Romantically cynical

Happy Ending?

2010-02-17T18:10:00.002Z

It's been a while to be sure - I don't know why but I've started to lose myself and I think I have diminished.

I'm in a relationship and it's fine. But is fine enough? And when does "we" end and I begin?

Any thoughts?

Suze x

The jinx

2008-02-18T21:39:00.001Z

You know sometimes you're desperate to share??

Every time I meet someone where I think there is a chance i've found a match i'm desperate to tell people about it - especially here.

But each time it's not to be. I'm starting to fear it's a jinx.

So as an experiment...

Watch this space!

Suze x

Depreciation

2007-10-29T20:14:00.001Z

As aformentioned one of the things that hasn't changed over the last year is my state of singledom- something I hadn't really thought of as an issue for me until my new workmate pointed out that there is something amiss with my attitude... to me.

One of the things I neglected to refer to in my previous post was the appearance of a dashing young legal eagle at the party. I've known of Colin Darcy for some time through friends but never really taken note.

However on Saturday it was like seeing him anew. He was cute, funny and an amusing enough dancer to catch my eye.

We chatted and danced and spent the evening having a really good time.

But for some reason l didn't think he'd be interested so I left without a kiss or a number that night.

Richard, my new work colleague - who is also my new partner in crime due to a shared adoration of Blackadder and apple pie - was driving us to work courtesy of our car-sharing deal and setting the world to rights this morning when he remembered to ask about my halloween party experience (the previous morning had been spent discussing the horrific failure of his own relationship).

I explained to him what had happened and he looked at me and laughed.

''Oh Suze, you make me laugh," he said chuckling.

''I'm not being funny but you know you are beautiful right? You're a lovely, brilliant girl - why do you think he wouldn't want you?"

I shrugged and replied: ''Well it's too late now - the party's over. "

"Don't be daft Suze." he said sagely.

''Just call your friends and ask them to pass your number on - it's not rocket science. This guy actually sounds like he's not the usual brickie you seem to go for and l think he's more you. Go on take a punt. You're worth it."

And with those words I realised how over many months of singledom I had managed somehow to depreciate my own value in the dating world.

I'd failed to see it and predictably it took a man to use his blunt talent to point it out.

So I've taken the punt -I'll let you know if I win.

Suze x

2007-10-28T20:26:00.001Z

Return... One year on

To be in the position of now, looking back over a year is bizarre.

I'm most of the way into a brand new career - probably the wildest career anyone have predicted for me - and have new friends, new distractions and a new attitude to life

I'm still single but not overly concerned - l still get the dates..

Portia remains a confident mum to Bob but has been tarnished by life and has retreated back into her shell and avoids any social life despite my best efforts.

Simon on the other hand has become increasingly social - having split from his girlfriend. But, being Simon, he was not alone for long

When Grace fell into his life, not long after the split, Simon was a mess - more lost than I had ever seen him before. I'd heard he had moved on but I'd started my new job and didn't really know anything about it - until yesterday.

I was at a halloween party with my friend Lou, dressed in an appropriately ghoulish fashion, and he was there with Grace. Both drunk and both drunk on each other. Totally and utterly falling down in love with each other. I spotted it and smiled and wondered if even they knew.

Vampire Simon came over and talked later in the evening.

''That's my girlfriend Grace," he said, slurring ever so slightly

I smiled at him and replied: "She's the one isn't she Simon?"

He smiled back: "I think you might be right Suze"

Then Grace, in the form of a ghostly bride, came over, smiled and kissed Simon - before they both smiled at me and danced off among the ghouls, ghosts and monsters.

Had Simon's split happened a year ago I might have hoped to be in there myself - but it's been a funny old year- and I've learnt a lot. First and foremost I now know - it's not enough to want something - you have to be wanted too.

Suze x

Philandering man (and why every woman should have one as a friend)

2007-04-15T14:06:00.000Z

EVER since I managed to get over my slight infatuation I’ve really got to know a lot more about Simon: The Man.

The first things is realising that, by his own anecdotal evidence, is that Simon is a bit of a tart who works his way through women a bit like most men get through socks.

He really falls into the male stereotype – those that can, do – and exploits his charm and humour to tame women into his arms. And he carries a philosophy that a long as he doesn’t get caught out – by his girlfriend – that no harm means no foul.

Another, which probably explains the first point, is that Simon is a man who truly loves women. By no means do I suggest that Simon is a man who falls in love easily– I think such a thing is akin to a blue moon – but a man who appreciates women in the same way that others might savour fine wine or a Cuban cigar.

A good example of this is the story Simon told us in the pub on a Friday after work. And is best told in the words of Simon (in response to the question“flippin’ heck Simon why is your hair so short?) which were:

“Well I went into the hairdressers and there was his big (suggestive hand movements, fag in hand, around his chest area) Sicilian woman, and every time she did the top and front of my hair she kept pushing up against me.”

At his point Simon mimes his head being pushed forward by giant maternal mammaries, peeking up with the cheekiest of cheeky smiles.

“Anyway,” he said again miming the lolling head, again with the grin beneath. “When she asked me if it was short enough all I could say was ‘shorter please’.”

And he finished with a knowing chuckle.

From any other man this might seem pervy. But everyone around the table knows about the nature of Simon, his one-sidedly open relationship and his honest but cheeky Carry On Camping attitude to the world so it’s ok – we all laugh. On him it’s acceptable.

The third thing you should know is that Simon knows how to compliment a woman – in a way that can really make a woman feel a million dollars.

He always pulls off a compliment with Pearl, the boss’s secretary a wife of 25 years more used to being ignored by men - managing to pick out the thing she has clearly taken the most time and effort over and making her giggle like a teenager when he mentions it.

Even with me, girl who worries about the size of her larger than hoped butt, he manages to make me feel hot - by raising his eyebrows and grinning in his saucy but cheeky way when he sees me on my way to riding in my jodhpurs.

It makes me smile – not because I want him, I don’t any more–but more because I’ve been appreciated by a connoisseur.

The philandering man.

Too dangerously non-committal to take as a lover – but this animal can be a great friend who will always make you feel good.

You’re safe as long as you remember not to cross the line…

Suze x

Kirsty Gallacher's fit sister

2007-04-14T06:27:00.000Z

SOMETIMES I wonder what makes people come to my blog.

Fortunately for those who arrive here by way of Google I have the advantage that my blog counter picks up what led them here.

And they fall, primarily, into three sections: Pervy straight boys looking for something that they really won't find on my blog (ladys sixpack, skinny wrists turn off, kirsty gallagher fit sister(for note boys it's Gallacher and I believe her sister is called Joanne) and skimpy tees plus suze - but not womble porn!)

Randoms who are looking for something specific and/or a bit technical (simon suze,..remaining hair and pull it back into a high ponytail, instant adoring boyfriend(although I brought that on myself...), inkblot funny answers(my fault also) and salon utility belt.

And finally the ones which give me hope that by writing I'm managing to be part of a new movement of romantically cynical optimism, for men and women, which may start to sweep the world:

Cynical hope

Too cynical for weddings

Shrewd women

What guys think romantically

Wanting something but trying to avoid

Romantically holding hands

Singledom ring

Marriage cynical

For her price is worth far beyond rubies proverbs

Cynical optimism

Where did men go?

Epiphanic realisation

Signs of romantically interest

Romantically asking her out

And finally thanks to the person who put in -Romantically cynical

If you're one of these people who have come here because you're looking for more and have hope -whether male or female, straight or gay or bi, old or young, married or single - please leave a comment and share with me what brought you here - I'll find out from blog counter anyway - but I'd rather hear it from you,

Much love

Suze x

Ps Pervy boys i hope the above pic suffices - even if it isn't Kirsty Gallacher's fit sister...

Drag queens - the best of women and men?

2007-04-13T18:28:00.000Z

I love the fact that I live in a world where drag queens exist.

They are completely unlinke any other group of people on the planet, that combines some of the most exaggerated elements of each side of the gender chasm - which they straddle, gracefully, in ridiculously high heels.

I have to say that I encounter them less frequently than I would like because, despite their generally extrovert nature, they remain a closetted part of society which only seems to uncloak itself at certain times and in certain places and rarely in my poor grey midlands town.

I also delight in challenging people's prejudices, which is why when my friend Sam and I hit the town in London one weekend, I almost shrieked with joy when the bouncer outside a hidden away bar/club said: "You do realise ladies that it's tranny night don't you?"

Sam is a funny (peculiar not ha ha) girl - she complains constantly if you let her and smiles even when she's miserable in perfect make-up - a perfect tranny fan in the making you would have thought, but no.

Which really is why I took so much pleasure, as I saw her nose wrinkle in disdain, in dragging her in.

And I'm glad I did because, after getting over the initial horror of sharing the toilets with men and mid-transsexuals, Sam loved it (even though later she would tell her mother in a sneering fashion "well it was an experience...").

I on the other hand chatted with all the girls - fascinated with their make-up tricks, accessories and custom-made shoes.

One of the more stunning ones, with a blonde bob and the most amazing breasts ever seen on a man, turned to me and gave me some advice I'll never forget.

"Why do you wear jeans honey? Because your legs are too big? Dear they'll never look any smaller in those horrendous jeans..."

Anywho as I chatted I started to wonder about the nature of drag queens, cross dressers and transsexuals. Are these colourful birds, with their exotoic plumage, the pinnacle of humanity?

With their (largely) fabulous dress sense, their entirely male lack of self-concious self deprication, and their female gentleness - are these members of a third sex the ideal mix of the best of everything?

I mean they carry themselves with no hang-ups, no need for explanation and have an eye for detail which makes them aesthetically perfect.They are perfection in every sense surely?

But then I wondered- if they have no hang-ups - why do we not see all these incandescent creatures in the day?

As I reapplied my lipstick in the toilets and grumbled at the effect in the mirror I realised that a tranny was doing the exact same thing right by me. There was also another drag queen crying in a toilet cubicle and another next to the dryer talking to her lesbian friend about how awful "Duchess" looked in her new plunge dress.

That was when the feeling of slight disappointment curled into my stomach.

Despite all appearances drag queens et al are only human - with the same frailties, viciousness and flaws - they just look better, gosh darnit.

Suze x

The all new, all singing, all dancing...men embargo!

2007-04-12T18:33:00.000Z

Ta-da!

I've absolutely finally had it - and now I can officially say that I've had enough at dealing with men and all the s*&% that somehow comes along with it.

The whole Davy trifle put me off a bit - too much bother - it really is. I'm also fed up with a "relationship guru" (male) who keeps filling my inbox with rubbish that says I shouldn't expect a man to change. Instead, apparently, I should change!

With that in mind I have come to an informed decision...

So here starts the full on, one year, man embargo. I should probably elaborate with specifics though before men - gay, straight and otherwise- start berating me for being prejudiced.

I'm all for male friends, male colleagues and general males about town. But now I am no longer going to expend effort on dating them - to ask me to do otherwise is way too much.

I'm no longer going out and giving out my number to cute guys who make the request, nor will I smile and laugh at pointless jokes in a flirty way.

In point of fact I've even found a place where I can be around men, dance with men and talk to them without them letching - the local gay club. And lesbians are so less pushy and funny instead of sad.

I'm not going to set up bat for the other side - please don't misunderstand me. Men are way too pretty - to look at - but far too much trouble to become entangled with. Which is the other joy of my new favourite nitespot - men with amazing bodies who can dance - look but don't touch, which is absolutely fine with me.

The brave new world starts here...

Suze x

Summer

2007-04-09T16:52:00.000Z

FOR the frst time it feels like summer.

I've been working but the Easter holiday has all the hallmarks of long sunny days and balmy nights.

Evenings have been spent chilling with friends with beers and barbecues as mornings make for perfect running conditions.

My reboot is going well. I'm more capable of deciding, less able to be made a mug of and generally feeling stronger.

The Davy thing didn't go anywhere and now I've found out a little more I decided he was a chump.

But no matter. My new plan involves not caring or freting over the course I'm going. I mean I've accepted that when I finally hit my Jane Fonda years I'll probably still be on my own, in terms of a relationship.

But what life is to be found out there - a whole world of parties, games, friend's I'm yet to meet - if I'm going to be in a couple ever fate will point the way.

There are some things that you only find when you're not necessarily looking - friends, situations, lovers - and you can never force these things it's just a case of waiting and seeing if it happens.

Patience - my new by-word....

Suze x

Crufts

2007-03-28T16:53:00.001Z

IN these days of superficial judgement, where as much emphasis is place on image as personality, I think it is easy enough to compare the dating market to the international dog show Crufts.

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Everyone on the singles scene judges everyone else on the same terms as any dog show - on appearance.I managed to forget that most salient point at the 999 event and now I think I'm having to deal with the consequences.
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I'm not an unpresentable person when I don't make an effort, however the other night I had really not made an effort - ready for a bit of fun then early home - and was just in jeans and vest with hair scraped into a pony tail and the minimum of make-up on.

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Now I'm a little concerned that I may have given the wrong impression to the boy in blue, Davy, that I exchanged numbers with. I'm getting minimum interest - no date as yet - he's too busy.
I'm not used to getting this half-bothered response and I'm begining to think it might be how I presented myself - and I'm certain that it wasn't in my best light.
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So I'm like a bad tempered pomeranian at the moment - I don't like not being able to compete for any reason.
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However I'm optimistic that with the right grooming session I can make sure I'm top dog and get his attention. But after that I'm still deciding whether or not to bite the judge and flounce out of the competition ring with my little nose turned up...

Suze x

Nutters, part one

2007-03-27T11:10:00.000Z

ONCE in a lifetime a girl meets that most extraordinary of all men - a man that makes their heart race, turns them to a quivering mess with one look, and send shivers down their spine - a perfect candidate...

...for being stuck in a straight-jacket.

Yes the time has come when we breach the topic of nutters - known outside the UK as psychos, freaks and subject to a restraining order.

Portia, Delphine and I managed to blag our way into a 999 night at our local nitespot the other day with the intent of bagging a firefighter - I mean who hasn't thought seriously about setting up a pitfall trap outside a fire station in a bid to catch a tasty hero-type - and were ready for a night of fun.

And with such hedonistic glee in mind we started working the room.

Now through my job I deal with a lot of police officers, so I had plenty of people to talk to in a platonic way (with the exception of one - with whom I did the ever-so subtle exchange of phone numbers dance - perhaps I will update you later...). My friend Delphine was in a similar situation and set about bagging the work-mate of one of her pals in blue.

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Portia however had a different tac and within around 15 minutes had managed to corner a 6ft 2in tall Adonis who works in a police force away from our area. They were getting on like a house on fire and, after not so much time had elapsed, ended in a hot embrace.

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Now Portia is a lady and manage to entangle herself from Adonis for long enough to arrive home respectably alone.

However the next day she found herself exchanging texts with Adonis with increasing frequency asking her fo a date. Well, Portia was free that night so agreed to meet up.

The next day Portia was bouncing around with all the days of spring. I looked at her and knew instantly.

"So you got some then?" I said with a raised eyebrow.

She had indeed, she told me, but was now rather worried as Adonis had started asking her when he could meet her son Bob and whether she had told Bob's dad tim about him.

She also divulged that she had found out that Adonis had had the name of the last girl he dated put on his arm in a huge tattoo, he was not yet divorced and was generally showing signs of being the guy who falls in love too fast.

Now the reason I have labelled this post Nutters , part one, is that there are too many nutters to cover in one post so this only deals with the guy swho FILTF - here on referred to as filfs.

A filf can be identified relatively easily:

1. High frequency of calls and text messages from the off

2. Antecedent examples of too many over-heated relationships

3. Still in touch with highly aggressive ex-girlfriends

4. Likely to have past history of irrational relationship behaviour - eg moving in with someone within weeks of meeting

5. Will ask commitment from you within the first three dates

I'm not really sure how you can avoid them though because, behaviour apart, they are entirely indistinguishable from normal people.

But as you can see it is this kind of behaviour that marks out filfs as bona fide nutters. And also, worringly, leaning towards more typically female behaviour. However this often expands and, depending on the behaviour of the person at the centre of their affection, can either be entirely dangerous or thoroughly pitiful.

Of course as best friend it is my duty to carefully point this out to Portia and give gentle words of warning, which she admitted did concern her a little.

But, with mere plans of a bit of out of uniform fun with thin-blue-line totty, she told me: "Oh well - at least when he's stalking me at least he'll be nice to look at..."

Suze x

Pearl (Slight Return)

2007-03-26T08:26:00.000Z

I was thinking very seriously of quitting my blog as over this month I've been trying not to wallow too much in my own mind (because we all know how dangerous it can be).

But I came online to check my emails for the first time in a bazillion years and found this unmoderated comment waiting for me relating to my "rubies" post from an anonymous reader.

"Came to this site to get this quote to send to a man that doesn't know my worth, but I do. Another quote is don't cast your pearls before swine.

"I am a widow for several years, and my husband before he died told me the only thing I hate leaving in this life is you. Ladies why should I or any other women settle for less than real love. "

It made me think about the power of women - together - and that how by sharing thoughts and feelings we can become better, stronger.

So I'm now determined to continue and hope - if you'll forgive me for the lateness of this epiphany - you will continue to read on and contribute,

Suze x

Lost

2007-02-16T15:07:00.001Z

I think it's safe to say right now I'm feeling lost.

My inner compass went haywire somewhere in the midst of the Luke thing and since then I don't think it has been working as it should.

At the moment I feel like I'm on autopilot, just functioning, but mostly without feeling. Its like I'm lost in myself and I'm not sure where I need to be looking.

I'm restless because of it. I can't get to sleep at night and I can't wake in the morning.

I think this weekend I'm going to have to give myself a break from all the things I fill my days with to distract myself and embrace it a little.

One of the things I have thought about in the quiet hours late at night is Graham, my first and - I think it is safe to say - only love. He is the only person I refer to on this blog by his real name, because I can't think of him as anyone else.

I know why I think about him - he is the only person I have ever really let in and he is the only person I have ever had to let out. He was the person who saw all my fears and embraced me and heard all my hopes and let me go.

I wish I had never let him go - but I did. All I have now is memory.

But to regret is to move backwards and to do that would drag me further into the mire.

I think what I need to do now is find my compass again, pack away memories back into the past where they belong and move on.

I've given myself enough time to wallow - I need to actively move on, grow stronger and grow better.

Suze x

Where did all the good men go?

2007-02-14T23:01:00.000Z

At the moment I am quite disillusioned with the world of men.

Portia and I headed to the pub the other night and were chatting to a couple of decent guys, naturellement.

But after a while, as I chatted to one of the guys at the bar, he slid along the bar, which was supporting his right side, and slurred "you're really lovely. Fancy a snog?"

Classy. Naturally unimpressed Portia, who was fending off his inebriated friend who was trying for her number, and I decided to move on.

I'm beginning to wonder now. Is it just me or are all the men out there lacking somewhat?

I think any woman's ideal has to be someone in the line of Jimmy Stewart - a quirkily handsome man, with warmth, a war hero with integrity. A real blokie bloke who isn't ashamed of his family and is genuine to boot.

Try typing in "Jimmy Stewart" and "scandal" into google - all you get is "The scandal of Stewart's life is the absence of scandal" and other flattering things.

Then try "Brad Pitt" and "scandal" or "Tom Cruise". See what I mean?

Where have all the good guys gone? Surely there must be at least a few modern day Jimmy Stewarts out there? Sadly there seems to be little evidence of them.

Is it too much to ask for - a man who wants to lasso the moon for you?

Suze x

The joys of internet dating (and why I'll never do it again)

2007-02-13T23:04:00.000Z

In an attempt to shift my relationship (or lack of therein) existential funk I confess I tried internet dating.

I logged onto one of the sites that popped up on my search engine, signed up and logged on to chat.

Almost from the start I found it easy - the anonymity was liberating, the capacity to talk to people online then and there refreshing and the fact you can see a full and frank profile (and picture) of the individual you're talking to gave me a sense of security.

One guy I stated talking to seemed great. There was a lot in his profile - Bobo1981 - which marked him out as a good guy, caring and interesting.

We started chatting online and really got on, finding so much in common and really getting on like a house on fire.

It made me wonder - could I introduce a guy I met off the internet to my friends - I mean where is the stigma in this?

Surely in this modern age the Internet is just what the bar and nightclub has always been - but instead of drunken lust, which sees beer glasses turning any man under 30 who isn't too much of a prat into an Adonis - and deafening music which means you don't hear what a fool your Adonis truly is, you have sober, intelligent communication with the ability to exit at the touch of a button.

No more drunken gropes, no leery lurching towards you for a kiss - and with the ultimate benefit of being able to know more about a person before you commit to a face to face.

I was beginning to think that the Internet was the future of dating when something flashed up on the IM from Bobo.

"Do u like cum"

I was stunned. Usually in relationships questions of such a nature don't come until at last the third or fourth carnal unions. I was floored. I didn't realise that the anonymity would work against me.

I typed "I don't think I'm the kind of girl you're looking for." to which I got a reply of "Ok".

Ok? It was like, by being in an almost different reality, the sexual etiquette rule book went out of the window.

I know that men see things differently, but at least in real life they play by the rules. And you generally can weed out the freaks, perverts and weirdos using your instincts when you are face to face - something you can't do with the false sense of security you get from anonymity.

I decided then and there that Internet dating was not for me and took my profile off the site. I want to know what I'm dealing with both physically and mentally, equipped with a sense of reality, before I have to deal with the word "cum" in serious conversation - unless it's in discussions about Black Country glam rock group Slade...

Suze x

Patience

2007-02-09T17:33:00.000Z

I am in a foul mood today.

And I think I have for some weeks.

I’m genuinely cross about being the only single in my group of work friends. I can’t stand being the only one any more. Being third-wheel-Suze is pissing me off something chronic.

As previously discussed I’m not interested in defining myself with another person nor am I desperate to be wed or get sprogged up.

But my loneliness, particularly in these days of bad weather and snow, is now palpable.

I find it tough to see Lucie and Sebastian sharing a lassi after a red-faced Lucy has burnt her mouth out on a fiery curry, it hurts to see Paul and Isabelle rowing over petty mishaps and couples holding hands in the street just make me feel bitter.

It would be nice to be able to call someone when you see something that tickles you – when you see a three foot snow-rendering of a man’s genitalia like I did today – or have someone to share time with, cuddle up to for warmth or just even be quiet with.

The craving is a bit like a craving for drugs. The urge can sometimes take over, almost to the point of having an almost physical hold on you.

The other night the loneliness pushed me to the edge and I rang Luke, just to have a bit of banter. The opiate type effects of sharing lasted for a short while, then I found myself craving more.

I don’t know what to do. I’ve lost all my patience.

Suze x

Candyfloss

2007-02-04T09:37:00.000Z

Last night as Portia and I went once more into the breech - aka the local generic dodgy nightclub - I had an odd encounter in the toilets.

A woman in her mid 40s stood next to me at the mirror and turned to me as I reapplied my lipstick.

"I wish my hair was glossy like yours, mine just looks like candy floss and I can't do a thing with it," she said fingering her curly flyaway blonde locks.

We started chatting about different hair care products and as we did the details of why she, a once happy mother of three children, was once again thrown into the hedonistic misery of the 40 somethings scene that thrives inside the particular club we were in.

She did have it all, the happy and warm life that many of us dream of in the concept of matrimony. She had clearly once been a beauty, with amber eyes and high cheekbones, but had clearly been putting her family and hubby first for many years and had neglected herself.

Then one day, about six months ago, her husband walked out and, not without insulting her appearance, personality and general being, had crushed her world.

This woman's husband had not just abandoned her - her stole something from her. Her family, her life, her self and worse still her sense of hope.

But she was here, in this awful meat market, trying. Wearing the going out clothes she used to wear for family functions on a frame that was almost three stone lighter through the grief of a break-up. But she was doing that thing that marks out survivors from those who fall at the wayside.

I turned to her and said: "You know what you should do. Go to the hairdressers, go find yourself a new look to mark the new single you, buy some hair serum and find yourself again.

"You are beautiful, I mean look at your divine cheekbones."

Candyfloss was lost somewhere between bashful blushing and tears. Clearly it had been so long since someone had called her beautiful.

I smiled at her and said "good luck" before returning to the dancefloor to rejoin Portia in time for my favourite dancing song (Queen's Don't Stop Me Now).

I'd like to pay tribute to Candyfloss and all women who go on, rebuild and thrive in the absence of hope, the absence of that which they have grown to know and rely on and above all in the absence of a man.

And I'd also call for you all to help the Candyflosses of this world - because they are everywhere looking for a glimmer of hope - just by being a warm reality check that preserves their dignity and helps them move on.

Suze x

Friendship

2007-02-04T02:43:00.000Z

When life seems like the darkest and dimmest it can get, it is good to know that friends can dig you out with the smallest of gestures, whether it be a hug or a conversation about getting little shark fins to wear on your head to literally go sharking in.

I'd just like to pay tribute to my good friend Portia, who despite it all is a source of hope for me and a glimmer of joy in the greyness of life.

Regular service will hopefully resume today or tomorrow - next post soon I promise,

Suze x

Celebrating singledom

2007-01-29T18:06:00.000Z

Weddings. A joyous occasion or a chance for your smug mate to rub your nose in her apparent happiness?

I'm of the feeling that most marriage events fall by a ratio of 50 per cent at either side of the fence. Some lucky people, dammit, are lucky enough to marry for love and they therefore engage in and take part in their nuptials in honest and warm way that god intended.

Some, including my mother's "friend" (perhaps rather frienemy) Auntie Jenny, marry for sheer smugness. The woman, being of unattractive face and mind and unusually perturbing dimensions of body and arrogance, insisted on a full kit and caboodle white (hah!) wedding, with full lengthy church ceremony, over-expensive and plush reception, obligatory Caribbean fantasy honeymoon and vile groom.

Needless to say this was not a marriage of love it was a marriage of convenience (she rich mean cow, he poor, vain and infidelous) and therefore lasted about as long as his patience (a miserably amusing four months).

I'm thinking that really Auntie Jenny would have been much happier if, instead of dreaming about a fantasy white wedding, she had concentrated on celebrating herself - not celebrating who she could ensnare.

My new workmate Eleanor, who recently split from her long term-boyfriend, and I discussed this today as we derisively snorted at ads in the local paper for a wedding fayre.

"Maybe we should organise a 'single and fabulous' show," she mused. "It would be much more interesting, and there would be pulling potential."

"You know," I replied. "You could be on to something there - we could organise it somewhere phenomenally decadent - like Mustique - no smug couples allowed. Exhibits could include non-wedding "I'm single and amazing" gowns, venues for "career success" celebrations and confectioners offering "I refuse to have a wedding" cakes."

You see that's the thing. There's no celebration for those of us unlucky enough to have not found genuine, warm love.

We're even singled out for pity parties - you know the ones "Poor you. Don't worry you'll find someone soon" accompanied by a chorus of "he's out there" (one I find particularly offensive because, really he might not be) as if being single makes you inadequate, less than a person.

It's written that some of us will be eternally alone on the relationship front - that could be my fate - but why should I mourn that? Yes having a partner is wonderful - and I am honestly happy for all of you who have found one - but there is a whole world of other experience and emotion out there.

Some of us may choose careers, vocations or friends instead - and we shouldn't have to feel bad for that and we shouldn't feel forced into bad relationships to be considered real people.

So from now I'm starting to plan my non-wedding celebration day - aka my "I'm 26 and not afraid birthday party".

I may even treat myself to a "my life is plenty engaging" ring too.

Suze x

Diets

2007-01-26T08:43:00.000Z

Following the triumph of the Chinese buffet date the other night, Tush Push Johnny dropped me an email to tell me about his progress on the Atkins diet.

Johnny told me he'd managed to shift six pounds of the stone he plans to lose before going to a stag weekend in Las Vegas by gorging himself on cheese, bacon and steak.

God knows what the point of imparting that piece of information was. Hardly whispering sweet nothings is it?

Anyhow, having gotten over the initial bepuzzlement the remark had caused me, I replied "good for you" and left it at that.

But it did trigger a thought in my mind about the nature of diets.

It's always the way that on any fad diet you will end up excluding something from your diet. It is usually the thing that you indulged in to get yourself fat in the first place (with the exception of Atkins of course).

And when it, inevitably, comes to a crashing halt the first thing you go for is the one thing that you've been trying to avoid. And it doesn't matter if it's the best quality dish going - you'll eat the cheapest, most god-awful quality version of your craving you can find if necessary.

I took this thought a step further - what if relationships are like diets. When you're in the happy state of being with someone you gorge yourself on love. But often it goes sour and the first thing you do is decide to withdraw it from your emotional diet.

Many months before all the various encounters I chronicle on this blog I thought I'd found a love in Alfie. Alfie was warm, loving and kind at first - a bit chipped from the experiences of his early troubled family life and time in the army - but nevertheless sweet.

But on closer examination and after many months of a relationship I realised he wasn't just chipped, he was broken and there was nothing I could do to fix him.

I think he felt this and so he started making up stories to try and induce my pity and keep me around. But then I caught him out. The love soured and all I could do, in the best interests of both of us, was to just walk away.

In the months after I put myself on a man free diet. But after a while I started to get cravings. I started wanting something more.

Then the Simon infatuation started. It was like dieters who dream about cream cakes, see cream cakes every-where.

Fortunately the cake was outside of my reach - on someone else's plate - and thankfully the craving subsided long enough to allow me to regain my focus, but then random cream cakes started springing up every where to tempt me.

Then the ultimate cream cake turned up - Luke - a cream filled, chocolate covered do-nut with sprinkles. I managed to gorge myself on it for a while, even though it turned out to be a poor quality bun made with faux cream, but then realised it was all gone.

Now I'm back on the diet. Can I have as much success as Johnny? Or will I find the right slice of high-quality chocolate fudge cake that will keep me happy for the rest of my days?

We'll have to see...

Suze x

The inkblot test

2007-01-25T20:51:00.000Z

Today I took the Inkblot test at the Tickle tests website.

My summary was as follows:

"Your Unconscious Mind Is Most Driven by Love.

"Your instinct to love and be loved is rooted very deeply in your subconscious and affects most of the decisions you make in life – whether you are aware of it or not.

"You inspire people to experience their true feelings of love and act kindly towards others. You also value your personal relationships more than most people. Your unique capacity to love may be greater than those around you, which means you may have more to give in relationships than your friends or romantic partners do.

"Your psyche is very rich; the more you learn about it, the more you will understand who you really are..."

Now that is a good test - explains an awful lot...

Suze x

Normal service resumes

2007-01-24T20:43:00.000Z

Portia and I have a significant problem.

We're after the same man.

This is an insurmountable problem we feel we can only resolve by calling the Jeremy Kyle Show (a UK equivalent of Jerry Springer - except the aforementioned Mr Kyle is ruder and more opinionated).

Could be a bit of an odd episode though - me on a chair on the left, Portia on the right and a seat with a DVD case in the middle.

Of course I forgot to mention that the man at the centre of the row is the 'Incredible Instant Adoring Boyfriend' DVD that Portia purchased as my Christmas gift.

It's a fascinating DVD which tends to make comic assumptions about women's needs - with the 'Incredible Instant Adoring Boyfriend' telling you things like "You're an amazing driver", "Why bother with a diet, you don't need to, you're amazing! Here have some cake" and finally "Will you marry me" - all in all amusing but quite atrocious.

It got me wondering though how much easier it would be if you could order an instant boyfriend who was on your wavelength from the word "Go".

For those of us who aren't destined to meet a fate-picked soul-mate it would be much easier if we could skip the awkward "feelings" talks, the embarrassment of expressing unrequited emotions and ultimately heartache.

For example if Luke and I could have spoken the same language from the off how much easier would that have been?

I mean neither Portia or I have the time or the energy to try and work out the meaning of men and their thoughts and actions.

P and I were chatting about the concept of the instant boyfriend on the phone as she tried to reduce my hurt over the end of the Luke situation.

It would be so much easier for P had she found out from the beginning that baby Bob's dad Tim was a complete tw*t.

We could both be with our perfect men - hopefully rich, handsome and sensitive in a rugged masculine way - on a desert island somewhere - bliss.

But mid-way through our rose-tinted discussion on the subject Portia said: "It's all right saying this - but just think if I hadn't met Tim I wouldn't have Bob. And Bob's my world."

I reflected on my own past - if I had not met Graham - my first love who I got engaged to and whose heart I broke and who broke mine astronomically in return - I would never have started on my fabulous career - which in turn would've meant I would have never meant P or Paul and Isabelle.

In fact my life would be unrecognisably different.

And in that Portia and I agreed that however tempting the idea of the 'Incredible Instant Adoring Boyfriend', in reality it would take out a huge bit of the fun of the journey.

And in the journey of life we really need the pain because without it the fun of life wouldn't stand out - like light without the dark - and monotonous fun can't be fun at all can it?

Oh and I'm maintaining custody of 'Incredible Instant Adoring Boyfriend' - but Portia will have him every second weekend...

Suze x

Share time...

2007-01-23T18:15:00.000Z

I thought I'd share this little email note that has been doing the rounds - fabulous!

This is the fairy tale that we should have been reading as little girls!

Once upon a time, in a land far away, a beautiful, independent, self-assured princess happened upon a frog as she sat, contemplating ecological issues on the shores of an unpolluted pond in a verdant meadow near her castle.

A frog hoped into the princess' lap and said:! Elegant Lady, I was once a handsome prince, until an evil witch cast a spell upon me.

One kiss from you, however, and I will turn back into the dapper, young Prince that I am and then, my sweet, we can marry and set up housekeeping in your castle with my mother, where you can satisfy my needs, prepare and serve my meals, clean my clothes, bear my children,
and forever feel grateful and happy doing so.

That night, as the princess dined sumptuously on lightly sautéed frog legs seasoned in a white wine and onion cream sauce, she chuckled and thought to herself:

I DON'T F***ING THINK SO!!!!!

Share with all the princesses you know! It's sure to brighten their day!

Suze x

The Conversation

2007-01-23T07:21:00.000Z

To tie up loose ends on the whole Luke matter.

Now we're just mates. He couldn't see my worth.

As my wise and kind friend and mentor Lisa said: "His loss. He'll regret it in time".

I'm hurt, but I'm moving on already.

That's all!

Suze x

Must try harder

2007-01-22T17:26:00.000Z

First impressions are important.

So why do men, or more precisely Tush Push Johnny (Ref post Guys and Dolls in December), think that a Chinese buffet restaurant is adequate substitute for proper good Chinese which requires a reservation?

Don't get me wrong - I love buffet restaurants for lunch time value - but they are no substitute for the real deal you were promised for a first date.

On first dates guys remember:

1. Deliver what you promise

2. Buffet = cheap (especially when - like I did in this instance - the girl offers to pay half)

One word - outraged. That's all.

Suze x

Answering really hard questions...

2007-01-21T22:12:00.000Z

...or perhaps not. I was interviewed by Joe Blogs - an interesting experience. The blog is quite amusing and well worth a nosy....

http://mrjoeblogs.blogspot.com/2007/01/joe-blogs-interview-on-blogspot-44.html

In denial or misinterpreted?

2007-01-20T08:07:00.000Z

ISN'T at least part of the worth of a woman rooted in the person she decides to be with?

Isn't it, in fact, part of the worth of anyone to some extent?

Whilst replying to the comments on the last post I found myself a bit indignant about two of the posts - nevertheless from worthy and honest contributors - but they provoked a reaction.

As usual it triggered me into mulling mode and I did think about the comments which roughly said that I seemed to be putting my worth into a man - or indeed the man I was with.

In my defence I know I have walked away from Luke because I don't feel valued. But I know my worth - and it has never been because I have a man - I am proud of my career and my friends and the full and colourful world I have built for myself.

Now I know that these comments are honest opinions, meant with warmth, but they are just opinions. Yes they are based on the information I have put out there and I respect them in that and I have the utmost respect for the women who wrote them.

But they are only based on a narrow range of information and, although this is the information I choose to define myself by on my blog, it isn't all of me.

Thank you you guys for your comments - I do take them on board and think on - but I'm also an argumentative witch with a capital B and I hope you can forgive me for that.

I'm thinking the worth of a woman isn't in the person she chooses to be with. But it can be an indicator of how much she values herself.

Suze x

Rubies

2007-01-19T07:26:00.000Z

IN my heart of hearts I can honestly say religion has never really taken in my soul, but I have always held the Bible is a great design for living.

When I was mulling over this post I remembered Proverbs 31:10-31 - Who can find a woman of worth? for her price is far above rubies.

After posting my analysis of gameplaying I decided that really things could not continue as they were with Luke. I suspected he wanted the trappings of a relationship but not the commitment - something that was confirmed when I spoke to him.

"I'm just not in a relationshippy place," he said.

My head nearly exploded off the top of my neck and I nearly screamed: "What the hell does that mean?!?" But I kept my cool and paused.

Then something occurred to me. I wasn't asking for marriage, children or a mortgage and two kids or even love right now - I was just asking for a chance of real intimacy - something I truly deserve. If I admitted now that I was able to settle for anything less I was selling myself short.

I had to ask for what I needed - even though I knew that the price would most probably be that Luke would walk away. The importance wasn't actually getting what I wanted - it was having the dignity and courage to expect it.

So I asked.

"Look," I told him. "I am a good woman, I am strong, determined, intelligent and warm. I know what I deserve and this isn't it. I've told you I like you and I've said what I need, If you can't provide it that's fine. But you only walk away from me once - there are no second chances with me.

"Decide what you want and tell me on Monday. But remember you have one chance, that's it."

So he agreed to go away and think about it. It's Friday now - he has three days 'til Monday.

I aspire to be a woman of worth - I hope I will find that someone who realises my true value.

But I refuse to sell myself for anything less than a price beyond rubies.

Suze x

Question time

2007-01-18T13:53:00.001Z

What really matters

2007-01-18T08:46:00.000Z

It's a fact, it doesn't matter who we fall in love with and/or marry, have kids with, plan lives with, we women are more than likely to face the final curtain on our own.

The pre-set best before date for men is generally earlier than it is for us women, so the chance are that if we live to a ripe old age we will be doing it alone.

Well that's not entirely true - well I hope it won't be for me. Because whilst our men of choice pop their clogs and shuffle off the mortal coil our girlies will live on. And I think that is good news (the girly continuance not necessarily the process of being ex-parrots...I mean ex-men).

But really - how bad could that be? I think there could be many worse people to swear at and hold secret whisky drinking parties in the bridge room with than my bestest pals Portia and Isabelle.

In fact Portia and I have already got our orders in for mobility scooters (which baby Bob will in time pay for) and have designed the mobility scooter racetrack...

Seriously though there is an unwritten code between me and my best friends that no man will ever come between us and that friendship comes first - because really that's the best and most reliable thing we have got.

I think it is always important to remember this cruel (or not - open to debate) fact of biology when making the effort to balance out romance and friends. No matter who you are with and no matter how well you think he knows you, he can never know you or help you more than your friends.

Love yourself, love your family, love your friends - then think about loving a man.

Suze x

Gameplaying: Deviant behaviour or necessary evil?

2007-01-17T19:13:00.000Z

When it comes to the complex relationship issue of gameplaying people hold the most polar of opinions on it in the same way that they do marmite or Angelina Jolie...they either love it or hate it.

On one hand some believe it is manipulative and deviant. On the other there is the camp that believes it is a necessary tool to force the hand of a party who would otherwise keep their cards close to their chests. Most men (from an exhaustive poll of about seven) believe it forms the main body of evidence in the case of blokes V evil women...

Usually I fall into the first - I'm not manipulative and think it is quite odd when people resort to relationship chess.

But now I'm in a bit of a pickle. A grand six weeks into the whole Luke phase I find myself in a quandary over the whole gameplaying issue.

The main motivators are firstly that I find Luke inscrutable, his emotions seem to lie behind a locked door, and secondly that I feel like I'm doing all the running.

Both these things ring alarm bells to me because I've never been out with a person who behaves like this - usually I seem to get swept off my feet by a wild romantic - who usually ends up wanting me to take charge in the relationship (the antithesis of the partnership I'd prefer).

It makes me think that he isn't really into me at all.

But because I think I've done all the running I'm not sure if there has been room for him to manoeuvre and express how he thinks in actions.

Now comes the game plan...

I'd already planned to go away sans Luke this weekend and we have no plans at the end of this week so I've decided to maintain radio silence and gauge the response.

Thing is - I don't know if this is a game I can win.

Suze x

Optimism

2007-01-16T17:17:00.000Z

Over the last year I think I have about as much romantic success as a hedghog trying to make a two mile an hour dash across the motorway.

I'm not complaining- the lack of a man in my life has meant I've had the time and the money to do dozens of things I probably would not have done had I been shacked up with some long-time amour.

In fact I think I could have been spoilt by the luxury of solitude. I quite like my own company, or existing within a circle of friends as a lone sentient being.

Of course there are things that you miss - being close to a warm body in the dark winter nights and silly conversations you have with a person you are that close to.

But I've managed without for the best part of twelve months - managing to dodge the rogue affections of Posh Phil, Tory Boy Tony (another story for another time) and other miscreants posing as respectable members of society.

And even the whole Simon "thing" that triggered this blog (go back to my first posts for the full and frank on that whole saga) was always something remote. I think now it may have been my brain's way of trying to exercise relationshippy emotions without compimising my freedom.

I was getting to the point where I felt I couldn't really be bothered to reach out to people, and, being more scared of being hurt or committing to the wrong man than dying alone. "Down with love" was becoming a motto - the risks were too high and I was ready to pull my heart permanently off the table and stick to friendships and family.

Now though, as I decided to end the whole unofficial men embargo and try to be a bit more open to feeling by trying to not make a fool of myself with a cute young thing called Luke, I find myself doing the crazy.

I was reluctant at first - handsome devil Luke may be but I am what I am (scared) - but after a while, after he suggested we just take it slow, I find myself thinking about him alll the time.

In a rash (read drunk) moment I even sent him a text in the middle of the night to say "Hey, I think I'm really into you".

Luke didn't reply.

Crazy head went on. Spoke to him about it when he rang. Long conversation with him saying - "I'm not sure. It's all moving too fast".

I apologised. And felt like shit. Stupid shit. I'm not normally one to do such stuff - usually I'm the one batting off nutty persons and I never apologise. But this time I felt like a fool and thought I'd managed to scare him off for good.

But he didn't run. He still calls and texts and wants to be around me.

Now I'm trying to reign in the crazy and just be me. Being busy leading my own life and letting him come to me.

I'm trying to stay sensible and just let it flow and even if I manage to frighten the blighter off irreversibly, it makes me a little more optimistic - about me.

Suze x

Take your hands, not my whole life too...

2007-01-04T20:01:00.000Z

When dealing with a man hands, like the scales of a fish, can be a very good indicator of what sort of a catch you've made.

Too hard and calloused, you're dealing with a man who might have too little consciousness of touch and maybe lacking somewhat in sensitivity, which can be a disaster.

But equally bad would be a man with hands that are too soft. Soft hands can mean that there is too much consciousness of touch and of self - usually spelling vanity and over-senstivity.

I find myself slightly obssessed with men's hands. Not necessarily holding of however - too problematic, hard to dodge obstacles such as lampposts, cyclists and walls - and plus it can indicate a closeness that at the moment I'm not sure I'm willing to give.

I like to look at hands and explore them, try and see what they can tell me about the owner.

Each scar, each rough patch can tell stories that some men can't even start to find the words for or even tell a story that needs no words.

Unattractive hands can be, for me, a deal breaker. Knuckles scarred from punching, stubby fingers and inappropriately dirty fingernails (working nails would be different) means my attention is likely to be cut.

At the moment I have a pair of hands undergoing inspection. They don't seem too soft and are not too rough, with long fingers and gentle.

But as previously mentioned I'm not really a hand-holding girl right now.

However that could be open for discussion...

Suze x

Tequila, it makes me happy

2007-01-04T19:45:00.000Z

Fancied a change of style for the new year and having switched to the new blogger started tinkering...

Happy New Year to all and here's hoping for a bright 2007!

Suze x

Guys and Dolls

2006-12-18T14:04:00.000Z

"Call it sad, call it funny. But it's better than even money, that the guy's only doing it for some doll."

It is a well known fact that most men are just on the pink caribou side of crazy - not quite entirely sane but quite amiable and capable of holding down jobs, mortgages/rent and suchlike.

They generally manage to hide their freakish and mad behaviour- which usually manifests itself in forms such as possessing freakish numbers of childish collectables (whether it be comic books, football programmes or pot pigs - believe me I met that guy) or being able to speak fluent Klingon - and can wear a respectable mask of normality.

But throw women into the mix, or rather women they fancy, and you find yourself dealing with a horse of a different colour...

I only mention this because I saw a guy I've known a while this weekend, for the first time since the new hair, at a Christmas party back in the area in which I used to live.

Now Jonny is a strapping 6-plus footer, cute with a slightly wonky smile, who didn't show much interest in me the last few times I met him.

So come last Friday I was surprised - nay stunned - to see him demonstrating line dancing worthy of Nashville to the strains of 1990s horror hit Cotton Eye Joe, mere seconds after revealing the embarrassing fact that his parents forced him into line dancing classes in his teens.

Now it is a well known fact you cannot make a man dance at the best of times, never mind humiliating dosie-dos, unless he is trying to impress or drunk - and dear Jonny was quite coherent...

But the episode got me thinking about all the crazy things men do to get women to like them.

I've heard all sorts of strange reports from female friends of things men have done to impress them - ranging from comedy oversize floral bouquets, to having their name tattooed on an arm in huge gothic lettering, from buying £300 books of the girl's favorite poetry, to starting boozy fights over a lady's honour and dance floor six pack demonstrations - all in the name of impressing the ladies.

My current favourite tale is from Paul who, aged 13 and in his pre-Isabelle days, tried to woo a 12-year-old girl in his class by taking part in a river-borne-raft race, despite his extra-ordinarily bad swimming capabilities (The boy risked death!!)

And as we chatted Paul revealed that in his current "Isabelle days" he also traveled (on public transport) over 150 miles to reach Issy for a surprise rendez-vous, and talked a florist into giving him a lily-of-valley plant so he would always have an out-of-season supply of France's traditional romantic flower for French Valentine's day (not February 14).

It then dawned on me that the reason men do many of the crazy things they do may not be as madly motivated as they might seem, and that - in spite of their enormous potential to say absolutely nothing in a passionate fashion - men have an innate but quirky sense of romance.

In conclusion it is clear - for men actions really do speak louder than words and sometimes you have to trust what a man does, not what he says.

Suze x

Ps I did give Jonny my number - c'mon I'm not an ice queen - the man did a tush push...

The bus theory at Christmas

2006-12-11T09:56:00.000Z

It is absolutely typical. You spend several hours at the bus stop (without a shelter) in the pouring rain waiting for your number to arrive.

Just when you reach the point where the rain eases off and you're about to walk, three of the buggers show up at once.

Everyone knows that this is the sort of theory when you can apply to other areas of life and indeed it has become common metaphorical parlance vis romance - to the point of being a cliche.
Nowhere has this been more evident than my office Christmas party. I was merry and able to talk to my friend Simon (I can deal with him quite easily now as a good pal, no alarms and no surprises) as well as dancing with my ladies.

Portia and I were both on good form in new stunning dresses and the moves - kind of like the macarena in incredibly beautiful but uncomfortable shoes. We were dancing on our merry way when my chum, foppish Phil, stumbled onto the dancefloor.

"Suzesh," he slurred. "I musht buy you a drink." I agreed on the terms I would buy him one back later and he brought me a dry white wine.

Two minutes later he swayed back towards us.

"Suzesh! I musht buy you a drink!"
"Erm I'm ok Phil," I replied. But again two minutes later he returned with another glass of wine.

This process repeated a total of six times, leaving a small cache of full glasses of white wine - untouched by me and my ladies.

And with the last glass Phil tried a drunken lunge in a clumsy attempt to kiss me. Still having my wits about me I managed to side-step and avoided an embarrassing scene by dashing to the lav.

On the way there another odd thing happened. Lovely Dave, who works in a different department to me, struck up an odd conversation. Now Lovely Dave is universally known as the office tart so I wasn't seriously interested, but his success with women is largely to do with his general cuteness and the fact he smells so damn good.

I wasn't surprised that as per usual he was incredibly fragrant - but was stunned when he started making the moves on me. Usually Lovely Dave clocks up his phenomenally high strike rate with tall blonde stunnas - something I am certainly not - and I have to say I was slightly tempted by the flattery and the wonderful aftershave.

But recalling my dignity I gave him a peck on the cheek, a cheeky wink and carried along my merry way.

Now the third bus arrived as I was chatting to other colleagues. It was strange really because it was a bus I didn't even realise was in service.

Michael is a very sweet boy- I say boy because he's just out of his teens and five years my junior. He's very sporty and in his own field he is a future world champion hope (and as a result has a 6ft toned body many women would kill to get with).

Despite his youth he's very popular with the ladies in the office - but he's never shown any interest in any of them - and I always thought of him as the boy Michael - just a baby.

I can't even remember how the conversation started, but it became a one hour, one man "how great is Suze" party. Little Michael wouldn't stop with the compliments. It seems he has been watching from afar - something I'd never imagined, never mind realised.

Now it's nice to see yourself reflected in someone else's eyes in that way, but I think everyone, especially Narcissus, realises the danger of looking too long into their own reflection for too long. You can quite easily get sucked under.

So without risking my dignity I thanked Little Michael for his sweet comments and went home. Alone, but with much boosted self esteem.

Suze x

Becoming Modesty Blaise

2006-10-26T20:33:00.000Z

Have you ever wondered how much a haircut can do for a woman?

Well I tell you. It can turn her into an international secret service agent

Yesterday, after a particularly nasty incident with some hair straighteners, styling spray and time, I had to abandon the fullness of the do and scrape back my remaining hair into a high ponytail and carry on and get into work, before my boss had time to realise I was unforgivably late.

Going about my merry, but every day business, way I bumped into Adam, my chum who despite having the chaos of three young boys and a fabulous but frenetic woman, Annie, at home is about one of the calmest and most "zen" people who floats into my orbit on occasion.

"My," he said. "You look very Modesty Blaise."

"Who?" I replied, clearly ignorant of the name.

Now I'm not really old enough or comic strip fan enough to really know who Modesty is/was. But Adam, with the aid of Wikipedia, enlightened me that Modesty is/was a retired head of a criminal cartel turned superspy, known for hair colour changes, skimpy outfits and a peek-a-boo fringe not unlike mine - hence the comparison (fringe not skimpiness).

But, physicalities aside, Modesty is tough, smart and sassy - basically one kick ass chick.

Being imaginative creatures Portia and I set to work seeing how we both could become similar kick ass chicks in the vein of Ms Blaise (it was either that or just sit having a coffee and talking about boys - I know which one is more interesting!).

Of course the first thing two fabulous girl spies needs is a mission. An ours, because we chose to accept it is to half inch a gnome and spray paint it gold.

Now we have our own reasons for doing this (we are talking about a secret mission here! But the reasons mostly relate to a project by Annie involving gnomes - however the less said the better) - so I hope you will not question us and wait to hear how the mission goes.

And we have a plan - it involves smoke bombs, suction pads, Elton John style glittery sunglasses and golden leg warmers. Fabulous.

Of course this leaves me with no option other than to invest in all manner of catsuits, miniskirts and a utility belt which houses all manner of spying equipment, a pistol, cyanide tablets and of course, that bit of kit no spy could live without...lipstick.

PS on that girl power note I'd like to warn one and all that in coming days (following the Scarlett moment) there may be some changes afoot on the old blog front.... You have been warned,

Suze x

Fiddle-de-de (realisation)

2006-10-26T19:18:00.000Z

Today the dreaded hair appointment came.

I sat in the salon with clenched fists, rocking gently to the hum of hairdryers, chattering and piped music. Absolutely petrified.

Three(three!) hours later I emerged with a fringe, coloured and shorter hair and £60 lighter, but feeling good - like a new woman really.

I met up with my friend and mentor Lisa for a drink to show off my new do.

As we sat there chatting Simon came in. He had been to have his hair cut too. As his jaw dropped I looked at him, with his bad crop, and realised - I am cuter, younger and really shouldn't bother with someone who doesn't want me.

That was when I had my Scarlett moment. Just without the civil war, death, Clark Gable etc. A bit of a shock really...

I'm totally over my Ashley. I'm gobsmacked.

Days off - aka eating cake and sorting holiday snaps...

2006-10-25T19:41:00.000Z

Big plans...
Tomorrow I shall be mostly easting scrummy cake and sorting out my holiday snaps. That is after the dreaded hair appointment. I'm thinking as long as I have happy thoughts in my mind as I enter the salon (ie upcoming bun sesh).

I will also try to enter a new phase as regards the Ops list. I have managed to purchase a complete works of Shakespeare, must to the amusement of my colleagues who chortled in an unsympathetic fashion as I struggled under the massive weight of a library Shakespeare (a Publishers Work's special full of the knowledge of ages, purchased for the princely sum of £19.99). One or two were very eager to point out that I'll probably struggle to read it sitting in bed, as it spreads over a foot an a half when opened. Barstewards.

Ah well, it will all be worth it when I'm done and I can tick the item of my list, safe in the knowledge I am more cultured as a result.

Hairy Moments

2006-10-25T08:27:00.000Z

One of my biggest phobias has to be my absolute dread of hairdressers. The main basis of this is that I truly hate people I don't know getting right in my face and talking to me. I don't know what it is about that behaviour but I just can't stand it. All I know is I'd rather have my teeth drilled - at least dentists wear masks.

Being a person who hates to be bound by fear I have tried a number of times to overcome this problem. But after several "incidents" involving near or actual injury I decided to give the whole hair cut thing a rest.

But I had decided last month I was ready to bite the bullet and attempt, against my internal fears, to have my slightly unruly hair tamed into a proper style.

I was all ready to engage the services of a reputable stylist, who had been recommended to me by a good and trusted chum.

However before I had chance to place a call to the salon, one (aforementioned) Simon stuck his ore in. Spotting the money off coupon for the salon on my desk he picked it up and handed it to me saying "You need this".

Charming. He did later apologise for his, I quote, "unprofessional comments." But for the last month I have refused to see a hairdresser. My hair isn't quite in the league of Tom Hanks in Castaway, its long, shiny and clean, rarely styled bar the daily plait or pony tail to allow me to go about my day without significant hair crises.

The worst thing that any man can think, be he friend, relative, co-worker or other, is that you will change how you are to fit his opinion. It is a real sign of weakness and something that can totally alter social standing. Hence my resistance to overcoming the salonophobia.

But I feel it is now getting ridiculous, I'm not happy with it and I really want a change. So I'm off to a salon tomorrow to try and bring an end to the Barnet saga.

I just hope Simon, and other colleagues, has no memory for mean things he has said in the past...

Operation under fire

2006-10-23T17:57:00.000Z

As part of ongoing Distraction Ops I yomped out into the wilds with girly pals on Sunday for a spot of sharp shooting fun in the form of a day of paintballing.

We arrived in our little runabouts at 9am, not many hours after arriving home from the previous nights drink and dance activities, and found the place in a muddy quagmire.

As the realisation dawned on us that our team of 14 were all togged up in wildly inappropriate footwear, consisting of white trainers and silver glittery ballet pumps, and clothing, ie small pink t-shirts and boot-cut jeans, we realised that a completely different kind of team were assembling close by.

We watched in shock and awe as a group of about 15 men extricated themselves from a variety of heavy duty Dadmobiles - Volvos, Mondeos and the like - dressed in various degrees of military clothing.

I kid you not, these guys were serious. Not only were they pulling on British Army issue webbing (the new stuff that not all Our Boys (tm The Sun) have received yet) and attaching paint grenades to their hips, but it was also revealed that they had a cache of customised paint guns they had brought from home. They were clearly prepared for war.

Now I am not one to sneer disapprovingly at other people's pursuits (I mean you can go to paperclip racing events for all I care - as long as it makes you happy) but these guys had come along on the Sunday at the start of half term - so it what did they expect as opponents - the hard core of the SAS?

True to our expectations two gaggles of tiny boy scouts - possibly cubs - had also arrived for some shoot 'em up fun. About 50 per cent of the kids were clearly hyper whilst the others were trying to find ways of pulling up their oversize overalls so that they didn't trip up on the legs - not the most taxing of opponents.

As we checked for the arrival of the Dadmobile team's air support unit, the paintball marshalls looked on nervously and puzzled over which team to match up with the Gung-ho Volvo boys, with their paintball AK47s and their tactical assault vests.

In the end, evidently seeing the mixture or terror and smirking disdain on our faces, they decided to pit kids against grown ups.

We watched as a troop of small cubs traipsed off, all but swamped by overalls and goggles, followed by the gun-toting Mondeo Men who hi-fived each other to whoops of "See you on the other side", as if they were trying to breach the beach head on Omaha.

A few minutes later we heard distant gun-shots and explosions, in the manner of the opening scenes of Saving Private Ryan.

We were later told, after a day of discovering the joys of localised bruising, that the cubs escaped without serious harm...

Women who wear white

2006-10-20T21:33:00.000Z

There are two definitive types of women in the world, those who can wear white (Women In White - WIWs) and those who can't (WithOut White WOWs).

Simon's lovely girlfriend Sarah, I understand, is undoubtedly a WIW, while I fall firmly into the second category.

WIWs are the sort of women who can wear white accoutrements without stains, accessorize to within an inch of their lives, have perfect hair with no fluffy bits, can command the attention of any male, straight or gay, and generally show no signs of fraying.

WOWs on the other hand are unable to find the source of permanent marks on their heavily crumpled white linen trousers, lose earrings from their earlobes (my adorable French amie Isabelle has no matching pairs of earrings because of this) and command the attention of any male, straight or gay, by falling off of ridiculously high heels into muddy puddles whilst mid-fray. WIWs are in control, shrewd women, like Condoleeza Rice or Kirsty Gallagher, whereas WOWs are scatty, occasionally in freefall and wearing the wrong shoes, we all know plenty of examples of these.

It makes you wonder how we manage to compete really. By rights WIWs should rule the world, breed like rabbits and pushing WOWs - the sartorial equivalent of Homo neanderthalensis - into extinction.

However, I suspect this is due to one more important classification which separates women into another two groups, into which all women fall into - those with a sassy sense of humour and those without.

Both WIWs and WOWs can fall into each category.

I hope that, despite this weekend trying to chat up a cute guy at a bar (in the Elton sunglasses) with a line about having sticky fingers from a lollipop and a bad joke about Mongol hordes in reference to his travel exploits (behaviour that marks me out as a WOW), I can call myself one of the lucky ones with a sense of fun.

Of course the most disgustingly perfect and fabulously infallible of all groups is the WIW who can make you laugh.

My sister is one - perfectly turned out for any occasion, but with a perfect sense of timing and humour which can leave anyone in stitches. These are certainly not women to mess with and should be loved and cherished - for they are truly special.

Lets face it though, if you lose the humour a WIW is just an efficient dress rack and a WOW without a giggle is just grim.

The ability to laugh and make others laugh is a real blessing and can overcome any fault - but nothing can compensate for lacking a sense of humour.

PS I don't know if Sarah has a sense of humour, but knowing Simon, she must have.

Operational details

2006-10-20T21:06:00.000Z

After extensive consultation (with two of my chums - one being Portia, the other my good pal and fellow Elton sunglasses wearer Paul) I have started a list of challenges in a bid to achieve maximum distraction.

So far:
1. Do a parachute jump
2. Read the works of Shakespeare
3. Sing on stage - alone....
4. Learn to ride a motorbike
5. To drink and dance until dawn
6. Visit Florence
7. Learn to surf
8. Be an extra on TV
9. Get drunk on cider at a scrumpy farm
10. Buy a bicycle and cycle 100 miles in a day
11. To compete in an equestrian event
12. To take part in a mobility scooter race
13. Meet Bill Oddie
14. Keep a regular blog

As you can see number 14 is well under way, I have big plans on number 5 and number 2 just require perseverance but the others require some organising. I would welcome any further suggestions, especially for stuff you can just wake up one morning and decide to do...

Paul also suggested that I try dating a man from every country in the world. This has been discounted because it is far too labour intensive, but we are currently discussing the sensibilities of dating a man from each EU country...

What is the plan?

2006-10-18T06:59:00.000Z

Just to be clear, Operation Distraction, despite its slightly misleading title, isn't about me ignoring my feelings. It is about developing my life in other areas so that I can move on.

I like to think of it as a healthy approach to something which is causing me difficulty.

This guy, lets call him Simon for the sake of ease and convenience, is a great guy (I feel a bit bad having called him a waistrel - but it's done - I refuse to change the blog if I do it once I'll keep doing it) but there is going to be no way that anything can happen between us, so obsessing about such matters is really not good for the soul.

The plan, known as The Master Plan, simply consists of taking the cliche Carpe Diem and actually doing it.

So with that in mind I'm looking at ways of expanding my horizons every day - whether it be taking the time to learn more about my valued friends, learning a new skill or doing completely ridiculous such as going to a Fatty Arbuckles and winning a certificate for eating a ludicrously oversized steak and icecream. Suggestions would be gratefully received.

Some elements of the plan have already been rolled into action. My good friend Portia, a single mum with a smiley and quiet baby called Bob who discovers the world through his mouth, has been dragging me out to some of the more ludicrous nitespots in town (sans Bob, naturellement).

We're not sharking, we're just out laughing mostly and dancing. Men are really just secondary to the whole thing and we're enjoying just having fun.

Also we have coming with a clearly life changing, albeit drunken, scheme to go to Somerset, get absolutely of our faces on cider at a scrumpy farm before cycling home on a tandem bicycle. Fabulous, I'll keep you posted...

But really we're just going out, having fun and meeting people before stumbling home with a takeaway and sleeping the whole thing off. Now that is good for the soul.

And until you have stood in the doorway of a trendy wine bar, wearing outrageous Elton John/Dame Edna Everage sunglasses and asked directions to Club Tropicana, because you know the drinks are free, you really haven't lived.

Why I write....

2006-10-17T12:40:00.000Z

I woke up one morning to the horrible realisation that, despite my better judgement and principles forbidding such romantic and trite impulses, I had fallen for a male friend.

This horrible fact is aggravated by several factors:-
1. He is a workmate
2. He has a long term girlfriend ( a slim blonde stunnah)
3. He is a waistrel

The most highly irritating thing about this whole thing is the fact I have inexplicably morphed from driven career woman into soppy, starry eyed freak who is unable to concentrate. Not big, clever, or condusive to sanity.

As a result I am determined to take my life back, by force if necessary, using Operation Distraction (also known as Operation Having Fun In Spite Of Unhealthy Preoccupations).
This blog officially starts Operation Distraction in a bid to open the operation to scrutiny and ridicule and, therefore, motivation...

Which is better for the soul?
	Love
	Shoes
	Money
	Friendship
	Pets
	Food
	Hope

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