Category Archives: The Glitter Files

Casting the First Stone

The first time I heard her speak she shouted in my direction and much to my disgust, at me. She was gone in a second and I’d barely blinked. The second time I heard her speak she was blatently trying to chat up a guy I’d my eye on, I got my shoulder bumped as she whirled past. I’d observed her a few times, flirting with any guy in sight and she wasn’t taking any prisoners. Then there was the time when a group of us were parting at the end of the night and she shouted at one of the guys asking if was he ‘going to ride the blonde wan’, pointing at me. My clenched teeth and fists and sense of decorum stopped me from reacting.

She popped up at parties, she walked into pubs with people I knew. I’d heard her routine on numerous occasions by now. Always the same, loud, brash, tottering on her heels as she fell into another guy. I couldn’t work out if this was the real her or just the one she wants people to see, there had to be something else to her. Then there was a cliched conversation in the Ladies – she confessed that some guy was ‘freaking her out’ and wouldn’t leave her alone, admired my eyeshadow and asked me if I’d spotted ‘anyone nice’ in the pub. We bonded over Duran Duran on the dancefloor and she became more intriguing but my guard was still very much up.

Then came the night that it was literally me, her, a guy that left early and her friend who was being chatted up.. so that left eh, only me and her really.

‘Did he just take your number? OMG, he’s very cute! I was only gone a minute! That was the second guy tonight!’ I was trying to work out what she was getting at because popular as I was, she had been chatting to what seemed like every guy  in the room at some point. Then she stopped and said she wished she could just calm down in front of guys, not scare them by literally exploding into the conversation, taking it over and leaving them in no doubt whom she wanted to be the star attraction, give them a chance to speak. She just stopped, stared at me and said how she’d love to be like me, the way I can ‘just stand in a pub and guys come over to me’,  that I seemed perfectly happy to just be me, that she knew she made a tit of herself but was just a bit all over the place.

Now, this got me thinking. Was she really that clever that it was all a game? Was she lulling me into a sense of false security, hoping as she’d done to others, that it wouldn’t be long before she nailed the last stiletto into the coffin of my confidence, so to speak. Is this how she was with any new person, that she went into full defence mode, made a show of them and wanted them to slink away in a cloud of self doubt? Or was there a hint, just a hint that she might be a real person with real feelings and just needed to take a bit of a look at herself, admit that being the all singing, all dancing life and soul of the party was keeping everyone at her preferred distance in case they got too close. Everyone has barriers after all.

I did wonder if there had been a breakthrough, between me and her I mean. Did she now feel less threatened by me and realise that perhaps we could have a bit of a laugh? I wasn’t fully convinced on this one but, in my quest to give everyone a chance, I put it on the back burner for definite consideration. A few weeks later we both laughed as we recalled a previous night out, she in no uncertain terms told me what she’d like to do to an unsuspecting guy within sight and she pushed a guy off the couch so I could sit down. Cue more laughter and another drink. And cue a definite thaw. The fact that we both needed to buy our own bodyweight in crisps for the taxi journey home made me realise we might have even more in common.

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.

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!’

Ah Crap

elmoEverything I own is my stuff.. right?Just stuff I own. It’s my stuff, not anyone else’s and if I choose to actually put tacky fridge magnets from the town of my parents last holiday destination on display, well, I can stick them wherever I want to! And although it’s gone way beyond a joke at this stage and I don’t even try and refuse them, they’re not like my favourite things in the world, ok? They just make up part of ‘my stuff’, stuff you’ll find in my apartment.

Like anyone else, I can confirm that I’ve lots of ‘stuff’ – you might want to refer to yours as crap. Ok, we all have loads of crap. The crap that sits in a drawer, hangs in a wardrobe, stands on a bookshelf or bathroom shelf. Chances are though, the real crap you have only ever sees the light of day when you’re convinced you’ve spare batteries somewhere, that you’re certain you have a picture of that ugly guy you once dated to compare him to your ex over a bitchy bottle of wine or when you’ve turned the whole place upside down looking for a particular lipstick you know you bought, never wore and now need. There’s also the crap you have kinda on display or at least in the top drawer in your bedroom/ bathroom, the type you know everyone else has but it’s also the type of stuff you shove further out of sight during the 5 secs you have to do a quick tidy up upon arriving home accompanied, if you get me.

It’s a little different from the ‘Me Casa, Su Casa’ situation, it’s more like a ‘My Crap, My Situation – so what? ‘ kind of thing. Put it another way, I’ve loads of books, very varied, from books on iconic magazine covers, to all of Candace Bushnells books, some Erica Jong, the complete stories of Winnie the Pooh, a few Douglas Coupland and an abundance of cat books. Many of the cat books are presents, I may add. I have hard back editions of ‘The Ultimate Cat’ and ‘Tales from the Animal Hospital’ from the BBC series years ago, for instance. Guys aren’t so taken with them, unsurprisingly and they leaf through ‘501 Must See Movies’ or my Brett Easton Ellis instead. Mind you, I’d rather the pisstake comments on my cat books rather than the time I was completely at a loss for words when a new neighbour invited me in for a welcome glass of wine a few years back – I’d never seen so much crap until that evening. Perhaps if I added that it resembled a sanctuary for chintzy china dragons and that floral plate things that were just stuck up against various walls and that this guy, yes guy had added a neon blue, neon blue, strip light around a window and odd looking Russian Doll type ornaments on every surface, you might understand why I was a little dumbfounded. Now, his place was really full of crap! I think what I was able to do was agree that he got great, ahem, bargains at the local auction house and thankfully got out of actually agreeing on how eh, lovely the place was now that he’d eh, done it up.

So.. I have stuff. Stuff.I prefer ‘stuff’. Over the last few years I’ve thrown out loads of crap. You know the kind of stuff. The kind of stuff you know that you don’t need. Really don’t need, even if you might think you might want  it some.. eh.. time in the far off distant future. I’ve thrown out black bags full of clothes [relatively ok looking with jeans 100 years ago] and others just with either knickers [baggy gusset] or socks [mostly single]. I also love doing a big cull of various things that gather, like cards from certain people I now hate, buttons in dainty little envelopes from a swishy boutique when I don’t even know what item of clothing it belongs to. Take out menus! Crappy bits of paper with my horoscope from a day something great happened, cinema tickets, airline boarding cards – I collected loads of them over the last few years but they’re all gone now. Pens with glitter ink [cos they’re actually very hard to read, I’ve always resorted back to a Biro!], they’re all gone. Cat stickers. Beer mats. Hair bobbins even though I hate my hair tied up. Soaps from hotels. Receipts. Sewing kits that only now have turquoise and lemon thread cos I used the 2 inches of black thread it came with but thought I might need lemon thread one day.

So, being very truthful, there was very little I threw out when I was moving. All the crap had been thrown out during various booze fuelled culls after yet another guy had let me down. Honestly. I just have grown up stuff now. I’ve only had grown up stuff for ages now. The tiny Elmo was a present and well, he likes living on the bookshelf… and well, the red ladybird moneybox goes with my red living room… and ok, the purple handbags, especially the one with the flowers aren’t exactly the most practical for actually carrying things around in, given they’re rather small size.. but they go with the main theme of my bedroom…  and em.. ah, you’ve got to give me the Elmo! Everyone needs an Elmo!

I Know…

… that I’ve been fairly crap at updating Glitter See Glitter Do over the past fornight or so. I know! I’ve been really lax. See the thing is, that when I moved into my new place, it seemed that every day there was something I was trying to track down. If it wasn’t a lightshade or a cushion of just the right colour, it was side plates or a new lasagne dish. And then there’s all the time I’ve been spending staring like a loon at  looking after the tinys, making sure they were settling in ok. Rest assured though, normal working order will be resumed shortly!

One thing, you’ll just have to wait a little longer til I download the great pix of the tinys I have in their new pad – I need to find the camera software and install it on this laptop – but it’ll be worth the wait! I promise! Meow over and out!

A Bit Ahead of Myself

denning3This moving apartment lark comes with a lot of ‘stuff to do’ [as mentioned below]. I’m now no closer to moving, in any way shape or form despite numerous phone calls trying to organise the ‘stuff’, but of course, I’ve already decided on colours for each room and have a fair idea as to how each one will look.

The bathroom is going to be blue, well have blue accessories, the bath/shower/basin/toilet are all white, and I already have a really nice clear shower curtain that has blue flowers on it, so hence the choice. I put blue towels up the other day and I plan on having things like blue toothbrush & holder, blue soap etc. The huge mirror is nearly the width of the room and I think some of those squishy stickery things that go on glass or mirror in the form of fish and shells etc is called for as well.

The living room will be red. This choice has kinda been made for me as there’s a fab red leather with chrome legs couch arriving in the next few days, an unwanted cast off from the landlady. My couch is taupe/beige so a red throw will be going over that. The room is really bright and sunny and from experience, light muslin material thrown over a curtain rail can really work, so I’ll get some of that in red. The walls are white but I think white cushions would be asking for trouble, maybe I’ll do a bit of mix n match, a few other colours strewn about will do and I’ll paint my bookshelf red and keep the vase I have with the big bunch of bright yellow fake sunflowers.

The kitchen is all white but again, I couldn’t leave it like that so I’ll def be adding in lots of splashes of colour. I’ve a bright yellow kettle and toaster, I’ve multi coloured cutlery [chunky plastic, go with anything!]  and crockery, so I might end up just using lots of bright colours against the white. I’m fairly decided on pink/purple for my bedroom – mind you again, that’s mainly cos I’ve now two redundant purple throws that have kept my beige couch beige and some matching cushions that are past their best so I wouldn’t care if they spent a lot of time on the floor rather than the bed. And the fact that lots of ‘sheet’ sets are pinky/purpley in colour will make purchasing easier. Paint my big set of drawers to match, get some purple muslin for the curtain rail and that room with it’s white walls is done!

I don’t really understand doing up a room in ‘neutral’ colours, but sure you’ve already guessed that!  Now all I need to do is figure out where the kitten basket is going to go….