Newsletter

Pic on front: Banksy

“To be free people we must assume total responsibility for ourselves, but in doing so must possess the capacity to reject responsibility that is not truly ours. To be organised and efficient, to live wisely, we must delay gratification and keep an eye on the future; yet to live joyously we must also possess the capacity, when it is not destructive, to live in the present and act spontaneously.” Scott Peck

“Becki you’re so naïve” my friend uttered in response to my story. “I don’t think this is about naivity” I found myself arguing back. Or maybe I am.. I started to ponder. I’ve had quite a few reactions to this story.. ‘you should be careful’.. for example being the number one reaction. And I find myself wondering… what does that actually mean? 

It wasn’t too late, on a Wednesday evening.. I was on my way home from Church… (really I was, I’m not trying to make myself sound all angelical or anything but I was) and was only going a few stops.. so I left my book in my bag. My gaze wandered up the carriage I was travelling in. It was pretty empty. Not a lot to look at.

My eyes momentarily fell on a cute guy.. who was looking my way but a blink and a tube declaration broke the interaction. Thinking nothing of it I exited.. and started to make the short walk home up the platform and through the ticket gates.

As I walked through I noticed the guy from the tube behind me – and as I exited the tube station.. he made a curve and landed right in front of me..

”Erm… I noticed you on the tube.. and I don’t usually do this.. “ he started..

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…. “but I saw you and I well I’m a personal trainer but I also suffer low self esteem” he continued.. he appeared to be shaking. Strange opening line I thought. “Awwww”… my stupid ass emotional naïve side kicked in…

“and I was wondering well if I could take your number and maybe we could meet up for a coffee sometime..”.. he continued.

“Erm”.. I looked at him as we stood outside the tube. He seems sweet enough I found myself thinking as he stared (slightly up) at me with his wide eyes. He was a good looking chap.. the spitting image of Jake Gyllenhaal.

So I gave him my number. And then..we exchanged a few texts.. but then things started to get.. a…little creepy..

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Anyway shortly after that. I fell asleep. The next day.. I received some whatsapp messages..

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My response being delayed…(he seemed to be way too into this ‘following’ malarkey for my liking) before I knew it… a picture (or two) of his penis landed in my whatsapp messages. He just couldn’t wait could he. In my actual text messages was a rant about how ‘fat’ I am..(bad speller must of meant phat) and that I’m a ‘typical’ ignorant English girl. And then another whatsapp message telling me how beautiful I am. Ahh how romantic!!?! Oh and let’s not forget the phone call from a private number with some heavy breathing. Great. A complete and utter weirdo.

What a huge shame his personality didn’t match his exterior. But what is my point? Well.. with all the ‘should be careful’ comments I wondered.. how careful am I supposed to be? With dating having evolved into an online affair with numerous dating apps such as Tinder, E-Harmony, Match.. where swapping numbers is a prerequisite to meeting… and maybe dating… life is about occasionally taking a risk.

I went through various emotions after this experience. But the one I was mainly surprised by was guilt. And the shame. Of giving out my number. Well.. if you will give your number to strange men.. 

“Many of us heard from our parents, “Boys will be boys, so girls must take care” the message being that we can avoid unwanted male attention if only we are careful enough. If anything goes wrong, it must be our fault.” http://www.feminist.com/resources/ourbodies/viol_blame.html

But of course I do agree we all must be ‘careful’ in life. Gut instinct does not always ring true on a first meeting. And I believe people say ‘be careful’ out of care. But.. sometimes I wonder if we are actually aware of what meaning we are really sending out with our words?

“Boys will be boys. And even that wouldn’t matter if only we could prevent girls from being girls.” Anne Frank

Hmmmm. Have a good week.. BeckiBx

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Artist on front: Sophie La Berre ‘High Heels’

“I’m on a roll and it’s time to go solo!

Rollin in my 5 0…

With my ragtop down so my hair can blow.

The girlies on standby…

Waving just to say hi…

Did you stop?? No, I just drove by…

Kept on pursuing to the next stop…

I busted a left and I’m heading to the next block…

That block was dead” Vanilla Ice

For the sake of this dating diary I’m going to talk about the subject of ‘floaters’… we all know the type.. he never really asks you out – he just floats…in the social stratosphere – sending a text/whatsapp/fb message occasionally ‘hey sexy!’… lacking in cyberethics… he ‘likes’ every ladies picture he sees… just to see what he can get his ‘hands’ on… yep girls we all know the type right? (And I’m interested – do guys have floaters too from the opposite sex?).

So…he’ll occasionally send you a message telling you that you look sexy and hot in your latest facebook picture… and you resist saying… “yep I know and in the words of MC Hammer “you can’t touch this..” because I’m “Ice Ice Baby”… “

Because you don’t want to appear arrogant…realising that there’s a fine line between this fashionable ‘I love myself’ ‘self love’ chat of recent years and er… arrogance. So you just say.. ‘thanks’.

“Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting” William Shakespeare, Henry V.

So a few weeks back I had a whatsapp message from an ole floater I know.

“Hey sexy! Fancy coming over to mine today”.

Maybe he wants to cook me dinner or something? I think..

“What for?” I reply. A few minutes trot by as I daydream of a nice Sunday roast with glazed parsnips and…

“A cuddle.. its freezing here”. Nice way to put it I guess.

“Ok what’s your address?” I ask. Which he promptly sends over..

“Ok I’ll be about an hour…am on my way!” I enthuse… turning back to my never ending washing up. I should start wearing rubber gloves I start to ponder. Or get a dishwasher.. you know hands can reveal a ladies age?

Half an hour passes and I receive another message… “Where are you?” (I’m in a hot bath by now but I don’t tell him that) “I’ve just got to your station!” I reply.

“Actually I have to go out in an hour…” he says “You should……….. turn back!” he adds.

I lie back in the relaxing hot bath I’ve run myself and think. WTF..Omg. What if I was actually there! How awful would that have been! 

I quickly google his address and find a picture online of his local tube station and send it to him. 

“Too late! LOOK! I’m here! At your station! Come meet me!” I urge…

“Its too cold…hop on the bus to mine.” he replies. Tsk… I reflect.. this would be like the worst booty call ever I think to myself.

“No come meet me.” I answer…”I’ve come all this way!” trying at least to get him to leave his house.

Ten minutes later I receive another message… “where are you?” he asks.

“I’ve gone home…” I reply. With a sad smiley face 😉

Half an hour later my phone buzzes again… “Well done..!! I just found the photo of the tube stop you sent me on google!”

“Haha…” I reply… “bloody good job I didn’t come though isn’t it!”.

*Both parties leave the conversation with a touch of amusement. One realising that if he should ever booty call a girl to his house he risks her showing up and he should at least have the balls (and respect) to follow that through…and maybe add some extras in? The other happy that she never left the warm comfort of her reliable Molton Brown infused bubble bath…

Girls just wanna have fun.. but I think the reality of that story would not have been very fun.. oh Deary me.. 

‘Plant your own garden and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.” Veronica A. Shoffstall

Happy New Year – be safe, have fun and happy dating! Please send your dating submissions in – anonymous or whatever – will aim to post 🙂 

*Luv* Becki Bx

 

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Artist on front: Lykke Steenbach

“Go talk to her” I urge an old male friend.. “she looks fun”… I hadn’t seen him for a few years. And with a bookful of drink vouchers we were both feeling just around about merry.

“Hmmm” he looks over at the two girls giggling at the bar. Clasping his leather briefcase, I shove him in their direction. With a facebook timeline oozing babies and marriages I decide I need to make new girlfriends to play with. I mean have fun with. I push my buddy in the direction of his penis.

“Go on.. go..” I whisper encouragingly in his ear.

My friend oozing charm walks over.. and introduces himself. He starts whittling on about some of his passions in life. And they seem to enjoy the topics of conversation. With everyone giggling away and alcohol having dulled everyone’s senses he suddenly changes direction and looks down at my friends chest area… “Fake?” he splutters pointing at them with an air that could have initiated a reaction that could have gone either way.. I cringe.. but she smiles and laughs.. “yes”.

She looks down at her assets and all eyes in the circle suddenly direct themselves to her chest area. “How can you tell that?” I demand forgetting to think. They certainly didn’t look fake. To me. “Lets go for a cigarette” she offers.

Five minutes later.. she is removing her top.

“So… do you want to touch them???” she asks. I hadn’t seen fake breasts before. I look down at mine. And back at hers.

Erm. I start to wonder if I’ve been flogging a dead horse with the male species.

I look at her. And I feel confused.

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He looks at my drink…”let me get you another!” and runs off toward the bar. He comes back with a full pint for me.. I look over at his glass.. only half full. Then back to my own. An overflowing curvaceous goddess of liquid gold full to it’s brim.

I grab his glass… and pour half of the drink he came back with into it before he can say…

Hey!!! Why did you do that?” he looks at me slightly angry. I don’t really understand why because they’re both the same drink. And I hadn’t even taken a sip of mine. Sharing is caring right?

I decide I won’t take a sip until he takes one first. I wait patiently. One minute… two minutes. Three pass. Four.. then FINALLY. 

He takes a gulp. Ok. Probably rohypnol free then. My green light to go. I drink my half with an innate awareness. Why is he going so slow…..It doesn’t take long. I’ve finished. And I get up to leave.

“Where are you going?” he glances up looking perplexed. I shrugAnd decide to culminate a less paranoid explanation… “Er.. I need to get some.. chips? Night!”. Chips, chips, chips, du, du, du, du, du. Mmmm chips Ci bum ci bum bum

Good luck my baby.

Becki Bx

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We’d only met once. Now friends on Facebook we could peruse each others past lives to our hearts content. Not actually that fun to be honest. Talk about killing the mystery. I know everything before we might meet again. How crap is that? Gone are the days when one might sit beside the letterbox wondering if he has written a letter of prose to woo one. No. Now it is the world of the #selfie that has taken over. BEEP BEEP goes my inbox. I open the mail inquisitively and also excited. To find a picture of my potential date standing in his boxers. Oh. Ok. I scratch my head. Wondering how to reply.

Erm. ‘Nice pic’ I offer up. ‘Send me one back!” he responds. To be fair – it was a nice pic and he knew it. But that is not the point. I feel tempted to respond with a pic of myself dressed in my extremely thick polo neck jumper. Just for shits and giggles. But refrain. To be honest I feel a little confused by this interaction. Understanding that there is a fine line between building sexual attraction and coming across frigid. Such a horrible word.

I decide on ‘No fucking way!‘ as a response as I imagine the horrendous places a half naked picture could end up. And let’s face it there is only one thing a man wants when he’s sending pictures of himself in his boxer shorts. I try to change the subject instead… “Crap weather eh.” I say. Admittedly quite a boring subject change. But I find myself a little lost for words. And also a little offended. Although also quite interested in how many times this tactic has actually worked for a guy. Guys feel free to let me know the answer on that one… 

“What do you think of my muscles?” is all he replies. I find myself thinking… ‘what has social media gone and done to dating eh’.

And I decide… that men… men are a little bit weird. And I don’t think I’ll ever understand them.

oh Deary me eh. Oh dear.. indeed.

Becki Bx

#datingdiary #selfies #ohdearyme

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