If you’re anything like me, dating is no hand-in-hand-cutesy-let’s-feed-the-ducks-oh-lol-you-hit-one-what-are-you-like-walk-in-the-park. Far from that classic rom-com scene, dating in London usually goes one of two ways: Intense courtship with proclamations of undying affection and a burning desire to see you at all times right up until the point you decide you like them back. At this point a cooling off to rival the ice age happens and … Continue reading How to spot a Fuck Boy
Valentine’s day as a single gal can be tough. Whether you want a relationship or not there’s something intensely annoying about a day geared to make you feel like a leper if you’re not spending it sitting across the table from someone in a Bella Italia. Suddenly the entire bloody world seems to be posting proclamations of love to ‘this one’ on Instagram whilst essentially … Continue reading How to Survive Valentines Day when you’re Single AF
A modern love story.
By a man.
My love life as of recently has been even more dire than usual.
I know…I mean… I also thought we’d hit rock bottom people but APPARENTLY NOT.
With the online dating world full of freaks and IRL men proving to be disingenuous dickheads my current mood is basically this:
So, it’s kind of strange that my new obsession of the moment is a show in which the end game is to fall madly in love (and win loads of cash – this at the very least I can get on board with.) Yeah you guessed it, it’s Love Island.
I’ll admit I’ve been keeping this corker under my hat for a good while.
It’s been pointed out to me recently that this blog makes dating sound as fun as having to sit an exam naked whilst all your ex boyfriends eat dinner with their new girlfriends in a circle around you.
Ah the world of dating. It can be indecipherable at the best of times.
Take the time when I went on a date with someone I had met in real life only to discover it wasn’t a date but infact a weird business meeting in which he took me to a glorified pret a manger and then got his laptop out to show me his excel spreadsheet.
Which would have been fine except for the fact that I was wearing heels and a fur coat like a 20th century prostitute and had brought nothing with me at all.
Caveat. This article should probably actually be called ‘how to break up with someone without being a giant douche’. It’s not called that because…well because it doesn’t fit neatly into my title space on my poorly designed blog so… there we are. Savour that behind the scenes info like the nugget of gold it is.