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The D Words

Dating, diets, dilemmas, drama and daily life.

Welcome

Some E-Cards

Well hello there.

Welcome to my new blog. In the past, I have started many, and after one post, figured out my life is pretty dull and no one should have to read about it.

But that was then.

So here I am again, about to try writing down my thoughts, experiences and down right bad luck stories, since there seem to be many. Here’s a bit about me that might be helpful to know… I’m 26. I once weighed over 17 stone. I have lost lots of weight with more to go. I have spent the past 20 months, or thereabouts, ‘dating’ unsuitable, and some downright awful, men. And by men, I mean boys.

Now, that is a very quick and basic round up of my life. Worry not, the rest is to follow.

Hope you enjoy my blog. Comments, however critical, are always welcome, however hate is not.

Good day to you all, kind Sirs.

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Featured post

October Life Update

I have quite a lot of updates!

  1. I think I may have inadvertently got my self a boyfriend.
  2. I got rejected from yet another job.
  3. I got fatter.
  4. I am sober.
  5. I am unhappy about being sober.

I shall explain all. I accidentally went out one night with some guys I know from the pub quiz, and ended up bringing one of them home. Nothing happened, with the exception of a cheeky kiss and a bit of spooning. I didn’t think much of it, as I had to throw him out the house when I ran to catch a train. I saw him the following week, and it was mildly awkward, but nothing I can’t handle, then out of the blue, a week or so later, he messaged me asking me if I fancied going out for his friends birthday. I had to inform him that I couldn’t, and it was then he asked me if I wanted to go for dinner at his the following night. I was quite apprehensive, but said yes, and a month later, we’re still seeing each other. He’s such a gent though, hasn’t laid a single finger on me. It’s excruciating. I guess we’ll see where this goes.

Next on the list is being rejected for a job. Again. It was a promotion at work, and I felt like the interview went really well, as did my presentation. When they told me I didn’t get it, they gave me the best feedback. Made it sound like I gave the most perfect interview ever. No criticism at all. Yet the people they gave the jobs to came out of their interviews claiming it hadn’t gone too well and that they hadn’t answered all the questions. The most frustrating thing is that it was a panel interview, and there was a different interviewer present on the days. I’ve been told that the next job is mine, but that’s not really helpful to me right now. I was super gutted, but I am in the process of applying for a job in another country! Onwards and upwards I guess.

Finally, I’m a chubster, as previously discussed. So as well as being a fatty, I’m a sober fatty for October. I’m going sober for october to raise money for Macmillan Cancer Support. It’s not at all fun. All I have wanted, in the lead up to and after the interview, was a nice bathful of wine. And then when I didn’t get the job, I wanted to drown myself in a good pinot grigio. Not fun sitting watching the boy drink over dinner either, especially with a bottle of alcohol free beer or wine with the alcohol removed. Life is hard.

Bravo to those of you who are teetotal. You’re a better man than me.

The F Word

Today, Idear_diet_3273784671‘m going to talk about ‘The F Word’. That one word that people apparently shouldn’t use.

No, I’m not talking about Fuck. Or Fuckity Fuck Fuck. Nor am I talking about Fanny. Or Foreskin. I’m talking about Fat.

I am fat and getting fatter. In today’s society, it is unacceptable to call someone fat, and rightly so. However, I am fat. It’s the only word for it. I know people out there will be all like ‘don’t body shame yourself’ but it’s my body and I am ashamed. I envy those people who are my size or bigger and are happy, but I’m not. I know it is completely my own fault. I’ve stopped the gym, I eat bad stuff, I have lost the will power I once had, which helped me lose 5 stone. I need to get something done about this. So I’m going to the doctors today, going to find out if I can get a Slimming World referral. I think I may be gluten intolerant too, so hopefully I can get that figured out and sorted.

So here is my new declaration (one of many)…

I WILL LOSE WEIGHT. I will stop being a fatty. I will stop eating crap. I will eat more vegetables and less pizza. I will get back to the gym.

I’m aiming to try and join the police, and for that, I need to be thin and fit. There will be more on that later. I plan to blog the recruitment, if I even get that far!

So for now…FATTY OUT.

One I just had to share…

I was on my way to work the other morning, bright and early 6.30am, and I received a notification saying someone had sent me a message on PoF. I always look at these with some trepidation, because they tend to be from very unattractive men, telling me I’m beautiful, or asking if I’m a mad scientist. But this one was something else. I mean, the username alone is unreal. Strechedahole. Stretch spelt incorrectly. ‘Da’ instead of ‘The’. Because the extra letter takes so much longer to type. Anyway, I digress. That username did not fill me with hope.

This is the message I got….

Untitled

And just in case I didn’t read it the first time, he sent it again 4 hours later. The thing that baffled me more than anything was that he wasn’t requesting to fist me, like some messages I’ve received, but he was asking if I could do it to him. WTF?! I must say, it cracked me up no end though.

Thought this was a good laugh for people on a Sunny Sunday Morning. Enjoy.

The One With The Nigerian Prince

Good day.

The story for today is that of the Nigerian Prince. The nickname comes from my house mates, since all of my many men are nicknamed in some way, and we’ve all had emails from Nigerian Princes.

Anyway, I got chatting to NP on PoF. Mainly because he was a very very beautiful black man, who was studying for a Masters at the local uni. Two major ticks in my boxes. We exchanged a few messages, then swapped numbers. I did find his text style a bit rude boy, and he called me ‘bae’ which should well have sent me running in the opposite direction, but I decided to give it a go, and agreed to a date with him.

We met at a nearby pub, and we got on quite well. There was laughter and wine, and he really was simply gorgeous. I found out about his background – he was from South Africa, and his dad was Nigerian, and we chatted like we’d known each other for a while. Then he dropped the bomb…

So casual chats going on, and we somehow got onto the talk of relationships and marriage. He asked me how long I would have to be with someone before I married them. I was like ‘riggght, this is weird’ but said that in my opinion, it would be at least 3 years. See, the way I look at it, it would be at least a year before I’d even contemplate moving in (and that is super quick, but I’m getting on now), plus at least two years of living together. He was quite taken aback and when I asked what he thought, he said six months. SIX MONTHS! At that point, I’m thinking he’s tapping me up for a green card, though I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that in the UK. It certainly changed the tone of the evening. He said it was a bit of a cultural thing.

We carried on the evening, but I definitely took a step back at that point. He invited me to go to a house party with him, but I politely declined, and he walked me home, like a true gent. He was lovely, a bit on the tactile side – always wanting to hold my hand or have his arm round me- but he didn’t try and kiss me, which was a surprise. He text me straight away saying he had a good time and wanted to do it again. Then he got OTT with the texting. He was like ‘I miss you’ and ‘I really like you’ and that was after one date! I just could not handle that. I let him down gently, told him there was no chemistry and I didn’t think we should see each other again.

To think, I could be engaged by now. Our babies would have been beautiful.

SPOILER ALERT – next time, it’s one from the archives. The Infamous Filthy Dave.

The One with The Kidney…

What an ominous title.

So the story goes… I met this guy on Tinder, let’s call him Kidney Dave. He was a bit older than me, he was 32 at the time, and I was a mere 26 years old, but I thought I’d try something new, since going for the 20-24 year olds was not going remotely well for me.

He was a decent guy, good job as some sort of presenter, in the TV business and doing videos for a local footy team, close to his family and seemed keen. Pretty quickly, things took a bit of a turn, and he told me that he had an hereditary kidney disorder, couldn’t drink (my favourite past time) and he was on the waiting list for a new kidney. Well, you know what ran through my head….he’s only matched with me for a kidney. Just kidding. I was very sad for him, his whole life was going to be hard work from then on. We met for coffee and we got on quite well, though I didn’t much fancy him really. I had what my friend calls ‘The Sickness’. This is when the thought of someone kissing you makes you feel sick, rather than excited. But Mum talked me into seeing him again. She’s a bit like that, you know, give the sick guy a chance. Then things started to fall apart. He said he liked me, blah blah, same shit, different man. Every time we organised something, he bailed. I gave him the benefit of the doubt so many times, knowing that he had hospital appointments and family stuff going on. But enough was enough, so I ended things.

Recently, I saw his name in my contacts list, so I decided to have a casual fb stalk to check he was OK. Turns out he got a new kidney and he’s doing well. I’m so happy for him. Glad he’s on the up.

But fo’ reals, only I could end up in that sort of situation. Like the time I think a South African/Nigerian male may well have been trying to get me to marry him…. Story for another day.

The Ted Triology

So I mentioned previously that I’ve had a bad experience with ‘Ted 3rd’. I thought I would take this time to introduce you to some of the many Teds I’ve had in my life over the past few years.

There are 3 notable Teds. I’m pretty sure there have been more over the past 2 years, but here is an overview of the ones that stuck around longer than a few messages.

Ted the 1st

So I met Ted I on tinder. In fact, I met all of them on tinder. He was an estate agent in a nearby city, looked pretty cute and we got on well. So we decided to meet up for a few bevvys. I met him straight off the train, and by golly gosh, he was so so much hotter in real life. Like WOW sort of hot. It was a tad awkward initially, but the convo soon started flowing and we were getting on well. We had a few drinks, there was quite a lot of laughter and then on the walk back to the station, he stopped and pulled me into a massive tasche sesh in the middle of the street. Now, he thought it was dead romantic, but I cannot abide PDA. He got a bit funny about that, but we carried on dating. We went out a couple of times, he came over for dinner and we were sort of together for a few months. It got to the point where I was sure he thought we were a couple, but I wasn’t so set on the idea, so I thought I’d be upfront and ask what was going on, since I was off on holiday and I wanted to know how to behave. And by behave, I meant whether I could go and pull lots of hot European boys, which I did. Anyway, he ran a mile. I’m not so surprised, and I wasn’t too bothered at all. We kept in touch on and off, then decided to reignite things around Christmas. He came over for ‘Netflix and Chill’ and we finally did the diiiirty. It was good. Very very very good.

Then he just disappeared. He didn’t answer my texts, he never spoke to me. I felt pretty shitty after that.

Fast forward 6 months, to me getting an apology from him. He text me completely out of the blue to apologise for going awol and for treating me badly, and he said he’d love to see me again, see how I was getting on etc. So, like a fool, I agreed. Then never heard from him again. What. A. Prick.

Ted II

This is a brief story….girl meets hot ginger boy on tinder, they text a lot, set a date, then he sees her social media, realises she’s not size 6 and bails. Classic bell end behaviour.

Ted III

This is the one that hurt the most. I actually really really liked this Ted. Out of all of the many, many men, Ted III was the one that I could actually see myself with. After a whole month of texting, I found he made me laugh a lot, I was always super happy to hear from him and he made me smile. Things kept getting in the way of us meeting, lots of family problems, job stuff and illness. He was moving from London to the city for a job, and I was pretty excited. He came to look at flats and he had an hour to spare, so we finally got to meet. It was so so easy between us, we laughed and got on so well. It ended with an awkward car hug/kiss but with plans to see each other again. The weekend came, and we were meant to be doing something, but he bailed. I know, I know, red flag alert. He made it up to me by coming to watch a musical at the local theatre and taking me for dinner. Again, it went really well, but he seemed to have a huge problem with my lack of affection. Now don’t get me wrong, I love a good hug as much as the next person, but I am just not very tactile in public. It takes me a while to get to that point, and he was still a relative stranger. But things were ok, and we planned lunch that week. He came over after work, we ‘watched a film’ but he kept mentioning the affection thing. I’m not really sure how he could say that when I was straddling him (and that does not mean we had sex, you filthy filthy minded person), but he still did. It was a couple of days after this that things went sour. He stopped texting as much, and then just stopped altogether. It really did baffle me. We had plans, and there was just no mention of it. I got drunk a week later and asked him what the deal was, and all he said was ‘Been busy, I’ll explain all later’, or words to that effect. It’s still very sore, it was only a few weeks ago.

So there you go. The Ted Trilogy.

September Life Update.

Well, I’ve just re-read my posts from January and am ashamed of myself. There’s me going on about getting back on the Slimming World bandwagon, and instead of losing weight, I’ve gained more.

There are no excuses. I have been lazy. I moved house, and with that came a far more social life, drinking more, eating out, less exercise etc. Although, I have taken on a personal trainer, and I am much stronger and muscular, I am still overweight. I rejoined SW in August, and lost 7lb but have been very very ill recently, so when I’ve eaten, I’ve not eaten well. Cue more weight gain. I’ve had enough though. I won’t be fat for Christmas.

I’m even more ashamed to say that a lot of my motivation is because of men. I know loads of people out there will be thinking ‘you should never change for a man’, but I’m not doing it for a man, it is for me. I’m just sick of meeting ‘decent’ men who then turn out to be total eejits. Things go so well, then they just bail. I rack my brain every time and there are two reasons that I can think of that could be the reason they leave –

  1. They’re on Tinder/PoF so are meeting other women, who may be more suited; or
  2. They like me, but I’m a chubster.

This comes off the back of, yet another, bad experience with a guy off Tinder. Let’s call him Ted the 3rd (there have been two notable Teds before him!). I’ll explain all that later.

Anyway, I digress… from now on, I’m going to eat better, exercise more and get thin. So then I can pull my own Ryan Gosling.

Check back for more updates 🙂

Tindering, Poffing & Match.comming

I’ve been single for a very long time. And by that, I mean roughly 10 years. Don’t get me wrong, there have been plenty of men who have shown an interest, and I could easily have gone off with the wrong men, the nice guys who just weren’t right for me, but I have really quite high standards. I just want a man who is funny, hot, tall, nice, not balding, fit, smart, has nice shoulders, tattoos and piercings & is rich. I really don’t see a problem here. Here’s a lovely overview of my dating history from roughly 2003 – 2013:

Childhood sweetheart – totes romantic. I’d had a crush on him for years and finally won him over with my wit and sparkling charm.

Rich guy – who didn’t go to my school, liked to flash the cash and end up being an arsehole.

Older guy – he was sweet but far too needy.

Housemate – biggest.mistake.ever. I lost my best friend when this ended. 18+ months of my life wasted on a guy who didn’t really want to be with me. He was embarrassed by my size. And so was I, but he did me a favour since I was settling anyway and he was dull as dish water.

There was a selection of many other unsuitables after these, none of them working out or being nothing serious. When I moved home in 2011, there really wasn’t anyone I even bothered with, since living in the countryside does not make for ideal dating pool.

Then came the evolution of Tinder. I had obviously heard about dating sites before, and had a slight foray into the world of PoF during my bored uni days, but never met anyone. After a while of city living, and only meeting work people and fellow gym goers, I got bored and decided to try the new app that was taking the dating world by storm.

Enter Tinder. Wow. Tinder is certainly a fun game. Meets up to my high, and unashamedly shallow standards. I got matches galore, it felt like Christmas. Or a meat market. I was talking to men, left, right and centre. Alongside this, I was on PoF. It was quite a lot to handle.

I’ve also tried Match.com but found no one on there worth paying to speak to. I was ‘allowed’ to be a patron of Beautiful People, having it been decided by the members that I was hot enough to be on the site.

I’ll let you in on all the horrible dates I’ve had at some point. Interesting is not the word.

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