Dating and Dickpics: Episode 13

13. Unlucky for some. But as someone with seemingly endless bad luck, I like to think 13 can signify some sort of change.

Well, unfortunately, there’s no change here. I was recently at work on a Wednesday morning, quite happily tapping away on my keyboard and coding paperwork, minding my own business and listening to Drake (obviously) when my phone vibrated against the cool, hard wooden desk I’d placed it on. I figured it was one of my friends trying to arrange plans for the weekend so I didn’t hesitate to open it.

It was an anonymous dickpic.

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Scarred for life

I’m not entirely sure what’s worse: a dickpic from a man you know or a dickpic from a complete stranger. Both are intolerable in my eyes and both are embarrassing but perhaps more so from the stranger because they are under the false illusion that somehow, their penis is so magnificent and aesthetically pleasing that you will jump on the next tube to their place naked.

I told the dick in question that his actions were repulsive and that I was not interested. I told him the sight of his ghastly manhood made me want to vomit. He proceeded to call me a whore. Right, I’m the whore. You’re the one who sent a picture of your genitals to a stranger, but I’m the whore. I preceded to destroy his logic by telling him that clearly he’s the whore out of the two of us because he’s so desperate for sex that he’s flashing his penis to an anonymous person. He then used some colourful language and after telling him to have a quick one-two pump in his hand because that’s all he could manage, I blocked him.

Lesson? I will always call you out on your bullshit and I will always have the last word if you dare disrespect me.

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Queen of Effortless Clapbacks aka me

There was another guy who decided to stumble his fuckboy-ways back into my life. He texted me after months and months of silence. His excuse? He’s ‘choleric’. In case you wondered, he’s talking about one of the Four Temperaments which have been wholeheartedly disproved. This was his oldy-worldy way of saying ‘I’m a fuckboy and I’m only messaging you because I want sex and for some reason, I think that I’m so special you’ll break two and a half years of celibacy for me’.

Any guesses on how I dealt with that?

Did I:

  • A: Express my wonder at him texting me again and partake in some polite conversation?
  • B: Make it crystal clear that I am looking for something serious, not a party in my pants?
  • C: Explain how much of a fuckboy he is, only for him to beg for another chance?
  • D: C, but sass him down and block his sorry ass?

The answer is D, because I don’t suffer fools gladly. I was a little shocked that he had bothered to text me but then again, if a fuckboy wants sex, they will magically remember the number of anyone they ever met with a pulse. I don’t think he actually remembered me. He did vaguely describe the night I met him but I really could’ve been any girl he met in any bar in London. He was horny and desperate. I am neither of the two and I have exacting standards.

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I’ll call you out if you’re a fuckboy

Remember how earlier on I was talking about how 13 is unlucky for some? It seems that this installment of D&D shows a change in luck, for I was recently with someone who met my exacting standards. We spent some time together and it was absolutely magical. It was, quite simply, the best weekend of my life (and I’m happy to say he also enjoyed it). He’s a good friend of mine and someone I feel extremely comfortable with. I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not. I don’t have to be perfect. My imperfections aren’t a big deal to him. He makes me smile uncontrollably and laugh like a complete goofball. The best bit? I managed to successfully introduce him to my real, true love, Grey’s Anatomy. It’s all very early days but I’m excited and for once, I’m happy. Long may it continue. And although I love all of my readers dearly, I hope this is the last Dating & Dickpics I have to write in a very, very long time.

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It wasn’t as cheesy as this but considering I’m a 20-something Bridget Jones, this picture seemed appropriate (note: I am cheesy)

Dating and Dickpics: Episode 11

At this point, I wonder if there will ever be a time where I stop writing D&D. I love writing it, but I would love to find…well, love.

I seem to have the worst luck when it comes to fuckboys. The guy I was making heart-eyes over in D&D 10? He was a complete fuckboy. I think he realised after the first date that sex was off the cards completely. He thought he could change my mind about it. For some reason, men seem to think that no matter how strong a woman’s convictions are, they are God’s gift to women and will change her mind somehow. No man is ever that amazing. Even if it was Idris Elba, it wouldn’t happen.

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Sorry Idris. I love you but no sexy time.

So I was back in the dating game once again and I found a man who made everything sound so promising. He wasn’t exactly my type but I’m a believer in giving most people a chance if I find we are compatible enough to get along. He actually met me when I was on a night out with my friends. I’d only told him in passing that I’d had a busy day planned but we’d be in a nightclub that evening if he wanted to join us and to my surprise, he turned up. He was courteous and polite. We spent almost an hour outside the nightclub just talking and getting to know each other. After, we exchanged numbers and texted every day until our first official date. That date went swimmingly well. As did our second date. By the end of our second date, I thought that this guy had potential.

But things are very rarely a fairytale, especially in my life.

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I was kind of rooting for him.

His true colours were revealed on my birthday, ironically. So for my birthday, I was betrayed and lied to. I have to say, I wouldn’t have coped with the aftermath without my amazing friends (you know who you are). I got over it in time, but I think that what hurt more was another betrayal that blindsided me; he quickly became an afterthought and collateral damage in the end.

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Party pooper.

Despite this, I am grateful for both the fuckboy and the I’ll Ruin Your Birthday guy too. They both taught me some lessons, which are:

  • No man is ever worth breaking a promise you made to yourself.
  • Talk is cheap.
  • Actions speak louder than words.
  • If a guy suddenly goes silent for more than a day, he’s not into you.
  • It’s easy to say you’re a feminist and believe in equality but your actions will always betray you.
  • Never stay with a man who thinks that talking to other men is a crime.
  • If someone lets you down at the last minute, you’re not their priority, so get rid of them.
  • You never really know someone’s true intentions until it’s too late.

Despite all this drama, I’m still feeling positive. I know I have the love and support of my friends and I couldn’t have picked myself back up without them. I love you guys.

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#SquadGoals

It’s not all doom and gloom though. I’ve decided that I really need to test men out when I date them and not take everything on face value because as I mentioned above, talk is cheap and it’s easy for men to tell you what you want to hear just to get in your pants or take advantage of you in other ways. Looking back, there were many things wrong with Party Pooper guy but I looked past them because he was just so kind and polite and I thought I could compromise. The fact is, I really can’t. I’m bad at compromising when it comes to love and although I used to think that was a flaw, I don’t think it is now. I know what I want and I won’t settle for less because…well, why should I? Why should anyone settle for less?

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Don’t compromise.

I’m excited to announce that I do have a date this coming weekend. I’m looking forward to it because the guy is miles apart from the guys I’ve dated recently. He’s intelligent and very interesting. Hopefully it all goes well and I don’t make a complete embarrassment of myself. But at the moment, I’m not reading much into it. A date is just that — getting together to find out more about each other. And if this doesn’t work out? Onto the next date.

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Bring it on!

 

Dear Fuckboy

Dear Fuckboy,

I really thought everything was going well. We’d been talking for well over a month and we had that spark that I’d been missing with everyone else I’d spoken to. I finally had the courage to put myself out there after so long; I’ve been bitten more times than I care to remember and I was so shy as a result. But you seemed worth it. The banter was great and your texts always made me smile. I remember being frightfully nervous just before our first date. I was panicking on the train to Covent Garden where we planned to meet.

Our date couldn’t have gone better. I remember, in between giggles and sips of cocktails, thinking ‘this is the best date I’ve been on’. You were exactly what you had promised you’d be: you were funny, charming and a good conversationalist. I went home that evening on cloud nine. We texted each other when we got home to see if we’d both reached safely and you told me you had a great time.

The next week was more of the same. We relayed sweet and silly texts to one another, both dreaming about our next date the following weekend.

Then something happened. Something happened and you never gave an explanation. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, believing that you’re ill or busy, so I let it slide. You had told me you were unwell previously so I texted to see if you were okay as I was worried. You told me you were fine and that I needn’t worry about you. So I didn’t.

Then I texted you the following day, asking how it was going as you were ill and presumably at work. I didn’t get a reply all day. After hours of overthinking (thanks to my anxiety, which you know I have), I decided to give in and ask if you if you were no longer interested in me, because that was how it was feeling considering you had been online and waved it around in my face, read my text and not replied. I somehow went to bed and fell asleep, with some false hope that you would’ve replied that morning. Pretty much everyone around me was saying that you’d lost interest because you don’t read someone’s texts and not reply for the whole day.

The next morning came. The only texts I had received were from my best friends. I texted you to tell you that I got it, it’s over, but you could’ve had the decency to tell me. You read that message and didn’t dignify it with a response.

For someone who is older than me, I have to applaud just how mature you behaved! Maturity is, after all, ignoring someone you asked to be your girlfriend the week before. Maturity is not clearly stating that you were no longer interested. Maturity is leading a woman on for over a month and then opting for radio silence.

You told me you were different. You begged me for a chance, for a date. You promised you were different from all the rest, that you meant what you said, that you would never lie. You promised that you’d never hurt me.

Really, you were exactly like the others. In fact, you were worse, because other fuckboys never lied to me like you did.

So goodbye, dear fuckboy. Thanks for diminishing my trust in men just that little bit more. Thanks for making me second-guess everything the next man who tries to date me says and does. Thanks for making me feel like I’m not worth someone’s time. Thanks for making me believe that finding a genuine, good man is just a myth.

7 Signs That You’re Still in Love with Your Ex (CultNoise)

4th December 2015

Getting over someone you thought you were truly in love with can be extremely hard. It is possible to do it, but a surprising amount of people seem to kid themselves into thinking that they are over their ex when actually, they are still in the throes of love and infatuation. Here are some telltale signs that you’re not as over them as you might think you are.

1. You Stalk Them on Social Media

You try to resist typing their name into Facebook or checking their tweets but somehow, you always end up back on their page; finding out who they’ve been hanging out with, if they have a new partner or where they’ve been lately. And if they blocked you because the breakup was bad, you ask your best friend to hunt down their actions for you. You find yourself wasting a great deal of time trying to find out every detail of their new life without you.

2. You Compare All Your Dates to Them

You might think that you’ve moved on because you’re dating, but do you find yourself subconsciously comparing your date to your ex? Do you compare their mannerisms to those of your ex? Or do you find that you’re making up reasons not to go on another date with them, knowing perfectly well that there’s nothing particularly wrong with them? If you can’t get through this mental block, you’re probably not over them.

3. You Fantasise About Them Whilst Having Sex with Someone Else

This is fairly self-explanatory. If you’re wishing they were the one getting nasty with you, you’re definitely not over them. Probably best to stop sleeping with whoever it is you’re sleeping with though, just in case they develop feelings for you – that will only get messy.

4. You’re Refusing to Get Out There and Play The Field

Of course, it takes time to get back in the dating game after a tragic heartbreak. However, if you’re resolutely swearing against talking or going on dates, it could be a sign that you’re not yet over your ex. Going on dates, even if they don’t lead anywhere, is a healthy way of moving on and showing yourself that there are plenty more fish in the sea. If you’re avoiding that at all costs, you may want to reassess things.

5. You Contact Them When You’ve Had a Tipple

Drunk texts are some of the worst crimes you can commit when you’ve had a few too many to drink. It’s fine if you’re texting your best friend because you’ve got bad beer goggles and can’t see that they’re standing a meter away from you, but drunk dialling or texting your ex is an abomination. An ex is an ex for a reason — there shouldn’t be any contact between the two of you for a while, especially if the breakup was bad. You’re especially vulnerable when you’re drunk too because alcohol means that your tongue is loosened, and who knows what you may confess!

6. You Still Talk About Them, Whenever You Can

Your friends will be there for you during the aftermath of your breakup, but if you’re still harping on about it 6 months later, still bringing them up in every conversation… yeah, that’s not a good sign. You may want to ease up though because, soon enough, that supportive friendship group may dwindle.

7. You’re Lost When You’re Alone

This one really depends on the dynamics of the relationship you had with your ex. If you spent a lot of time together and you don’t now know what to do with all the free time, apart from reminisce about your relationship, then you may need to find some new hobbies and other ways of occupying your time, instead of mulling over what could have been.

50 Shades of Nope

Yes, this is going to be another piece about that infamous franchise 50 Shades of Grey. The book has now been adapted into a movie, hitting cinemas on the weekend of Valentines Day, ironically. Justifiably, it has created furor among both fans and those who hate it.

I say that it’s ironic that the film has been released for Valentines Day because it is anything but romantic. The whole franchise romanticises what is quite clearly abuse. A friend recommended I read the book when it first hit the shelves and lent me her copy. I read it with disgust. She was oblivious connotations and actually fantasised about the day she would met someone like Christian Grey. For me, that book was a warning and Grey repulsed me as I read it.

I have dabbled in kink and BDSM before and neither of the two are anything new to me. 50 Shades of Grey is basically a book/movie written by an ignorant asshole who knows absolutely nothing about real BDSM. I’m outraged about the implications of the book. Let me clarify some things that need to be said by someone who was involved in BDSM before:

  • Enjoying BDSM is a completely normal thing.
  • We are not damaged. BDSM isn’t something you do because you’ve been abused and would like to then go and abuse someone.
  • BDSM is not about abuse either. It’s about enhancing a sexual experience (although sex does not have to happen in order for BDSM to happen).
  • The sub has rights. When they say ‘stop’ or a safe word (which will be previously discussed with the dom), the dom STOPS. Just stops exactly what they are doing. They don’t ignore it like Grey does towards the end of the book/film and continue to do something that Anastasia has clearly said no to.
  • We respect consent. We love consent.
  • Real BDSM isn’t about contracts. It’s not a bloody job or anything where you have to sign stuff. It’s about a lot of discussion and respecting each other’s wishes and boundaries.

Christian Grey is controlling and abusive. He is not romantic. He is not a person that people should admire or wish they could be with. He is dominating — and not in a good way. He forces Anastasia to eat and forces her to do things she does not want to throughout the book. What kind of sane person forces someone to eat and actually writes down rules in a contract about that person’s diet? You would never hear of this in a real BDSM relationship. Most BDSM relationships only observe control in the bedroom and, believe it or not, the sub has most of the power.

It seems as though Anastasia isn’t even allowed to have friends. Grey controls that aspect of her life too. Yes, one of her friends fancies her. But can’t she just be friends with him and make it clear that she’s with someone else? Why does Grey have to assert himself in that situation? Also, how messed up is it if he doesn’t like her having friends of the opposite sex?

Anastasia is a flawed character in herself. She is weak. She is unhealthily obsessed with Grey. When she’s not with him, she is overanalysing everything about him and her, fantasising about him all the time. Does she not see that there’s more to life than Christian Grey? Talk about putting feminism back about 100 years. Saying that, what is to be expected from a book that was originally Twilight fanfiction? Twilight is dangerous; it teaches you that if your boyfriend leaves you, you should jump off a cliff and stop being a person, just become a shell. I’m shocked how either book became a success and then had movies based on them.

The suggestions and implications of 50 Shades of Grey are disgusting. People defend the plot by saying that Grey does this to Anastasia because he was abused when he was younger. The implication being that if you like BDSM, it’s because you were abused. Great. Now the whole BDSM community is being tarnished with the same brush when really, that’s not true at all. The other implication is that to enjoy BDSM, you must be damaged. Another outrageous generalisation. The truth is that neither of these apply in real life. People like BDSM just because they do. It’s like liking mushrooms or not liking mushrooms. It’s a preference. It has no significance other than people like it.

I could go on for hours about how wrong 50 Shades of Grey is. I admit that in this post, my emotions have gotten the better of me and this isn’t written as well as it should be. I am just livid that this book, which should be banished, has been made into a movie, making the author even richer and making people think that this is what BDSM is really like and that women everywhere should just continue to be with someone who ignores it when they remove consent and downright controls and abuses them.

If you decide to watch this movie, consider yourself disowned.

I Knew You Were Trouble

About a month and a half ago, I went out on a first date with a lovely guy called David. We instantly hit it off and he was a complete gentleman. He was 32 but I didn’t mind the age difference; after all the guys that I’ve dated that have been a similar age to me, I felt like an older guy was the way to go because of the maturity factor.

We had a whirlwind romance. He wooed and charmed me and before I knew it, we were in a relationship. I was so happy. He was always charming, sweet and polite. We couldn’t bare to spend even a week apart. I spent long weekends at his place and visited him on Wednesdays as a mid-week treat for both of us. He was so romantic and I was smitten. I thought I’d found The One, to be quite honest. Nothing about him bothered me.

But then things changed.

The reason I’m writing this is to serve as a cautionary tale to all of you. To warn you all about how quickly people can change when they think they have a sufficient hold over you.

He became controlling. He didn’t trust me. He knew that I had been cheated on in the past and it had broken my heart and he knew that I thought it was a disgusting thing to do. Despite this, he accused me of flirting with men. He didn’t like the fact that I have a lot of male friends. He hated it, in fact. He expected me to prioritise him over my friends, despite my belief that friends should come before anything else. After all, they’re the family you choose.

He read texts from my mum over my shoulder. He quizzed me about who I was following on Instagram and why I was liking a guy’s photo. He didn’t like the banter I had with one of my friends because he’s bisexual. He accused me of hiding things all the time.

I am an extremely open person. I didn’t care when he started following me on Twitter and I continued to tweet as I usually would (I’m hoping to write a memoir and my tweets are going to come in very handy). I kept posting things on Facebook that I usually would. Nothing about my behaviour changed. I didn’t hide anything. I have no secrets and I’m like an open book.

None of that mattered. He blamed everything but himself. He didn’t take a look in the mirror once and think that he may be partly to blame. He always started a fight, sulked and then blamed me for it all. It was somehow always my fault. Either that or it was because of his bad childhood and he still had unresolved anger issues. He was possessive, obsessive and jealous. He slowly began to make me cry more than he made me smile. He began stalking me online. No amount of ‘but I only love you, you’re the one’ or ‘I want to be with you’ pacified him.

That charm that I’d fallen for was just a façade. It was a mask he put on to win me over. As soon as he had me, all that disappeared. He swore at me several times and hung up on me when I had the audacity to defend myself and not just apologise like he expected me to.

On Friday, I decided to end it with him. I had done my first full day of work in months and had a great day. I was buzzing. I went home and that’s when he accused me of hiding something. Ironically, he told me he did trust me but he absolutely knew I was hiding something. I was fuming. A long, tiresome yet fun day ruined. I tried to talk to him rationally but apparently, the posh tone of my voice made it sound like I was talking to him as though he were a child. We eventually resolved it. Then, less than an hour later, another phone call. He’d told me he had no money for this weekend and that I would have to pay for everything. I didn’t mind — what we had planned was only going to cost £20. He told me to bring double what was necessary. God knows for what. He knows I am unemployed (I’m currently temping but you’re not guaranteed steady work). He knows my parents give me money. But at now 33 years of age, he was asking me for money. I always pay my way in relationships but this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He wasn’t just asking me to pay for the weekend, he was asking me for money. Money that wasn’t even mine.

So that’s when I knew. I knew I was with the wrong person. He made me feel shit about myself and he guilted me and blamed me for everything. So I dumped him. I told him that I deserve better and it’s over. Like the mature adult that he is, he hung up on me and blocked me on every form of social media.

The cautionary tale? Be wary of charm. Keep your head and your heart separate and never let a person cloud your better judgement. I dread to think what would have happened if I had stayed with him any longer. His hold over me would have been too strong. I’m just shocked that I had the strength to leave him. I’d become so emotionally dependent. Although I sometimes feel worthless because of my depression, I knew I deserved better than the way he was treating me. He never apologised to me because he never thought he was to blame, even when he clearly was. I knew that if one of my best friends was in such a relationship, I’d be telling them that they needed to leave for their own good. I am sad that I left him because I thought he was special but I am overwhelmingly relieved. I’d rather be alone than unhappy.