I can not stand sulking. If you’re unhappy or pissed off, either tell me or yell at me, get it out. Don’t sulk and mumble and feel all sorry for yourself because that just makes me angry at you and have zero sympathy. I’m over it. You know the situation, you have had ample time and you need to move on.
Your ex, who moved on six months ago when the relationship ended.
The naked selfie aka the ‘dick pic’ – are you a fan? I’m not going to be shy, I am. Of course there’s a byline to this, I am when it’s appropriate. I’d never want to receive one without having met the man it’s from, and I’d want to be romantically linked to them – not just my guy mates sending them willy nilly. Pun intended.
I had this conversation with the new man last week and he admitted he’s never sent one. I told him I didn’t believe it. We left it there and the topic was dropped.
Then on Thursday when we caught up for some afternoon delight** and dinner before he jetted to Spain for his mate’s stag do the topic came up again. I told him we must rectify this situation. He told me, “you send me one first…”
So I did.
Last night when he text me from Spain saying he was missing me. I sent him a tasteful one, no nipples on show, and he was thrilled. He was in the middle of Festival SOS48 and I’d apparently completely distracted him. Nailed it.
He didn’t send one back, being of course he was mid-festival. But I feel like he’s come around to the idea.
Perhaps I should drop this super handy How to site into his inbox in a few days…
*Find the meaning here.
**We don’t only have afternoon dates spent in bed every time, we do go on proper dates like meals out, a beanbag cinema, gin tasting and listening to a woman sing poems in French to classical music for an hour and a half without laughing at the English translations.
May! How the hell is it May?!
Life has got busy, but I’m not complaining. Work is now in full swing and I’m currently juggling 140 vacant roles, approximately 70 hiring managers who want the perfect candidate yesterday and about 20 agencies who like to cheat the system, and clearly enjoy a bollocking from me (love those days!). I am absolutely loving the role though and working within Investment Banking and love the challenge of managing the whole process.
I managed to squeeze in a weekend away at Easter to hit up the vibrant and exciting Marrakech. I absolutely loved everything about it – the atmosphere, the landscape, the people (so friendly!) and the bartering for items you don’t really need but just get so sucked in with the excitement of getting a good price that you have to then lug home way too much Moroccan oil, ceramics and mint tea.
About a month ago I also delved back into the online dating/app world and signed up to Happn. I had very little expectations that I would meet someone, especially after my attempt at Tinder (which resulted in a man who had a fascination for girl / horse action – whole other blog post), but I was very pleasantly surprised! It only took one man and he’s completely blown me away. I met him for a drink three weeks ago, and it’s been a whirlwind romance ever since. We’ve had 10 dates in three weeks, and I’m not sick of him – quite the opposite really, I’m always excited to see him again. Our dates have been original, funny, unexpected and amazing all rolled into one. I’ve talked to my best friends about him and they’re all extremely happy for me and keen to meet my “dirty little secret”, as they call him. Right now though it’s so easy, and I’m enjoying having him to myself. Plus I keep reminding myself it’s only been three weeks, there is absolutely no rush. Besides, as soon as they all meet him and want to hang out it will cut into our afternoons of Prosecco and afternoon delight – and I am not keen to give that up any time soon!
If a colleague tells you about a time he shagged a girl on his desk and that it takes the right type of girl to bring it out in him, is that general chit chat or an invitation?
I’m not for or against Valentine’s Day. I guess I’m apathetic. When I’m both single or in a relationship.
There are currently no men on my dance card, so a girlfriend (no men on her radar either) and I are indulging ourselves tonight with a bottle of red wine, some chocolate and the handsome Leo DiCaprio circa 1996 in Romeo + Juliet.
We’re using Feb 14th as an excuse to treat and pamper ourselves; freshly painted nails and a mud mask before the wine.
I’m all for this Galentine’s Day initiative – I don’t even know how it came about. If I’m honest though, it’s like lots of my nights with girlfriends. Just like romance and fun should be with your significant other: not saved for one day a year.
I failed my Whole30. On day 18. I considered jumping straight back into it. But with Whole30 I know you have to do the full 30 days in a row with zero cheating. I was absolutely gutted and annoyed at myself too. I was feeling fantastic in the first 10 days, but day 18 involved a lunch with my brand new team in my job. Also, starting mid-month was tough. I know, I’m making excuses. But it’s hard to sound like a bell-end requesting my meal be picked apart and ingredients omitted with people who barely know me and have to work with me daily. From there it snowballed…
I know the benefits of Whole30, I’ve done it before. So March 1st, it’s on. Now my team know me, and they will not be afraid of my JLaw attitude.
It’s week three in my new role, as an onsite recruiter at a global top tier investment bank, and I’m absolutely loving it. We’ve made it past the awkward beginnings where everyone on the team is on their best behaviour and completely PC so as not to upset or shock the newcomer, to now everyone feeling relaxed and having some great bouts of banter. I’m not going to lie, in the first week when my team would only discuss work topics with me, never veering to a topic that could arouse conflict or have me gasp in horror, I was a tad nervous that they’d be scared of the real , vocal, banter-Queen I am. Now there are no topics of discussion ruled off the table. For instance, yesterday, over Monday’s morning coffee we had an in-depth discussion over one of the girl’s first experience at colonic irrigation. She’d had it done on Sunday and absolutely raved to make us all question why we’d waited so long to experience the extreme flush, forever known on my team as “the procedure”.
The second development since I started is my new office crush. As per the title, it definitely was inevitable. The number of good looking men in sharp suits in this place is insane! You can’t sneak off to the bathroom to check your hair and make up after coming in from the rain without bumping into at least five. And that’s just on my floor! Regardless of the hundreds of men in this building, I’m currently keen on just one. Which is silly because I don’t even know if he’s single – really I should spread the affection to make for better odds? There’s still time.
Anyway, this one. He works in recruitment like me, but a different team at the other end of the floor – so it’s not too close to home. One of the girls on my team and I have nicknamed him “ginger” due to his ginger beard – highly original, I know. She and I have tasked ourselves with a plan; she is going to suss his relationship status while I actually start conversing with him.
I made big head way yesterday. I walked past him from the cafe to our security pass locked doors, where he followed behind. I swiped my pass on the reader and opened the door, he said “thank you” and I turned and smiled and said “no worries”. Our first conversation. We’re moving mountains here.
I have decided that 2015 is the year I finally live by myself. Fuck this absolute shit, I am over sharing with housemates.
From day one I have ruled the roost at this flat, my friends, family and most importantly, my housemates know it. I’ve been in this lovely renovated house in Greenwich since September 2012 and it was a perfect spot to start off my London adventure. But now that I’m nearly three years into London, turning 31 and in my fourth job since starting it’s time to spoil myself.
You’d think it was the fact I’m still living with my ex boyfriend, but no, he’s the best of the lot! It’s the fact everyone ignores the rubbish bin even though it won’t close, or the sticky honey splodge on the kitchen bench, or the fact one of them broke one of my wine glasses but won’t admit to it, or the new guy who doesn’t put the toilet seat down and somehow manages to miss. These are 20-something, professionals! There’s no excuse to be so lazy and dirty. Sure, I’m no angel and will leave dishes sometimes – but I never disrupt anyone else’s daily living nor leave piss allover the toilet seat.
The final straw was today when our estate agent emailed to say they had a 5PM viewing for tonight (it’s a big house, five bedrooms), and would it bother anyone? I responded asking if they could make it later as no-one would be home. She told me they had to work within the viewee’s available time and theirs. I responded asking why she bothered to ask us if there was no room for change.
I’ve just started my new job, so I’m going to wait until post-probation and after I’ve received my first bonus before I move, approximately four months. Unfortunately a funky one bedroom place in London costs a tad more than I’m currently paying. But the peace and quiet, the ability to have friends and family stay whenever I like and the fact I can sit in my underwear and drink a bottle of wine completely sells me.
Of course I know I’m not special enough to be alone in this situation, I’m just fucking over it.
I walked in the door tonight after my first week in my new role at a top tier global investment bank, turned on all the lights as it was pitch black and felt relieved when the sense of warmth from the automatic heating waved over me. I tied my hair atop my head and ditched my office attire for some trackies and a baggy top. Next I popped some kale in the oven to slowly dry out for a Friday night ‘treat’. Then I scraped off my society face paint and gave my face a tingly scrub in the flavour of apricot, by St Ives. Followed up by a good dosing of jojoba oil lathered all over my clean skin, and my pair of plush slippers to keep my feet warm.
I plopped myself on the couch, and I have not moved. Except to save my kale chips from becoming crumbs in the oven.