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



Sam the Surgeon

Hi guys! Thanks for coming back to hear more about my disastrous dating life. For anyone who is here for the first time, you might want to skip back a chapter to hear the start of the story with Joey. In this post, I briefly touch on my short time with the super surgeon and how I ended up wearing the worst outfit known to man kind (not dramatic) to a date. I also tell you more about Joey and I’s whirlwind romance as it comes to a “sex toy filled” crash down ending (trust me, it is not as it sounds)…

A few days after my first date with Joey and the excited feeling still hadn’t worn off. We were still texting pretty much every minute of everyday and we had already arranged to see one another the following weekend. The week at work was again flying by and for some reason my work load seemed to have increased two fold (I think this may have been down to the fact I had spent the majority of the previous week on what’s app, but let’s breeze over that).

The weekdays went by and were like a ground hog of emails, gym, food and sleep. When Thursday finally came round and I left the office, I was ready to pass out on the central line. (Note. do not fall asleep on the central line, unless you would like to wake up without your belongings). As I squeezed onto the packed tube, my phone buzzed.


Oh shit… I had forgot to cancel my date with the surgeon.

“Hey B. So I have booked a restaurant for tonight. Looking forward to seeing you at 8pm”

Shitty shit fuck fuck. I couldn’t cancel now, it was far too late in the day. I checked the time, after pulling a late one it was already 7pm. I tried to calculate the time the journey back to my place would take, the journey back out to the restaurant and how much time that would leave me to get date ready. The answer…

Not an awful lot!

By the time I had rushed back, I basically had no time on the clock to even re-apply my make up, it was raining outside so I quickly brushed through my humidity ridden curls. I messaged Sam quickly.

“Where are we heading” I asked

“Hakkasan” he replied.

Now, for anyone who knows London well, Hakkasan isn’t an understated place. I looked down at my work attire and realised that not only did I have frizzy hair and very little make up – I was majorly under dressed for a Michelin star restauraunt, with no time to fix it. I quickly ordered a trusty Uber and searched my wardrobe for something to “fancy” up my outfit. As I realised my Toyota Prius was only minutes away, in a panic, I pulled out a long jacket with a fur collar (you heard me, fur collar, I don’t know what I was thinking either) and jumped into the taxi where I re-applied my make-up in near darkness.

When I finally arrived at the restaurant, I was extremely impressed with my timing skills and the fact I had managed to compose myself. I stepped out of the Uber, feeling rather pleased. See, it didn’t actually take that long to make yourself look hot …suddenly I caught myself in the window reflection…


Seriously, why had I reapplied my make up in the dark and worn a fur coat? I cringed internally, as a drag like Cruella De Ville started back at me. I always seemed to make quite the entrance to my dates and never for the right reasons?! I shrugged off the embarrassment and walked into the restaurant.

As I walked down the open stairway, I realised just how polished this place was (and how unpolished I was). Everything was straight edges, clean graphite surfaces, dim lights and the plates of food coming out of the kitchen looked prettier than the lip liner I had just applied. The hostess greeted me.

“Name please?” she asked. After replying with Sam’s name, she replied. “The other party is already here” I smiled politely and my stomach did a little flip. In my rush, I had actually forgotten I was meeting a real life person and as silly as it seems wearing the wrong outfit for a date had knocked my confidence. The hostess walked me to the table and there he was…

As he stood up to greet me, I realised that it was in fact Sam that was the most polished part of the restaurant. With clean cut hair, a cleaner cut tweed blazer and a crisp white shirt.  He stood up and cracked a smile with teeth whiter than his shirt, I immediately regretted my “rushed to get ready” approach. He was dreamy.

“Hi B” he smiled “Nice to meet you”

After we settled down and my Cruella De Ville/Vile cape had been removed by the hostess, we started to chat and I finally relaxed. Conversation flowed as Sam ordered a bottle of wine (that cost more than my weeks salary) and he told me about his life. I was seriously impressed. He was such an intelligent guy. He had studied at Cambridge, followed by his Masters in Harvard and then spent time out in California. If there were ever a game of Top Trumps in the education of medicine; Sam would have aced it.

I appreciate there are many women that look for certain qualities in a man to create that “Husband Material” (just a note on this, I totally disagree with the whole husband material vibe – you are massively excluding pretty amazing guys because of things like not being a home owner or not working in the perfect job, it’s silly. On another note, there is clinically zero possibility that I would be attracted to someone who was stable enough to be marriage material. I save that attention for the narcissist, cheating, immature, commitment phobe dream boats that sail around). lolz.

Anyway, Sam appeared to be pretty perfect in the imaginary husband list department…


Older, well-travelled, good looking, great job etc. (whatever it is that normal people look for) We talked more about his job, I knew he was a surgeon (but that was a pretty broad term) so I asked him about what he did.

“I’m currently working in the research side of science, so spend most of my day in a lab” he said.

“Wow” I replied, taking a sip of the wine I couldn’t really afford to drink “What type of research?”

“Stem cell growth” he explained “We are currently looking at how we can use stem cells to grow limbs” ….


If I have ever felt like I am adding no value to society, the date with Sam confirmed that I indeed was not.

Growing limbs? I couldn’t grow my hair to an acceptable length.

Anyway, I struggled to not spit my wine out (I shouldn’t given the price), I was so impressed.

As the night continued, I really enjoyed Sam’s company but it was so obvious our lives were worlds apart. And guiltily, I was so tired from the week, I wanted to get home (and admittedly) message Joey (I know that is terrible).

When the cheque finally came (along with my gross Cruella De Ville coat) Sam paid for the whole bill. I found it embarrassing that I couldn’t offer to pay half (shame on you girls who expect to be paid for) but I genuinely think my card would have declined at the cost. As I walked out of the restaurant, I had firmly decided that Sam and Hakkasan weren’t for me. I wanted the diner and cheeky curly haired man! (The story of my life ladies and gents).

Although I had decided that Sam wasn’t me, it was pretty obvious Sam hadn’t come to that conclusion too. As we headed up the stairs and out into central, he put his arm round me…


I knew we weren’t on the same wave length, so declined more drinks and waited patiently on my Uber. Sam waited with me for the taxi to arrive and we said good night. He was such a gent and I’m sure is going to make some limb growing, polo playing babe extremely happy but that one isn’t me.

As I headed back, exhausted in the taxi, I messaged Joey – I was now even more excited about seeing him and when the second date came round we had an equally amazing “sparky” time.

The dates continued that way, we got dressed up, went to bars, ate great food and didn’t stop laughing. Four great dates went by quickly (along with four great date kisses) but it was now getting to the stage where I kind of wanted the dates to run into the next day (ya get me ladies) and felt four dates was a pretty acceptable timeframe (check out our Podcast tomorrow on “It’s a numbers game” that may have changed slightly).

After four amazing dates, who could have know that Joey and I would come to such a turbulent and dildo filled (it isn’t as great as it sounds, trust me) end?

Again, thanks for reading and enjoy the next (and last) post on Joey!







Tinder Take Two: The Surgeon and The Show Off

So, before I begin this post, I just want to summarise why I felt the need to write about the Surgeon and the Show off (aka. Sam and Joey). Firstly, both of the above gents are probably the most intelligent guys I have met (for very different reasons) and I had a great time with them (but with very different stories to tell). This post is all about my second time round on Tinder, talking about the rare “spark” we all search for, he start of the story of Joey and I (strap in guys it’s a turbulent one) and the age old question – WHY DO WE ALWAYS PICK THE BAD BOYS?! …

…A couple of months passed following Oscar and I’s break up. I had a “cleanse” from dating and was feeling refreshed after lots of friend, drinking and gym time. Following one of the many crazy nights out (feeling hungover and needy in bed), I begrudgingly rekindled with my old red flame – Tinder. For anyone who has been in a relationship and then re-downloaded the apps, well…

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You feel me…

As I swiped through the profiles, I felt slightly underwhelmed and scared for my single future. Why were there so many weirdo’s in the world of dating? After swiping left and right for ten minutes, I inevitably gave up and resigned myself to the fact that there were no normal men in London (dramatic much) and I would be single forever…


I pulled myself away from my phone and decided to prep myself for Monday and it was an important Monday at that. After long and hard thoughts, at the time, I had decided to look for a new job back in the corporate world. As sad as I was to leave the company, I had landed myself a great new job and was looking forward to the new challenge. As I planned my outfit, I started to get a little knot in my tummy (anxiety strikes) as I thought about the next day. I felt like a kid about to start my first day at school. Would I be good at my job? Would the offices be fun? Would the people be nice? (Please take a real note of the last question for later down the line). My phone buzzed startling me out of my day dream.


I picked up the message. Following Oscar and I’s breakup, Tom had been hot on my heels to meet for dinner. I had put off us meeting a few times for fear of Tom and I not being in the same place. Following his drunken out pour of how much he regretted us coming to an end, I had been skeptical of his feelings towards me, but as I couple of months passed I felt this had probably subsided and had agreed to meet Tom for dinner and drinks to celebrate my new job.

The week passed incredibly quickly after starting my new job, it was a whirl of introductions, new things to learn and a long commute across the wonderful central line everyday, so by the time Friday came round, I was ready for dinner with Tom. We met at a Reds True BBQ If you haven’t been already, you’re based in East London and are not (I repeat, not) a vegetarian; put this blog down and go and order the donut burger immediately).

It was great to catch up with Tom; we chatted about work, friends, holidays – he was heading off to Thailand with his housemate Jamie and was really excited about it. He had moved into his new place with Jamie and another two guys. Just going to throw it out there ladies, I can vouch (as can my friends) that was a wonderful wonderful house…. it was always real pleasure waking up with one topless hot man, but when there’s 4 wandering around…


I digress …

As Tom and I chatted, it felt relaxed (as always) and I loved catching up with him. Tom always made me feel at home, it was so frustrating that he was so nice, good looking but for the life of me I couldn’t feel that “spark” (that we all search for). After a lovely evening, Tom and I headed home (separately I might add).

“I’ll call you!” he shouted. I waved and smiled, I really did want to hear from Tom again, but my gut told me we were definitely in different places. I shook it off and checked my phone; notifications from the girls whats app group, work emails, Mum (obvs) and two Tinder notifications



Great, I thought to myself, probably a couple more weirdo’s. Again, I am probably being dramatic here, I had actually been pretty lucky to meet Tom and Oscar on my first ever Tinder dates (check out my Amazon vs. Google guy post) and at the time, the app had just taken off so there seemed to be a lot of people to have conversations with. As I sat on the tube home, I opened the app and checked out the two guys;

Sam, 31, Surgeon – I scanned through Sam’s pictures and profile. He had a detailed bio and was “traditionally” good looking. He had cropped hair and wore a suit in most of his pictures, in another picture was riding in a helicopter and another was an action shot of him playing polo…

Jeez … I thought to myself, not sure of how I felt about the polo shot. Following my last (and only) experience of polo, I had vowed never to watch it again or associate with people that did.

For anyone who has ever been to a Polo match, it is basically a swarm of people who deem themselves as middle/upper class but are about as cultured as a new build flat. They also tend not to like a northern accent and will openly mock you for it. However,  they have very little to say when you then mention that it may be a little more hilarious that they look like carbon copy Ken dolls and it was slightly embarrassing that ten fully grown men had turned up wearing the same chino/jumper tied round their shoulders/family crest little finger ring combo. It was a bit quieter then. Guess who let them know that then drank all their expensive champers…


I swiped to the next profile and smirked to myself…

Joey, 29, 99% positive feedback on Ebay – ok so bit different from a surgeon, but also funnier. I flicked through the pictures. Ok, so Joey was a lot different to surgeon Sam. His pictures were all over the world; him diving, surfing, posing in front of a waterfall (eye-roll) and he generally looked well travelled and super fun. Probably one of the more shallow things to note, Joey was also tall, tanned and the most amazing long waves of brown curly hair. For anyone that knows me, well, curly, hair….


(For better, for worse as you will soon see…)

I replied to both guys messages and over the week chatted to them both. It became quickly apparent that they were incredibly different people. Sam almost immediately got a date in the diary for us to go on a first date (a week later) and we only spoke very briefly over message, I guess a surgeon can’t be glued to his phone, so we didn’t really build any message rapport. Joey, on the other hand, messaged a lot and I have got to be honest lapped up the attention and fun, that I hadn’t really had with Oscar.

We talked a lot and about everything. He told me about his job, the fact he had been away travelling, that he had been in the army and all the way through we had the best banter.

We messaged all day, everyday. It really should have been intense but I couldn’t believe I  actually found it quite the opposite, Joey was so much fun and if in person he made me laugh as much as his messages; we were off to a great start. After a couple of days chatting, Joey had asked me to meet on the Friday. It was only the Tuesday and I was already looking forward to it.

The next day, following an awful commute across London, I arrived at the office in West London and set up my desk. After grabbing a coffee and scanning my emails, I notification came through on my whats app web (for anyone who doesn’t know about whats app web – great tool to look busy at work when you aren’t busy at all); it was Joey.

“Ok, so I can’t wait until Friday, are you free tonight?”

I did a little internal happy dance. Why was I so excited to meet a guy a guy I had never me? Turned out, it’s because I was new to the dating scene, now its a little more…


You girls feel me…

Anyway, even the “new to the dating scene” excitable puppy me managed to reign it in. I shouldn’t be so giddy for a first date. Who knew – maybe he wouldn’t look like his pictures? Maybe I wouldn’t like him? Or worse, maybe he wouldn’t like me…


Now that last one was silly…

As the day went on, Joey and I continued to message and pre-date nerves kicked in (thankfully they are a thing of the past). He arranged for us to meet at a diner in Covent Garden, at that point I realised I was probably over-dressed in my work attire but would have to roll with it. The day passed quickly and before I knew it, I was back on the central line heading for my first date with Joey.

“I hope you’re as funny in real life” I joked…

“You better be too” he jibed back.

Yeah, I better be, I thought to myself as pre-date nerves kicked in. When I finally reached Covent Garden station, I was already running 15 minutes late. I rushed off the tube, to be met by the overcrowded lifts. Now, for anyone that knows Covent Garden tube station well; in rush hour, you have 2 options. 1. Wait for an age for the lifts (and I was already late) or 2. Brave the 193 steps up to ground level. I gulped, guess it was option two.

At about step 60, I realised I had indeed run with the incorrect choice. As I finally reached the top, I was grateful for the blast of cold air at the entrance. I composed myself, while trying to subtly catch my breath and waft my shirt to stop me sweating (I know, hold yourselves back gents, I’m just too irresistible). My eyes scanned the entrance, looking for a familiar face, when suddenly my eyes stuck on a guy leaning against one of the entrance pillars…. Ok, so, he did look like his pictures, if not better. 6’2, tall, tanned, leather jacket and all that hair.


And here was me, sweaty in nude court heels. Joey noticed me and walked over. Shit, not even time for a quick make up touch up. Oh well, I guess sweaty me would have to do. “Hi B” he said and leaned in for hug, I stepped back and waved (yes waved). A hug would definitely give away the fact I had just run up 193 steps. He eyed me a little strangely. “Hi” I smiled back, trying to avoid looking mental.

We walked over to the Diner together and I noticed that Joey kept standing to the left of me. “Everything okay?” I asked. “Is that not my good side?”. He shuffled slightly. “I’m actually partially deaf” he murmured. Of course! I thought to myself, he had been in the army. He had joked over whats app, but I was never sure when he was being serious or not. My words fumbled out an apology, but he was really sweet and took it in his stride. This actually made me like him more.

When we arrived at the diner, we ordered food and chatted over burgers and beers. Even though we had talked a lot over message, we still had so much to say and I was having a great date. He complimented me on how much I ate (I basically eat like a boy) and how polite I was. Joey was lovely and we had a lot in common. He also definitely wasn’t quite as much the show off he had been over whats app.

After a lovely dinner, I could tell both of us didn’t really want the date to end. Instead of heading back we walked to a pub in central. We grabbed drinks and found a quiet corner of the pub. The drinks flowed, as did the conversation and the cheeky Joey that has chatted over message seemed to come out more. He teased me and made cheeky jokes. It wasn’t really fair that he was that hot and funny. I am pretty much 100% sure, I spent the date looking like this…


Playing it cool as always…

When the bell for final orders rang, I was shocked at how quickly time had passed. Joey and I left the pub together and decided to walk back to the tube station. As we walked back, it was evident we were both feeling a little drunk. We were flirting massively and I was kind of hoping that there was a first date kiss on the way, I was way too nervous to make the first move so instead kept playfully pushing him (like an overgrown seven year old, smooth again).

We finally cut through a quiet road, to the tube station, when out of no where and quite happily to my surprise – Joey suddenly grabbed hold of me and kissed me. Now when I say kissed me, it was no boring, awkward first kiss date. This was hands in hair (well hands all over), pushed up against the wall amazing first date kiss. And there is was, the thing we all claim to seek…


The rare spark!

After our kiss, I was a little speechless, I have only had two kisses like that so it was kind of unexpected. We joked on the way back to the tube and Joey walked me to my platform.

“I really want to see you again” said Joey, as the train pulled into the platform. I smirked at him.

“Maybe” I teased (I was for sure lying). “I’m not sure I had a good time”

He laughed and kissed me good-bye, there it was again….


As I headed home on the tube, people stared at me as I sat grinning like a cheshire cat . After 6 months with Oscar, I had never felt a spark or chatted so much. In one date with Joey, I had done all of that and was excited to see him again. It was such a lovely start. I thought about our next date and remembered that I also had a date lined up the following week, eeek! I would have to cancel.

Little did I know, there was a reason that everything was so sparky with Joey, plus find out more about the super surgeon date and why Joey and I were to go out with as much of a bang as we went in with.

Thanks for reading again!

B x















How to handle heartbreak…

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So guys, following my post on Oscar, I thought it quite apt to write about somewhere we have all checked into at some stage in our lives; Heartbreak Hotel.

Although breaking up with Oscar was sad, I would never have described it as true “heart break”. However, recently, I experienced my first heartbreak (I know, sad right? Someone queue Alicia Keyes “If I ain’t got you” so I can be dramatic please).

My recent break up was not a normal or a pleasant ending (in fact, one of the worst stories I have to date) so I think I’m in a fair place to offer advice and as such I wanted to share things that have helped me and talk about a subject that is rarely breached openly.

I hope if you are experiencing a rough time, this helps!

Enjoy x (P.s. as this is a pretty sad subject I added Simpson’s meme’s because … well… who isn’t cheered up by Homer?)

The Initial Shock

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The initial shock of a break up can leave us feeling a little numb and in a daze. Whether you are the bigger part of the broken heart, the decision maker, if there is extremely bad blood or otherwise; the removal of a big part of your life will leave a gaping hole. Whether it’s the morning text, the cute memes, the kiss goodnight; the initial removal of that special someone is a little bit like an electric shock. At a big horrible high voltage electric shock.

My advice; let it sink in! I made the mistake of making myself incredibly busy and ignoring what had happened, the sooner you allow things to sink in, the sooner you start to work through it. I promise, the constant high volts of shock soon wear off and are less powerful.

Never under any circumstances disregard your feelings or let others 

I am guilty of being incredibly hard on myself, I am impatient by nature and as such expect to feel better almost immediately. The reality of this is similar to above, if you disregard your feelings or rush them you are not giving your emotions credit or space and therefore not dealing with them.

Whether your heartbreak is following 6 months, 6 years or 60 years (I’m good for the 60 by the way, thanks Hun) it does not matter. Your feelings are your feelings and shouldn’t be discredited for an amount of time, a circumstance or discredited by anyone. Cry when you need to and smile when you can.

In my experience getting under someone has never helped me get over anything…

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Once the initial shock has worn off, I’m pretty sure this is something we have all being guilty of (if not, hats off to you). Whether you’ve knee jerk reacted and had a one night stand (check out our pod cast on one night stands – becauseysheblogs.com/podcasts) or rekindled with an ex (who was likely a moron in the first place) in my experience the brief “feel good” feeling soon wears off and you are left feeling worse than you did in the first place. My advice; give yourself a break – don’t seek comfort that is superficial. Spend time with your friend and leave the fun for when you’re in the right place for it!

Cut the contact

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As difficult as this is (and it is!), if the decision has been made to no longer be with a certain person, you are going to make your life a lot easier by actually not being with them. As challenging as it may be, it is healthier and easier for you to continue healing.

So my advice, delete the number, delete the pictures and (the biggie) – delete their social media! Social media stalking (we’ve all done it) is detrimental, particularly if you have an overactive anxious brain. What starts off as a harmless snoop leads to you being months deep into Gemma from his offices Instagram, you’ve mentally married them off and now want to jump out of the window (No? Just me?).

On a serious note, no good can come of contact. Focus your energies on you and continue moving on.

Don’t stress if eating is an issue 

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Has anyone heard of the break up diet? It is the most effective weight loss programme out there (unhealthiest way to lose weight but cloud, silver lining and all that). With my anxiety, as soon as I hit any form of stressful situation my appetite depletes almost immediately, so when heartbreak hit, it was a real struggle. I also speak to a lot of friends who have the complete opposite reaction and basically eat the world let alone their feelings. My advice; don’t be too hard on yourself eat what you can, when you can and try and fill your body with the right fuel. (Check out my post on self love as to how my diet has helped support my mood)

Rose tinted glasses syndrome

As time passes, you start to look back favourably and longingly at the past. You remember the good times and your brain (bad brain) tricks you into seeing the relationship as perfect and putting the person you miss on a pedestal.


There is a reason that you are no longer with this person (whether it currently feels that way or not). If you are anything like me, when my brain wanders off down this path, I do a mental check on two things. Firstly, I make a stern mental check on the reasons I am now far better off (the positive thought process). If you are not feeling particularly positive towards the said individual, the second list I find helpful is what you don’t like about that person (rather than the rose tinted glasses view). This can be easy if you have suffered being cheated on or something particularly terrible, but if you are struggling to find something, dig deep, maybe things like the way they chewed with their mouth open or them wearing Super Dry when it’s not longer 2007 – you wouldn’t want to put your future children through witnessing those outfits, would you? It’s basically child abuse.

On a serious note, if you hold no resentment towards that person, my advice would be to look on your past as an experience as a lesson (positive or negative) and keep moving forward.

Ride it out


The picture says it all… I have no words. Some days I was left Bart, other days right Bart. Keep going, the swings will decline.

Surround yourself with happiness

Surrounding yourself with positivity is key. Whether that is time with great friends, doing the things you love, pampering yourself or even just lying in bed with a pizza. Make positive affirmations in your life and cut any negativity. I have even found that things like putting a new plant in the house, playing happy music and just taking a second to breathe have all helped, all of the little things soon add up.

“Time is a healer”

Okay, so I straight up wanted to punch everyone square in the face who said this to me (note. do not punch wise old Grandma in the face). Unfortunately it’s true, time is a healer. Keep on doing you and the rest will fall into place.

Don’t look back 

As time passes, the desire to look back will become less and less to the point that you will no longer want to at all (trust me, it’s liberating).

Scars of a broken heart won’t ever heal completely, but don’t let that stop you from putting your heart back out there. Remember, if you can love someone who didn’t deserve your love so much, imagine how much you’re going to love the right one.

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Thanks for reading.

B x








Google Guy

So, before I continue with my dating disaster story, I wanted to summarise a little bit about Oscar (Google Guy). So Oscar and I dated for six months, so this post will be spread over two. Now, before anyone feels this will be a “man bashing” as a few people have so eloquently described my blog, I just want to confirm Oscar was a great guy, however, sometimes a great guy isn’t always the right guy and just because someone looks great on paper doesn’t mean they necessarily do the job for you. My time with Oscar definitely showed me that there are nice guys out there, it also taught me you should never pretend to be someone you’re not, as you will find out …

Following a couple of drinks and getting to know one another, Oscar told me that we were booked in for dinner at a nearby restaurant. I have got to admit I was a smidgen impressed with his organisational skills (better than mine). We headed over to catch our reservation. As we walked over, Oscar continued conversation. I nodded where I was supposed to but wasn’t really listening. I was too busy eying him over, he was so well groomed and had a proper umbrella (I don’t know why the umbrella resonated as such a thing, but it did) I was still making observations when I heard through Oscar’s mumbles, the words “keeping track on interest rates”. My brain stopped, I was with a real life grown up; interest rates, dinner reservations a proper umbrella. I was happy my pants and bra matched! I would have to make the effort to be more of a grown up tonight I thought, I’m pretty sure as that thought crossed my mind I stood up to look a little taller (because that makes you more of grown up – promise!)

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We arrived at the restaurant, Oscar and I sat down at the table I glanced around. As any central London restaurant should be at the weekend; it was packed and the atmosphere was lively. The restaurant we visited was Yauatcha , this was my first visit and following the first I would highly recommend to anyone (date location or otherwise).

The dim lighting and buzz of the open kitchen coupled with the smell of delicious Asian food was perfect and I felt immediately hungry.

As the menu came over I asked Oscar if he had been here before; he had multiple times with work, I opened the menu unsure of what to order and if I am honest unsure of what some of the menu meant.

As the waiter came over to take our order, Oscar recommended a few dishes and ordered on our behalf (I again found this grown up behaviour strangely sexy). We continued to talk about trips we had planned for the rest of the year. After chatting for a little while, the dishes of food started to arrive at the table. I was impressed by the starters and by the time the main dishes arrived I was feeling rather full from the food and wine. The waiter placed down the two large dishes and a huge bowl of rice- I immediately regretted my choice of super tight high waisted trousers…


Between us we managed to finish both dishes and drink more wine, by the time we finished I was no longer feeling sexy in my tight trousers. Oscar grabbed the bill and refused to let me pay. He then suggested heading up to the bar.

As we walked up the stairs to the bar, I felt rather self conscious in my tight trousers; I could barely breathe and felt like a sausage in sausage casing. I tried to breathe in as much as possible and headed up the stairs

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After dinner, we headed over to another central bar and again as per my typical date behaviour, I had one too many cocktails. 

At 1am we fell out of the bar and I thanked Oscar for another lovely date, I pulled out my phone to call an Uber and out of no where quiet, cute, grown up Oscar just unexpectedly threw it out there…

“Why don’t you  just stay over at my place?” 

I’ve had similar propositions in the past at the early stages but I’ve expected it from the said culprits, grown up Oscar had caught me off guard slightly. At this stage I just want to flag I have zero judgement on any woman sleeping with a person on the 1st, 2nd, 5th or 10th date – whatever you want to do, do. As long as you feel good. (For further thoughts on one night stands – please listen out for our upcoming Podcast).

Following my last first date mistake (please see Amazon Tom blog) I wasn’t ready to sleep with Oscar and after eating my own body weight in Asian food; I just wanted to get into bed and induce myself into a food comma. However, as the fresh air hit me; I realised how drunk I was and would probably pass out in the taxi. 

“Thanks for the offer Oscar” I said drunkly “but I’m not sleeping with you” I announced (there was that drunk word vomit again.) He genuinely looked taken aback and insisted that wasn’t what he was suggesting. He offered to get my Uber home, but would escort me as I was a little drunk (he was being polite). I did indeed fall asleep in the cab, turns out that when we arrive at my place, I wouldn’t wake up (it’s up there with some of the more embarrassing things I have done). As such Oscar took me back to his place although I’m pretty sure having his date take off her trousers, get into his bed and fall asleep was not his expectation…

The next morning I woke up early and my head pulsed with pain. Would I ever learn? I turned to see Oscar still asleep, I didn’t want to wake him after what a gent he had been the night before, so decided to stay in bed and hold in the wee I desperately needed. I looked around the bedroom to distract myself.  The were artwork canvases on the wall, matching furniture, shoes neatly lined up along the wardrobe, an alarm clock, the grown up umbrella and the duvet I was lying in was so comfortable (well in comparison to my Ikea’s own). He was a real grown up. Even from our date, I could see Oscar and I were at different stages in our lives, but he seemed like such a nice guy and after the last couple of disasters, it would make a change to hang out with a nice guy. It probably wouldn’t last that long any way…

Five months later and I woke up in Oscars bed (okay so it lasted a little longer than I initially anticipated). As the months had passed, Oscar and I had actually got a along better than expected and he made me feel incredibly comfortable and relaxed, as such I hadn’t fought back as time progressed.

I felt like such a grown up with Oscar; we went to lovely bars and restaurants, walks around the park, visited lovely XXX venues and I had a feeling we would soon be leading up to a weekend away. Oscar had truly confirmed that there were nice guys out there and I was enjoying my time with him … its just … there was still something that wasn’t clicking. As lovely, organised and practical as he was and I could see Oscar caring for me, I could never see myself on his shoulders at a festival, you know?

Initially I had put our differences aside, but as time had developed, our pleasures, expectations and morals around life in general were becoming apparent. Five months down the line, I knew I needed to start thinking about the long term but was happy as it stood …

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While Oscar slept in (something I don’t do) I got out of bed and headed to the kitchen to make coffee, as I stirred my machine filtered grown up coffee my mind wandered. I loved spending time with Oscar but my gut told me we weren’t a match. We had such different passions. We also held different morals; five months in and my friends were itching to meet Oscar, were as he had never breathed a word to me of meeting his friends. The fact that I had never met (or was close to meeting) anyone in his life; a housemate, a colleague, a friend also didn’t help my anxiety, particularly following Matt. I suddenly got an overwhelming on-the-spot panicked feeling and in all of five seconds: my brain had me believe Oscar was married, with two hidden children and a Volvo estate.#truestory (Thanks anxiety, you’re a doll)

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I stirred my coffee and tried to distract my irrational brain. Looking back now; I know a lot of my thoughts were irrational and surprisingly Oscar wasn’t leading a double life but this is the joys of anxiety and as any sufferer will know. It takes a lot to fight irrational thoughts and feelings everyday. To anyone who does deal with any form of mental health – keep going, you’re stronger than any “normal” person who doesn’t have to deal with it everyday. 


As I had mentioned; there had been a few occasions that made me doubt Oscar and I’s compatibility. Our sense of humours weren’t massively similar, he was a quiet guy (for anyone that know’s me…well… erm… I’m not), he also hated planning ahead in comparison to me who colour codes her calendar (honestly, I promise, I’m not cray). I also found myself filtering what I said around him a lot and I was slowly beginning to realise; I actually wasn’t ever 100% myself around him. 

Following my Friday night with Oscar, I was looking forward to spending the remainder of the weekend with my friends. Mini,I and a few others were heading off for a standard Shoreditch night. After saying good bye to Oscar – I headed over to Mini’s to spend the day prepping for the evening ahead. We all caught up on boy stuff; we talked about Mini’s ongoing work guy situation (4 months later still ongoing); I still didn’t get what was going on with that guy and how on earth he wouldn’t want to date her (but more to come of that later). 

We caught up on Oscar and I; I confided in the girls about my irrational worries and they talked me round (as always); they assured me that Oscar was definitely not married with children. 

“B – don’t worry about things like that, he most definitely isn’t married but I do think it is a bit weird that you haven’t met anyone” I agreed, it was slightly strange. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind before the night out. Like any girls, pre-night out we drunk a bottle (or two) of wine and took a copious amount of selfies. The task of selfies and pre-night out pictures tend to stretch out; one person normally doesn’t like themselves in the pic (normally me), blurry pictures turning out as drunk people can’t hold the phone and the issue of you and your bestie having the same “good side” (the struggle is real). 

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After filling our phones with selfies, we caught an Uber and headed out. I did the standard and added Mini and I’s picture to Instagram and within 5 minutes I heard my phone beep…. It was Tom. I hadn’t heard from him in a couple of weeks. Funny what a selfie does right?

“Looking good in your pictures B – are you out in Shoreditch tonight? Let me know if you are around for a drink.” I messaged Tom back with general conversation. I still really liked Tom as a person; but over the last few months he had drunk called me a couple of times and, I don’t know, but I always got the feeling that he wanted to say a little more than friendship. As such, I had never agreed to meet up. Although maybe it was just me… 

After a brief catch up over message, I put my phone away and we headed out to a few bars. As we settled in a first bar (with the first bottle of wine) we chatted about work and planning holidays, after the first bottle, the chatting then turned into dancing and we decided to head to a club. As we walked over, my phone beeped again, this time it was Oscar. 

“Hey, hope you have a good night – just heading out now – chat tomorrow.” – I messaged back before heading into the club. “You too – did you end up out near your place?” He responded quickly. “No, we ended up out in Shoreditch.” That was exciting; it would be pretty cool if we bumped into one another and nice to actually meet someone he knew. I replied “Same- we are just heading over to Dragon bar, you should pop over for a drink” Blue ticks flashed up, but this time, no response. I put my phone back in my bag, he was probably just at the bar or something. 

We headed into the club, went straight to the bar for shots and danced (a lot). The night was fun; we made friends with a group of girls (with great eyebrows) in the toilet and chatted to a hot group of guys (who proceeded to provide our next – and final bottle of wine). After a fab night, we ordered an Uber and after pulling my phone out of my bag – I was disappointed that Oscar hadn’t messaged me back. Did he not want to meet my friends? Was I overthinking it? I didn’t really know, but what I do know is that I decided that at 2am in an uber on the way to McDonalds that it was the perfect time to broach the subject with Oscar and I did what no person should ever do and sent a drunk text…

After a blurry journey back with Mini and chicken nuggets, I arrived home, polished off my fries and got into bed. As I slowly drifted off I was jolted awake by my phone – Oscar must have replied (to the message I could no longer recollect sending) – I drunkenly reached out for my phone. It wasn’t Oscar…


“B – I know you are with Mr Google now but I just wanted to tell you how stupid I feel for letting you go. You’re stunning and funny and I was just being a stupid man freaking out. I have my guard up and that is my downfall with stuff as a guy. I just want you to know that’s how I feel and I’m an idiot. If you ever want to catch up properly – let me know” 

I was (a little) shocked. I had a feeling Tom wanted to say something to me but hadn’t really expected the above. I looked at the message and knew Tom hadn’t been out drinking; it would have taken a lot for him to write that and he didn’t deserve a drunken response. Safe to say as much as my brain told me one thing; my drunk fingers began to compose a response. After putting together the message (which I forgot as quickly as typing) I put the phone down and put my head back on the pillow and put the drunk messages to the back of my mind. I could deal with that in the morning… 

My phone beeped – waking me from my drunken slumber. I turned over feeling fuzzy headed (the standard weekend feeling). I picked my phone up and my screen was filled with green notifications from Oscar and Tom. I stared confused at my phone; what was with all the messages. And then it dawned on me…the drunk texts…

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I unlocked my phone, dreading to think what I had written. As I read the messages back, I cringed. What was wrong with drunk me? I made the sensible (and obvious) decision to help deal with the messages…

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I joke! Turns out sometimes drunk messages do hold less than brilliant consequences and sometimes alcohol’s “honesty is the best policy” works….

Thanks for reading 


To Tinder or Not to Tinder

So this post (as well as more of my London story), focusses mainly on the app we all know – Tinder. I wanted to throw my thoughts out there around dating through Tinder (I will update on other apps in later posts) before telling you about my first experience with the dating apps. For anyone who is braving the dating scene or those who are a seasoned singleton’s and this app is merely part and parcel of your phone content; I’ve given some brief thoughts, experiences and hints and tips around this app and what my personal advice would be (and remember this is just my personal opinion);

What is it all about?

Tinder is the common red flame that flies (the red flame) for us singletons. For anyone who isn’t aware of tinder. This is what it is all about…

Tinder is an app that helps you match with people based on five or six pictures and a short bio. You can base your searches on age, sex and location (the modern and slightly more creepy ASL of our era. Some one bring back the simpler days of MSN please?). Once you have input your high level criteria, Tinder will then supply you with a plethora of potential profiles to match with. Once these profiles have been generated you then make a decision as to whether you would like to swipe left or right (left – not for you, right – they are for you).

Once you have matched, Tinder will open up a forum in which you and your match can strike up conversation. All makes sense in practice right? Well, here are some pro’s and con’s on the reality of the app…

Pro’s and Con’s


If you are a busy individual, Tinder is a great place to arrange dates. People are there for the same purpose (to meet people). It is easy to set up, easy to use and I have heard of quite a few “happily ever after’s” that have initiated through Tinder. If you are looking to meet people, are new to the area or just generally want to “get back out there” it can be a great starting point.


At one stage, Tinder was my “go-to” to arrange dates. After three years of being single, the appeal is faltering fast and this is not just with Tinder, but with most (not all) of the dating apps. If I am being totally honest around cons of dating through apps, my first con is around how boy’s treat the apps vs. girls. Now, I have a lot of fab guy friends/family and after numerous interesting and hilarious conversations, I have come to the conclusion boy’s basically do this…

Now, that certainly isn’t a generalisation but you know what I’m trying to say… A second con (or observation) is around how a dating apps make you feel as an individual. Me personally, I am a bit of a softie and I am not super confident, so having another person base whether they like me (or not) on a few selfies and a bio probably isn’t great for my own self esteem. Also (this sounds super silly) but  messaging someone and not getting a response is a little bit like going in for a high five mid air, only to be left hanging.

Don’t get me wrong using the apps for a while was fun (as you will see) but call me old fashioned’ I much prefer the interaction of a real life human being in a bar, my most successful dating stories have come from meeting people out and about over apps. Pictures can’t paint a chemistry nor can it paint your hilarious jokes and from personal experience it is far easier to explain to a guy face to face that you write a dating blog than over message without him thinking you’re a complete crazy person (they would only be half right)

So my advice, as a seasoned singleton, if you have a self confidence made of steel and aren’t aren’t in a vulnerable place, Tinder is a great place to start dating. But, be warned, I have had my share of horror stories from using this app, so maybe notch your “Prince Charming” dial a few levels and get ready to have some fun as well as cute stories to tell and always BE SAFE!

Happy Swiping!

Anyway, on with the story…

A few months down the line from Matt and a good few nights out with friends, I was already starting to feel better that not all men would be like him. I spent my time investing in myself (I will be posting about healthy break ups soon – so keep an eye out if you are post break up!). After experiencing the stress relief I had felt when I went out on my “post-Matt” run, I had started at a local gym and was hitting it 4 times a week. I was also doing what any lady worth the salt of her rebound would and shopping (usually beyond my means). Life was feeling better as I was developing a tight friendship circle and my anxiety levels following my new work out regime was at an all time low.

After a long week at work and the summer drawing in, Mini and I were spending Friday night doing our usual; getting dolled up in bathrooms at work to embark on our Friday night drunken adventures. As we scuttled around the bathroom performing the act of contouring and lip lining, we chatted about this evenings choice of location. As we are both East London based we usually stay this side of the river. Shoreditch and Hackney are particular regular hot spots. I rarely venture south of the river (the dark side), there are a couple of mistakes that loiter around there and for how big London is, I never fail to bump into them. As we regularly frequented Shoreditch, we decided to stay local (which we hadn’t done before) and embarked on a “Revolution”. I had memories of Revolution Bars from being a youngster up north, memories that I would like to erase, but non the less, pushed down my apprehension and headed out into Liverpool Street.

It was only 6.30 and the bar was already packed playing music loud enough to drown out Mini and I’s conversation. As we walked in, I quickly realised that this evening would be different… in front of us lay a sea of suits (and basically half of the population of Essex).We made our way to the bar (which was a struggle in itself) and after managing to order a bottle of wine went to locate our group and a spot that we could settle in.

The drink were flowing and after adjusting to the noise (I am not 80 years old – honest!) I started to relax and enjoy myself. Looking around; Liverpool Street Revolution was extremely different (and not one of my favourite places if I am being honest). The ceilings were high, marbled floors paved the room and an over-indulgent chandlier hung from the roof. Whilst chatting to the girls, I looked around the room and started to find myself amused by how similar the boys in this place were. Clones of Colchester surrounded us and after a while would start to drift over to the table. After a couple of visits from suits, I realised that the boys were actually replicas of one another and all had a very similar (not so affective) approach.

“Awight Giwl” was the generic greeting. Translation: “Hi beautiful” With a lean in revealing matching pocker-chief tie and if you’re lucky – socks. After the super smooth greeting and a smoothing of the Essex combover; you will then be immersed in hearing more about this catch’s job; he usually works in recruitment, IT sales or trading and is super successful (not a graduate), if the job isn’t enough to impress you; the fact he has been to Marbella or Vegas this year certainly will.


Following a few more bottles of wine and lots of dancing, the night picked up further and the bar continued to cram. We decided some colourful sugar loaded shots would be the thing to continue to spice up the evening, in reality they just made me feel a little sick. As we continued to dance, I suddenly felt a creepy hand on my waist. Hoping it was Miriam, I turned around and in front of me stood a short, Spanish man in leather jacket. Although it was highly offensive that he felt it appropraite to grab a strangers waist, give the man credit, at least he wasn’t in a suit. I awkwardly shuffle danced (you all know the one) back towards the girls, politely declining the charmers advances. Now usually the shuffle dance AWAY from somebody usually sends the vibes that you aren’t interested. Luckily, I have a talent for attracting the best of the best and as such my shuffle dance did not deter short Spanish gent.

He pulled up beside me and in his strong Spanish accent slurred”How are you beautiful?” (whilst continuing to try and put his mitts on my hips) I recoiled. Ew! “I’m great thanks” I replied in the most mono/dis-interested tone I could conjure. However, Spanish man clearly was a fan of the chase (imaginary or otherwise). He continued to talk at me and did not take the hint even when my friends tried to intervene. After 10 minutes or so and basically downing a glass of wine; I was starting to lose patience and when he turned, I quickly took the opportunity to bolt through the crowd. I thought I had finally made my escape when I felt

“Ahh – pretty lady – where are you going, you no want a kiss from me?” he slurred as he pulled me back towards him.

Okay, I couldn’t take this anymore, I pulled my hand away…

“Stop” I hissed and held up my hand like some deranged and drunken power ranger.

As I paced back towards this girls, frustrated by the ordasity of the Spanish creeper (what boy honestly thinks this is okay). I was suddenly halted in my tracks before I could reach my group by a curvaceous Latino looking lady. She pushed my shoulder and in a stronger Spanish accent than the previous Spaniard I had already been subjected to this evening shouted..

“Ey-a skinny lady, why you dis-a-respect by baby brother eh?!” Had I unknowingly stepped into an audition of Anime Latino?! Drunkenly (and certainly not sensibly) I stood my ground. “Well, yes” I raised over the music. “He is just won’t leave me alone, so, yes I am disrespecting him. Okay?” following this response, I also did something that I have never once in my life done before and clicked my fingers at the end of my sentence (Don’t ask, I don’t have an answer for you)

My white girl whip further infuriated the Latino sister, who then began to shout (what I’m going to assume meant bitch or something along those lines) in Spanish at me and advance on my “skinny white ass” (as she so kindly put it) Luckily, I started to back up and got back to my group of girls (thank the lord for the awkward dance shuffle). Following my return to the group, the Latino lady and persistent brother finally retreated. Breathing a sigh of relief after the brief stand off. I decided the only cure was another wine from the bar.

I walked back over to the large marble bar, with my drink order in tow, I was about a metre away when I tripped over a giant umbrella (classic smooth move from your truly). Flustered, drunk and pretty much done with the evening, I recovered myself, what moron would leave a giant umbrella in the middle of a bar I thought to myself.

“Hey! Sorry about that” I looked up at the umbrella perpetrator and felt immediate forgiveness. The owner of the umbrella was 6”2, suited in a classic tweed number (with no sign of matching accessories in sight), he stared over his cute circular glasses “Are you okay?” he asked.

I tried to recover from my embarrassing fall, by flicking my hair (which then whipped him in the face).

We started to chat (turns out a lonely umbrella and blinding someone with a whip of your hair is a great ice breaker). I remember very little of the conversation. He told me his name, his job, about the fact that he had just broken up with his long term girlfriend and even through the drunk haze; I could tell he was pretty cut up about it (boys have feelings too you know). After more shots, dancing (and a cheeky kiss), we decided to call it a night. I took the Umbrella guys number and this is where I will take a moment to emphasise why meeting people in a bar supersedes apps. Nothing ever happened romantically between Umbrella boy and me, however, he is now one of my close friends and I can always rely on him for advice and giggles. The first example; BETTER IN BARS!

The next morning, my head felt the familiar dullness of a hangover. Why did I never learn? As I lay hungover in bed I felt what we all felt in that vulnerable state, the overwhelming need for a cuddle. I flicked through my phone to distract myself, when a small forgotten red flame caught my eye. Now I’m not sure whether there was something was in the air that morning (or I was feeling needy with a hangover) but I opened the app and started to swipe.

As I swiped, Tinder quickly reminded me of why I never used it. As I swiped through and matches popped up; the underwhelming messages and cheesy one liners bored me. I turned to grab water from my side table and as I leaned over my head felt fuzzy. Why, oh why had I mixed my drinks. Wine, shots and then the gin, why gin? Ugh.

My phone buzzed and brought me back from drink-fuelled day dream. I had a Tinder message;



“Currently the only love in my life is Gin”

Ah, gin. At least we had one thing in common. I flicked through his pictures; he was really cute.

“Come on then Miss Funny. Tell me a joke” the message from Tom read. (The Miss Funny comment related to my unimaginative Tinder bio). Truth was I couldn’t be funny on command and after explaining this to Tom, we went on chat (quite a lot).

Turns out Tom and I had more in common than just gin; we liked the same Netflix series, movies, chicken wings, boost chocolate bars (all the important things in life obviously). He had a pretty cool job working for Amazon and after our conversation; we arranged a date for the following week in which I could prove myself as funny,

The following week, date day came around quickly. Through the day, I was in meeting after meeting and skipped lunch (note. this is not great pre-date game as you will soon find out). When 5pm came round and after a standard quick change and spruce in the work bathroom, I walked over to Liverpool Street station to meet Amazon Tom.

After the busy day, I had completely forgotten that I was going on an actual date and this was my second ever real date (I had always had a boyfriend before) and as I walked over, the pre-date nerves set in. What if he didn’t look the same as his pictures? What if we didn’t get on as well in person? What if he asked me about fat fetishes? (the possible disasters where endless) as I turned the corner to our meeting location, I looked around to try and spot Tom’s face when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned, caught off guard and out of nowhere a gust of wind blew and disheveled my hair that I had just brushed into precise place. And there stood Amazon Tom, granted I hadn’t expected to meet him looking like a confused member of Fraggle rock, here we were face to face. He looked exactly like his pictures, in fact cuter with his little geeky glasses and laptop rucksack. “Hi!” he said (his accent was cute) “Are you okay?” he asked noticing my flustered appearance. “Yeah I’m good thanks, I think I was a bit lost” I lied. Tom laughed. “Yeah it can be a bit confusing with the two entrances right?” I smiled a little uncomfortably, first dates can be so awkward. “Here” he said rummaging in his back pocket, he handed me a boost chocolate bar and (like the chocolate would) I melted and all of a sudden I wasn’t nervous anymore.

Little was I to know, that a lot of things were to come of this evenings date that I would never have dreamed of. Turned out my first Tinder date was going to take an unexpected turn and that Amazon Tom would become a bigger feature in my dating life than I initially imagined….

Thanks for reading again and I hope you enjoy the next post when you can find out exactly what happened on mine and Tom’s first date (gulp!)



Matt the Magician…


So after my first experience in the dating world turned out to be a disaster (please see my first post) I decided to give Matt another chance; following the French feeding fiascow all of a sudden the odd penis picture didn’t seem like the worst thing in the world. For anyone just starting to read this blog the above sentence may seem as though it should be questioned; read back, it shouldn’t.
I was settling into my new job and starting to build my own life. For anyone that has moved to London or any new city for that matter, you will know, it can be a slightly daunting experience and I always like to share everything, including the bad bits, so hopefully you can relate. As London was so new to me and I didn’t know many people. I was throwing my time into events at work, fitness classes and had started to make new friends. On another positive note Matt was actually acting less like a disappearing act and we were dating regularly. After 5 months of regular (ish) dates; things weren’t the fairy tale I had quite imagined, but he had been a consistent in my fairly new life and I liked having him around. Matt had also surprised me by booking a surprise weekend away and I was looking forward to some time out of my little apartment.

When the weekend arrived, Matt asked me to meet him at Leicester Square. It turned out he had booked a fancy pants hotel and theatre night, the first real couple thing we had done (unless Pizza Express counts? No? I didn’t think so). We stayed in the W Hotel, one of my favourite drinking spots in London so I was looking forward to the cocktail filled weekend ahead.

We checked into the room and it was everything you expect a W to be. White linen sheets, quirky throw pillows, a centre bank with a fancy sink (for all the washing up I would be doing?). The only issue I had (and I am sure wasn’t one for Matt); every wall was a mirror. Following the packed tube journey I had endured over to London, I wasn’t keen at the multi-lense vibe the room had. No one needs to look at humidity induced hair from every angle there ever was. Nest-head aside, the room was lovely and a change from my tiny apartment.

After dropping our luggage, we headed out and enjoyed a night at the theatre. The night was great, we laughed a lot and the show was great. When the final performance came to a close, I glanced over to Matt to say thank you. His eyes glued to his phone, he didn’t even look up. I suppose that was just the one niggle that came from the evening. He was constantly on his phone- even mid show? I brushed it off, he was a busy guy, it was nothing.

On the way back to the hotel we decided to pit stop for a final cocktail. Although I had tried to brush off Matt’s phone addiction, the girl in me (probably due to the wine consumed that evening) started to become a little worried. Matt and I had been seeing one another for a while now and had never really had the conversation as to whether we were seeing other people. After the french feeding disaster, I certainly hadn’t been dating other people, but I realised I had never asked Matt. We had reached the awkward stage where we weren’t casually dating anymore but not quite ready for the “what are we?” question. Seeing as Matt had never brought the subject up, I had never really wanted to and I didn’t want to come across as the “needy girl”, you know as I was just so relaxed and super breezy (PAH!)

After a cocktail in the bar I finally managed to ask Matt the question. I casually managed to slip this in mid-food chat (please don’t applaud, I am aware I am quite the conversationalist). After asking the question about dating other people, Matt didn’t really react the way I thought he would. He shuffled awkwardly in his seat and then blurted out. “B, you’re just so pushy sometimes – it just puts pressure on the evening.” I sat back a little bit surprised and not sure how to take what he had just said. I didn’t think my question was pushy and in comparison to how bossy I certainly can be, I was being sensitive around Matt’s feelings. I felt tears prick my eyes but held back, that was pretty mean.

Just going to break here as I have always wanted to ensure this blog talks about and advocates being open around mental health. I suffer with anxiety (less so now than back then) and sometimes people don’t realise how sensitive throw away comments can bother anyone with self esteem, confidence issues, anxiety, depression. I remember at the time Matt’s comment really upsetting me and I thought about it for days afterwards. I also vividly remember an occasion in primary school in which one of the “popular” girls ridiculed my super cool poppers (that I wore un-popped to the stop I might add, I know, hot stuff!). I still think about it it to this day (as I also think how great it would be if poppers made a comeback). So on a serious note, you never know what people are going through or how they feel. Some people are hyper sensitive, some people are going through tough times and struggle to communicate it, your comment may be the one to make or break someones day, so try and be kind – always.

Anyway, following Matts comment the evening for me felt pretty slumped. I had finished my cocktail sharpish after the pushy pun. We left and when the cold air hit me I actually felt a little more wobbly than I initially anticipated. We walked back to the hotel, I had to focus an immense amount to make it back in a straight line.

I opened the door to the hotel room, the mirrors and glitz no longer seemed glamorous and pretty, it was bright and actually making me feel a little nauseous. I also had another problem, even though my evening felt slumped, Matt clearly wasn’t on the same page.


While Matt tried to kiss me, I closed my eyes and tried to not focus on the room feeling like a merry go round. Matt’s persistence was pretty annoying. I just wanted to sleep. Shamefully ladies, the desire to sleep overcame any urge to have a conversation with Matt about how much I would rather sleep than have sex with him (I imagine this is what marriage feels like). So I took one for the team (the team being two; one =me two= Matt’s ego). I sound pretty mean here, it wasn’t that the sex was awful or anything (I mean it wasn’t great either). But I put to use the acting skills I had acquired over the last 5 months with Matt in the name of sleep.


Following my Oscar worthy acting class I was still feeling pretty sick and not tired (always the sign of a good acting lesson). I stood up, butt naked, nest hair firmly in tact. I realised Matt was staring at me, so in my drunk mind swaggered across the hotel room, evidently thinking I looked like some post-sex dream


As I reached the bathroom thinking I had nailed sexy. I pushed the door (still sexy) and it didn’t budge (not so sexy). I confusedly eyed up the door and quickly realised it was a mirror. I looked round the room and my brain checked in to remind me that was every pane (wardrobe, shower, toilet) was a mirror. Not wanting to drop the sexy post-sex aura I was so blatantly oozing, I decided to slowly slide (yes slide) gracefully across the mirrored walls. As I edged around the walls, I realised I was doing it, I was keeping up the sexy facade, whilst in the dark and drunk. I was such a winner.  I turned my head to check if Matt was looking and my eyes met the mirror;


Okay maybe not so sexy. The reflection of a naked what looked looked homeless, climbing the walls mental patient stared back at me. I turned back to the bed and realised Matt was asleep. Thank god. I not so gracefully manoeuvred my way around the room and found the bathroom door, finally. Once I made it to the bathroom it turned out I was past the point of being sick. I lay down on the cold floor, grateful of the soothing cold tiles on my face. That was all I had needed face tile therapy, of course. Finally, the room had stopped spinning and my eyes slowly started to close.

“Thud, thud, thud” my eyes opened groggily to the sound of some heavy house music playing in the W bar below us. I lifted my head, confused by the rude awakening. I must have drifted off on the lovely cool tiles. … Better get myself to bed. I dragged myself from the floor and walked back to bed. Matt was asleep and rather than wake him, I clumsily climbed over him to get into bed. My head hit the pillow, finally …rest.

“Buzzzz Buzzzzz”

Urgh, was that my phone? I turned and the noise stopped. I started to drift away…

“Buzzz Buzzz”

I sat up and set off on the hunt to stop the vibrating noise so I could rest my wine filled head. As I hunted round in the dark I realised the noise was coming from under the bed?! I lay on the floor and reached out – my finger tips stretched and grasped the culprit… I pulled back and looked at the guilty object. It was Matts phone with the name KERRY flashing up on the screen. I was still feeling a bit dazed, maybe I was dreaming

A quick break for context; so Kerry was Matt’s ex fiancé, they had broken up a year back so I was feeling slightly confused as to why she was calling at 3am. Matt and I had spoken about our exes at length, in fact the reason we had initially starting talking was we had shared frustrations around our break ups. Matt had always complained about Kerry and had said they hadn’t spoken for a few months now. I got back into bed and tried to rationalise the call in my brain. It was probably just a drunk call, yes, a drunk early AM I miss you call (we’ve all been there). My brain and I confirmed this was definitely the case and I got back into bed, so why wouldn’t my gut let me sleep…

The next morning when we woke up; Matt didn’t mention the drunk Kerry call. We left the hotel for a long brunch and laughed a lot. (Matt had once said we would have a laugh in the middle of a field and it was true – we always had fun and his charm seemed to  make me forget the cancellations and late night ex calls). After Matt left, I headed home and the next week was very standard; work, eat, breathe etc. When Friday finally came round I was grateful for the weekend but also pretty nervous as I had a mate date booked. For anyone who has moved to a city on their own in their 20-somethings, it can be a pretty daunting and not-so-comfortable experience if you don’t know many people. Making friends in school is not quite the same and truth be told, that had been the last time I had had to do that.

My mate date was with a girl called Mini who I had met through work. We were heading to Golden Bee for roof top cinema and cocktails and I was actually pretty nervous. We arrived at the bar and walked up to the roof terrace. We stepped out to the cosiest set up. There is a huge fire pit surrounded by out door lamp heaters, seats with blankets, a bar pouring colourful cocktails and a hot dog stand. I was in my version of heaven AND Mean Girls was about to show.

Mini and I had the best evening. We chatted about work, nights out, quoted a lot of Mean Girls (I want my pink shirt back) and of course the inevitable subject of boys. It seemed Mini (like most girls) had her own boy problems so we discussed at length “what was wrong with boys in London” (thesis style stuff there). We then moved onto the subject of Matt; after giving Mini the down-low; she automatically took an instant dislike to the the story “Are you sure he’s a good guy?” she asked. I reassured Mini that he was and that he had upped his game recently; but the 3am call from Kerry still niggled in the back of my mind. “You should try dating more than one guy – don’t put all your eggs in one basket” she said “Have you tried Tinder?”


I had never tried online dating, then again, I had never really dated. We downloaded in the bar and spent the rest of the evening giggling at matches and awkward conversation starters. Just to make you smile, here are some of my personal faves (believe me, I have questioned the world as well);

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Just the kind of man I want to take home to Mother ^^^

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Dental Hygiene is what I look for in a man ^^^

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“Pat in a hat” – you couldn’t write it… could you?

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I’ll take the gent on the right ^^^

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I really want to say Hi ^^^


I would like anyone to look at me the way he looks at his …erm… violin?^^^


I just… I just, I just can’t… ^^^


A personal fave ^^^

Is this what London had to offer?! I continued to laugh of the profiles while swiping with Mini but on the way home hurriedly deleted the app. I couldn’t date more than one guy, I barely had time for myself let alone two other people. Plus the profiles that I had seen made me pray to baby Jesus that I would never online date.

A few months went by and through winter and in the lead up to Christmas I didn’t see Matt too much. I really felt for him as he seemed to hit a run of bad luck – he slipped a disc in his spine playing golf, he was pulled into last minute important board meetings constantly and even contracted short lived illnesses. As time had gone by, I actually felt like our relationship had morphed into a pen friendship as in the lengthy gaps in seeing one another face to face the only caught via whats app and occasional phone chats. Still, I was out every weekend with my new work colleagues and wasn’t feeling the stress of it – in fact the more time I spent in London, the thought of being single was really starting to appeal. Outside of tinder, the bars of Liverpool Street and the City are always full of a particular type of gent; suited, sexy, successful (this is normally coupled with an egotistical sense of self or a girlfriend that they cheat on constantly) but none the less amazing eye candy with a cocktail.

I found myself falling in love 3 times a day on my commute in. Ladies – It’s true what they say … suits are a killer! It appeared my distracted manner had come to Matt’s attention and following his most recent ailment of glandular fever he made a speedy recovery and arranged a date for us on the run up to Christmas.

When we met up – it was easy as always; we laughed and joked again and I always ended up forgetting how flaky he was. “B, I’m so sorry for everything that’s been going on – I just seem to be having the worst luck and I know I’m fucking this up” Matt genuinely looked like he was going to cry. Jeez! Why was I questioning everything he did so much – he obviously cared. “Look B, I really want to show you that I’m committed to you and this and us – I know I was wary at first but I really do want to be with you” – I was taken aback, after the dismissive comments I had received when I had questioned dating other people a few months earlier – I was a little shocked. “So, I was thinking, if you don’t mind, how about at Christmas, before I head off in the new year on holiday maybe we go to Manchester and I can meet some of your friends for drinks or stay and meet your parents?” At that point I almost spat my drink out. This was a bit of a turn around. I stuttered in agreement and when I left Matt; text Mini to tell her about the break through. She seemed less enthused but I brushed it off – I was excited!

The end of December came round quickly and I had my bag packed ready for the Xmas break back in Manchester. Matt was heading round at 11am and we were travelling up together. My house mate had already left so I had the place to myself and was sat on the sofa watching mindless Christmas movies. I whats apped Matt “So excited to see you! You better be a good road trip buddy”. I looked at the clock and it was 10am, lots of time – I laid back on the sofa and must have drifted off…

My phone ringing, jolted me awake. I scrambled round looking round to answer. Whoops – how long had I been asleep? Matt was probably trying to get in. I pulled up the screen “Mum” (a call was always Mum).

“Where are you sweet heart – its 1300? Haven’t you set off?” 1300?! How had I slept through Matt’s call.

“Mum – I’ve got to go I’ve overslept” she ignored updating me on Christmas dinner, turkey fat and potatoes, I managed to politely say bye and hang up. I looked at my phone…I was confused – there was no missed call from Matt, he hadn’t read my whats app and there was no response. What was going on? I dialled his number and his phone went straight to answer machine. A thought crossed my mind “Surely he wasn’t going to stand me up” – I shook it off – no one would do that surely – it was just too mean.

Unfortunately my gut (as always) had been right, I waited for another hour and I didnt receive a call or text from Matt nor did he show up. How had I been so stupid to believe that he had changed? Tears welling in my eyes, I lugged my case down to my car and started the drive home. I sat in the drivers seat and looked in the mirror to wipe tears from my cheeks- why was I letting this guy make me so upset? And why had I been so understanding? Feeling rather foolish, I put my foot down and turned the music a little louder! Suddenly my phone rang through the blue tooth and interrupted Toni Braxton “He wasn’t man enough for me” It was Matt” – I answered immediately. For anyone who knows me personally – I have a choice vocabulary at the best of times and Matt felt the brunt of it on this occasion.

“B, I’m so sorry” he tried to get in between my rant.

“There’s no sorry this time Matt – this is over”

He sighed “B there is an explanation” – I hung up – I didn’t want to know or care about his explanation.

But it turns out ladies there was an explanation .. but it didn’t come from Matt and it wasn’t one I wanted to hear…..

Thanks for reading again x