line sentences. Nothing too rude, but it would make sense I am not interested. Nope, that didn’t work. So I lied and told him I dating someone. For the next two days, I received countless calls and text messages.  Wanted to me to remind him where I lived, so he could “pass through”. He wanted someone to talk to. Fair enough, but it wasn’t going to be me.  Threats of going to the police didn’t work. After taking advise from a girl friend, I blocked his number. Pure and simple. Never heard from him again.

This is why I hate, or should I say hated dating. You meet loads of cool guys, but there is no spark or after the date, nothing happens for whatever reason (which seems to happen to me a lot). But all I know is, this is life. It’s how I want it to be. So I will just have to go on a few more bad first dates. To be fair it makes a good story to friends and potential dates. Plus makes things more colourful!

After the shitty/ some what colourful year I have had within the dating the world, I think its time to be more fussy. Don’t stand for the bullshit and cut it off. Basically, be up front like I am with my friends at times aka a bitch! Saying that I still have at least 3 dates from last year I still need to go on. We all love a trier! Plus I always pay towards something (well if they let me, which most do) so its cool. I’m not going for the free food :-).

Happy 2015 to you all!

x

The Guy That Loved Too Much

Well where to start with this one?

Paul, is a man who wears his heart on his sleeve. Literary!

He asked if he could hold my hand while out shopping. Asked to show his parents a picture of me. Asked if he could ‘plant one on me’ when at a bar. It’s an English term for a snog. Even said if I could play along, by saying ‘Paul, I find you so sexy’. Bearing in mind this was just within the first 48hours of swapping numbers. My head! I felt suffocated, the more he went on, the more I couldn’t breathe.

I told him to calm down a bit. He understood what I meant and apologised. But every second sentence he said “I’m playing it cool with ya”.

I was just thinking, ‘How do I end this, without being a bitch?’

Every time I tried to cut contact, he kept on saying ‘You will look back at that nice guy and say to yourself why did I let him go? I’m not talking about me by the way.’

I was good, I laughed it off in my head. I knew no matter how lonely I might be feeling, there is no way in hell I could date something that clingy and fundamentally found a pain. I couldn’t bare texting him. It would do my head in. But I can’t block someone like that. I just find it extremely disrespectful. I naturally like to please people I guess. Yes I could have used him, for gifts and attention. But I am not that sort of girl. Plus it sounds like hard work.

Paul went on to use that phase four times within a month. I called him out the last time. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The constant eye rolling when communicating with him was started to give me repetitive strain injury. Firmly I informed him that I’m not stupid and he could not force me to like you, as I would cheat on you and wouldn’t feel bad.

Although true, he still didn’t get the picture.

After weeks of putting off seeing him, I thought I’d owe him coffee at least. Having only spent 45 minutes with him on his lunch break, he texted to confess his love for me. I’m clearly not interested. I told him it’s lust. According to him it’s love. He knows it’s love.  It didn’t matter how many times I told him it’s lust. He’s “in love with me”…. He would then proceed by sending me pictures of his house and son. Going on about how much money he earns, even though he doesn’t wear a suit and how good his life style is etc. Justifying why I should date him. He’s a decent guy, just not for me. Nothing wrong with that.

I fed him a lie that I met a guy in Copenhagen and that I’m spending Christmas with him. But I was in my bedroom, having returned from Copenhagen three hours before.

I know, I’m a bitch. It just seemed the least dramatic way of letting him down. Plus easiest for me. Me blocking him could lead to him getting another SIM card or a mate to try my number!

I lived off the attention. Something to keep my mind off other stuff in my life work wise and personally.  Sad but true. At least I cut it off before I really got in too deep.