Don’t Linger by the Lingerie

The mere word makes me shudder – ‘Lllliinnggeerrrrie’, ugh. Any man that thinks it might be a good idea to buy me some in the future had better be prepared for a bit of disappointment. The hearts & flowers, oh so alluring picture painted by many a fashion designer, hotel, restaurant, chocolate maker and match maker is, a load of complete rubbish.

The first time a man bought me lingerie I was 17, he was 18, mature for his age and a guy with expensive tastes. And clearly someone who was prepared to betray his studenty, goth, beer swilling roots. I arrived home from University for Christmas, the unopened present tucked under my arm as I was met at the train station by my parents and sister. After much berating I had no choice but to open the carefully wrapped, bow on top elephant in the room, well large box taking up half of the back seat of the car, truth be told.

I slid the lid off the box and was mesmerised when all I could see inside was cream silk and there wasn’t much of it. As I took the Camisole top out of the box by its two tiny, delicate straps my sister bellowed to ‘Look, oh my God! There’s knickers as well!’, my mother’s face was one of pure horror and when my father turned to see what was going on he nearly crashed the car. My mother took me aside later on to that while the present was very beautiful, she wondered how my boyfriend knew where to buy such eh, items. She also said that my father had never bought her ‘anything like that’ and he wouldn’t have a clue how to go about it. You read that I was 17, right? Absolute mortification.

A Game of Rules

There are rules and regulations everywhere but personally, I’m not one to abide by them. In the world of dating, there are Rules Girls and guys who play The Game. Charlotte Yorke of ‘Sex and the City’ and Kate Middleton are classic Rules Girls – they played the boys at their own game, persistently stood their ground and trampled over any other pretender to the crown in order to get their man.

Among ‘The Rules’, which should never, ever be broken are mantras such as; not calling the guy, ever, let him call you and always ending the date or phone call to leave him wanting more. You shouldn’t offer to go dutch on a date, allowing the man treat you as a non money carrying princess nor should you ever see him more than twice in one week. A classic is not accepting a date for Saturday night after Wednesday because your weekend is always full, Dahling. The probably most quoted rule is not to sleep with the guy before you’ve had three dates because by then you’ll have charmed your way into more than his bed, presumably and led him to think that you’re worth it. A Rules Girl shouldn’t live with a man either as, the number one rule is to ‘be a creature, unlike any other’ – at this point I’m guessing that guys know girls shave their legs, occasionally lick the lids of ice cream tubs and sometimes leave knickers on the bedroom floor for a day or two but some people will insist on a facade.

The Game that guys ‘should’ play – insert name of practically any strong male lead in any movie – essentially revolves around, well, them. It’s all about the swagger, the nonchalance and a total air of ‘look at me’ – are you surprised? Guys should only play the game with women they are prepared to fail with, so that it’s no biggie if she doesn’t fall into your arms. Extreme confidence at all times is the watchword and if the girl in question seems interested, that’s the exact time to ignore her – but there should still be a bit of showing off near her, just so she can see what she’s missing, like. Ultimately if a guy is interested he should alternate this with complete disinterest, just to keep her on her toes.

Oh, I’m exhausted reading through that! What an effort, what a palava! Surely 99% of that goes out the window when you’ve had a few drinks and lets not even get into the destructive power of the drunken text late at night! I don’t want someone who refers to a book when they want to ask me out. I don’t want someone to stop in the middle of a funny story, get up and walk across the room to say hello to someone else and then ignore me for the rest of the night. I want someone who’ll want to make me laugh, someone who can see that sometimes I want to watch a movie that I love for the fifth time, someone who’ll be prepared to dance with me to my favourite song even if it’s 5am and I want someone who’ll simply ask ‘how was your day?’

I’m not prepared to become someone else so why would I want someone who can’t be true to themselves? And believe me, your average girl can smell the bullshit a mile away, you’ll instantly become ‘one of those guys’ and spend eternity in the asshole category. I’m not someone who tolerates fools and really, you’re a fool to play by these rules. Full stop. Do your own thing and have a ball doing it!

Angry Little Man

This is a tale reminding everyone that just because you want it, that doesn’t meant you should have it. The angry little man in question is someone I liked, note the past tense. Oh not in that way, silly. I liked him because he’s very funny, laugh out loud funny and is the type of person that can catapault a conversation from dull to dramatic in one foul swoop.

I spoke to him loads of times and we very much got on but in no way did I fancy him, not my type at all! And then there were one or two occasions whereby he said something with a bit of a cock of his head, a pause and definite raising of his eyebrows. Then there was the flattery, from him, not me. I took the compliments with a wry smile to aleviate a potentially awkward situation. I didn’t return them, I didn’t like him in that way. Not at all. Then the compliments weren’t just in passing, they were kind of embarrassing, to be honest.

Then one night a few of us ended up in his house. We’d all had a few drinks but we just put on music and were chatting, no one was drunk. I decided to rest my eyelids while on the couch, drifting in and out of the conversation. At stupid o’clock it was suggested that I just lie down on the bed and I did just that, I was wrecked and in no mood to move. When the last person left this guy decided that he’d get into bed beside me and I was having none of it! I was lying fully clothed w half a duvet over me and there he was, just in his jocks, hands all over the place! I was fully awake by now and instead of causing a scene I just politely declined his advances. I knew I was going to see this guy again so I really didn’t want any awkwardness. We chatted for a few minutes as I put on my shoes. Then he lashed out at me when he realised I really was leaving, ‘Well! I thought the least I’d get was a ride after waiting this long!’

Yes, he did say that. I was disgusted and his face got uglier and uglier as he snarled at me to ‘leave so’. He practically pushed me out the door, as though I’d done something wrong. I walked home and I was just flabbergasted at his arrogance! I couldn’t get it out of my head!  The next time I saw him, I said hello as I had been chatting to friends of his when he arrived in the pub. I was polite, no one would’ve thought anything of it, I certainly wasn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking that I couldn’t rise above his testosterone filled anger. I think he was surprised and I didn’t wait for a reply and left him open mouthed as I continued my conversation and I left a few minutes later to talk to someone else. The next time I saw him was similar, I was polite but non commital about a conversation. Then when I moved to another pub with friends, he walked in a while later. He knew all of the others and he sat down but we didn’t talk. Then, I don’t know what he had been talking about but from across the table there was a raised voice. He turned to me and then back to the group before venonomously glaring in my direction again shouting ‘.. well we SLEPT TOGETHER so I don’t know if you’re allowed comment right now! Well, you TALKED THROUGH IT, typical… !

I was so disgusted by now I merely raised my glass to my mouth and there was a bitter taste in my own mouth as I sat, motionless. I took a deep breath and looked into the distance. I wasn’t going to bring even more attention to this outburst by reacting or acknowledging what had just been said. I have no idea what the others in the group thought or if they actually believed what they’d just heard. Conversation started up again, I finished my drink, quickly, and left. The angry little man has no idea who he’s dealing with. But he should know not to cross me.

Are You Ready To Be Heartbroken?

I had slept with this guy before, maybe three or four times. He’s a friend of a friend and it’s only ever been very casual. It just so happened that he came back to mine last Saturday night. As he literally threw me onto the bed, one hand around my neck and the other pinning me down by my wrist, I was loving his hot breath on my skin.

Then an image appeared in my mind, the one imagine I didn’t want to see, the image of the guy I really like. The guy I really want. The guy I don’t have. The guy that was in my bed wasn’t the one I wanted there. I mumbled something and the more I tried to prise myself from under him, the more I wanted to be further away than I knew possible. I stumbled out to the living room and lit a cigarette, my hands in my head when the still tee shirt and jeans clad gentleman caller sat down beside me. I said that I didn’t feel great and the nice guy he is, he offered me water and asked if he could get me anything else.

I would guess he was a bit eh, deflated at that point and I just wanted to scream. It was ok chatting, half watching the end of the DVD until he left, we get on and he’s funny but all I could see was the Guy I Want [GIW] sitting beside me when we laughed for hours at anything and everything, realising that we have a very similar sense of humour, outlook on all kinds of things and craving for pizza literally 24\7.

I met GIW about 6 months ago and then didn’t see him for ages. He too is a friend of a friend and when I bumped into him in my local, we realised we both lived very close by. He walked me home and over another bottle of wine we laughed until dawn. He called round about a week later on the premise of returning the wine. There wasn’t any tension but I found myself breathing very deeply any time he was out of sight! In fact the evening was the opposite of tense. He invited himself around a few more times. Always we’d a great time, lots of laughing and we caught each other stealing looks which made for coy smiles and electricity.

I couldn’t make a suggestion to meet up the following week and then he couldn’t make the date I suggested. There were texts and Facebook messages but the next time I saw him he was with another girl. He didn’t see me and I had a pain on my face trying to smile for the rest of the night. You see no one else knows that he’s the first guy I’ve liked in a very long time. I meet new guys all the time but he really tugged at my heartstrings.

I’ve heard he’s seeing this other girl now, I don’t want to know any more details. I’m not one to count chickens but I had thought maybe, maybe something might happen between us. There are reasons why it wouldn’t work but just as many reasons why it would. Details, schmetails. I haven’t texted him for a few weeks. I feel sick at the thought of him not replying even though he always did before. I have had Facebook messages from him and a bit of a chat but I chose to delete him as a friend. I had to. There were pictures of him and her popping up all over the place. I don’t want to feel jealous so I’ve removed the cause. He might notice sometime and I’ll say it must’ve been in error.

So for now, I’ll try to keep his gorgeous face from my mind, chastise myself upon remembering a little something he said or did. And I’ll breathe. And I’ll just carry on regardless. Maybe someone else will make me feel the way he does sometime soon.

Just Me

Another thing you need to know on this catch up, peeps – and we do need to catch up properly – is that there’s another group of men that have emerged on my horizon. OK, not so much emerged as come out in force lately, step forward and behold, ‘The Flirty Married’. The Flirty Married, FM, are sure of one thing and one thing only and that is that they need you to know that they exist. They don’t need you to know that they’re married, more about that later but they do want you  to find them as fantastic as they ahem, know they are. Irresistible, like.

FM’s either may wear their wedding ring but one thing they won’t ever do is mention their wife or any aspect of their married life. They will always show lots of interest in you – ‘I like your hair\jewellery\top’ (see, classic from guys in a long term relationship, they know they should give compliments) or ‘That’s interesting, you know your stuff’ and they laugh at all the right things. Schooled you see. And then there’s the lingering looks, the way they’ll hold your gaze for just that smidgen too long, the way a guy that fancies you might, for instance. There’s the leaning in to properly hear what you’re saying. The way he’ll order you a drink as though you’re regular drinking partners.

I think the rule goes that if you don’t ask, you don’t tell. Now, it can take a few minutes of conversation, hello top left pocket of jeans, before you twig the ring, granted but the definite flirting can only mean one thing, this guy wants your attention which gives the impression that he wants you as well. The guy who doesn’t wear a ring gives himself away when he jumps a mile and races off to answer his phone. He may or not return but if he does it’s only to say, that he ‘has to go’. Cue roll of eyes and the feeling of a wasted conversation. Thanks for that.

I think it’s because of this that I’ve found myself on the receiving end of a number of FM’s recently. One was wearing his wedding ring the first time I met him. He wasn’t the second, third or fourth time and when he followed me into a bathroom at a party just to check I was ok (‘I’m peeing! Do you mind?!’) I had to say something. I had to ask, ‘Why are you being so touchy feely? Really? You’re married. I don’t need to be a scarlet lady. Why aren’t you wearing your wedding ring?’. He concluded that ‘Yeah I should be wearing it’ so I left him and a potential blow job looking very cosy on the couch. The older guy I mentioned in the post below eventually told me that while he was in a long term relationship but he didn’t live with his girlfriend. Oh well, that’s ok then, dinner on Thursday?

I’m not prepared to be your filler while you pretend to be a single man, thank you very much. If you tell me you’re married and the group of us are having a good chat and a drink, it could be great fun. And sure introduce me to one of your single mates while we’re at it. Or try to chat me up again when you’re single. It won’t be that long now, not the way you carry on.

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

It’s been a while since we’ve chatted so I should really update you on the gentlemen that have made Glitter sparkle since then. Yes, there have been a few but no one that significant, I guess you could say that I’m happily still having lots of fun!

There has been a bit of a change though and it’s one I’m slightly at a loss to explain. It would appear that I now fall into that place between the two main male dating groups – I still look good enough for the cocksure mid 20’s guy to fancy me and my wit and experience mean that the 50 something Lothario is more than willing to offer me a cocktail. But I am in neither of those age groups. I’m, lets say towards the middle of that range and so seem to have found myself ‘considerable’ to the entire range of what ladies would deem, age appropriate men. If you need any evidence, I am currently being pursued by a man maybe 12 or 13 years older than me, I briefly dated a guy last year who is exactly twice the age of one of the flingettes I recently had and even older than a similarly aged young guy that momentarily created a frisson of excitement.

Now it appears that men my own age still exist and I was surprised to met a real potential. We had a couple of really great dates and he was certainly eager. We laughed our way through a few all nighters with music blaring, he was amused yet delighted when a particular bar manager took a shine to me and we got total VIP treatment for the night even though neither of us had been in the bar before and we chatted away for Ireland throughout a great dinner date. He had told me about a psycho sounding ex who at best expressed her insecurity through violence and at worst should have been sectioned for giving us girls a bad name. He didn’t want to go back to her but the fact of the matter is, she got in touch with him again and off he trotted. Better the devil you know I guess, more fool him.

Guys my own age also seem to be in an inbtween place – old enough to have had a serious relationship, a marriage or kids along the way but they haven’t grown up enough to be able to deal with how this affects them in order for them to be rational yet willing to not tar all females with the same brush.

Maybe it’s a good thing that I fall between these groups of men. I can made my own mind up about whomever I want to date and feck the begrudgers. Or as a very good friend said, ‘But Glitter! It just proves how fabulous you are!’

Ring of Fear

In order to understand where the basis of this post may lie, you have to know that I recently had a bit of a fling with a younger guy. Much younger. Like 10 years younger.

In my dream, there was me, him and a few randomers, the way random people that don’t even know each other or a girl you were in primary school with and haven’t seen in 20 years pop up in dreams.  And there was a house, a wooden house with a lot of staircases. There didn’t seem to be much chatting but I was definitely agitated.  Someone told me about the theory of rooms and what they symbolise in dreams (different rooms are different areas of your life, surprise surprise and what happens in each are a reflection of what’s going on in your life at the time *yawn*) and perhaps this is why I got the wake up call I needed, no pun intended. This younger guy suddenly appeared in the dream, in the house and he wanted to talk to me. He told me that it was me he wanted.

At this point dear readers, I should point out that in real life this guy has a girlfriend of a couple of months. Judge if you will, but remember, it’s me that’s single, not him and so I should be able to do as I please without threat of the gallows or worse still doomed to spend eternity in Krystle nightclub. And it was a flingette if you will, and we’ve all had those. He seemed very genuine about choosing me over his girlfriend and then got upset. He was going to tell her about us but was dreading it. He apologised he hadn’t told her sooner and then he kissed me. All was going well. Exactly what happened next, I’m not sure but I do remember it was me and my Mom talking in the kitchen and I was all flustered.

‘Look at it! LOOK! OMG! It’s a flipping oval ruby on a gold band engagement ring! Gold! A Ruby! O-V-A-L   R-U-B-Y! Gold! Gah!

Well, if he thinks that’s the type of ring I’d like, well, I’m not sure if he knows me at all! And I DO NOT want to be with a guy that doesn’t know me!’

At that exact point I woke up with a fright. Jesus, Mary and St Joseph! That ring was hideous! Maybe I should turn my attention to single guys only or at least those with good taste in jewellery.

The Female Lynx Effect

Tough times unfortunately mean tough beauty choices for us girlies. Ugh, we’ve all been there. One that I found myself in was being ‘perfumeless’. I don’t think I’ve ever bought perfume for myself, I mean I would, but I usually get some duty free in lieu of cat sitting and have a constant supply. But I found myself without my favourite for ages and I had other pressing lotions and potions that had to take presidence.

Big mistake.

Face Value

You’re reading this because I like to write and so I started this blog. Most of it is of a kinda personal nature, other bits and pieces aren’t, they’re maybe news items or beauty product reviews etc. I’ve been very flattered by the amount of people that read this blog and for the many, many comments and I hope you continue to visit here. But and here’s the thing, you and I chat about lots of different things, my opinion, my relaying something that happened, you commenting in reply, it’s quite easy really so let’s stay friends cos I’d love if you kept visiting!

 So, it’s a nice little thing we have going, me and you. It works! I start a conversation, you chip in a few words if you’re so inclined and we wake up tomorrow and do it all again. When you’re not here you have your own life, that I know and that I get. I don’t demand when you visit, I just like when you do! And equally, if I don’t want to talk about something, I don’t, if I want your opinion, I’ll ask and I can happily rely on your support. If I felt like you absolutely needed to know what I’m up to every minute of every day, well, you’d be following me via Twitter. But the thing is, I’m not a Twitterer, I’ve never written a Tweet and I won’t be either. I just don’t see the point. And I don’t follow anyone else’s Tweets either. If I want to know what any of my friends are up to I’ll text or ring them and ask to meet for a drink. And as for following the Twitterings of whatever celebrity, hello? what is all that about – it’s almost like an acceptable form of stalkingand really, really, why would you bother? If you don’t know this person IRL so to speak, why would you want to know that it’s sunny where they are on the other side of the world? Or that they’ve just had great fish & chips? Or indeed anything to do with their bodily functions?

A while ago I succumbedto Facebook, after a number of people asking if I was on it and then a friend that’d moved back to New Zealand saying it’d be the best way [ie cheapest!] to keep in touch, I decided to sign up. I’ve a pic up, just the one, taken a few years ago and it’s more about the signpost in the background rather than being able to recognise me [I’m also wearing sunnies] and I filled in a bit of the profile-y type stuff. I requested to be friends with those that had been asking me to sign up and accepted more friend requests within a few weeks. I don’t find Facebookthe best thing since sliced bread. I find a lot of the ‘What are you doing’ type posts very mundane, cringe inducing and don’t bother clicking into music or group postings that other put up. The odd time I’ll do a quiz one of my ‘friends’ has done and compare results – if I really have nothing better to do. And what is it with people putting so many pix up on their profile? Really?! A few people I’m friends with literally have hundred’s of photos of themselves on view. Hundreds! Talk about vanity… Get over yourselves!!

I did ponder for a bit when I got requests to be friends with the brother of and the cousin of a girl I used to be very good friends with. Then I got a request from her as well.

Rock and a Hard Place

My head hurts. I’m not sure which is causing the pain, the rock or the hard place but both are banging against my thought factory and causing me no end of pissed-off-ness. I feel like I’m constantly running towards the rock and then when I’m halfway there, I’m coming to a halt, turning around and wondering if heading towards the hard place would be less painful overall.

Now, I’m going to fore go the saga of the hows and whys regarding myself and McSmile being back on speaking terms, more than speaking terms again, just take it from me that we are, ok? That’s a whole other post, for another time, maybe. I was out last week and My Other Dad in no uncertain terms told me that he’s not impressed with McSmile. As I stood facing him, my face changed from one of laughter and a good night out to a raised eyebrow as I then stood, open mouthed, with this prickly feeling in my throat and behind my eyes. What he actually said was that he ‘didn’t like McSmile’ and that I ‘can do far better’ adding in that McSmile ‘isn’t good enough for me’ for good measure. He then proceeded to tell me that The Glamourous Blonde was ‘shocked.. no disgusted’ that I was back with McSmile. Apparently, I’m ‘on my own now’ in terms of what happens next with McSmile.

This is coming from a couple I know for a few years now, who seem very much in agreement of their dislike for the person that although I find it hard to use the term ‘boyfriend’, is most definitely the person I’ve been seeing for the last 7 months and it isn’t exactly what I wanted to hear.