Harry the Hot Hat Thieving Hippy

Following the best date ever, I realised that as much fun as I had, I probably shouldn’t settle down with a really hot gay guy, you know? Sexual orientation really isn’t something you can or should overlook. (Dating guru advice tip #1)

After my last date, I gave up on dating apps as the guys I met kept turning out to be oddballs plus the likelihood was, I wasn’t going to meet the man of my dreams on there. (turns out the world works in funny ways but that comes later in the story).

Anywhooooo, after giving up on the dating apps (for about the third time in 2 years) and hearing everyone talk about how meeting some “organically” was the way forward (who knew I should be approaching men like my vegetable shopping hey?), I wasn’t overly surprised when one of my friends suggested setting me up on a “half” blind date.

Now, by half, I mean, I had kind of already met my mystery date at a party. Turned out, at the party, I  had decided that it was more important to drink a bottle of prosecco, roll up my t-shirt into some make shift crop top and pretend I was sporty spice. (standard) I was clearly too busy high kicking my way round the bar to notice the ruggedly good looking guy who was there.

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So, my friend had set us up on a “half” blind date.

Turns out the half blind date was called Harry and from what I could vaguely remember, he was kind of cute. We had messaged a little back and forth but between holidays and festivals on both our sides, we hadn’t really managed to build up any rapport ahead of our date, so when the day finally came round, I was feeling slightly nervous (which wasn’t like me).

We had agreed to meet at a local bar in East London which wasn’t far from where I lived at the time. As I walking down to the bar, I messaged Harry to check in.

“All good and on my way” he responded.

After a short ten minute walk, I arrived at the busy bar. I squeezed my way through the crowds and looked round for Harry. I was pretty sure I hadn’t been drunk enough at the party to totally forget what he looked like. I shuffled my way to the bar and ordered a drink, followed by a quick message to Harry.

“Hey. Just arrived and at the bar. Can’t seem to see you”

There was no response.

As I waited for my drink to arrive, I looked down at the phone. 20 minutes late? Now, for anyone that knows me, I love a to do list and being organised, so, as the minutes went by, I started to feel a tiny weeny bit antsy. Finally, the door to the busy bar opened and a face I recognised walked in.


Jokes (but nearly)

Lucikly, Harry was super cute, so I overlooked the lateness.

As he waked towards me and I realised how hot he was I mentally scolded myself for prioritising a spice girls rendition over making acquaintances with him that evening (wait, who am I kidding? I totally didn’t) and stood up to say hi.

Although Harry was hot, he wasn’t your “typical” type. Rather than the straight laced city boys I had dated recently, before even having spoken with him, I could tell he sat on totally the opposite end of the spectrum. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he was gorgeous but with his long hair accompanied with a hippy necklace (that from memory was a tooth or sand or something along those lines), Harry for sure sat more on the side of hippy than hedge fund.

“Hey” he said and kissed my cheek “You look a lot different than I remember”

I had a sudden flash back of my sweaty self, energetically high kicking round the party..

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I shook it off…

Harry and I sat down and started to chat. As we got further and further into conversation, it became quickly apparent that he really was a “free spirit”. The conversation flitted from Glastonbury, to him buying a poncho, to cycling, to Artic Monkeys… I literally couldn’t keep up. After finishing our drinks, Harry then pulled me up to dance, being slightly drunk (and slightly surprised at the sudden change up from chat to cha cha) I just went along with it. After dancing, we were then moving again, this time to the beer garden where Harry did something that couldn’t be a bigger turn off to me…

He lit up a cigarette…



I mean up to now, it was quite apparent we weren’t that similar (I mean I’m all for energy and good vibes but I’m not wandering around Glasto with no bra and a poncho just yet) but, the night had been fun. It’s just for me, smoking, kind of a no no.

As the bar quietened and the evening came to a close, I said good night to Harry and headed home. I had a nice evening but could tell we were for sure different people, the thought of being so laid back actually made me feel anxious (lol) and Harry was so laid back he was basically horizontal. I mean, I probably could have seen out another date with him but was heading to a festival the next day, so would probably just let this one dwindle out…


One festival later…

Now, I don’t know about anyone else feels, but after a full weekend festival, I was travelling back on the train feeling like

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It was safe to say the weekend had been fairly heavy and when I arrived back to my apartment and sat down on the sofa.

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I wasn’t feeling all that human.

As I stared into space contemplating life, my phone buzzed. It was Harry.

“Hey, just wanted to say I had an ace time with you” (Only three days later) “Would be good to hang out again some time”.

Now, judge if you will, but that day, I was in a place where a hot man and pizza was basically my alternative to staring at a wall feeling rather emotional.

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…and although I had established he and I were very different, I called Harry and that evening, we had our second date chilling on the sofa with pizza. (dream).

Throughout the evening, It was still apparent Harry and I had very little in common, but he was super good fun to be around and perhaps his laid back energy rubbed off on me a little.

Turns out, it rubbed off so much, Harry ended up staying round the night.

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Turned out, for two people that had not so much to talk about, we didn’t really need to.

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So after that evening, Harry and I continued to date.

Dating Harry was not really like anything I have ever experienced before, we had very little in common but when we saw one another, just had a really great time.

There was however a very slight problem. For me, personally, someone who likes to plan in advance and know what I’m doing and when I’m doing it, the nature of Harry’s free spirit-ness sometimes (well all of the time) didn’t really gel. For example (and I don’t know about you other ladies out there), usually, when I am going on a date, I like to have maybe a couple of days’ notice (minimum a couple of hours), but that apparently was not something  Harry had in his remit. I remember one time, we were talking generally over message, he then mid conversation stopped talking (normal), I didn’t hear anything for two days (not normal), then randomly received a message midday on a Sunday afternoon saying he was round the corner and wanted to invite me to a food market, well you can imagine…


And things continued this way.

The dates we went on always seemed to reflect Harry’s sporadic personality; we once arranged a date to watch a movie, we ended up gardening (yes, me). Another time we went out for a quiet pub drink, somehow ended up on an hour long hike in the pouring down rain.

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Then there was the time I was sat in a pub waiting for Harry to arrive (in a dress with a glass of prosecco) and he turned up in leathers with a spare helmet and we ended up out on the country roads of a motorbike in the middle of the night. That is about as wild as it gets for me…

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(P.s. Sorry Mum)

Harry’s free spit was rather fun and if I am totally honest probably taught me to relax a little and go with the flow.

There is however a limit to my free spirited nature (turns out it’s not a high limit) and while I enjoyed/developed slight anxiety around Harry and I’s last minute dates, random messages, lack of planning and lack of direction, his nature eventually started to annoy me. I realised that as much as I sometimes would like to be, I was never going to be that “boho”, last minute, free spirit kind of girl, turns out, I like to do lists and working out and spending hours getting ready.

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I’m not even sorry.

Anywhooo, Harry and I’s messages tailed off naturally, however, it wouldn’t quite be dating diaries style without something odd happening to send off our whirlwind romance.

Anyway, after about a week of Harry and I not chatting, I was getting ready for my Tuesday run (see I love a plan). After changing into my work out gear, I looked around for my cap that I wore constantly to work out. I was kind of frustrated as it was a great mask for my humid hair, it had been missing for a week and I just had no idea where I had misplaced it. Feeling frustrated, I shook it off and head out for my run.

Once I had run the full length of the park, I lay down on the grass to relax and started to scroll through my Instagram to pass the time. After a few seconds of swiping through my feed, a picture of Harry came up and I couldn’t believe my eyes…

There he was..

Amidst a group of friends

At a festival…


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Now ladies, if this had been a sister or house mate, world war two would have erupted. However, I knew I probably couldn’t passive aggressively steal an item of Harry’s clothing back and as such, resorted to a text asking if he had my hat.

“Oh yeah, B, I totally forgot, I borrowed it and was going to let you know”

Ohhhhhh okay, at least now had an alibi for when I robbed a bank.

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On a serious note, I don’t care who you are, free-spirited or otherwise.

You don’t take my hat.

After a fairly curt response to Harry, he agreed to give me back my “stolen” hat. I went round to collect it and was surprised to find my hat accompanied with a little love letter, that expressed how much he had enjoyed hanging out with me and he was sorry about the hat.

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I still have no words to this day.

On a more serious note, Harry was genuinely a lovely guy and his free spirited, laid back nature was something I definitely required needed a dose of, in some ways, it did me good…

But you know what they say about too much of a good thing 😉

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Thanks again for reading.




The Work Wife

So ladies and gents, I was a bit unsure of where to start with the little saga of the work wife and I, so I decided to go right from the start. There are many a learning I took from my “friendship” with my work my wife, the overarching being that work involvements nine out of ten times are a bad idea and why some boys, well, l they’ll never grow up … 

I felt grateful getting off the central line at 8am, I had realised that the hour commute in was the equivalent of what I imagine running a marathon would feel like; hot, sweaty, uncomfortable and uncalled for. I looked up at the sky and it was as grey as the apartment blocks and offices along the walk to the office. Life had been pretty boring recently, training was samey, I wasn’t dating and as it was winter nights came in quicker, London definitely wasn’t as fun.

As I sat down at the desk in the near empty office, I realised I was pretty bored by most things at the moment. After being in London for a year and half, the night life had become pretty boring and I found myself asking myself if London and my job was what I wanted to do long term. I am pretty sure that most of us hit that point approaching 30 (but a post to come on that soon) where we feel a little unsatisfied and unsettled, but I brushed it off at the time.

As I sat down at my desk and the office started to fill up, my manager reminded me we had a new starter in the office that day, meh. Like life recently, that one had been a little bit of an anti-climax. A colleague had teased the girls (me included) in the office that a new guy, a bearded tattooed beaut (to be specific) was joining our team. Well, you can imagine…

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So you can imagine the girls (and my) disappointment when I tweed blazer laden, curly haired, quiet guy came in for interview.

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The guy starting in the office was called Henry when I had interviewed him, I had found myself being more interested in what was happening in the Starbucks than what was being said. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he was kind of cute, not really my type (FYI, not a requirement in an interview) but just seemed a little quiet and well… a bit boring.

Any whoo, Henry starting in the office wasn’t interesting or distracting. I gazed round the desk and my eye was caught by my friend Hannah who was chatting to a cute guy from finance at the end of the table. Hmmm, I suppose that was slightly more interesting. I was a little worried about my friend Hannah, she had had a particularly rubbish time dating and Sam (the finance bod) sat at her desk every day, I could see, probably wasn’t going to help with that. I generally got bad vibes about him as he seemed to be accompanying one girl after another around the office, like a chinoed pimp. I mean, give the guy credit, he was pretty dreamy, if you like that whole preppy Clapham look (I don’t). I would chat to her about that another time.

As the afternoon came round, I had managed to get through all my emails and was a little bored. Luckily, it seemed the rest of the team had got a similar vibe. I had a really great team at my old work and when things quietened down, the banter was always fab. That afternoon was no different. Jokes flew around the table (usually me being wound up by the boys – you know who you are) and I noticed quiet Henry in the corner not saying a word, jeez, I knew it was his first day and all but crack a smile hey? At the  time, I can’t even remember what I said, but I definitely picked on Henry a bit and I’ve never quite seen anything like it, but…


I felt pretty bad, I didn’t mean to make him perspire at the rate of Niagra Falls. I backed off and let the poor guy get on with his work…

Anyway, the days and weeks passed work continued to be boring, as did my new colleague Henry. I had gone past the point of feeling bad about teasing him after a couple of days and carried. He eventually had come out of his shell more and actually cracked the odd joke. As I was saying, it was a pretty average morning again, when my Skype for business popped up….

Henry: Fancy Breakfast?

Meh, sure, why not? I headed down for breakfast with Henry and we chatted about the weekend. I was surprised when he told me he had a really heavy one, he didn’t strike me as the type whatsoever… 

He asked me what I had been up to and I told him I had spent most of the weekend blogging and training, he asked for the link and I sent it to him over email. From then on Henry and I started having breakfasts most mornings, he was actually a pretty sweet guy and over the next couple of months, I actually started to class him as a friend. We talked about work, family, the weekends (his and I’s were rather different) and I still couldn’t quite grasp the reserved super cool guy I chatted to every day being this wild party animal. 

Anyway, I told Henry about my disaster dates, he told me about his heavy weekends and I always thought it was sweet when he would sent me links to blogs I would like.

And we definitely flirted .. A lot.


I mean, come on, when the office is boring, a bit of harmless flirting doesn’t go a miss.

It was weird, as Henry definitely wasn’t my type, in fact, with the partying, far from it, but what’s that thing… where you start to fall for your captor? Stockholm syndrome? (lol, I joke) but you get me.

Anyway, after a few months off dating, I had begrudgingly re-downloaded the apps and been on a couple of non-dates, you know the one’s I mean…


You wish you’d stayed home instead.

One morning the night after I decided to stay in and write, instead of wasting my time with non-dates, I got a message through on Facebook at 8am.

HENRY: “HR Specialist”

What was he talking about?

Eeekk, it then twigged, he had seen me on a dating app. Always a little awkward with colleagues, then again, it was Henry, oh well.

“Hey!” I replied “Bumble? And why are you awake so early? Pondering life again?” (something Henry did on the reg).

Henry replied explaining he had been on an “absolute bender” (lad) and had blown £200.

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The dots still weren’t quite connecting here for me. He just didn’t seem like the type. We continued to chat and he moaned about having to go out and party all day again.

“You don’t have to go out again if you don’t want to” I stated quite matter of factly.

“Yeah, I do, I’m that guy” he responded.


I sent the emoji violin, no sympathy, you are made of your own choices. 

“I prefer sober Henry if I’m honest” I replied.

“You know it!” he responded.

I went offline. Still. didn’t. get it.

The next weekend, Henry interrupted my morning with a new dilemma. Drunk Henry had been a bit of a fool and tried it on with his housemate. Okay, so I had to laugh, drunk Henry was turning out to be a bit of a wide boy. Luckily, the next week, a works night out was on the cards and I was pretty sure drunk Henry would make an appearance.

Sure enough, the Thursday came round and the team were out for drinks. As always, work drinks on a Thursday got out of hand and before 9pm coffee patrons and tequila’s were out. I chatted with the girls and after a couple of drinks, went to try and find the boys.

Through the evening, I had chatted with the boys briefly but hadn’t managed to catch drunk Henry (although had caught him looking over my way a few times). Finally, I managed to wave down the boys and went over (to know doubt be teased buttt it was fun – like having grown up annoying brothers) and catch up. Henry was there and given how much we spoke out of work, I chatted excitedly to him. It was then, Henry behaved in the strangest way…


He totally blanked me. 

Surely that was a mistake? We had all had a few drinks, we chatted all the time. He had no reason to ignore me. Anyway, as the night went on, I realised, it wasn’t a mistake at all.

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Every time I tried to chat with Henry, I would be met with a blank. For anyone that truly knows me, being ignored is the worst for me! I am too open and honest to understand stubborn people.

By the end of what should have been a fun night, I wanted pizza and had a face like this…


I had no idea why my friend was being so rude and finally, after being ignored for the 10000 (not dramatic) time that evening, I went over to confront Henry.

And the moment I confronted Henry, ladies and gents, is where the work wife and I started on our bit of a saga.

Looking back, that night, I was being played like the violin emoji I had joked around with earlier and turns out, it wasn’t just drunk Henry that was a bit of a fool, sober Henry actually came in a close second… 

Thanks for reading and enjoy the next post! 


The TV Presenter – That wouldn’t turn off

Following a few months well and truly away from dating, I found myself in a familiar bar spot with the girls on a Saturday night. We were a couple of bottles of prosecco’s down and talking about heading to a more classy venue in Mayfair, a conversation that we always had but inevitably ended up in Cargo (which for anyone outside of London looking a comparison is basically Sankeys…enough said) We also always ended up playing some ridiculous game like never have a I ever or some teenage type of truth or dare. Basically, my life hasn’t evolved since the age of 16, I just have more disposable income (and even saying that is slightly optimistic) 

Anywhoo, as we drank our prosecco and chatted away, I looked over at the bar queue to see if now would be a good time to stock us up on another bottle. As I did, my eye was caught immediately by a guy at the bar. 

Now, when a stranger catches your eye, lets be honest, it isn’t usually because of their mega hot personality, 9/10 times it’s because they are looking pretty. However, on this occasion, this wasn’t really the case. The guy stood at the bar was not my usual type, around 5”10 with dark cropped hair and draped in a dark green leather jacket (yes I said that), I couldn’t help but stare over. I recognised that guy from somewhere! Had I worked with him? Did I go to school with him? 

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The stranger turned around and I could now see his face more clearly.

Ok, so I definitely recognised him. Who was this man?… He looked over at the table and caught me mid stare. It was only at this point, I realised that I probably looked like a bit of a creep and was staring so intently I was practically squinting. Embarrassed, I looked away and shuffled for something to make me look preoccupied. This ended with me toasting a candle, great diversion and smooth as always. 

After finishing my delicious candle, I walked over to the bar, keen to avoid the man I had just basically eye raped. As I grabbed the final bottle at the bar, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to be greeted by the stranger I had stared at rather intently earlier. Hmm, he was actually kind of cute. 

“Hey” he said smoothly. “I’m Tim” and stuck out his hand. 

What was this? A handshake? Mid bar? Formal. I awkwardly held my hand out to shake back (what else was I supposed to do?!) and I as I did eyed Tim over. He was actually kind of cute and it’s not very often I would comment on something like this, but had a very lovely voice (it’s what every girl wants no?). And I still really recognised his face. And as if he had read my mind (or very obvious staring)…

“Yeah you recognise me right? Don’t worry, I get it a lot, I’m on TV” 

THAT WAS IT! He was a TV presenter, now I realised. I smiled, glad I wasn’t going crazy (already there fyi). He continued…

“But I couldn’t help noticing just how pretty you are. And let’s be honest you weren’t just staring because you thought you knew me” he smirked. I half expected him to finish the sentence with this…

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Wow, next level confidence.

Not wanting to bruise his ego (as I wasn’t actually staring for that reason) I agreed to a date the next week. He was cute, confident and I do love an extrovert. As the week went by, I can’t say it wasn’t weird seeing the guy I was going on a date with on my TV every night and turns out, I knew more about politics than any other person in the office (one week only guys). 

When Friday night came round, I headed over to the cocktail bar that we had agreed to meet. As I arrived, I asked the waitress for the table under Tim’s name. 

“Sorry Miss” she replied “He hasn’t arrived yet” 

I looked around the dimly lit cocktail bar and realised that the whole of the lounge was filled by pairs. I would for sure look like the third (maybe twenty third wheel) if I sat down now, so politely excused myself to wait in the local pub until Tim arrived. 

As I walked into the pub, I felt a little more comfortable surrounded by a surge of Millwall fans (mega lolz). I pulled out my phone and text Tim…

“Are you on your way? I am waiting in the pub next door and going to grab a drink, what would you like?” I pressed send. 

Within seconds Tim responded…

“Hey bae, running late, will be there is ten and do me a favour, surprise me yeah?” 

Hmmm, 20 minutes late for a date and now trying to engage in some alcohol based trivia with me. Not a great start on Tim’s part. I ordered the glass of wine and waited for his arrival. 

After another 20 minutes (not 10) passed, when like a whirlwind Tim rushed through the pub door.

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Donned in a velvet blazer and chino’s, looking like a young Hugh Heffner, I was a little surprised at how over (and not so well) dressed he was. 

“Bae” he exclaimed (dying inside right now) “I am so sorry I am late, I must seem like such an arse hole, but you know what the TV game is like”

I couldn’t decide at that stage what was funnier, the blazer, the comment or watching 10 50 year old Millwall fans roll their eyes and giggle as they shot me looks of concern. Tim downed the glass of red wine (without a thank you I will note) and whisked me away from the pub and to the cocktail lounge. 

Thankfully (or maybe not so thankfully), we hadn’t lost our table and after being seated by the waitress and our first cocktails ordered, I finally began to relax, when suddenly. 

“So, bae” he started (so loudly the rest of the cocktail lounge jumped simultaneously) “You are looking dee-vine, now, let me tell you what happened for me to be here so inexcusably late”


As Tim went into explaining the reasons he was late (that I certainly wasn’t listening to), I continued to observe him. Had he been this loud in the bar? And why was he trying to fit so adjectives into one sentence? I glanced around and the quiet looking couple of the table next to us, stared over, obviously agitated by the conversation around Tim being late that they could here… them and me both, what I would give to be the third wheel now…

“What do you think bae?” he asked. I snapped back from my day dream. Shit. What did I think. Should I toast a candle again? That would surely distract him. Nope, let’s just go for it…

“Yeah, I totally agree” I nodded (worth a shot). Wow, it seemed to work, Tim continued to talk as my agreement to the conversation seemed to appease him. And when I mean Tim continued to talk, I mean Tim continued to talk…

“This time on set once was hilarious…”

“And you know, when you get stopped on the street it’s pretty embarrassing…”

“Meeting Ricky Gervais was such a dream…”

“No one believed in me when I initially got into acting…”

“Girls just love knowing I am on TV…”

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Two. Of. The. Longest. Hours. Of. My. Life. Later…

“So B, what do you do?” he asked (the first question he had asked me on the whole date!). It almost threw me off as I was awakened from my day dream where I had descended into thoughts around drowning myself in my shallow cocktail or how acceptable it would be to pretend faint on a date. I replied, but within seconds the conversation had veered back to Tim. Jeez, at least when he was on my TV I could turn him off – no option to do that here! 

After another hour of Tim talk, I simply couldn’t bear any more and made my excuses to order my Uber. Tim followed me outside and was loitering around. Surely he couldn’t think the date had gone well? 

“So B” he asked “Where are you heading back to?” 

I told him where I was heading back to. 

“Great bae!” he replied (loud as always) “I’m heading back that way, let’s pool” 


Oh. Good. God. No

I couldn’t take anymore of Tim talk. But what could I say? 

“I would rather walk home through Leytonstone and risk being stabbed than be in a confined space with you?” Probably a bit much.

As Tim and I jumped in an Uber, I tried to think of a way I could not engage? Do a pretend sleep maybe? No such luck. As Tim continued to chat, I continued to try and find inner peace


It wasn’t working. 

As Tim continued to talk, I noticed that he had pulled out chewing gum and offered some to me. Surely this wasn’t going where I though it was… 

“So B” he smiled (his very dazzling TV smile)

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“Seeing as we are here, you know, in the back of this taxi, let’s make out like sixteen year olds, yar?” As he leaned in, I felt only one emotion…

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“Sorry Tim, I don’t kiss on first dates” and with that lie told the Uber pulled outside my house. 

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Home. Turf.

As the Uber pulled away, I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank god that was over. What an awful start to being back on the dating scene. Well at least it couldn’t get worse than that I thought to myself. Turns out, I was wrong about that too….

Thanks for reading!



The Dream Date Duncan

Hi guys, thanks for coming back after hearing about the dildo disaster, trust me, you wont believe this but it gets funnier and more surreal as well as a little more serious at times too. 

As much as I don’t like to write serious posts, with some of my story, it’s the right thing to do and I hope will raise awareness as to how we allow (our more how we shouldn’t allow) ourselves to be treated. I always want to write with transparency as my blog isn’t about projecting a perfect life that we see on Instagram but more the reality, the highs and lows and the mistakes we make that define the people we become. 

Anyways, sorry to get all DMC (deep meaningful convo for reference) on you, but wanted I to explain as we go further into the story. 

Anywho, the next part of my story is where my faith became restored (even if only briefly) in dating and talks about how sometimes we need to give ourselves the space to breathe before we move on as sometimes it can end in disaster. But something end in disaster for me again, surely not? Enjoy … 

After the dildo disaster, I was adamant that I wasn’t going to let this hump in road (no pun intended) stop me from getting back on track. I had spent a couple of months trying to understand the abrupt ending between Joey and I had come to and just when I had started to get over that hill when



Like they do, he had come back in and fucked everything up again. Don’t they quite have that tendency ladies? Luckily, following my confrontation with Joey, his messages had lessened, I hoped eventually to nothing 

If I wanted sex toys, I had a local Anne Summers. Thanks. 

Anywhooo, at this point, my chipped heart had made me into a woman on a bit of a mission. I had knee jerk reacted (which we have all been guilty of) and had gone back on Tinder (gulp) with out taking a bit of time to breathe…

Because, you know, I was so totally over what happened. Totally so over it… Overrrrr it. Totally. 

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As the matches piled up (believe me not in an arrogant way). I swiped through each one and found myself picking fault. 

  • Unfunny bio – unmatched 
  • Bad t shirt – unmatched 
  • Don’t know how tall he is but looks short and I’m 5″1 so can obviously judge – unmatched

The list of silly and judgemental reasons that I unmatched with potentially nice guys went on and on. At the time although I couldn’t see it, I was probably still pretty hurt by Joey’s actions, the signs were clearly there that I wasn’t quite ready to date, but none the less was fairly determined to not let the last disaster hold me back.

As I swiped and was becoming further underwhelmed, a message popped through from a guy that I had survived my unrealistic grim-reaper like cull. 

DUNCAN: Hi Rebecca, how are you today?

I flicked through his pictures and bio. What a hottie! Joey who…? (jokes – we were not over Joey in any way shape or form at this point). Duncan looked tall, in amazing shape, dressed well and was incredibly handsome and as we started to chat I realised was actually a pretty cool person too.

Duncan worked in Creative advertising as a retoucher and as the conversation continued his creativity and passion not just about his work but about everything that he did shone through. We talked about work, interests, friends, life… basically everything. I remember thinking how refreshing it was to speak to a guy that seemed to have a passion outside of drinking with his mates all weekend and going on dates in Dirty Martini. 

After chatting for a couple of days, swapping Instagram’s, what’s apps etc. (standard dating app etiquette) and basically clarifying that neither party are a psychopath (note. it turns out you can’t clarify this even when you think you know someone, but that’s a story later down the line – look out for it), Duncan asked me out on our first date. Now with a first date, I’ve got to be honest, my usual expectations and suggestions are drinks or maybe a quick bite to eat somewhere, so, I was a little surprised when Duncan suggested Sushi Samba as a first date. For anyone who doesn’t know about this place, click the link, it is a rather nice place to go for drinks or food in general, let alone a first date. I agreed and looked forward to our date later in the week. 

The next evening, I was due to meet a few friends. In my old apartment (which I miss dearly) we had the biggest balcony where we spent most of the summer. Relaxing in the sun and chatting with my peoples was (and still is) one of my favourite things in the world (I just record it now – check out our podcasts!). Our stories always seemed to relate back to dating (this is inclusive of my guys friends too – who seem to have the same struggles as us ladies!)

As we chatted, I told the guys about the date lined up with Duncan. Everyone seemed impressed at the first date location and we did what all girls do and reviewed one another’s tinders.

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It’s a thing. 

“He is cute” said one of the girls “Although he doesn’t teeth smile in any of the pics” (Teeth smile also a thing). I stopped and looked, she was right he didn’t. Oh no. My brain suddenly had images of the gorgeous Duncan walking over to me in Sushi Samba and hitting me with this…

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As the culling scythe was firmly resting on my shoulder a lot at that time. My response was simple. 

“That’s true” I agreed “I probably shouldn’t go on the date” (logic prevails). 

The group rolled their eyes. I had been like this a lot since Joey, avoiding dates and just talking to guys in general. One of my friends was still pretty mad about a blind date she had set up that I had cancelled a little close to the call (an hour or so is okay right?) and snapped

“B, you are going on this date, so help me god, I will drag you there myself” 

I sheepishly agreed. Another one of my friends piped up. 

“B, do you not think you’r avoiding dating because you’re not really over Joey yet, maybe you should relax” 

“No” I replied defensively “Of course I’m over Joey and of course I am going on the date” 


See, totally over it…

As the date night came round and I headed over to Sushi Samba, I was incredibly nervous and I had no idea why, I obviously do now, but at the time I put it down to the fact that Duncan was probably going to have teeth worthy of Jeremy Kyle episode. As I jumped off the tube and headed over to Samba tower, I received a message from him. 

DUNCAN: I’m at Liverpool Street station. Where shall I meet you?

Well, no time like the present. I responded, that I was in Liverpool Street too and within minutes, I recognised Duncan walking towards me. He was as hot as his pictures….. Lord! As he approached, my mind played a little mantra (please have nice teeth, please have nice teeth, please, please, please) – note. I am lol-ing at myself reading this. 

“Hello B” he smiled and there they were ….


The most lovely set of pearly whites you have ever seen. His teeth were basically all I could see. 

Okay, so now we had established that Duncan was basically a dream boat, my neurotic brain could relax and finally enjoy the date. As soon as Duncan and I started to chat, it was so apparent he was one of the “good guys”. We had so much in common, the conversation flowed and I laughed a lot. Everything about the date (and Duncan) was lovely (even my gut told me he was a nice guy – it was also so right about this, as it is every time remember ladies – listen!). So why, while I sat with this gorgeous, charming, lovely man, eating amazing food looking out over the twinkling city sky, did I feel sad? I sighed, this would literally be any single girls dream and I just wasn’t feeling it. What was wrong with me?! (Turns out nothing wrong with me). 

The night continued to be my dream date and after Duncan paying for my dinner and Uber home (yes, ladies honestly and he point blank refused to let me contribute) As I sat on my bed at home I was overwhelmingly disappointed and frustrated that I just didn’t feel anything at all. Duncan was basically my perfect guy and I could tell would be more than kind to me. Why on earth didn’t I spark with him and sparked with some dildo crazed long haired man. Urgh – we always want the bad boys right?

The next day Duncan text me to arrange another date and I begrudgingly explained that I didn’t think it was the best idea. Turns out no matter how perfect someone is, no one can mend hurt, the only person who can do that is you and I had no intention of messing a nice guy around while I fixed that. When you’re not ready, you’re just not ready hey?

Turns out Duncan was as lovely as my gut told me and I would now class him truly as a friend. He is going to make one lucky lady very, very happy (just saying ladies he’s out there- don’t all jump at once). 

After my date with Duncan, I took some well needed time out before I got back onto the dating scene and will be sharing a post later this week about when you truly shouldn’t be dating (watch out for it). For anyone reading thinking of rushing back into dating following a chip to the heart, hold off, it’s not worth it – trust me speaking from experience! 

After taking a couple of months back for me and a some time off the dating scene, who would have thought a trip to a bar in central would lead me to meeting some one famous, which led to a famously bad date…

Thanks for reading again! 




The Comedians Final Curtain Call…

So ladies (and gents) thanks for coming back to say good bye to Joey. I can’t say I will ever fully understand the end of this story (laughing as I write this) but I think this post covers why you shouldn’t always trust what is said and why a player will always be a player… 

Following an early morning gym session, that had certainly overrun, I was rushing to the tube station to try and avoid the morning commuters (at 8.30 am the central line is what I imagine the entrance to hell looks like). As I basically threw myself through the closing tube doors (zero drama) I saw the reflection of a crazy, sweaty, curly haired woman and composed myself. Since when had I become a Londoner? I used to laugh at the people who ran for the tube when there would be another two minutes later… silly Londoners … now ….


As I settled uncomfortably onto the tube, I felt my phone vibrate and I squeezed to pull it from my pocket (accidentally feeling up a fellow commuter). I awkwardly pulled up my home screen and my stomach did a little flip. 


Why on earth would Joey be messaging? Considering how unpleasant our last meeting had been, I was really surprised he was in touch. (Note, I love how cute and naive B at the time thought this was an out of the ordinary move from a guy.) Ladies, it turns out, sadly Joey isn’t even a one off – I have had return of the Mac happen with the Joey, my work wife AND “Sam the snake” (honestly, keep reading) and on every occasion as much as it never ceases to amaze me nothing ever changes. Guys coming back into your life is a little bit like those broken down, old ghost trains you used to ride at fairs as a child. You go round again and again, but it is still the same old “not so scary” ghosts that seem to re-appear. 

I don’t think a lot of people speak openly about dating and in particular the mistakes we make when dating. Hands up on my part, I have definitely let people back into my life that didn’t deserve or haven’t earned a place in it, so can firmly give the following advice

“Don’t choose some one if they have to think twice about choosing you”

Know your worth and if you see a ghost of the past heading your way…

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Anywhooo, I started down at the phone, unsure of how to respond to Joey’s message asking how I was. I hadn’t dated anyone since Joey and had actually missed the time we had spent together. What harm could one little message back do ….


Joey and I’s chemistry reignited pretty much instantly over message. We chatted back and forth and updated each other on our lives. After a couple of days talking, it felt like we had hit rewind on the last three months, so I wasn’t surprised when Joey asked me out for dinner and as the evening came round, I was actually starting to feel a little nervous. What if it wasn’t the same? What if I didn’t like him any more? What if he had cut his hair short? (the horrifying possibilities were endless.) 

As I walked into the restaurant that Joey and I had agreed to meet in, I searched around for a familiar face when I recognised the long haired, tall, leather jacketed babe in the corner. It was super annoying how hot he was. He stood up, waved and smiled “Hey B” he said. It was then I knew… 


Don’t judge me. It had been three months. Of course I was. 

Joey and I’s dinner went swimmingly, we chatted about anything and everything and as always I didn’t stop laughing. As much as I was still smiling in Joey’s company, there was still a small niggle in me that something wasn’t quite sitting right (gut ladies, listen!). However, I shrugged away my “off” feeling and put it to the back of my mind, I should just enjoy the evening, you know, “living in the moment” (Note. that was me convincing myself; I am definitely not a “live in the moment” kind of girl, I’m more of a “I like to know what moment this is? What this moment will do to me? And how long does this moment take” type). 

Anywhoo, as we ate, the conversation flowed and so did the wine. 

After updates on job, family and friends, the conversation led onto our love lives over the last 3 month. Joey asked me if I had been dating (and I hadn’t) I asked him the same question (I’m direct like that – surprise). Turns out he hadn’t either. Even the first time round dating, I had always thought Joey may have been a bit of a player, so the fact he hadn’t been dating and sleeping around assured me slightly. Perhaps he had changed… 

9 hours later…

My alarm bell rang painfully and woke me from what apparently was a very deep sleep. I sat up abruptly and felt the room follow my movements. WOW, I was hungover! I glanced around and knew immediately it was Joey’s room. 

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We all make them hey?

After excepting my terrible behaviour, I carefully crept out of bedroom to go and grab water from the kitchen. As I poured myself a glass to revive my headache, my brain went over the following evenings events. I didn’t know why I felt so off , but I wasn’t feeling overly happy that I had ended up here, but I had no idea why I felt that way. Joey and I had so much fun, but I still had that funny feeling in the pit of my stomach, what was that? He was such a nice guy and he hadn’t been seeing anyone else (not that it would have mattered either way) but least he had been honest. The door behind me closed and I jumped out of day dream, it was Joey. 

“Hey B” he said “I am heading off to work. Make yourself at home, you know where everything is. I will message you later” and with that he kissed me awkwarlfy on the cheek and shuffled out of the front door. 

I went back to the bedroom feeling a little perturbed. I sat down and started the attempt to tidy up my messy mane. As I brushed through the curls, my mind wandered, why had Joey been so sheepish? I started in the mirror 


I admitted defeat, nothing was taming the mane that day, pony tail it was.

I looked around searching for one of Joey’s hair ties (yes I said that). I scanned around his desk, the TV stand and bed side table. No hair tie! I definitely couldn’t go outdoors with my hair like this. I pulled open the drawer of the bedside table and there is was ladies and gents… 

A collection of 10 beautiful sex toys.


Yeah, I was as confused as you. 

I stared into the drawer and it’s contents. Erm… I wasn’t completey sure what was going on here. Now, ladies, when I say sex toys, I don’t mean a good old fashioned bullet or something like that, this was altogether different, there were so many and such variety. Toys, cuffs, sex tape, double penetration dildos! I literally felt like I had walked into a central Ann Summer store, I was half expecting a party rep to pop up and ask me how I felt about anal beads (just going to throw it out there – not great). 

This pleasure drawer certainly hadn’t been here last time I had stayed? And I was pretty sure Joey had said the previous evening that there hadn’t been anyone else?


Seriously, could there be a more relevant gif? Answer – No.

Still majorly confused with the discovered dildo drawer, I needed second opinions. So, I did what any woman worth her salt would do. I took a picture and sent it to the girls whats app group. (obvs)

I don’t think there has ever been more unanimous “lols” recorded in any one group chat in the history of the world.

Not one of the girls could believe it, they had all liked Joey so much and now we were all trying to understand why one man would ever need to own more than one double penetration dildo (sentences I never thought I would write, entry one) . 

After chatting with the girls, I messaged Joey to explain my findings. I was greeted with the following emoji;


Turns out, Joey had been telling teeny tiny little fibs. I got the usual excuses; “It was a one off” and my personal fave “You’re just too intimidating to tell”. 

eye roll

Duh, of course it was my fault.

Safe to say, it turns out no matter how much of a spark we had, Joey and I just weren’t each others “one”.

I guess he just wasn’t into commitment and me, well, I guess I’m just not into anal beads. 

shrug gif

Luckily ladies, the next date in my diary showed me something a lot better than sex toys and I can’t wait to tell you all about it. 

Thanks again for reading! 

B x

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Joey the Joker

So, before I continue with my disastrous dating diaries, thanks for coming back to read more (it means the world). For anyone new to this blog, you might want to skip back a few steps and catch up!

Any whooooo, before I tell you about the end of Joey and I, let’s give you a bit of context around him.

So Joey, is a mistake I made once, twice … okay maybe Ive made the mistake few times (don’t judge! It’s that curly hair). We dated for a couple of months and it was one of the first “sparks” I felt when I moved to London. (And there hasn’t been many, trust me). 

Hope you enjoy the ending ….

A couple of months had passed of Joey and I dating and we had been having so much fun. We talked about pretty much everything and I was constantly laughing when I was around him. He was super cheeky and if I’m honest a bit of a gobby sod (for my American friends reading – love that you are by the way – gobby sod means a bit of a mouth piece), which to be fair, matched us up pretty well.

I clearly remember a time, we were play fighting around drunk outside a pub and some guys asked “if I was okay” (they were being pretty moronic to be fair, my safety was clearly not at risk). “She’s fine mate” he shouted back “And not interested”. (Gobby get, see!). As well as being a cheeky so and so, Joey would also be super sweet. I once pulled a muscle in my back training and he turned up at the tube station to collect me and carry my bags. He then took me home, with lots of painkillers and ibuprofen gel and made me dinner (we both ended up accidentally overdosing on the gel and being quite poorly, which looking back was pretty hilarious). I was super smitten by Joey. When we were together, I think I pretty much followed him round like this..

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(Eye roll emoji at naive me back then).

We had also got past the “third date” stage and if I’m honest hadn’t really stopped “third dating” since that point. In contrast to Oscar, Joey and I’s “third-dating” was never really passionless, in fact, quite the opposite. It was exactly the “rip your clothes off/sparky” third date kind of stuff you were looking for. The energy and passion was amazing initially but as time was passing (and please don’t judge me), I wasn’t keeping up with the energy levels (lol). In fact it would get to the end of a weekend and I would be like…


As much as I loved the “third dating” with Joey, you know the feeling ladies. I also love going on the  at Alton Tower once when I’m there, six times a day though….

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Not so much.

Anywhooo, I had spent a couple of months following Joey round like a loved up pup and things were starting to get a little more serious. Joey met my friend-friends, my work-friends (all of who loved him). I also met his friends and I when he told me that his Mum knew about me, I couldn’t help but do this…


One night after a another lovely date, Joey and I walked back to his place hand in hand. After telling me his Mum knew about me, I was excited to tell him my Mum was visiting the weekend at the weekend.

“You should join us for a drink” I said excitedly.

And then ladies, came the first red flag (a little one but none the less a flag) Which at the time, I didn’t realise.

“Erm, B, isn’t that a bit serious?” he replied.


Hadn’t you asked me to meet your friends and met them? And told your Mum about me? And now I was being serious…


Feeling hurt, I wiggled my hand free from his. Well, that was really confusing, for someone who had blown hotter than my broken Remington hairdryer, his response was very cold. We walked back to his place, it wasn’t a big deal, but it was the first “chink” in Joey’s so far perfect armour that I had seen.

Unfortunately, as time continued and things became more serious, the chinks became more apparent. Joey’s immaturity showed more often and, me being me, would call him out on the baby like behaviour.

Things finally came to a head (not the fun kind), one Saturday night.

Now just to give a little context, what happened next was completely unexpected to me. When I mentioned “chinks” in Joey’s armour, they were indeed just chinks (tiny little problems) that could have been resolved, if you wanted them to be, hence my sheer confusion at the next part of the story…

It was a Saturday night and I was still hanging round in my flat. I picked up my phone and checked the time, I hadn’t heard from Joey and we were supposed to be heading for food at 7.30pm. I glanced at the screen, 7.50, well, we had missed the reservation. I knew Joey had been out until the early hours of the morning (early hours being drunk messages at 7am) and expected this may be the reason he was super late. A knock at the door, jolted me out of my day dream. I rushed to the door (with this face)


I was greeted by (a hungover looking) Joey. He was draped in the usual leather jacket, skinny jeans, hat and long hair, urgh, it was annoying, I struggled to be mad when he was so hot.

“Sorry B” he said sheepishly. “Are you okay?”

“Fine” I responded. He smiled and continued chatting. Was that it? Could he not see I was mad. Any sane man knows that when a woman responds with “fine” she is clearly not fine. As Joey continued to chat, I gave up, although I was still upset, I wanted to have a nice night and certainly didn’t want to argue.

We headed down to a local burger bar and ordered food. Joey and I always alternated “who paid” on our dates (pod cast to come on date etiquette, who pays is a hot subject! ;)) and tonight was my night. As the delicious burgers were placed down, I basically inhaled mine. Joey on the other hand, pushed the fries and burger around his place until the waiter finally removed our plates, he looked at me in the same sheepish manner as earlier. The cheque was placed down in front of us and I footed the bill for the food Joey hadn’t eaten.

Okay, so as any girl would be, I was a little pissed by this point. Joey had a lot of cake buying and sucking up cuddles to do as I was ready to be quite the grumpy girlfriend.

As we walked back to my place, I stomped a little ahead. When we arrived back, Joey again asked the same question “Are you okay?” This time, I told him that I wasn’t and was being the grumpy girlfriend and obviously told him off. Expecting a “sorry” and a “forgive me” cuddle. I sat down next to him and that’s when he came out with it….

“I can’t do this B”

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Couldn’t do what? Now I was confused…

“I just can’t do this B, the commitment, this is getting serious”

What? I wasn’t sure at what stage I had got down on one knee and now I was seriously confused. He continued…

“This B, I know it’s going somewhere and I can’t cope. This has happened before, with other girls and it’s happening again and I just can’t handle the commitment”

(note the bold ladies).

I had to literally pick my jaw up off the floor. Where had this come from? It was like a complete 180 in a night. Sure, I had noticed he was a little cagey about certain things, but I had always brushed it off as he was so lovely…. it now made more sense.

Joey continued to go into detail about how this had happened before and why (I won’t go into it as some things are for sure private). I was still completely in shock as he talked. This was the guy I had laughed and joked and danced like an idiot in a bar with the weekend before and he had just come out with all of that….

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I stared into space, a little dumbfounded as he continued.

“I’m going to go” he said “I can’t do this”. I tried to respond, but there was nothing that could really be said.

Joey walked out and the door closed behind him.


At the time, I literally couldn’t believe it.

Turns out ladies, this is a thing men struggle with a lot!

I have to admit, at the time, I was for sure sad for a little while but as it hadn’t been too long. I busied myself; drinks with the girls, gym and lots of good food and recovered from the roller coast ride with Joey pretty quickly.

And it was just in that moment of feeling better ladies, that these boys do what they do best….


I mean, you can’t blame me, who isn’t a sucker for a cute curly haired commitment phobe…

Unfortunately ladies, that is when I indeed found out Joey wasn’t quite as nice as he seemed.

Thanks again for reading





Podcast 3: Dating Apps?

Happy hump day readers (no pun intended). If you are back again, thanks for listening to our third Pod Cast. We did have a podcast on “Numbers” but it was wiped by my Mac (thanks Apple!). Soooo, instead, today’s podcast is based around a tool that most of us seem to equip ourselves with in this modern dating world – Applications! We discuss if they are a help or a hinderance, creative or creepy, our experiences and what we would suggest!

Just to give you a giggle, I wanted to share one of my more recent interactive experience a dating app to “set the tone” for the rest of the cast…

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Yeah, I’m for sure the C*nt…

Lord have mercy on us singletons…

Enjoy! x