Tinder and Blind

A modern day ‘fairy tale’? I disagree. The modern day fairy tale should encompass everything about the traditional, chivalrous Cinderella type fairy tale. But we’re lacking one thing. Conscience.

Guys are rarely chivalrous on a Tinder date, I mean how many people are really expecting to find their future wives on an app? If it happens, then great, the future of Best Men speeches will be riddled with Tinder inspired jokes of how the happy couple met. And you know, there’s nothing wrong with that, if couples are genuinely meeting this way and falling in love. However, the percentile of that happening is low.

Tinder is usually a platform in which we fancy the photos, possibly meet up, get blind drunk on the entire cocktail menu, then inevitably- if you’re part of the majority- get lucky. I have a friend who did a similar thing to this video. She went on a Tinder date, nothing untoward happened, a few weeks later he got back in touch, they met for a drink or six, and she went back to his. She snuck out of his apartment at around 1am once he had started snoring and ordered her Uber outta there.

Bad decisions make for good stories, but for her it wasn’t necessarily a bad decision. She knew he wasn’t marriage material, but she wanted to take advantage of the situation, so she did. How many times do you hear about guys having one night stands and never calling again? Well this time it seems, whether right or wrong, girls have the upper hand.

But no, we as girls don’t want to get a name for ourselves, so we still dote on the fact that we want the fairy tale ending, the prince charming to court us and shower us with gifts. But when we actually get a guy like that, we think he’s a bit keen and it puts us off..unless.. we like him first. If we are obsessed with a guy, then he starts the showering, that makes us happy, Cinderella eat your heart out.

So, my point. This video points out the very disappointingly realistic reality of dating today. Whether we like it or not, it happens. A lot. But it’s no fairy tale. I really hope there is more to girls and boys these days, I hope it’s a temporary phase of this generation and what we all eventually want, is ye olde happy ending- the traditional way.

A lot has happened since my last post.. Dubai guy had a work trip to Ascot and we stayed at Cowarth Park, part of The Dorcester Collection luxury hotels. It was a perfect weekend. While he played golf for work at Wentworth, I relaxed in the roll top bath, ordered room service, walked the grounds, then joined him to watch The Ryder Cup with the Director of the golf club, among other journalists.

We went out for lunch, drank good wine, relaxed in our robes back in the room then said our goodbyes on the Monday morning, back to work as normal.

Two weeks after that, I flew to New York where we met again. We stayed in a tower suite on the 51st floor of The New York Palace hotel on Madison Avenue, where neither of us would dream of being able to afford for a weekend, but luckily his job meant we stayed at the compliements of the hotel.

We got lost among the skyscrapers, had brunch, drank champagne (and tequila) till 5am and sipped on cocktails at a speakeasy. We had real American food and bumped into Cara Delevigne in Bloomingdales. It was another wondrous weekend together.

Now what? We live on different continents and we aren’t in an exclusive relationship, we both have great jobs in said continents and neither of us are going to be moving any time soon. So, is my international dating idea a bad one?

I know it can’t work (we have both said we can’t do a long distance relationship) I know that there are potential relationship opportunities in London right under my nose. And yes, I know it’s stupid and I shouldn’t put all my eggs in one basket..

Your first date has been set with the fitty off of another new dating app. This time will be different, surely, might be the future husband, this app is classier after all.. so now for the most important part of pre date prep, what to wear? Maybe channel Mrs Kardashian-West? Show off the booty (in a demure way of course). You wish. If we could all afford Balmain dresses, then yeah sure, the butt might have a chance, but living for happy hour means Balmain is a no go until you meet your future, rich husband.

So then what? You’ve seen this bloody dress in all the magazines and need it, in fact it’s niggling you, there’s got to be a look-a-like? YES. There is. The answer to all our celeb ‘wish we could afford’ clothes prayers has been answered. Finally.

Style on Screen find the outfits worn by celebs, and respond to tweets by all of us clothes hungry girls & boys. They will tell you what the original is, where you can buy it and also copycat versions and prices, thus saving flippin’ hours googling “where can I get Kim’s Balmain dress cheaper?”

Their new website launched today due to popular demand after two years operating from Twitter. It’s community led and driven, where people can share and help to find outfits and you can build your own portfolio of outfits to share. Everyone’s a winner.

After being given first dibs to play around on the site last week, I loved the follow feature. If you like a particular celeb’s style, or a TV show i.e TOWIE, you can follow them and get all their outfit info, fast. You can then choose what you want to do with the outfit, by clicking either “Share, Want or Buy” you have the power.

Suffice to say I’m now following Victoria Beckham’s style, not that I don’t already but now I know how I can channel her by buying more affordable versions of her style. This is bloody exciting.

The site also includes the handy feature of telling you what celeb and outfit is trending on social media at any given time, literally trending trends in real time.

I’m addicted and I’m sure this is going to be every first dater’s go-to website from now on. Visit http://www.styleonscreen.com for your fix.

This morning a client, friend and reader of my blog emailed me a link. It was of two videos. Before watching, I read the premise of it and got the gist that a woman had posted photos of her real self, a super toned hot blonde who easily attracted Tinder likes. In a social experiment, she agreed to be Mrs Doubtfired-up into a fat suit to meet the guys she had matched with, the results were sad.

At first I thought ‘well, if you go and meet someone who looks totally different to their photos, I would be annoyed, it’s a lie from the start isn’t it?’ then I watched the videos.

The way the guys go about treating this woman for putting what they thought were old photos up, is just vile. It proves that dating apps like Tinder aren’t just shallow, but they’re attracting small minds (in this case). A couple of these guys were talking to her over the app for weeks before setting up a date, they obviously liked her enough to meet just going by her personality.

One guy admits he was ‘agitated’ and ‘wasted gas to come here’ to meet the fattened up hottie. However, the ONE lucky guy who stuck it out and got to know her as a person, was told the truth come the end of the date and he didn’t seem to mind either way, a diamond in the rough.

On the contrary, the experiment also did the same thing with a man. Dressed an average looking guy up into a fat suit and his conquests turned up for the date. The girls all stayed, even if they questioned the photos, they stayed. One even kissed him.

So, is this proof that men are shallower than women? Would a guy rather be with an absolute stunner with no personality or brain? Does a girl care less about a guys look as long as she gets on with him and keeps her on her toes?

If this experiment is anything to go by, we are the fairer sex, and kinder..

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating obesity and I do get that people want to see the photos in reality, hell I look 10x better in my photos than real life, but what I’m saying is be kind. If the person in the photo doesn’t look like themselves, they’ve put on a few pounds, have dyed their hair, whatever, there is no need for the mean reactions. Stick it out a bit longer and you never know, you could end up marrying ’em.  

Update:

Dubai guy and I have decided to become international daters. This entails no commitment from eachother, other than committing to meeting in a different country at every date.

We have come up with a bucket list, be it a weekend away in New York (which is happening in October) or two weeks skiing the Alps, we’ve got it sussed.

I can’t commit to a long distance relationship. So, he can go on a Friday brunch in Dubai and roll in at 4am and I won’t moan. I can go out and come in off my face on gin, starfish face first on my bed and I won’t have 20 questions about where I’ve been, no argument of having to explain why I need the entirety of the bed to result in demoting him to the floor. It’s the best of both worlds! To be fair, we have been ‘out out’ a bit recently and both of us will message when we’re home, but not because we feel we have to, we just want to. Plus clearly we aren’t getting lucky with anyone else..

So an October weekend is our third country in the bucket list of dates. First was Dubai, second London, third New York. As he’s a writer he will be reviewing a hotel in NY to save us that cost- of which I’ve sent him a shortlist of the best to approach, and I have booked us brunch at A-list fav Balthazar. We’ll watch the sun set at the MET and probably get lost between skyscrapers, and quite frankly, I am buzzing about my new date bucket list.

It’s perfect. No stress of a relationship but with the adventure and excitement of the honeymoon period, every single time, exploring a different city/country/continent.

If either of us find someone else, then we’ll stop of course. Until then, bring on the next adventure..

Yes, that’s right. But not for me; his family live here so predominantly he was here for them, although we managed to plan a few days (and nights) together too.

Dubai guy, as he’s aptly known to my friends and (select few) family, will be familiar to you if you read this blog. Look for ‘the best date yet’ post.. Anyway we arranged the first U.K date at STK restaurant. I waited anxiously in the lobby of the ME hotel on Charing Cross, constantly crossing and uncrossing my legs wondering how to sit ‘cooly’ while he was in a cab on the way over. Blank thoughts running through my head and empty glances to the marble floor while the main door constantly swang with guests entering. I didn’t really know how to feel. He arrived after ten minutes and we embraced a familiar hug, resumed from six weeks ago.

We made our way to the restaurant and he soon slid next to me as opposed to opposite me, taking my face into his hands and kissed me. I playfully pushed him back to his seat weary we were putting off the other diners, and he reminded me that public displays of affection are a no go in Dubai, hence making the most of it here.. without getting arrested. Liberating eh?

After dinner we made our way up to the Radio rooftop bar, my absolute favourite spot in London. We shared a bottle of wine (I think) and caught up on anything we’d missed since I was in Dubai.

The next date was epic. His job allows perks, perks that entail reviewing hotels. Before he flew over he asked what new hotels there were in London that he could blag us a stay at, so I did some digging and asked him to check out the Edition hotel, a place I take clients for breakfast and would only dream of being able to afford to sleep there (or rather, not sleep).. He secured the date and we met there.

He had already checked in and came down to get me when I arrived in the lobby. Conscious I probably looked like a very underdressed prostitute, I smiled back at the receptionist as she addressed us both and greeted him knowingly. He told me they were extremely attentive- of course, they want an amazing review. I wasn’t complaining.. that meant we had the most amazing suite!

He opened the door and ushered me in. A bright, airy, huge room stared back at me, it was amazing. A (probably real) fur throw draped on the bed along with hundreds of scatter cushions, a couple of sofas in the corner next to a table stacked with huge coffee table books, and a tardis of a bathroom with a roll top bath and a huge shower (god, I should totes review this place) along with a monster TV.

We decided to make the most of the hotel room, by using the facilities of course (dirty minds) then went for a drink downstairs, and another on nearby Charlotte Street.

I had booked dinner at the new Hawksmoor in Knightsbridge (can you tell I love a steak?) as it would be his birthday the following day so managed to get us on the soft launch. We got our glad rags on and headed there.

I had emailed the restaurant weeks beforehand to inform them it was his birthday; at Hawksmoor they usually stick a candle in the dessert, however I was so full that I felt sick but I really wanted to show that I had remembered it was his birthday, so I ordered a peanut butter shortbread (the most incred thing on the menu FYI) and although he was also full to the brim, I made him commit to sharing with me.

The dessert came out.. candleless. So I was there forcing this bloody peanut butter shortbread down my throat which I really, honestly, did not need after eating a 300g fillet steak with all the trimmings, on top of a bottle of Malbec and glass of champagne, it’s making me feel sick re-living it. Anyway, after dessert I grab my chance while he’s gone to the bathroom. I tell the waiter he forgot the candle and he apologises profusely, telling me he will get us another one with a candle. Noooo we don’t need another dessert! I ask for drinks instead, so he gets us drinks and after another five minutes, a candle stuck in salted caramel rolos (another Hawksmoor speciality). He looked genuinely touched.. and I love seeing a happy face.

We leave and get the last tube back to the hotel. On our bed is a menu laid out asking us what breakfast we would like brought to us in bed and at what time. I felt like I was in Pretty Woman (without the cash or otk boots). This shiz happens in films, not to me. Living the dream.

The next day is his birthday, our breakfast arrives on the dot and we eat it in our robes while he opens a couple of gifts. We then go to Carnaby Street for some retail therapy and to kill time before he meets his mum in town. I planned on disappearing when that happened.. did my plan go to plan? No.

We were in Dune while he looked for shoes and I see him giving a wave out the door. “Is that your mum?” I ask, “yep”. SHIT, I’m meeting Dubai guy’s mum after staying in a hotel with her little boy. Classy.

She’s very glam and I don’t want to be too forward by going in for a hug or kiss, so I smile and she smiles back before asking how the hotel was. All I’m thinking is *I cannot believe I’m meeting his mum in Dune and she knows full well we stayed in a hotel.*

I make my excuses and shoot off. Not how I envisioned meeting the mum, then again I didn’t ever envision meeting the parents. We aren’t a couple after all..We’re just friends, who have messaged every single day since 4th May, and stayed in two hotels, been on holiday and had dinner out about ten times.

The rest of the stay consisted of him staying at mine a few more times. It kinda went like this: We went on a ‘double date’ with my friend and her boyf, spent two afternoons in different parks just chilling and lying in the sun, ordered Dominos in bed, walked through Brixton Splash crazy Reggae festival to retrieve a Nandos takeaway, and not to mention him attending a house party of mine, meeting my brother, housemates and friends while earning all their affections.

Tonight he leaves for Dubai and I won’t lie, I’m a tad emosh. Be it a great summer romance, it was definitely a whirlwind and maybe just what I needed after the abundance of weird dates. It reminded and reassured me that I can still feel if I need to.

‘Dubai guy’ was one to remember.

Nothing like a best mate..

It’s Sunday morning and I wake up with a festival hangover and the realisation that I have six days until two of my best friends tie the knot. Do I get emosh at the thought of these two very important people in my life spending their lives in marital bliss? Well, of course.. but this also means I have five days to squeeze into a bridesmaid dress I had made a size smaller than me.

What was I thinking?

“Oh I’ve got loads of time to drop a dress size, so can you make it smaller?” I asked as the dressmaker sucked me in and stuck pins through the silk.
“Remember we can’t add material, we’ll be cutting it off so you really can’t put any weight on if you want me to make this dress smaller” she replied.
Pff, duh, of course I’ll lose an inch in two and a half months, easy! Plus this is an incentive for me to have to lose weight. Of course I won’t be attending two booze fuelled festivals, a BBQ, copious amounts of dinner events, post work drinks in the sun, client breakfasts, or lunches.

Well I wasn’t planning on it, but it happened.

Extreme measures now need to be taken. So as I’m lying in bed I flick through next week’s work and personal diary with bated breath and see I don’t have any planned food engagements until Wednesday night; a three course dinner at the Hurlingham Club with clients, then date night at STK on Thursday.. so I have the first part of the week to work with.

What do I do? I run- yes, literally run four miles from my house to The Juice Well in Soho, through a major storm might I add. I arrive at the immaculate store on Peter Street, made up of high tech fridges which house bottles of colourful liquid. After talking to an expert nutritionist and juicemaster I’m told all juices are cold pressed, meaning they retain all nutrients, unlike traditional juicers which just extract the juice and taste nice. I’m told I can either do an intense green cleanse or a rainbow cleanse.

My breakfast and lunches

The green is made up of 6 bottles containing just 753 calories between them. This is a leaner, more challenging cleanse with a huge hit of chlorophyll which is deeply cleansing and detoxifying.
The combined daily intake of these 6 juices deliver more than 100% RDA of 19 vital vitamins & minerals and also contains 96% RDA of soluble fibre.

I couldn’t hack just 753 calories a day so I bought one day’s worth of the rainbow cleanse for £36 after being told that having a cleanse with as many pigments of the fruit & vegetable rainbow ensures you are getting the broadest nutrient dense cleanse possible.
The combined daily intake of these juices is 1090 calories & they deliver more than 100% RDA of 23 vital vitamins & minerals. There is also plenty of soluble fibre.

My plan? Split them across three days, replacing my breakfast and lunches with juice and having a proper meal for dinner. This is also because I’m doing around an hour of exercise a day and I still need to fuel my little muscles.

So I buy the rainbow cleanse, but I’m also starving so I buy  ‘The Daddy’ smoothie as my first meal of the day while I’m there, for another £6.

The Daddy Smoothie

That smoothie lasts me an hour and a half as I battle through the rain again and plonk myself on a tube seat home. At around 8pm I venture downstairs and am faced with a cooked roast chicken in the kitchen just staring at me, while my housemates have had a roasted feast. I close my eyes, open the fridge and pluck out a bottle of total green cleanse. Mmm dinner.

Last night’s dinner

That was yesterday.

This morning I wake up feeling ridiculously tired, eyes heavy and head light. I struggle to get dressed without collapsing onto my bed about six times. That could just be the extended festival hangover. I grab my bag of juice out of the fridge and start off with a bottle of reverse osmosis water (filtered, cleanest, most pure form of water there is, appaz) before cracking open a ‘Hunger Buster’ charcoal juice when I get on the tube. The black drink certainly attracts a few stares, along with a knowing glance from a skinny blonde who has most definitely done a juice detox, or twelve.

Hunger Buster

That lasts me ages and is actually quite nice, and before I know it it’s 11am and  I’m due juice number two ‘Bodyguard’. Unfortunately Whitney doesn’t blast out upon opening, but my reaction to the taste did require a minder. Extremely tangy and eye squinting. I could definitely taste sweet potato and lime, I prefer my sweet potatoes in the form of fries, from Hawksmoor.

Bodyguard

This one takes me two and a half hours to finish. Meanwhile at work I have already had a conversation with a client and called her the wrong name, three times. This is someone I’ve worked with for a year. Talk about juice brain.

Third juice is lunch, a ‘Green & Lean’ which I thought would be a winner as I’m partial to a green juice anyway. Not the case. Before opening it I take a walk to Topshop, and while walking through the handbag section, the smell of leather makes me think of cows, which leads me on to crave steak. I hurry through that section and buy myself a pair of shoes as a reward for not caving into anything apart from juice (and heels).

Green and Lean

This was another tangy one, lemon is basically what I could taste. In fact, three hours later and I still have about three sips left in the bottle. I should be on my fourth juice by now but I’m surprisingly full. Despite the steak image (medium rare fillet with béarnaise sauce accompanied by sweet potato fries and asparagus) not even thinking about that, not at all..

My mid morning snack

However, I promised myself a proper meal a day to help sustain myself so I’m going to have dinner but just need to take it easy seeing as I haven’t ingested solids since my post Lovebox munchies on Saturday night.

Tomorrow I have yoga at 7am and bootcamp at 6pm so I need to ensure my final day is stuck to without using calorie burn as an excuse.

Update tomorrow..

Tomorrow is today. Day 3

Last night was a mare. Remember how much I was looking forward to a meal for dinner last night? well, I was. I waited alllll day for a home cooked meal after my cousin invited the family over for dinner. We get to her house and she announces that they’ve all been out for the day and had a huge pub lunch, but that she had brought back the most amazing mushroom pie. Great news for my brother, not so great for me who can’t eat mushrooms without puking. So as I watch my brother eat his and my pie, I think this can only be a good thing, no carbs. Instead, my cousin makes me a fruit platter of strawberries, raspberries, apple and grapes. I eat my ‘dinner’ while my brother fully lols at the situation. I get home and sleep, surprisingly fulfilled.

Got up at 6am for my yoga class this morning, walked past various food establishments towards Regents Park including the aptly named ‘EAT’ which I nodded at and thought to myself ‘I know, I know, I’m mental’. After an energetic yoga class (I swear you’re not supposed to break a sweat) I arrived into work around 9am for my first juice of the day: ‘Deep Purple’ aka beetroot, carrot and cucumber juice. All I could taste was beetroot and it left me with some sexy (not) stained lips.

I then had a lot of work to do so didn’t have time to think about food until around midday when I cracked open my final juice of the course; a spicy gazpacho little number, tasted wellll nice! I really wanted to heat it up and have it as soup because it tasted like I should be having it with crusty bread. Alas no, it was in it’s bottle and I sipped around a quarter of it before feeling a bit nauseous. I also feel weirdly bloated seeing as I haven’t eaten anything in three days.

Realising I have bootcamp after work and I really don’t want to get injured or collapse due to lack of energy, I ventured out to Leon (via Ted Baker) and picked up a tomato, feta and lentil salad. Everything I have been reading has said to avoid dairy during and after a juice cleanse, of course I didn’t register this information into my brain until my first bite of feta. Too late. Yolo.

I then had solid back to back meetings for three hours. One client wanted to go out to soak up the sun: ‘Tanisha, let’s go to the pub for our meeting, it’s too sunny to be inside’. Great.. pub=wine. Know what I did? I’m so bloody proud of myself for this.. I took him to his pub and I ordered myself a green tea. GO ME. AND I even left the amaretto biscuit on the saucer like a poor little loner.

Venturing back to the office after my meetings and again I’m very aware I haven’t had any protein intake. Bootcamp is bloody hard work; weights, cardio, kettlebells for a solid hour and I really don’t want to be stupid and injure myself from lack of strength and consequently have to wheel down the aisle in front of the bride on Saturday. With this in mind, on my way back to the office I drop into Itsu and grab a salmon and tuna tartar for a pure protein hit. Even if psychologically that makes me feel better, I’ve done it and I can’t blame my juice on any injuries!

Tonight will be a protein shake after bootcamp and then straight to bed.

So, after having two meals a day replaced by juice (kinda), I can honestly say I didn’t feel ravenous over the last three days.  I didn’t have any chocolate cravings but I think that was down to me being really busy with work and not having time to reach for biscuits. Bearing in mind day 1 was on an extreme hangover, so I couldn’t tell the difference if I was hanging or hungry.

I don’t think I could hack a full blown juice detox though, two meal replacements has been enough and although I have lost 4lbs in this time, I’m still bloody bloated. Spanx for Saturday it is.

Last week one of my best friends announced her pregnancy, months after I was bridesmaid at her and her teenage sweetheart’s wedding. I am totally over the moon for her and she’s so ready to be an amazing mum. After the news, I couldn’t help comparing how different our lives are; both the same age, brought up in the same town, going to the same school and even the same uni at one point.

The difference? Lifestyle. I’m totally not ready for marriage and kids.

Me and my London friends say when it comes to settling down there’s a five year delay in London. We are social butterflies, out Wednesday- Saturday as standard most weeks, either at work events, client entertaining or with eachother for drinks or checking out whatever new pop up the city has to offer (in-between the bootcamps and latest yogilates classes of course). The majority of my London friends are single, I’m lucky as the ones who aren’t are just as fun and make the most of London life without letting their partners get in the way. The association of getting into a relationship is often negative through the eyes of single friends though:’God, she’s turned into such a bore since she’s started seeing so & so’.. Up until that moment we are all fishing for uptotheminute goss on the essence Sloane Square club promoter, the hot personal trainer, or whoever else has made the fit list that week. We want it to go well for them and we even have code names for the dates, but the second it turns into the fourth or fifth date, we panic, we don’t want to lose our wingwomen to the perils of a relationship with a boy. Pitchers of Pimms sat outside after a summer working day turns into a quick standing-up-outside-the-pub g&t because they have dinner plans with their new beau. Nooooo.

So for us Londoners, when should we settle down? I read a ’20 things single girls should do in their 20s’ list, and I’m on top of them all, and I am in love with my life, and yes there’s a but. At thirty do we all just turn into boring married couples?
Rachel from Friends freak out coming up: Ideally I want to be married for at least a year before the kid card gets raised..before marriage I would need to be living with the guy for around two years before he puts a ring on it, and before moving in with him I would need to know him for what, a year or more? Now I’m not the best at maths but if I’m expected to settle by the time I’m thirty, that means I need to find Mr Right, like, right now.
All of my single friends here have exactly the same mindset, we often talk about how much we love our lives and how lucky we are, we don’t take it for granted, not one bit. A friends boss told her the other day to stay single as long as she possibly can, because now he’s in his 40’s with two young kids, holidays are a fortune, he can’t remember the last time he woke up past 6am and he has resorted to shopping at Lidl after years of being a loyal Waitrose customer. He loves it though, he said to her that he well and truly lived his younger years how he wanted to, doing some raucous things in his early twenties and being a total lad right up until he got engaged. He told her once he knew he didn’t want to sleep with soho sluts anymore, he found the woman he knew he could ‘have on tap’, thus making her his wife. He is the most content man she knows, because he really did wait until he knew he wouldn’t be tempted by other women, or the lifestyle that comes with working in the media.

The thing is, I am extremely career minded and ambitious, and lacking time in my day to cram everything else in, let alone a man (obviously you can make time for what matters). I want a family one day but I don’t want any regrets, I want to bring up a family in the knowledge that I haven’t missed out on anything, I’m a total FOMO-er (fear of missing out) as it is, imagine holding my own baby and wishing I had done more with my life before having to dedicate my life to someone else way more important than myself? I have pledged to myself that I will only be holding my own baby when I’m totally content and have built a career successful enough to take time out and buy baby clothes.. After finding ‘the one’, or after he finds me.

I’m currently reading ‘Lean In’ by Sheryl Sandberg- voted one of the worlds most influential women by Forbes, and she interestingly brings up this point. She notes that in her time as a woman in business, the amount of women she has seen who freak out at my age, thinking they have to choose between a career or kids often means they turn down promotions or more responsibility in their jobs because they know they want children while they’re still at child bearing age, so don’t want to jeopardise that chance by having to choose their careers. She points out that once they sacrifice steps in their careers because they have a partner successful enough to carry them through, or are too scared to take on too much and not making it work, they are much farther back than if they had taken that promotion and waited another year to have children, as they could have then provided even more and gotten straight back into their jobs at a more powerful position, thus being advantageous for their children’s future as well as their own contentment.

So what I’m getting at is, 25 is the perfect age to have children if, like my friend, you’re in complete contentment with your life, have an amazing husband, the love and support around you to bring one up well, which she does, and most importantly be happy in your situation. She will also easily get her figure back having her babs at this age!
I’m definitely years behind that, but importantly, I’m totally ok with it. We all have different choices in life, mine is to do everything I want to do, be totally selfish and treat myself when I like, because then when I have a family, I know that everything I live for and do will be for them and not myself thus never being resentful.
In the meantime, I cannot wait to hit Hamleys and baby shop for the new member of our crew!

Most people start off meeting somewhere mutual before realising they like eachother, a few texts back and forth before organising a first date maybe. After a first date if both parties are interested, a second date is arranged followed by a third, and so it goes on. A first holiday is organised what, a few months down the line? Once you’ve decided things are ‘official’ and you feel comfortable enough being exposed in a two piece H&M bikini or a pair of Speedo’s for longer than a swimming pool outing.

So what’s the stance on a first, second and third date, oh and a holiday..rolled into one weekend..in Dubai?

Yeah. I kinda went on a date to Dubai.

It was the most spontaneous thing I’ve ever done. The reason I did it? Because I couldn’t think of any why I shouldn’t. The friends I told encouraged me to go for it: “It’ll be a good story to tell your grandkids. You can say that when you were in your twenties you took up an offer to go on a date thousands of miles away”. That sold it to me; I’ll be such a cool grandma. Well, no, that wasn’t the main reason. I got bored of dating incompatible guys, so I decided to give it a break and see if anything came to me. Ironically, a reader of this very blog got in touch with me after I had met him on holiday in Dubai a couple of months ago through mutual friends. He asked for the link to the blog after hearing about it through our friends, so I gave it to him.

Things quickly turned from generic chat to more subjective life chat. We messaged constantly for around two weeks before he popped the question, so to speak. He had won a night’s stay in a 5* hotel on The Palm in Dubai which he needed to use before July: “Don’t suppose you want to come and be my +1? It’ll only go to waste else” I read on my whatsapp.. who am I to turn that offer down? I’ll be doing him a big favour helping him use that hotel and I’m all for doing a good deed.

Firstly though, I didn’t take it seriously. This doesn’t happen to me, you read these sorts of scenarios in books, and only Rebecca Bloomwood gets these mental opportunities. So I asked him if he was being serious to which I got “yeah, why not! Be spontaneous!” I have a scour at Skyscanner on my lunch break and realise the flights aren’t actually too expensive at this time of year, probably something to do with the 35degree average temperature. Even the airlines are trying to lure me in, I thought. It took me a couple of days of thinking and asking others opinions, oh and selling a pair of Louboutins (it’s okay, I have another pair and the sold ones were bought for me by my ex, bad omen) before I finally sat down and booked it. Good old AMEX doubling my air miles with BA, another pro to this crazy decision I was making. So now I had booked a flight to go on a date, in Dubai. I’ve bloody done it. Oh. My. God.

After constant, and I mean constant, messaging to the point where my housemates told me I was acting like a teenager, by the way I would laugh out loud then look up to find them all staring at me, as if I’d just interrupted a conversation about religion or something. Sooorry guys, just a message I got. Cheshire cat grin plastered on my face. I knew I’d made the right decision, albeit a crazy one.

We all have that nervous anticipation before a first date. I had met this guy a couple of times previously, but in a social capacity. There was no one-on-one time, in fact I even tried to get my friend to chat him up while we were there on holiday, though I did approach it as “he’s really fit, what do you think? Holiday romance?” she was having none of it and I didn’t think about myself, too busy playing matchmaker. (I did add him on facebook after that holiday though; he made the first message move).

I hadn’t felt this excited in a good few years. Guys have come and gone and the ones who have been interested have either been too overbearing or boring. The fact I was going to another country to meet someone that hadn’t been via Tinder or a setup was exciting and new. Not to mention the fact I was about to top up the already fresh tan.

Reality kicked in the day of flight. Sat at my desk in the office, my colleagues all knew what I was up to, one asked how I was feeling. Up until that moment I was so busy with work that I hadn’t properly thought about the getting to the airport, or getting to the other side. Now I started to panic. We both obviously had an idea of eachother and we always glorify what someone will be like when it’s in our heads. So what if he was really disappointed? I’m a bit too down to earth sometimes, people think I’ll be intimidating and sophisticated whereas I’m ditzy and a klutz at the best of times, hiding behind my eyeliner.

After a smooth Terminal 5 experience, I arrived in Dubai. I waited for half an hour at the wrong baggage carousel. *Introducing me*.

Once I realised that everyone else had left and I didn’t actually recognise anyone off my flight, I found my bag sat next to another carrousel like a total loner. Good start.

Meanwhile he was waiting outside for me; we greeted eachother with a peck. I was knackered, properly tired but I quickly forgot about that and the chat was mainly consisted of me saying “I can’t believe I’m here”, to which he responded “it’s good right?”

We got better acquainted after a Bucks Fizz that morning. He took me on the best first date I’ve been on..wine and cheese. Can’t go wrong, did he research these were my two favourite foodstuffs? We proceeded to a bar in a nearby hotel, turns out it was the wrong hotel and we were rather tipsy in a lift with some strangers when he realised the error. We went to the right hotel. We drank more. I spilt the best part of a glass of Cabernet Shiraz over my cream dress and tried to hide it, it didn’t work, he noticed it and we used white wine to attempt a DIY Vanish jobbie.

Second day we went to the famous hotel on The Palm. Those who know me know I get very excited, the phrase ‘like a kid at Christmas’ is apt for this situation. This was just something else. We pulled up to a grand entrance and I had that light headed ‘wow, this is amazing’ feeling as we entered. I’ve been to nice hotels before, but I was swept up in the romance of it all.

That feeling remained until I was asked for my passport ID upon check-in. I had left it at his apartment. Shit. The lady at reception told us there was no way we can stay without my passport, it was a requirement. She asked if I would have a copy on my emails. Yes!! I did. When buying a place with my ex I had to scan it to our solicitor, this information all rushed to me and I spent about ten minutes trawling through my emails until I found it. Thank god for that, trust me to almost ruin the holiday. Our hotel room was awesome, the balcony looked out onto a pool lagoon and we sat outside in our robes drinking red wine that night before having dinner at Atlantis.

A room with a view

The rest of the weekend was a dream. No awkward silences but no forced conversation, I was happy to lie on the sun lounger on the beach with a cocktail in silence, just soaking it up. Then we had sea breaks and just talked about all sorts. Watched footballer Darren Bent (yeah I had no idea who he was either) trying to balance on a paddle board, and drank lots. The final day was spent at the beach before he took me to the Hilton Skybar which had epic views across The Palm and we supped a G&T with the sunset as our backdrop.

Sunset from the Hilton

We proceeded to a cute Italian (restaurant!) for dinner before I headed back to the airport. I remembered I had promised my vegetarian friend who was my holiday companion the last visit, that I would bring her back some marshmallows. Apparently fish gelatine is better than pig, so a detour via Spinney’s supermarket was made, with me tottering in my heels around the supermarket looking at the ingredients list of these mallows. T’was a scene.

Fishy Marshmallows

Bye, bye, Dubai

We said our goodbyes and I was back at Dubai airport ready for a 6 hour night flight/sleep across three seats before returning back to my desk for 9am. With a head buzzing with new memories, and a bloody good tan.

Below is a post sparked from a conversation with some single girl-friends over dinner and wine. I asked one of them to contribute to my blog to show her point of view of this dating game so many of us are playing. She well and truly plays the game, openly and honestly. She has a hell of a lot of stories, one of which will be posted very soon, because quite frankly Carpe Diem (that will make sense once you read said post). Anyway, I welcome contributors so any stories you have worth sharing, get in touch. Also would love a guy’s perspective on this..

Serial dating is a game. Whether you ‘win’ after two levels or one hundred levels or are not playing with a goal in mind at all, these days, it’s a game. It has rules, there are cheat tactics, experience may be an advantage, it’s unpredictable, some love it, some hate it, however you look at it, if you date, you’re playing it.

To be clear, the game is for those who want to be playing it. This theory is not aimed at those who are honestly just looking for love, they would mostly hate the game- understandably so, and that’s why I use the phrase ‘serial dating’ – people who date around because they enjoy the adventure and thrill of it and no matter how short or long you play the game, your hope is to ‘win’ it. What I mean by ‘winning’ is getting to where you want, which for most I would guess is ultimately finding someone, a partner but in any short or long period of time. Someone who matched you at every level, who sometimes raced ahead and pushed you under a bridge but then slayed a dragon for you down the line and helped you back up. It has ups and downs, some enjoy it more than others, some loathe it, others judge it – I personally, absolutely love it.

That’s probably because I’m fully aware my game has about one thousand levels, I’m not looking for a cheat to skip to the finish and have a happy ending. I love dating for what it is, I expect I may get a few grazes along the way, we’re all human; you have some wine, call your girl-friends and learn from it.

Personally, I love the thrill of dating, I love the excitement, the phone watching, the way it turns you into a wannabe MI5 agent by Googling, Facebook stalking and Linkedin flirting, checking Whatsapp to see if he has read the message, when was he last online? How long will it take for him to reply? The emoji’s he uses – if at all, if not why not? By not using a cute wink face is he simply mature and over it, or is he playing it cool? If he replies with one ‘x’ or ‘xx’ what does it mean, if he puts ‘xxxxxxxx’ at the end of a message I get freaked out when really, it may just be auto-correct. He changes his picture to him and a girl- is he trying to spark a reaction, or is it his sister?

First date judging- Where he takes you for the first time, is he trying to impress you or test you? It’s a great topic for girly gossip. I have many coupled friends who love to hear me go on about it, my theories, my conclusions, the cringes, the excitements – I’m pretty much certified crazy, I just know who to let see it.

But do guys enjoy it as much? I thought my attitude to dating would be a dream. I want fun, banter, adventure, excitement – all with no fear of leading on, I don’t want to give false hope, I’m not a tease and I am honest about it. Sure if there is a crazy instant spark I won’t deny it but really, I’m not looking to progress to anything any time soon at all. I have commitment issues. I’m not in denial, I own it. When I meet people, especially after a few spritzers, my opening line tends to be “inside I’m made of ice, the Ice Queen as I’m fondly known to my friends”. My flat mate is convinced this is the best chat up line invented, guys and girls alike love a challenge and that’s setting it up for them.

The way I see it, guys wouldn’t buy a game for their Xbox if they knew they could complete it in a week. They like getting to the different levels, seeing what’s around the corner, the unexpected. They discuss it with their friends, share tips, discuss failures and successes, they have pride over it and hope to crack whatever difficulty they get. Might they get bored along the way? Sure, and so might I. So long as both players know they are playing the game, I say game on.