Girls Are Weird! (No, We’re Not)

So, earlier I was relaxing in bed, watching Band Of Brothers and eating Reese’s peanut butter miniatures when a certain Daily Mail article was brought to my attention. Every week, a video blogger (Emily Hartridge) puts together a ’10 Reasons Why’ video and it’s usually HILARIOUS (if you’ve been trapped under a dead owl with only the smell of rotting maggots and the sound of your own open-mouth wailing for amusement).

In this week’s treat, Emily (and weirdly, Zoe Hardman) discuss why women are strange. Like… craaazy. Totally gaga. And it’s SO FUNNY! (It’s not, I now want to lean my ovaries over a bunsen burner)

Here, I’ve picked five of their astronomically appalling examples and refuted them. Because essentially, it’s ‘weird’ women like Emily and Zoe generalising that give the rest of us humans with flaps a bad name.

1. We get paranoid if our boyfriend doesn’t text constantly.

The article reads, “If men go out with their male friends, Emily says, and don’t text their girlfriend every five minutes, they’re obviously having a lap dance.”.

Right, well this is codswallop for starters. If my boyfriend went out for the evening and spent the whole night texting me I’d worry his friends were all as dull as David Cameron’s gooch. Then I’d tell him to put his phone down. Then I’d function as a normal human who can cope being manless for more than 27 seconds without having a strop induced stroke. And most others I know would agree. (If they don’t, then they’re the type of women who make boyfriend shrines out of tampons and used condoms so run for the hills and save yourself before she starts talking to you about scatter cushions).

2. We like sniffing chocolate.

We like eating chocolate. If, in 2013, you’re still the type of woman who sniffs chocolate and calls eating an eclair ‘naughty’ then you’re far worse than anything Gary Glitter ever did.

3. We think you’re cheating on us if you don’t like sex.

Nope, we don’t. We just think you’re an idiot and then try every way possible to seduce you, no matter HOW repellent it may be. Just remember ladies, when you’re doing the ‘sexy biting lip’ thing, bite the bottom lip, that’s the BOTTOM lip. A nibble to the top lip makes you look like Gabriella JCB-Chin from Made In Chelsea and no-one wants that.

4. We don’t fart.

Nah, we don’t actually. We don’t poo either. Or burp. Or get the bum-sweats at the gym. Or find crumbs in our bra hours after eating. Or verrrrry slowly smell our armpits to check we’re OK in the morning before you try to spoon us. And we definitely don’t have to apply foundation just above our top lip in porta loos every 9 minutes at festivals because we’ve sweat it off gyrating to Wiley.

5. We get men to fix our gadgets without trying ourselves.

Yeah lol, we do. Lol, like… sometimes I just, dunno… I just get to the TV and it like won’t come on so I just bang my boobs against it and twiddle my nips to try get signal and sometimes it works but then OH SOMETHING PINK! I’m gonna go put some fake eyelashes on lol.

Being poor at technology and gadgets isn’t an unavoidale side-effect to having a uterus. I lived with a guy who couldn’t change lightbulbs… both sexes can be idiots.

So, triple Nectar Points to you ladies. If yanking feminism back by the pubes 15 lightyears was the aim then you’ve succeeded. Luckily for us, most people who read The Daily Mail smell like bins and think Gala Bingo on Wigan pier is a top night out so I don’t think we need worry. Anyway, best dash… need to go make sure I’ve had a text in the last 4 minutes or BOY is some lapdancer going to get a WKD and a roundhouse to the face.

What Turns Men On… Apparently…

This week I read an article titled ’25 Things That Turn Your Man On!‘ Basically, a popular women’s magazine asked the good men of Twitter what got their horn a-honking and put them together in a handy article so us ladies could jot them down in our Cath Kidston diaries. Here are some of the more intriguing suggestions…

1) “Rich girls, I want a sugar mama”

 

I imagine that THIS guy wears D&G belts, enough hair gel to drown a fieldmouse and generally acts like a bellend. The sort of bloke to walk around Bluewater for 9 hours, not because he’s shopping but because he’s forgotten where he parked his Mum’s car. Plus, we all already know what turns him on. Doggy style… so he can rob your purse while you’re not looking.

2) “Good credit”

 

This made me do a laugh with my mouth. Good credit as in no CCJs? I can just imagine the smouldering scene now; “Ooooh yeah Leanne, talk to me. Tell me how the bank are happy to give you a second credit card.” I bet this bloke gets turned on by skirting boards and a girl who can complete a successful three point turn too.

3) “Girls who swim”

You know how some fisherman used to knob skate in their boats when they’d been away at sea for ages because their faces look like vaginas? Exactly what I think of when I read this quote.

4) “Someone who looks after themselves”

Gents, I get this. No-one wants to strut round BHS with Hayley Croppers’s burns victim sister, even if she IS a hoot and has an impeccable credit rating… but be careful. If a girl checks her reflection more than she speaks a well-structured sentence then this is a warning sign. She SHOULD take pride in her appearance but it shouldn’t be the only thing… make sure she’s not a hot mess. You’ll be able to check this by asking her a question on something than ISN’T in The Daily Mail sidebar of shame.

 

5) “Women who wear boy shorts all the time”

 

ALL the time? I happily wear girl boxers but ALL the time? It’s not hugely sexy when you’re getting down to it in Topshop ‘AHOY THERE SAILOR!’ pants… you look like a sultry 13 year old and for goodness sake, if 2012 taught us anything its that 13 year old’s are off limits. At least TRY not to get embroiled in Operation Yewtree.

6) “A girl who can spin around while riding it”

 I’m confused… so you want us to go up and down AND round and round? Like some sort of sexy possessed-girl-out-The Exorcist head? What if we can’t gather up momentum and it all gets a bit awkward and weird? And while you’re waiting for us to do the whole 360 degrees, your chap loses interest and then we’re just squashing a softie while doing a sitting pirouette? I’m not down with this one guys.

7) “When a girl knows my past but judges me for who I am now”

 

This one’s a bit alarming… what HAS he done in his past? I mean, obviously there’s stuff we’d rather our partner not know. I wouldn’t be ecstatic if guys I dated knew about me going bird watching when I was eight and becoming a member of the RSPB (complete with monthly updates, be quiet some of it was interesting) but I can’t imagine anyone judging me for it (stop judging me). I have a feeling the guy who made this comment is the type to have ‘haters’ and drink alcohol from bottles in brown paper bags while smelling of heroin and bum. If even HE’S picky about what turns him on then there’s no hope.

8) A chick that will play PS3 with me”

 

I’m ignoring this because the person in question said ‘chick’. He’s obviously not had a ‘chick’ in a while. See also; ‘bird’ and ‘the missus’. (That said, I’d overlook the names if he wanted to play Crash Bandicoot. I like Crash Bandicoot).

9) “That early in the morning or late at night phone voice”

The voice where you sound like you’ve deep throated 15 cigarettes? The voice where you sound like the love child of Frank Bruno and Bet Lynch? The very same voice that squeaks “WhatisitwhyareyouringingIdon’tknowwhatshappeningfuckI’mlatecoronationteapartySamsung’ when you answer the phone because you’ve forgotten how to work your tongue? Yeah it’s dead sexy that. I believe this man’s probably referring to the fake, sultry voice we practise 5 nanoseconds before answering the phone.

10) “A woman who doesn’t need make-up and keeps it simple”

What looks bare-faced and smells bare-faced? That’s right! A girl with make-up on. Sorry to break it you to, but very rarely will the girl you’re in the early stages of dating be fresh-faced when she says she is. Lesson: What she says; “Oh don’t loooook at me, I’m not wearing any make-up”. What she means; “Oh shiiiiiiit, that tiny bit of make-up I dabbed on probably just rubbed off and now I look like crap so I’ll just tell you I haven’t got any on.” If a girl gets out the shower after impromptu wet ‘n’ wild sex looking the same as when she jumped in, then she’s a keeper. OR, she knew to wear stay-put foundation and waterproof mascara just in case like the rest of us. If you don’t believe me, next time you hear this declaration, grab her chops and rub a towel ove… actually don’t. Unless she’s got the early onset on Alzheimers you’ll be in huge trouble. And if she HAS got the early onset on Alzheimers then come on mate… get her to a doctor.

11) “A girl walking around in my t-shirt”

 

A lot of women’s magazines give out pointers on how to appear adorable so men will want you for a girlfriend (I know, it’s weird). The top three will always be ‘walk on tiptoes’, ‘do a cute yawn-stretch’ and ‘wear one of his t-shirts’. No-one notices when I walk on tiptoes because I’m knee high to a gnat’s cock. Cute yawn-stretches make me look like I’m pushing my breasts into your breakfast. But I will borrow your t-shirt please. Not because I want to be your girlfriend, but because I love baggy things with ‘Wayne’s World’ splashed across the front. Please don’t get pissy if I rub fake tan on it though.

So there we have it… it’s not all about sexy underwear, tasteful lighting and friction… who knew? Turns out you’re better off taking life advice from O.J Simpson than men on Twitter. Guarantee the next man I date likes the spinning on the cock thing. Wish me luck… it ain’t gonna be pretty.

What I’ve Learnt This Year From Dating…

So… I haven’t written anything in a while because I got a new job. This means I don’t get to eat multi packs of Wotsits while staring at girls’ boobs and watching hilarious cat videos all day anymore, I actually have to do stuff. But tonight, I’m going to give it a whirl. And I thought, seeing as I’ve been single for two years now (I know, I’m basically Cliff Richard, but just a lot less gay), I’m going to talk about…

What I’ve learnt from dating this year (you might have already guessed that from the title… well done you)

1) The *second* you buy nice underwear, you’re cursed.

We’ve all been there… you’re looking through your knicker drawer and there’s a choice of Banana Man pants, a nice silky bra that doesn’t have matching knickers because you lost them behind a bin in Malia and an Ann Summers leotard you wore age 18 which makes you look more whoretacular than Jodie Marsh’s clit ring (disclosure: she may not *have* a clit ring). So… you venture out to buy some nice new sets of underwear, because the guy you’ve been dating suggested a ‘DVD night’ and we all know that’s code… only to never, EVER end up using it. You’ll either decide you don’t actually want to bump uglies, or he’ll bin you or you’ll meet unexpectedly in a bar a few days later when you’re full to the brim on vodka tonics and not give the slightest toss that you’re wearing massive period pants because all the rest were in the wash and go home with him (Men, you probably won’t be aware of what period pants ARE. Apologies for that. Women you most definitely will).

2) Some men might dump you on your Birthday.

This one’s self-explanatory. In fairness, I did seek revenge by drunkenly pretending I was horse, cantering up and kicking him hard and this is why I’m single isn’t it oh god.

3) Men are like boomerangs.

I have a slight problem. A guy can be going great guns up the ‘Yeah, He Doesn’t Annoy Me’ scale only to fall riiiiight back down to the bottom again after one minor slip-up. This can be anything. He might have a weird laugh. He might think it’s OK to drop a ‘lol’ into conversation. He might speak to shop assistants just that little bit too much and make us all feel uncomfortable and it’s over. Done and dusted. Then, you’ll be sitting at home eating cheesy mashed potato on the stairs with a spoon or watching your Band Of Brothers boxset, only to have a ‘oh hi stranger ‘ text flash up. I genuinely think a bloke would have to catch a girl rimming Dean Gaffney before he’d stop sporadically getting in contact and even THEN I’m not 100% sure.

4) A lot of men just… well… aren’t very interesting.

I won’t moan on about this for too long because obviously there are some guys who are REALLY brilliant. But I do tend to meet humans who are about as fun as a tour round the house Ann Frank was cooped up in. If you’re like that to talk to, we’ll just imagine your penis puffs out dust and wailing ghouls as opposed to bodily fluids and attempt to find a way to back out of date numero deux. Which leads me to…

5) It’s very, VERY rare to find fit and funny.

If you have a boyfriend who’s hot and makes you laugh ’til you get that horrible ‘oh hang on, right I need to stop laughing or I’m actually going to..shit a bit came out’ feeling then nail his knackers to your bedpost. On an average night out, the majority of us will either be working out a way to create Bernard’s Watch, stop time and flee the bejesus away from a beautiful man who keeps chatting to us about how much he can bench press or wondering, could we? COULD WE fancy the guy with the multicoloured glasses who’s really making us laugh with his dinosaur impressions?  If you have a hot and hilarious, marry them. And then when they die, preserve them for scientific purposes thank you.

6) You might have a type, leave it. If only for a second.

I have a pretty strict type, a mould if you will. But this year, for no particular reason, I dated a few that were completely and utterly nowhere near it. And it was nice! Normally go for a dark haired guy? Try a blonde. Always a fan of sporty men? Try someone who throws a ball like your nan. Like being weed on in bed? Try not being weird. It sounds silly, but you can learn from even the shortest, strangest, most abysmal relationships and sticking to what you know isn’t always the way. That said, if Spencer from Made In Chelsea grinds his smarm-leaking cock against you, back the heck away. No-one needs that.

7) Don’t ever doubt a man’s determination to bed you.

Don’t think I really need to go into this further. Let’s just say a five date rule is POINTLESS. Oh, and if a man thinks he’s in with a shot, some might forget to mention they’ve got four children and a girlfriend.

8) Some people will date for the sake of dating.

Some girls (I’m afraid it is usually girls), get involved with men just so they’ve got someone. I’ve never really understood this… if it was a toss up between sitting on my own or listening to someone I didn’t really care about jabber on about how far he got in Tekken Warcraft Sims of Duty then I’d pick being lonesome. Although, after two long term relationships I can confirm the best way to appreciate your own company is to share a flat with a partner who shouts “POLICE, CAMERA, ACTION’S ON IN 5 MINUTES” while you’re trying to have a wee (that means poo obviously. I just can’t say that because I’m a girl).

9) It’s really, really fun to date no-one.

That’s right. For quite a while, I had a dating cull. And my flaps didn’t fall off or ANYTHING, it was actually really nice. I didn’t have to send mindless texts to boys who were really gorgeous but couldn’t quite grasp that ‘alot’ isn’t a word, I didn’t have to put up with ingrown hairs thanks to incessant shaving, nor did I have to make sure my tweets were toned down in case he ran for the hills. Luckily, I have a few close friends whose love lives are equally barren so we could all drink cocktails and laugh about vibrators together (drink Peroni and play darts) so I didn’t feel like I was missing out on anything. Sometimes when I needed a bin bag putting outside it was a bit tough but I got through it (left it for someone else to do).

10) Didn’t do a number ten because I really want to go and make some dinner but here’s a photo of a monkey holding a dog.

Just to finish off, I know this works for both sexes. I don’t think for a second that guys have it easy… nightclubs up and down the country are full with girls who could easily compete for the top spot in a Miss Dagenham contest and I don’t envy you attempting to make lame small talk with them at ALL. I just ask that you don’t mention how much you bench press.

Mistakes Girls Make…

So…today, Sky launched the wonderful hashtags #mistakesgirlsmake and #mistakesboysmake. People tended to ignore the boy one (because they very rarely do anything wrong, in fact we should just get rid of females altogether, they’re too busy tripping over fake eyelashes to do anything productive anyway) and dug their claws into focusing on what really matters. The massive f*ck-ups us wimmin do. Let’s take a look at some of the comments shall we?

1) “Not matching their neck to their faces”

Wearing foundation/bronzer that doesn’t match the colour of your neck became the most widely reported crime amongst the #mistakesgirlsmake hashtag. By miles. It is funny when you see a make-up disaster…someone walking around with the face of Naomi Campbell and the neck of Tilda Swinton but honestly it does take practise. It’s commonly a mistake made by teenagers taking their first steps into the wonderful world of cover-up and you do tend to forget your neck’s just lying in wait to sell you out like a fat pale flump. Some women have to buy foundation for every day use, one for nights out, one for post spray-tan, one that blends into the neck, one that’s just for the face…bored yet? Exactly.

Don’t even get me started on bronzer.

2) “Thinkin their looks will get them far loooool, if you have no personality are are not funny, you will not have a boyfriend.”

Well, the person who wrote this is evidently a HOOT. But aside from the inability to structure a sentence and the use of ‘lol’, he’s got a point.

It’s true, a lot of girls do just rely on their looks…tweeting about things being ‘reem’ or not realising that drawing on their cleavage makes them as hilarious as AIDS. But then in fairness, so do a lot of men. There’s been many in time when my ovaries have broken through my flesh because an approaching guy has a face like Marlon Brando…only to find his conversation’s so dull I cried dry paint for the next three hours. Finding someone hot AND hilarious AND sarcastic AND laid back is like finding Johnny Vegas funny. Impossible.

But then again…none of us are having sex with the one-eyed albino who lost half their face in a horrific accident at the local dog rescue shelter just because they make us laugh like a drain are we? No. No we’re not. We’re staying away because they smell of dog tongues.

3) “Fancy a fictional character”

I see absolutely nothing wrong with being attracted to the Disney version of Robin Hood. Yes, he may be a fox, BUT HE SAVED THE POOR DON’T MAKE A MOCKERY OF HIS COURAGE.

4) “When they ignore every nice guy they talk to, go out with a prick and then complain that there are no nice guys”.

OK. This annoys me a bit…and not just because he wrote ‘nice’ twice in the same sentence. What seems to be more and more apparent is that there’s no middle ground when it comes to men. You either get someone who wants to make personalised punch out of your used tampons, or someone who emigrates when you mention you might be free next weekend. I can hand-on-heart confirm that girls don’t dislike nice guys, it’s just that ‘nice’ translates differently between the sexes. What we don’t consider nice…is someone who fawns all over us, gets in contact every couple of hours, cancels his own plans to make us a priority, calls us ‘hun’ or who puts us on a pedestal before he’s noticed we, in fact, don’t wear matching underwear every day. This applies to anyone. If I met a girl, thought she was unhinged enough to be my friend and then got smothered over the next few weeks…I’d put her in the ‘no’ pile too. It’s just common sense.

What we do consider nice is when you meet someone and they maintain a bit of mystery…actually appear to have a social life…don’t agree with everything you say…it’s great. Essentially, you’re going to be living with someone for the rest of your life, so why do you want to pick the one who’s main purpose is to flit around you like Zazu from The Lion King?

Obviously, there are some girls who do like to spend their lives having relationships with men who’d knob a Ginsters’ sausage roll given the chance, but that’s due to their own deep-rooted insecurities. If the majority of us found out our partner had been cheating, we’d happily wipe his toothbrush round a dog’s bumhole before telling him to leave.

5) “When head is 85% teeth, the D is not edible.”

Basically, here…a guy explains that girls should know a penis isn’t there to be eaten and that teeth should be kept well away while giving head.

Girls, I think we should marker-pen that into our diaries around the time all men realise going down on someone doesn’t mean drawing crazy paving with their tongues.

Thanks for the ‘heads up’ guys (you’re welcome for the play on words there)

6) “Pretending to be thick lol dont be dumbass”

This tweet doesn’t really set the point in good stead but it does annoy me and it does only appear to be something girls do. I’m often thrown into a cataclysmic fallout with my own sex when I hear someone really obviously pretending to be stupid. It’s 2012, no-one cares for ditsy anymore and you’re most definitely aware Ireland isn’t in Wales.

That said…I’m not going to focus too heavily on this because essentially…despite the fact men hate girls playing dumb, a LOT of them are still happy as Larry to have sex with them.

7) “Thinking they can handle their drink like males”
The sort of girls who binge like men on nights out scare me. I can handle three shots before I talk like I’ve got Pete Burns’ lips when the botox went mental and a single Rae & Nephews once made me so drunk I stood on a frog trying to climb into my friend’s house and skewered it with my heel.

If a really rubbish genie turned up and gave us the opportunity to sit on the floor of a piss-covered toilet, hair stuck to our face with sweat and our dress round your armpits, most of us would rather deep-fry our own poo. Yet so many girls spend Saturday night doing it.

Put the glass down love. No-one wants to hear about how much Craig disrespects you.

8) “Watching footy and like LOTR and play Xbox for attention”

Interesting to know that if you enjoy sport, gaming and Lord Of The Rings then you’re only doing it to get attention from the opposite sex. I must say, standing on the sidelines watching rugby every weekend and wondering why the hell Gollum’s mum wasn’t on Social Services’ ‘at risk’ register due to his evident ill-health means I’ve been batting cock away with a stick for years.

The thought of pretending to like things to get attention from men is completely alien to me. I lose concentration focusing on things I actually do enjoy so learning stuff on the off-chance I might get pumped? Not likely.

9) “Being in the darnce and trying to bruk it down but to everyone else they just look like a filthy gully creepa”
I believe this means the girls in question are dancing in a less than ladylike manner. I’m going to ignore it however because the tweeter can’t actually spell dance and probably looks like a ‘filthy gully creepa’ all over his ‘ stupid’ ‘face’.

10) “Not taking it in the arse”

Guys. Fancy taking your own ring to the Chateau de Arse? Want to add a splash of poo to the occasion? Up for leaking over the course of the next three days after sex?

No?

Interesting.

Mental Health Awareness

We’ve all felt a bit tired…a bit run down…a bit teary. Some days it can feel as though everything’s out to make us walk around so stressed we’ve got a permanent Deirdre Barlow neck. Just for a minute, imagine being so tired the thought of getting out of bed seems incomprehensible. Imagine now, being at work on the brink of tears and unable to concentrate on anything, You go to eat lunch, but don’t have an appetite. You don’t want to have to talk to anyone because the thought alone wears you out and even the simplest, most mundane tasks make you feel as though life’s just out to get you. You’re sad. Really, really sad. And if you’re not feeling sad, you’re feeling nothing.
Now imagine being completely confused as to why you feel like that and plucking up the courage to tell someone…

For them to reply with;

“Oh come on, YOU’RE ALRIGHT! What have you got to be sad about?!”

Depression can honestly make you feel as though you’re dragging your body through a swamp…and the worst things is, as much as you want to snap out of it, you have absolutely no idea what the bloody hell’s wrong with you or how to solve it. Mental health problems are illnesses…and that’s essentially what some people need to get their heads around. It’s not a lifestyle choice. People don’t wake up one morning and think, “Fuck it, do you know what? I want to feel terrible. Honestly, terrible. Actually, I don’t want to be able to feel anything…so I’ll give depression a whirl.” It creeps up, like a thick film of smoke and engulfs you ’til you’re only going through life because you have to.

I’m lucky enough not to have suffered myself, but depression and other mental health problems have played a part in my life (which I go into below), and thankfully, it’s becoming OK to talk about it without the fear of being labelled as a nutter.

And that’s BRILLIANT.

Obviously medication and therapy play a huge role in helping sufferers get back to feeling themselves again, but sometimes, just the opportunity to be able to talk can make a person feel that little bit better and stop the problem getting any worse. Sufferers can already feel completely isolated and in a permanent state of paranoia without having friends and colleagues reinforcing it.  With one in four people falling victim to it at some point in their lives, it makes so much sense for it to no longer be a taboo subject…I know I’d be grateful if someone was willing to listen to me.

If anyone asks me about my childhood, there aren’t enough positive adjectives I could use. I knew I was loved, I had fun and I come from a family where we genuinely all get along as people…not just because we have to.

Running alongside that, until the age of fourteen when my parents separated I also grew up living in a household with someone who had a schizoaffective disorder. This meant a pretty idyllic upbringing was punctuated with bouts of violence, mood swings, depression and erratic, irrational behaviour.

My mum offered (and still offers) stability and a sense of normality. She made my siblings and I very aware that certain behaviour wasn’t acceptable and that we were to talk to her if we felt anxious or scared…while also making sure she supported her husband as best she could. How SHE didn’t downward spiral into a pit of doom I don’t know. I seem to remember her eating a lot of chocolate spread straight from the jar and listening to The Archers, so maybe that helped.

As a child, I made sure not to mention anything that happened at home to my friends. In fairness, I thought it was pretty sensible not to want to go to parties in case anyone drinking alcohol got angry…I thought it made sense to plan what you could use as a weapon in your room if you ever needed one and I thought shaking every time I heard ‘Gangster’s Paradise’ was normal (still not sure why, presume something must have happened while that was playing).

Obviously, as I grew up and the family dynamics changed due to the divorce, I knew that we’d been through some pretty tough and often unusual events. The person in question is now a lot different, he finally got the medication and help he needed and in turn we’ve got a reasonably good relationship, I accept he’s the way he is because essentially, it’s not his fault…and from what I can see, there’s been a vast improvement in his health.
We’re all very complex. The fact that at some point we might find life a struggle makes total sense to me. Some people will always have problems, some just need a reason to be happy again…

Go for a walk, be kind to someone, get happy.

Got any Grey Goose?

I’m not going to bother going out for a while…now X Factor’s started there’s probably very little hope in me squeezing my limbs into a bodycon dress to totter round a Jaeger-soaked dancefloor. Plus, I fake tan…and come winter, there’s a very high chance I won’t get to the chosen nightclub without looking like I’ve got a bad case of leprosy thanks to an impromptu downpour. Lastly, men are becoming a gargantuan pain in the cock.

For those of you who are already eyerolling at the fact I’m writing yet another post about men…BIG sorry about that. Just to confirm, I’m 24, single and go out in London…the subject’s bound to crop up occasionally. If you don’t think you’re going to enjoy it, I’m pretty sure Dave’s running back-to-back episodes of Wheeler Dealers so that might be more up your alley. If you can put up with it…then great, read on;

1) Men get ‘handsy’…

Very, very often…you’ll be standing with your pals…probably chatting about period clots, kittens or the fact Germany isn’t in Africa ohmygodlikeIdidntknowthatbabezI’msuchanidiotLOL! and you’ll feel ten stumpy sausages of flesh lightly grasp your bumcheeks, closely followed by the slide of a groin and teamed with the sweet whispering of an “excuse me babe”. Now…to my knowledge, my friends and I aren’t even close to being the size of that massive rock Jesus rolled away from the cave he emerged out of, so we probably don’t need to be moved. It’s really funny actually…a few years ago, just after we got strong enough to hold our own heads up, we learnt how to do this thing where we move our feet! You might have heard of it…it’s called walking. And if you just said the “excuse me babe” bit, we could probably step aside and let you pass. No cock over arsecheeks rubbing required! Who knows, maybe next year we’ll learn how to drive properly.

When this little gem isn’t cropping up, you might get treated to the bum-grab or as I recently experienced…the vagina-grab. Both of these make me want to scrub a bloke’s gooch with a wire brush, but sadly I don’t tend to have room in my handbag to take one of those out with me, so I make do with a deathstare and a polite “f*ck off”. This, however, can throw up a few problems. React badly to a grope in a nightclub and be prepared to have the guy in question and his pals label you as drama or stuck up. Puts you right off your dutty wine let me tell you.

2) Confidence over cocky.

I love a confident man. Confident to the point of being misunderstood as arrogant, but with a genuinely good heart. Sadly…a lot of the men I’ve met recently have taken confident to mean ‘cocky prick’ and jizzed all over it. Last weekend for instance, my friends and I were approached by a group of men at an afterparty who looked like they did anal with the word smug. I got stuck with a guy who turned out to be a graduate from the Piers Morgan School of Being An Utter Skidmark…he owned property in Marylebone and liked to click his fingers a lot. The following conversation happened;

Graduate: “So, whaddyoudo priddylady?

Me: “I’m an online assistant and freelance writer.”

Graduate: “M’yeah. Brilliant. Listen, live in the city?”

Me: “Just outsi….”

F.W.P.T: “M’yeah, listen. Stick with me and you could live in the city. How about that?”

Cor, REALLY MISTER? Yes please! I’ve longed for the day I could sack off my terrible life to be picked up by a man like you. My only other option was lying in the entrance to South Kensington tube station with my legs open and a ‘TAKE ME’ sign so I’m glad you saved me the hassle.

In a bid to escape that monstrosity, we moved on to a nightclub. A few friends were there, lovely crowd…or so we thought. While chatting to some blokes who were sharing a table with some other individuals, we placed our drinks down. On said table. After a while the decision was made to venture outside so we picked our glasses up and left…to the tune of “Yeah go on, take the drinks WE paid for and fuck off”. Now…I never expect a guy to pay for my drinks, nor do I make a habit of hanging around tables so I can wank over bottles of Grey Goose. My friends and I all work and when we decide to go out, it’s because we can afford to make sure we don’t end the night dehydrated with a mouth like a desert cat’s arsehole so this suggestion really made me angry. And because I’m a shy sap and hadn’t had gin, I decided to tweet about it while an angry Hollie Bishop (you may have seen our Twitter conversations) bounded over to call him a word that sounded something like ‘runt.’ Couldn’t quite make it out, music was loud.

3) Gossip.

As mentioned in previous blogs, men love a scathing chit-chat about girls. Especially girls that aren’t flannels, who know when to use ‘too’ and ‘to’ and who can tell the difference between Robert Mugabe and Nelson Mandela (I met a girl that couldn’t once. I killed her). I know this because I’ve got a fair few close male friends and I know the contours of their conquests’ vaginas like the back of my hand. I know which girl tasted like yeast, I know which girl had tits like sad balloons, I know which girl’s vagina made a noise like a startled mouse yawn. The words ‘slut’, ‘slag’ and ‘whore’ get banded around like nobody’s business, yet when the girl in question turns up…the blokes couldn’t be nicer. Without getting too personal, I’m well aware my friends and I have our own merry band of gossipers. I know this because they’re rubbish at it. Sadly, in this day and age there are all too many men who like to fabricate stories with their friends and then hang off your every word while you’re out, probably in the vain hope you’ll let them spunk over your back after a few Carlsbergs. This doesn’t particularly bother me, in fact…I’m getting to the point where I make my tweets even less feminine and even more blunt because why not? It’s nice to give them something to do work with.

I’m not for a second suggesting all men are like this. I know some absolutely bloody brilliant blokes. Intelligent ones, not so intelligent ones, ones that make me laugh, ones that meet me with a coffee before I’d even asked and ones that actually know me properly. This post mainly came about because the last few nights out have left me exasperated at the behaviour of the people I’ve met and well aware that I’m frequenting the wrong sort of bars. I like people who just want to have fun on a night out, maybe a bit of decent conversation, and a kebab. I’d quite frankly rather drag my clit along a pavement than waste any more time on the men I keep having the displeasure of meeting week in, week out…so I’ll be giving it a miss for a while. Just as a final recap though…thanks for the Facebook poke and private messages asking to take me and my friends out. We’ll all bear it in mind next time we hear you’ve called us ‘go-ers’.

(Just realised Halloween’s coming up. I’ll definitely be out).

Leon Knight. Boob Photos. And general crap behaviour.

For the love of sh*t footballers, Leon Knight’s a gem isn’t he? You’ve got to hand it to him…for someone who uses up 93% of his braincell activity typing the word ‘LOL’, coming up with #slagalertpics (or #sap as it’s also known) must have nearly driven him to have a stroke. For those of you who aren’t aware of the concept, this is what happens;

Guy looks through his phone to find a photo he’s once been sent of a girl in underwear/naked.

Tweets it to Leon.

Leon then ‘outs’ them to his Twitter followers…usually with a hilarious caption such as ‘whos this slut LOL’

Lastly; if a girl fancies emailing Leon with a grovelling message and a suitable explanation as to why she was so bloody disgusting, then he might be a darling and let her off.

 
Here….I’m just going to list a few arguments against #sap and sexual inequality, attempt to not rant myself to death and keep wishing on nearby ladybirds and eyelashes that Leon Knight gets his bollocks dunked in nitric acid.

 
Firstly….anyone who hasn’t either sent or received a ‘rude’ photo is one of a gnat’s cock size majority. I’m not in the slightest bit nervous to admit I’ve done it, it falls under the category of ‘fun’ and Leon, along with his merry band of plebs might want to give it a go. Personally I don’t think you should dish them out willy nilly…you don’t want to be saved to everyone’s sim card…but the odd underwear shot here and there doesn’t mean you’ve got the class of Kerry Katona on a coke binge in a Yates’ bar. The thing that bewilders me the most, is the gargantuan level of hypocrisy that comes with such photos. There are tonnes of women on Twitter who actually have to take up valuable characters in their bio stressing they don’t want cock photos sent via DM because of the amount of men who presume we do. And despite the hideousness of receiving an unwanted snap of a throbbing chelm, you don’t see any of us setting up a Twitter vendetta. Essentially what we’re talking about here, is just a body…of which we’re constantly made to feel embarrassed about, and of which those complaining would be quite happy to stick their arm up like a farmer and a birthing cow.

Nowadays, women have got the right to vote…we can wear trousers…and grow a moustache if we don’t wax for a while. However, write about wanking, sex and certain parts of the anatomy on Twitter and BY JOVE you’re judged. The amount of people who’ve met and informed me they ‘presumed I was a go-er’ or ‘filth’ and would be ‘a little bit louder’ is ridiculous. The fact I can type a tweet that isn’t “just gonna watch Dear John with my cat in my fluffy slippers LMFAO’ doesn’t mean I run around Central London fisting myself into oblivion with a pint of Stella, it just means I’m not a bimbo. I still have social skills…I wouldn’t launch into a chinwag with a pensioner about bukkake (aside from my nan, she LOVES buckkake.) It also doesn’t mean I’ve got a ‘male sense of humour’ because, prepare yourself, some of you humans what got willies aren’t all that funny either.

 
Men. If you wouldn’t mind…just picture this. You’re single and ready to mingle. BUT, and this is important…you must follow all these rules. Go on dates by all means, but don’t put out. Maybe give yourself a five date rule. However…while sticking to that, don’t be a complete cold fish…maybe give your ladyfriend an indication to what fun she’ll soon be having by paying a visit downstairs with your mouth otherwise she’ll think you’re a massive snore. That said, prepare yourself for all her friends knowing once you’ve done it. All of them. Because…you didn’t think she’d keep quiet about it did you? SILLY! In fact, you might only be texting and she’ll have already told her friends. Actually, not just her friends…all the girls she plays netball with too…which is super fun, because when you go to parties, everyone can ask you about it! Yay! Once that’s all over and done with…you’re allowed to finally take the plunge and get your willy wet. For her to then decide, nah…she’s not feeling it. That’s fine…you can move on…but not too soon…otherwise everyone will find out. And this, THIS is where you really have to concentrate. The average number of people you’re allowed to be able to sleep with in your lifetime is eight. EIGHT. So, single from 18 – 25? Tough, space ‘em out…or face a lifetime of everyone thinking your cock resembles a slug in a condom. You’ll be as alluring as a kidney infection.

Doesn’t sound like something you’d be interested in? Yeah, nor us. Which is a big ol’ bag of shame because it’s exactly what we have to deal with.

Ladies. Say what you want on Twitter…especially if you’re single. Don’t hold back because you think a bloke might be put off. We’ll just all meet up in, say, 7 years and buy a barn in France where we’ll house a lot of stray dogs, eat guacamole and have permanently hairy legs. Secondly, please let it be known, should I ever have the misfortune of bumping into Leon Knight I’d take a dump in his eye faster than he loses followers. Thirdly, and most importantly, keep sending naked photos. Because the female form exists to be celebrated and there are some men out there who aren’t out to ruin your life and might actually appreciate them. I just suggest you stick to these two rules;

 
- Don’t take a photo of your squashed frog (think about it).

- Don’t include your face.