Am I Dead Inside?

I can’t cry during Titanic. Can’t being the operative word because I’ve actually tried.

And it’s not just Titanic. I sit through every heart wrenching film the Odeon has to offer, next to my best friend who’s going through Kleenex like tears are back in fashion, and I’m just sitting there thinkingplease just give me one tear, just one little tear. But alas, nothing.

It’s not that I never cry, I mean the check-out boy at KFC who gave me the wrong order once is testimony to that. It’s more that I seem to have accidentally trained my body to recognize it as a sign of weakness. It falls into the same category as all those other things normal girls should be able to do, but I find such a challenge. Like say the L word (to someone, anyone other than my dog). Or text a guy first. Or bloody hell even hug my friends without thinking, “Okay get off me now, I’m patting your back, why aren’t you getting the hint, everyone knows the back-pat is a sign to immediately remove yourself from me”.

Now I’ve put a lot of thought into this so hear me out… maybe it’s not me that’s the problem. Maybe it’s every other girl in the world with an overly developed level of sensitivity, making me look bad, and ruining all the hard work put in by women who have chosen to evolve past housewives.

They go around, telling guys how much they l*ve them after three weeks of dating, and cry on trains when they read a story in the Metro about a kitten being put in a dustbin and Lord save me, even update their statuses with quotes from The Notebook. But because there’s an actual army of them, instead of cringing, everyone’s got used to it, and dare I say it accepted this as the norm.

Then there’s me. And I think surely I haven’t got it so wrong.

So it takes me a little while to warm up to someone. Even if I really want to I can’t just go up to them and say “hell, I like you, wanna make out” (and jeez isn’t that the man’s job anyway?)

So I watch My Sisters Keeper and think “that’s so sad” instead of letting my the sadness run down my face. At least I can leave the cinema without mascara on my chin.

So I’m stubborn as hell and won’t admit  it if nervous. Is that really the worst quality you can find in a girl?

Oh it is..? Then darling I’m screwed.


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Brains v Beauty

First of all, let it be known, I can be pretty stupid sometimes.

Image from: http://www.cellphone-wallpapers.net/

I mean I can’t spell to save my life (in fact I have spell-check to thank for my degree) and just yesterday I had to ask my mum if Capers were those little fish things (turns out I meant sardines). So perhaps I am being slightly liberal by putting myself in the ‘Brains’ category, but for the sake of my argument, lets just go with it.

Now I’ve done my research. And most guys want both: Brains and Beauty. I don’t blame them, hell I agree with them. But let’s be honest sometimes the world’s just not that kind.

When forced to make a choice, general consensus was (insert manly voice here) “brains every time because we love a girl who can carry a conversation”. I can almost hear the world-wide sigh of relief while mascara wands are being put down the nation over. So being able to carry a conversation is sexy now? 1 point to me.

Of course that’s all very well in theory. And I know the female population isn’t exactly divided into two categories ’hot’ or ‘not’. One man’s Angelina Jolie may be another’s Susan Boyle (sorry Susan). But the fact of the matter is I’ve never heard of a model or an actress incapable of finding herself a boyfriend. But a doctor, a nurse, a female comedian? Different matter altogether.

Sometimes we like to flatter ourselves and say that men can’t handle strong opinionated women. But then I remember my mum’s married, and they don’t come much more opinionated than her. So that definitely can’t be the problem.

The real issue is, that the men who claim they don’t like beautiful girls probably feel this way because they think, they’d never be able to get one anyway. As for the rest of them? These men who say they like to be ‘intellectually stimulated’. Well lets face it, when you’re talking to a group of girls on a night out. Which one do you remember? The one with the banter? Or the one with the great face and huge tits? Say it. Don’t worry, I won’t judge you. If I was standing next to someone with a face like Jesse Williams, no amount of wit and charm would distract me either.

You see in theory most guys do want a funny girl they can talk football to and argue about which Lord of the Rings film was better. In practically we haven’t evolved all that much from the caveman days. And nothing gets those clubs swinging like a sexy little slave girl who knows her way around the cave. And by cave I mean bedroom.

Of course none of us would ever admit to being this fundamentally shallow. When asked, 90% of us will pick ‘personality’ over ‘looks’ every time. Which is lovely. And would be even lovelier if it were true.

In actuality, pre-marriage, people don’t pick their partners based on their mutual liking for late night spooning sessions and staring into each others eyes. You pick them based on how much of a sexy-beast you’d look, standing next to them. But don’t worry about it. You can all continue to chat up the sexiest girl who’ll listen. And in turn we’ll all continue applying make-up and wearing push up bras and pretending we’re naturally this pretty.

I mean lets face it, when you start dating a new girl, your friends will ask to see a picture of her. Not hear a recent joke she’s told you. And whether you want it to or not, it starts to matter.


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You’re The Game, And I Lost The Rulebook.

“If a guy takes an hour to reply to your text, take three to reply to his.” “If you like a guy, flirt with someone else in front of him to make him jealous.” “If a guy is talking to other girls, tell him it doesn’t bother you, and then he’ll like you for not being clingy”.

What. The. Fuck.

And I thought game playing was just for children.

Image taken from: http://www.naomishow.com/

When did this happen? One moment I was 14 years old watching The Notebook, believing love was all about eating ice-cream and jumping into ponds (what, don’t judge me, that film can melt the heart of a Rhino). Next thing I know, I’m being told the best way to get a guy’s attention is by updating my bbm status so he’ll notice and think to message me.

Honestly now? Relying on status updates to get a little action. Is that where we’re at?

I have friends getting married. Like actually walking-down-the-aisle, big-white-dress, forever-and-ever, probably-gonna pop-out-a-baby-soon, married. And here the rest of us are, staring at our phones, wondering if a more attractive display picture will eventually lead to a conversation.

Okay so admittedly that’s not what I want. Come on, I’m 21. I’m too selfish to get married yet. My idea of a sacrifice is eating canned food for three weeks so I can afford the latest Carvela seven inch wonders. The biggest lifelong commitment I plan to make any time soon, is to my bank, when I ask them to extend my overdraft by another thousand pounds.

So I’m never going to be the clingy “I found love after one date” kinda girl. Hell I’m the “I’ve been on five dates and I’m still not sure about him” chick. I suppose that’s my own doing. Indecisiveness is a horrible quality. To date, there is no found cure.

Back to the point.

Image from: http://houston.culturemap.com/

I may hold my cards close to my chest, but there’s nothing expert about the way I play. Most of the time I’m bluffing, and the rest, I’m just trying to distract you so I can take a peak at your hand.

It seems I’m not very good at games. And judging by my other single friends, neither are they. No we do not want to bare your children (baby induced stretch marks are soo last season). No we’re probably not going to marry you. And I can’t speak for the others on this last one, but I’ve never been very good at the whole, Lady and the Tramp style spaghetti eating (I’m Greek we don’t share food) it may be romantic but you’ll have to do without. Though if you’re nice I might give you my very last rolo, heck some day I might even buy you a packet of your own.

In the mean time I don’t mind a game or two. After all it bores me when things come too easily. A bit like out-eating the diabetic kid at the Mars bar eat-a-thon. Though, if this is what we’re doing now, could someone please hand me the rulebook and let it be known, that I don’t like to lose.


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