Fishing...Day 1

Well today has been yet another one of those days. It was my first day back in work since I finished for Christmas and it was just as rubbish as I’d expected. I really do hate that job. Fast forward to 2 years time when I’m stressing about my dissertation and hey presto...completo & qualified BOOOOM!

Anyway, you don’t care about that and neither do I at the minute; I want to tell you all about my progress on the dating website I mentioned yesterday. I’ve still not written up a profile but at 1.20am this morning I uploaded three photos, they’re not anything special...Me in the pub...me on the sofa with Pablo...me in a restaurant. In 22hours I’ve had 34 Private Messages and 72 Meet Me’s hahaha LOSERS!

Virtually all of the PM’s have a heading of Hi / Hiya / Hello, these guys really are original aren’t they! Most of the PM’s are quite obviously a standard template they send to every unsuspecting girl. Here’s one of the most recent...

“Just had a read of your profile and you sound very nice and seem to be looking for the same things as me.
If you think we could be a match I would love to hear from you.
If not then I wish you luck in your search and have a great 2012”

I’m going to give that one a miss yah!

But here’s one of the first I received and it should make you giggle, it certainly made me laff. I’ve copied it exactly as it was written to me...

‘Hi there How are you? How has your Christmas holiday been? Did you enjoy it?
I like your profile and you look very attractive in your profile picture I have just moved to ******* from Ireland at the end of October and I like it a lot.
My name is Chris’

So....is there any chance I’m actually going to meet anyone with half a brain or is every guy going to be another Mr Fit or Irish Chris?

Wish me luck...I’m definitely going to need it.

Gone Fishing?

It turned out to be actual flu...no exaggeration I have never felt so flippin poorly in my whole actual life... all thirty *cough* years of it. I had to take a whole week off work which didn’t go down well so close to Christmas, ah well... suck eggs!

Christmas has come & gone, I went back to Wales to see my folks for the festivities. A four day visit quickly turned itself into a two day visit on the basis that as much as I love my folks, I enjoy my personal space and my own bed a whole lot more. There’s only so much Dissarono the Old Girl should drink in one evening and only so much of Downton Abbey that should be aired in one go... seriously that Christmas special took the piss...it was soooooo long.

There needs to be a plan in place for New Year... resolutions etc. I need to get myself organised and get myself back on track. Along with a New Year plan... my friend wants me to get back into the dating scene, more so for her own amusement and a few more blogs of disastrous dates. I’ve gone as far as creating an account online but I just don’t have the energy or enthusiasm to write up a profile for myself.

I’m baffled by the quantity of messages I’m getting from what can only be described as complete desperados. So far my account has nothing...it’s empty...no photos...no descriptions...SWEET F.A.... yet every day I’m getting up to 5messages asking me if they could be the one and do I want to chat...err how about NO...delete & block! Weirdos!

Wish me luck folks...this week I’m going to upload a profile and photos. At least there’ll be plenty for you to read x

Woe is me...

I'm full of cold... a really bad cold... maybe even verging on flu... there's a strong chance I might die!

A bit over the top? I'm pretty sure I can die from stuff like this so if u don't hear from me in a few days please come look for me.

In the meantime I'm all cwtched up on the sofa with my top boy and hoping tomorrow I'm going to be well enough to crack on with decorating the cottage for Christmas. If I leave it any longer there'll be no point in getting them up. I'm looking forward to getting all the decs up and making my first Christmas in the cottage extra special.

Photos to follow... Fingers crossed it goes well... wish me luck

BIG birthday memoirs...

Well the BIG birthday has finally passed... It's official... I'm an actual grown up... cue more tears... sad times boo hoo sob sob

For my actual birthday I went away on a surprise weekend away with my best friends and it turned out to be a bit of a disaster. I had high hopes for an amazing weekend away with my girlies, I've been raving about it for months. I understand that doesn't make much sense... the surprise was the destination not that they were whisking me away. I'm far too stressy to have something like that sprung on me!
Anyway...as I said...the weekend didn't quite go as planned and fond memories won't be shared from that weekend.

The weekend just passed however was AMAZIN... absolutely bloody amazin and I had the best time EVER! There was absolutely no mention of the dreaded thirty and my lovely friend Miss Bear outdid herself with decorating the table at the restaurant and her mum made an absolutely AMAZIN cake.

Photos of my drunken antics are yet to be posted on Facebook but apparently I did alot of flirting with Mr Fit in-between swigging double shots of Jeagermeister from my 'Twenty One' engraved shot glass. Oh dear!

I have no recollection of getting home but apparently I pushed the dog off his bed & curled up there nice & comfy for a few hours. Oh dear again!

Sunday was a complete write-off, I was soooo poorly and my hangover was IMMENSE! Dying sooo bad.

I'm now full of cold, feeling really rubbish but absolutely loving the memories of a wonderful birthday weekend

Thanks mates... You made it sooo incredibly special x

Its arrived... The Big Three (uh) Oh!

Well... Here we are. Destination Old Timer. The Dirty Thirties!

I had intended on saving my present opening until morning but part of the excitement of gift opening is having an audience so while my good friend was with me last night I opened my lovely gifts from her. I've been spoiled already, I'm a lucky girl. I had a goody bag of fun gifts and a main present too and Pablo helped opening them for me. It's the only time I allow him to get involved in ripping & tearing (yeah yeah, mixed messages I know) but its the funniest thing to watch a dog unwrap presents.

Anyway, I saw midnight in with my good friend who witnessed a complete meltdown upon blowing out my candles. Unlucky for me she captured the whole sorry mess on camera :(
My cake and candles so kindly sent by post from a friend back home was broken into at midnight, let's all eat cake & drink Gin WOOP!

I went to bed reasonably smashed, a bottle of wine and a healthy few Gins saw to that. There were more tears before bedtime however, more so at the realisation I'd be waking up to the dog... better than being alone I suppose!!!

So here I am, still a bit pissed blogging in bed cwtched up to a snoring 10stone Bullmastiff.
Happy Birthday Missy... It's all AMAZIN from here (apparently)!

He must know...

Which one of you told him? Come on, own up. One of you obviously told Pablo I had decided to blog about him and his antics because since I announced Diary of a Disastrous Dog he's been the model pet.

Clearly this is a lie, Pablo wouldn't know how to be a model pet. What he has been however is fairly good, which in comparisson to his usual behaviour is as close to being a model pet as I'm likely to get.

I've given up buying expensive dog beds & now buy a basics single duvet & cover it with an old duvet cover. I can usually get a fortnight out of it before it gets too out of control & I have to bin it.

He starts by bunching pockets of fabric between his paws and sucks on it until he makes a hole then he starts pulling the fluff through and eventually my house looks like this...

Diary of a Disastrous Dog...17th Nov 2011

For those of you that know me you will be all too familiar with my frequent Facebook rants and posts about my delinquent dog. There is no doubt in my mind that Pablo as wonderful as he is has special needs and if he were a child would most certainly be on the 'Spectrum' somewhere as well as probably being diagnosed with ADHD.

I love him dearly, he is my best friend. He's fiercely loyal and a devoted companion but his 'Issues' are comparable to no other dog I've known. It has become routine to expect daily damage and I am relieved on the days where he's only chewed a box or pulled the bin apart and not ruined something of any value.

I don't know why he's like this. He gets walked daily, always has a comfy bed, gets fed all the top dog food and is made a fuss of in bucket loads. I know how to look after dogs, I've had them all my life. I know the rules about training them and have successfully trained my two previous dogs with no issues at all. Pablo is in a league of his own!

As I write this I know when I get home there will be something to clear up. This morning after I'd fed him and he'd had a run around the garden he stole a pack of Percy Pig biscuits & ate the lot. Gutted! I bloody love those.
Last night he pulled the tablecloth from the kitchen table, pulled the fruit bowl onto the floor & hid lemons, limes & avacados around the kitchen for me to find throughout the evening. Treasure hunt... Pablo style!!!

I imagine I'll find the missing avacado next week once it's gone furry, hidden in some obscure corner of the kitchen.

His best demolition effort so far has to be hippo. This one did make me chuckle. Hippo had clearly upset him during the day & needed to be taught a lesson.
What a lesson to be taught...

NEXT....

So yesterday I told you about my first love and last night I thought about the next boyfriend that followed. There wasn’t a boyfriend of any lengthy period for a long while after the Paper Boy; I did have one or two boyfriends & lots of dates but none that stand out with any significance or drama that would lead to a good blog read. I was a pretty girl with a lot of male interest and a very low boredom threshold, none of them lasted more than a couple of weeks. I needed a guy to keep me on my toes and make life in a small town interesting and exciting... if only I knew what was round the corner!

I’m a little apprehensive to be spilling the beans too much on the next one, he was a wrong ‘un; a bad apple to the very core but he could charm the birds from the trees or as my Mam put it ‘The knickers off a Nun’. There was something about this one that had me sucked in right from the absolute second I saw him. Not because of looks, I distinctly remember not fancying him when I first met him, but because he was so charming and confident. He owned the room and I loved that, it was intriguing. He was also considerably older than my mere 17 years and with his age came something that no guy my own age could match.  

Everybody warned me off ‘MrCharming’ I was told many bad stories about him but I listened to no-one and persevered with the relationship. Looking back, I kick myself over & over again for staying with this one, he brought me nothing but trouble, stress, lies and tears. I was with him right the way through until my early twenties and although I saw a side of him nobody else could, a side I loved so very much; his bad side consistently dominated his life and personality. He was his own worst enemy; quite literally he poisoned everything & everyone around him.

This has prompted me to take a rather odd tangent and avoid all the gory details of my relationship with ‘MrCharming’. There is infact nothing pleasant or humorous to write, he was a bastard plain & simple.

I have so many sad memories from this relationship, many that instantly bring a stinging tear to my eye as soon as I think back. I do have some good memories of course, but they’re all tangled in lengthy stories of drama & let downs, of a man lost to his own demons unable to escape and so desperately clinging to those around him willing to stand by his side. He was a good man deep down, I staunchly believe this, but that was so seldom seen by others it was a constant battle to persuade anyone that was the case. In my five years with ‘MrCharming’ he taught me many things, the biggest thing I learnt was my own strength of character and how incredibly loyal I am to those I care about. I learnt that good people are capable of bad things and that I believe in people and forgive all too easily.

Anyway, I’ve been on a bit of a downer recently and thinking about this and my life with ‘MrCharming’ has put me in a terribly despondent mood so I’ve decided to sack off the Boyfriends Past because quite frankly, they’re all rubbish (other than Paper Boy) and there’s a reason they’re not in my life anymore!

There’s only one guy for me right now, he’s the biggest pain in the arse of them all but my God do I love him. His name is Pablo. He’s a nine year old Bullmastiff x Rhodesian ridgeback and every single day he will stress me out to the point of going grey.

Until I have something of any comedy value to report back with, please enjoy the Diaries of a Disastrous Dog....

My first love...

Reflection is a wonderful thing, it SCREAMS ‘I told you so’ and you would (if you could) punch it in the face for being so smug.

This week is my last week of being in my twenties (and I’ll remind you of this every day) so I’ve decided to look back on boyfriends passed and re-live the tears and heartache so many have brought.

Let’s start at the beginning, seems as good a place as any.

I was 15 when I got my first boyfriend; he was lovely and resembled Jack from Home & Away. Not the current Jack from Home & Away but the one from the nineties that lived with Pippa; he was the one with the black floppy hair. Anyway, he was two years older than me and had already left school when we started dating, I was in my final year and he had a job as an apprentice which meant he was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G ‘cos he had money and a car WOW! He was a real sweetie, a genuinely lovely guy but at 15 I wasn’t really interested in nice, so I bossed him around and took miles when I was given inches and all round bullied him into submission, poor guy.

Of course I didn’t deliberately treat him badly, nor did I set out to ever be mean to him. I was unfortunately a very spoilt teenager and always got my own way, I knew no other way of dealing with people. I blame my parent’s lol!

Sadly, I was unkind to poor ‘Jack’ and fell in love with another; I fell in love with the Paper Boy. The paper boy was my first love, there’s no other way of describing how I felt about him. I looked forward every day to the evening paper being delivered. Ahhh those butterflies every day when I realised the time, ran upstairs and hid in my bedroom with the lights off spying at him through the window. Hahahaha what a stupid arse!

Saturday’s he used to come to collect his money so every Saturday I would be looking my absolute best in preparation to answer the door and give him an eyeful, even at 15 I had an impressive rack, he loved it and so did I. Sadly, one person who wasn’t up for the Paper Boy/Missy love-story was my Dad. He had threatened on several occasions to ‘Nail my bloody feet to the floor’ if these young boys didn’t stop sniffing round his daughter and I would never leave the house again. My Dad in his wisdom set up a Direct Debit (they were just being introduced then) for the Evening Post so Paper Boy had no reason to come knocking. Oh Dad!

As the story goes, Paper-Boy & I hooked up in our local nightclub one boozy Saturday night. Boozy at 15 of course was one, maybe two vodka & orange’s and that was all the pocket money would stretch to once you’d paid your door entry & put your coat in the cloakroom. Much has changed in the 15years passed; I now have a liver of steel and can drink (almost) any guy under the table. I am proud, very proud of my talent and stamina for a boozy weekend and the ability to avoid a hangover the next day.

I digress; Paper-Boy & I hooked up and after that were inseparable. Sadly, he had a girlfriend and I had a boyfriend; we were a forbidden love! LMAO this is making me chuckle. Everything was such a big deal at 15; I was absolutely crackers about him & couldn’t ever imagine life without him. Silly Missy!

We saw each other secretly for months, I was smitten. We would sneak around to each other’s houses and lie to our parents about where we were & who we were with.  Goodness knows how we thought it was a secret, our phone bills must have been humungous the amount of time we spent talking to each other. Even when I went out to phone him from the phone box (ahhh yes kids, there were no mobiles back then) I would use my BT Calling card my Dad gave me for emergencies and charge the call back to our house phone lolololol what an idiot!

Eventually we went public, I had broken up with Jack & PB had broken up with his girlfriend & I was free to tell everyone how in love with him I was. He had also by then passed his driving test & was now the very proud owner of a blue Vauxhall Nova. OMIGOD remember those? WOW!

I remember that this car was his pride & joy, so much so he invested in a talking alarm for it. If you got too close it would speak up saying ‘Please step away from the car’, this amused us no end and of course the boys would constantly wind PB up by setting the bloody thing off. Ahhh the fun we had!

We had the freedom of the open road & by God did we miss every opportunity to get some privacy. I don’t think we once left the town, not even as far as Mumbles for a Joe’s Ice Cream. Instead, we used to cruise around town wasting petrol and talking about Music & Cars. I was pretty clued up about cars back then; I had plenty of time to read car magazines while PB was mixing it up on his decks being cool. I was a massive tom boy, I had no clue how apparently attractive this made me to the boys, I looked hot but I knew a lot about cars & motorbikes, I could burp the alphabet & I wasn’t afraid to fart in public. Conversation would never dry up with me around!

Clearly the burping & farting, no matter how cool it made me I just wasn’t cool enough and as it transpired Paper Boy’s girlfriend was back on the scene and now it was all out war to win my man.         I didn’t win!

He chose the heavily make-upped ‘K’ and I went off to lick my wounds and break my heart. I genuinely did break my heart over him. My Mam went into consolation overdrive when I refused to leave my bedroom let alone step foot outside the house. I cried solidly for days, wouldn’t eat anything not even the copious amounts of chocolate and ice cream my Mammy kept trying to force feed me.

It took ages to mend my broken heart; after that I dated a complete fool for years. And so history has repeated itself time and time again. One idiot after anther!

I’m not calling PB an idiot, how could I? He was my first love and to this day I still have a little soft spot for him. I also know he’s reading this so I don’t want to say anything bad and upset him. We remain friends to this day and although I rarely see him his friendship is one I will always treasure.

Thanks for the memories dude, good times x

Nearly there...REALLY? ALREADY?

So its been nearly 6months since I last updated u all with my crazy dates & truth be told I've not had the energy to do it again. Fit scarred me!
Don't get me wrong, there have been a few 'interests' between then & now but nothing as comedy gold as my date with Mr Fit.
Anyway, today is a day of reflection as next week I will be turning 30. The BIG three-oh! I've mixed feelings about meeting adulthood, I'm not ready to be recognised by small children as old. I don't feel old, I'm told I don't act old & certainly (even if I do say myself) don't look old. How the hell did I get here so quick?
Every day this week I intend to reflect with some hilarity on the past ten years. It's been emotional & disastrous.
I'm going to re-visit boyfriends past (not physically obviously) so for those of you I'm still in touch with... watch out ...I'm going to be blogging about you :) x

Mr Fit - Sunday 10th July 2011

Sunday 10^th July 2011

8:15am: So today’s the day for date number two with “Mr Fitty McFit Man Baby” from Saturday night. If our first date Tuesday night is anything to go by I’m going to have a brilliant day, be treated like an absolute princess and be showered with compliments and kisses WOOP WOOP...bring it on!

He said in the week that he wants to spend the day out of town doing something different so we can get to know each other. Thursday he said he was struggling to come up with ideas on the basis he doesn’t know me very well and wasn’t sure what I was in to, fair enough I thought; the guy is trying to impress me so I fed him a few ideas and we settled on Punting across the river in Oxford. Ooooh how romantic, I can visualise it right now....Mr Fit at the helm, gliding across the beautiful calm and scenic river and me with my lovely long flowing locks (I’ve just had hair extensions, they’re lush; I’ll tell you about them another time!) lying there enjoying the view that is Mr Fit! Anyway, I’ve decided on smart/casual so I’ve opted for a black cotton maxi dress with yellow flat sandals and the usual bits of costume jewellery to jazz it up. I’m wearing my hair down all flowy and seductive stylee but I have a pretty lily hair clip if I need to tie it up. Brill!

6:15pm: WOWZERS, I did not see that one coming! That wasn’t at all how I had planned the day.

We’d agreed on a 10am start (his idea, not mine) on account he wants to spend the whole day with me getting to know me and all that guff. Fine, ok, I can do early starts; sometimes. It’s not like I work late night all bloody week and look forward to a lie in on a Sunday morning! Sssshhhh Missy, make the effort, he is!

OK, ok, so it’s 10am and I’m ready, all done up for a day out punting and MASSIVELY EXCITED J

10:05am phone call...

                Mr Fit: Hiya, how long does it take to get to yours from mine?

                Me: About 15 minutes

Mr Fit: Ok, I’ll be there in 10. I’ve literally just rolled out of bed, slept through my alarm sorry.

R-E-A-L-L-Y? It’s not looking good for Mr Fit already; the thing I hate most is people being late

Deep breath Missy, it’s not that bad.

10:15am another phone call....

                Mr Fit: I’m lost...help?

Me: (THINKING) Of course you’re lost, I live in the middle of arse raping nowhere and you haven’t asked for my address. You thought you’d wing it to mine after seeing where I live once from the inside of a taxi pissed up at 2am. Even I lose my way to my house if I take a different route.

(Saying) What’s around you?

Mr Fit: Errrr trees and fields

Me: Wow, helpful! Any landmarks?

Mr Fit: There’s a church

Me: Which church, there’s one is every village? Can you give me a name?

Mr Fit: I think I’m in ****** ***

Me: Oh Jeez you are proper lost. Right, take this turn, down there, left at this sign post blah blah blah!

He gets here....35minutes late!  I am not impressed!

First impressions are massively important don’t you think? Mr Fit is dressed in thick navy jeans, black leather boots and a grey roll neck wooly jumper. It’s already 25degrees and the forecast for today is SCORCHIO. I’m immediately thinking he slept in those clothes last night. He takes one look at me and sounds really surprised when he says “Wow you look stunning, you’ve made an effort. I thought you’d have been in your jeans and a hoody.” I’m already wondering if it’s worth getting in the car with him or turning him back round to sleep off the hangover that’s clearly not yet kicked in.

My judgement is obviously clouded, probably something to do with the fact that I’ve not seen this early on a Sunday morning for near enough a decade but I decide to give it a go and bite my tongue. Off we go to Oxford for a romantic (used in the loosest sense as already my Pissed-Off-Meter is dangerously teetering on ‘About to Explode’) day on the river. We’re not even out of the village when he asks me where the nearest garage is so he can stop and get a Lucozade to quash the dangerously vicious hangover he has creeping in....OH JEEZUS! Why am I still in the bloody car with this clown?

Somehow, and for me it really is a questionable somehow, I’ve stayed in the car and I’m still prepared to give today a go. It’s a bad start, but I’m sure he can redeem himself once we get there and show me what he’s planned for us. So I ask him what today has instore and his reply is a disappointing “nothing” errr really? “I thought we’d get there and just have a look around, see what we can find” oh dear pal...you’ve actually blown it with me. The second thing I hate most in the world is ‘winging it’ I have a plan for a plan; my whole life has a million plans, back-ups and fall-backs.

So, disappointingly there’s no picnic packed up in the boot of his car, no lovely Baum Wool chequered rug to sit on and enjoy the fresh air and newness of a blooming romance. Not even a bottle of cheap wine to sip while I put my life (and new hair) in the hands of a possible new boyfriend. Nope, instead I have the stench of last night’s beer on his breath and a very baked me in his leather upholstered Golf GTi which for some reason he doesn’t want to freshen up with the delightful summer air by opening a window or make use of the air-con, yikes, today is going to be a long and probably painful day L

We finally arrived in Oxford; it took what seemed like forever to get there. My bad mood increasing more and more throughout the journey realising that Mr Fit has done SWEET F.A. to plan for this date. Effort made: A BIG FAT ZERO result a very unhappy Missy plotting her escape home on public transport, oh how I wish I had told him not to bother at 10:05am this morning.

We’re at the pub at last, a lovely pub, probably the most well known in all of Oxford “The Head of the River”, you can watch the punting and boat trips from the safety of their densely populated terrace with a pint in hand soaking up the atmosphere. I’ve decided long before we even got there that there’s f**k all chance of me getting into a boat with Mr Fit in his current state (I’m pretty sure he’s still drunk from last night) so I suggest we get a round of soft drinks in first, peruse the menu for a bite to eat and we’ll take it from there. I’m hoping he’ll order a massive burger which may just sober him up. I’m seriously getting wound up by what a drunken mess Mr Fit is, grrrrrr! He’s not working well with his pal redemption either and proceeds with a barrage of verbal diarrhoea, some of possibly the oddest/most ridiculous & inappropriate one-liners I’ve ever heard. Here’s a selection:  “WOW, I’ve just noticed what Massive Boobs you have! How did I not notice this before??? WINNER!!!”  / “Name 5 fish starting with the letter ‘C’...Cod...ahhh I knew you’d chose that first!” / “How do you eat your porridge? ...Me: with a spoon, MF: no I mean do you eat it from the middle out or the edge in?” He then actually wanted me answer, random!

Lunch done, conversation is seriously struggling and Mr Fit is flagging massively, time to make a move. I’m not enjoying myself, I’ve spent alot of time texting Kim, Charlie, James & Bruce to ask for ideas of how to perk up this disastrous day; they all told me to get pissed. Chances are if I did that, I’d do something stupid like kiss him and let him think today wasn’t all that bad. No, keep your head about you today Missy, it’s important to get of this without committing murder!

We make a move back to the car and Mr Fit makes one last ditch attempt to save the day; he suggests we hit the shops. Now then, if there’s anything I do love it’s a spot of retail therapy especially in Oxford, ooh lovely, go on then, why not?!?! There is of course a long list of reasons why not but I keep in mind what a wonderful time I had with him on Tuesday and against my better judgement venture into town for a little bit more second date torture. I am of course an idiot; I think I’d have enjoyed pulling my own teeth more. I had completely forgotten just how busy Oxford gets during the summer months, filled with teenage foreign exchange students on bus tours grabbing a few souvenirs for their loved ones back home. Oh dear! Not a good place for a woman with an extreme phobia of being touched by anyone other than my nearest and dearest. Mr Fit loses me in the crowd once or twice before realising that I’m dancing my way through the hoards of people to avoid anyone getting too close. Of course Mr Fit decides to rescue me (oh how heroic) and drags me into a shop filled with French backpack wearing youths choosing shoes in upmarket and trendy ‘Shue’ eek! I can feel a flippin panic attack coming on, I’m outta here!

We finally decide to head home, I think even Mr Fit has given in to the realisation that he’s flogging a dead horse and our second date is a complete disaster.

The journey home was a quiet one, conversation by now has shrivelled up completely and there’s not much else to say to one another. Mr Fit of course in his wisdom tries once again to resurrect the possibility of a truce and suggests we go for a drink closer to home. I’m desperate to scream out at the top of my voice that actually I could think of nothing worse than spending any more time with him but reluctantly agree that one more drink together to finish the day off isn’t all that bad an idea. My thinking here is perhaps if I’m not so far from home I might not feel such a massive pressure to stove his drunken head in with an empty bottle of Magners, we’ll see eh! Two minutes later, its being commented that I’ve played with my hair a lot during the day, I reply saying I’m just keeping it looking nice and since the car window is now open it’s getting a little knotty. He sharply argues that it’s too warm to have the window shut and that air-con would still be blowy in my face, I say I’m not bothered about the window being open, I’m quite enjoying the breeze and he huffs he can’t win; what’s he trying to win?

I’m desperate to throw myself out of the car whilst it hurtles down some country road but I don’t think even a broken neck would save me from this pain. I’m having a rubbish hangover domestic argument with a guy I hardly know and by now I’m so tired with it all I actually want to cry. We arrive at the pub and I scuttle off to the bar before he tries to hold my hand or come anywhere near me, why did I agree to this? To be fair, all in all, now he’s sobered up a bit conversation starts to regain its flow a bit better and his company becomes rather enjoyable once again. Unfortunately, I’ve spent six hours with Mr Fit waiting for that to happen and my patience packed up and went on holidays a long while ago. I’m ready for home; I need to walk the dog. We drink our drinks, he drives me home and there’s that awkward silence where you’re trying to think of something to say that’s not going to give him the impression there’s hope of a third date. So I say as politely as possible “Thank you for today, it was interesting. I’ll speak to you soon, maybe!” I give him a kiss on the cheek and leg it inside.

So that was my re-introduction to the dating world. I’m informed by my good friend Jo that chances are I’ll have a good few more disastrous dates before I meet someone worthy of a third meeting. Oh God give me strength? It certainly looks as though I’ll need it.

Tuesday 12th July - Prologue

This year has been a bit of a mind-game and lots has changed for me. After nearly 4 ½ years with my Z-List celebrity boyfriend we decided to call it a day and I moved out of our love nest and into a beautiful cottage in the back of beyond. Taking with me only my delinquent dog, feral cat and basically anything that wasn’t nailed down J

My wonderful friends have got my through every painful second of the break-up, the move and every other issue along the way, they are truly wonderful and I am blessed to have friends as great as this in my life. Every blog from here on in is dedicated to each and every one of them. They have got me through the past six months. I aim to make each blog as funny and as true to life as I can and the laughs and giggles you get from this is my personal thank you to you for being there for me.

So here marks that new chapter in my life where I say SUCK EGGS to big-headed fly on the wall TV Stars and embark on the world that is dating....