The Dark Outer Hue

Talking to a close male friend recently (yes I have, no it wasn’t, yes probably) about a theory I have long believed to be true.

That some of us have an inner or maybe an outer hue, a tinged off colour, just a smidge, these are the people that have no trained guilt, no empathy or a very little, a swathe of naughtiness, a glow of indecency, a graze of badness.

I’m not saying that these people are bad, oh no, far from it.

I’m saying they could if they wanted to be, they might be thinking vulgar thoughts as they kiss there mother in laws, or a sneaky wink to the waitress, or lusting over married men.

I can spot them a mile away.

Give me any line up and I can sniff those fuckers out.

As most of the time, that is me and that is my circle of friends.

They are the smokers behind the bike shed, the one taking in the surroundings in bar.

They are the people I love.

I have had some trouble of late, trying to battle my inner/outta darkness, I have tried to think clear and good thoughts, stop to let people cross the road, help a kid with a push up lolly, give money to charity.

But I just don’t think that life, if it’s programmed or destiny does not want me to have an easy ride, it wants me to have an interesting ride and what if making war with yourself is counter productive, what if fighting the wanton demon is the wrong thing to do.

To cover myself I have apologised to people when really they should be grovelling at feet, I have cornered my feelings about various times and relationships and started to expel them, like an exorcism, just to make sure my score card is clear, alright, alright, that can never happen but it’s a start.

Trouble is, I quite like my burnished body armour, I think I’ve been prodded and poked and belittled far more than most in the last 18 month and it’s still there, my rough, spiky, hot to touch bubble is still there, I just need to jazz it up a notch, dust it off and start rocking it like I used to, stop being afraid of your shadow, literally, embrace the minx inside.

I have written about this before, but it just seems like a good analogy, more than that, it really does exist.

Time to start liking it, before the dust, turns to rust, then your fucked.



11 Months

I have now been single for 11 months.

Subconsciously I gave myself 12 to get my act together before embarking on another relationship of the emotional kind.

I’m not saying I have not ‘dated’ because I have, I’m not saying I’ve been a nun because heaven help me I haven’t.

11 months, 11 months is just enough to get set in ones ways, to pee with the door open, to scratch ones butt whilst adorning P’J’s and sipping left over rum (past 12 O’Clock somewhere I’m sure), to talk animatedly to ones self and to get used to the dogs sleeping in my bed.

What the fuck would I do if a man suddenly came into my life and wanted to see me in succession or for a full weekend or to MOVE IN! Ok so I’m jumping ahead but you know what I mean.

Would I forget that he was there and do something that might seem odd to them, but over time has found it’s way to be perfectly normal to myself?

This is actually a horror factor for me to worry about and I don’t even have a date lined up, neurosis eat yeah heart out, or head in my case.

So not only do I have to worry about dating, not dating, falling in love, never falling in love, never spending time with someone AND spending time with them, I’m surprised I’m functioning at all.

One second I can be contemplating going back on a dating website or 50 (so many, so little time and even less inclination) then the next moment I’m bristling my inner lady with thoughts of feminism and man hate (I know they don’t go hand in hand, calm down), what I do know however is that when the………. not right……. no….. but when the suitor with the biggest backbone and common sense comes along, I will know it and unfortunately for them, they will too.

Perhaps I should write a Health and Safety leaflet with evacuation (take that as you will) procedures and where to smoke after, I could have various levels for how long they stay over or we continue dating, I could show a route from the local pub in case we get trolled and also where my clitoris should be, might be, just go for it and see what happens….

Perhaps I should set up a template for all ladies and gents alike that have been out of the game too long, copy and paste whats needed and add in the details to suit ones self.

If interested, message me, I’m sure I can help;)


A Little Respect….

This weekend was a weekend of nothingness, no plans except to buy trainers for the boys and take one said boy to football.

I say this was a weekend of nothingness, but it was a weekend of pondering, thinking, analysing and soul searching.

I didn’t plan for it to be like that, it just happened.

I think the catalyst was one of my best friends turning round and telling me she had slept with one of my male best friends, now I don’t or shouldn’t have a problem with this, it was I that introduced the two, I knew it would happen.

My male best friend has slept with 3 of my friends now, 3. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that his sexual frustration and need is closely woven into our friendship, I can not tell you the amount of times where I’ve had to skirt round topics and made my body language super defensive so he  didn’t go in for the kiss.

He would love to have a relationship with me, I know this (I’m not being big headed, he just would) and I don’t want to. I like our friendship, I would rather he settled down and found a nice girl, he did and it didn’t work out. (he sort of did and yes he sort of kept trying).

The fact they slept together does not bother me, what bothered me was that they thought it would be better to keep it a secret…..Why? Why would their thought process come up with the fact I would care, I care now, because they thought I would, so if they thought I would be bothered they did it anyway.

Sounds daft, but what if I had been bothered, what is this had upset me, 2 of my closest friends would have done something that could have made me upset.

OK so I’m being anally retentive, but THAT bothered me.

So it got me thinking, does anyone really care if they do something to upset me, am I so hard nosed that people feel they can do anything?

I think yes, I think my laid back easy attitude (most of the time) has done me an injustice.

I don’t command respect, I don’t know how, how can you get others to respect you when you’re not sure what respect even is.

Do I even want it? Do I need it? Do I care?

Yes, yes, yes, I would be lying if I said I didn’t. So, how does one find this? Shall I go trawling the streets with a fish net like the peeps searching for Pokemon? Shall I start burning my bras and protesting against stuff.

Or shall I just women the fuck up. If something annoys me, speak out, if someone cuts me up in my car, beep the sodding horn, if people in my life are toxic, get rid?

Yes, yes and yes.

So that’s what I’m planning on doing, I’m going to be stronger, be harder and be more respectful to myself.

I guess you have to start somewhere right.

And it starts here.


Words of unwisdom 

So, in the last post I touched upon the idea that our Mothers might mold the people we become.

I have been mulling over this, thinking I was shifting blame, or trying to justify the way we are with people.

And I’m pretty sure I’m right. With both.

I remember clearly being about 13, I know I must of been about that age as I was tubby and had a pixie hair cut. (why did you let me cut my hair…Saying that I would have cut it myself anyway) 13 year old, a misfit, too sharp and not clever enough, got dragged into the loo with my Mother, she peed and said to me ‘*******”just make sure you always get your end off first” I had no idea what she was talking about….At that time…

Now my Mothers moto, is and always has been, “I will not give advise, if you ask for it” So, I’m pretty sure I didn’t ask for it so it must have be worth taking note for.

And I did, when I was old enough, I got it, in so many ways, I don’t let cars go first if I can, I don’t put my dogs on the lead when I should, I never apologise unless I REALLY have to (or I do and it’s a lie and we both know it) and the last one….I always get my end away first, always. It is a good piece of advice for women, perhaps not for a 13 year old gamine…outcast…But still…….

Has this one moment in my Mothers drunken ramblings changed the course of how I see life.

I think yes.

Do I drink and smoke too much because she did? Did the strong willed, clever, warm, stupidly intelligent women indent in how I am.

I think yes.

So the real question is, in some of my drunken states, what the fuck have I said to the kids?!?

There is one thing I have ingrained into them…

With great beauty, whether it be body or mind or spirit, as we are all beautiful in our own ways, comes great responsibility, to yourself and to others.

(I do wish I listened to my own bullshit).

Everything we do and people we emotionally touch have a bitterfly effect, and no that’s not a typo, just being, is making a change, and living, sometimes to hard and too brash, can pass on a prod to someone else, we should try and be mindful of our actions (try, but rarely to succeed) make what we say and do a staged grace. We can’t though, as we are at the end of the day animals, we try and we we fail and we will fuck things and people up, it’s almost too poetic really.

So what will your words of wisdom be?

Never eat yellow snow…Can’t go wrong with that….

Suffer the children.

I am a terrible dater.

False, I am a very good dater, I can hold a conversation with nearly anyone, male or female, I can flirt my way to high heaven with gentle persuasion, I know exactly how to move subjects to my own liking and can use my body to influence peoples reactions.

That’s the easy bit. What I can not do it keep my knickers on, that and maintain being nice after.

It’s just all a bit easy, I find men, too easy.

I don’t respect them afterwards, sounds daft yes, but completely true.

Take Plenty of Fish for example, joined on Friday, too many messages and way too many ‘Would like to meet’ it just feels too easy, almost like I could be anyone and they would say yes, do men say yes to every woman? Is there no longer the thrill of a bit of chase……?

Now the women reading this will hate me for saying this……But…..

I have two sons, both coming up to the age where they are expressing an interest in the opposite sex, and I couldn’t help saying….”Don’t ever play it too nice, be nice but not too nice”

Hmm, ok so maybe this is why the world of dating is what it is because of mothers like me, however it’s the truth.

I want an equal footing, I don’t want to be pandered to, harassed, over messaged and over loved.

On the same note, I don’t want to be unloved, no messages and to do all the chasing as that is just so boring, finding the equilibrium is what is driving me to being an arsehole, a pain in the arse, arsehole. Now I would like to say it’s just because I’m picky but that’s totally not the case.

It’s taken years of systematic wrong turns and tilted avenues to bring me here, I allowed men to change how I perceive myself, and in turn how I perceive them. Maybe we should all blame the mothers, sons and daughters alike for the wrong doings towards others as well as taking the blame ourselves, for are we just a mirror of warped situations and glimpses of shadows of people we have allowed to touch our souls, whether we wanted them to or not.

I don’t have to date, I don’t need to have a man around but I do like male company, sometimes, this weekend I have the choice of multiple men to go to dinner with, have drinks with, even to just have sex with and I can’t be bothered. I’m just not that bothered.

The thrill of meeting a fella that you like is good, but shopping for them on the internet is really quite disturbing.

Perhaps I should ask my Mother to arrange a marriage for me……As she has to take some of the blame….