Tinder Tales - Spanish Edition

Ahh Spain. The land of sangria and salsa, siestas and paella. And fuckboys. Don't forget the fuckboys. 

One of the (very few) things I've learnt about men here is a Spanish mans version of flirting is far from an English mans perverted grab of your butt on the dance floor in a club. Instead, they basically act like you're the actual love of their life and propose to you, be that on the spot or via tinder. They shower you with compliments and promises and although that's amazing for all of five minutes it starts to feel rather insincere and actually pretty damn annoying pretty quickly.

Well, with the exception of this guy 

Nice Carlo mate, nice.

My dates here in Spain have been even MORE colourful than those back home, believe it or not, and have provided my friends with many a good cackle. And I hope they will do the same for you. 

I will start with a more recent one - this was with a very pleasant young Colombian man who I met on tinder. Being an au pair, I only get my free time at the weekends, and because of this and the fact we both had plans for the few weeks after we'd started speaking, it took us almost 2 months to meet for the first time. He was very persistent and he went to a lot of effort. He found a lovely wine bar hidden away from the centre of town, and (apparently) ordered in several bottles of pretty fancy pants wine. (I say apparently as you can never be sure what's genuine and what's been said just to swoon you with these Latinos 🙄). We had a lovely evening, good conversation, lots of laughs, and he ended up inviting me to his apartment for a salsa lesson - NOT an innuendo, for an actual salsa dancing lesson, he was trained in it!

During the taxi ride, I unfortunately took a turn for the worse and instead of giving me a salsa lesson the poor guy spent the rest of the evening locked outside his bathroom while I was throwing up all the lovely fancy pants wine he had ordered in for us. Whoops!

I don't know if this next one counts as a date - however it definitely does count as a hilarious story that made all my friends die of laughter. So it was a Saturday night, and I went out to a nightclub with a couple of friends. Over the course of the evening I met an English guy - this was unusual for the club we were in as it was full of locals and not tourists, so I got super excited to spend some time with a fellow Brit. It turned out he lived here, so after an evening of dancing and chatting he asked if I wanted to go to his for a few drinks. In my oblivious, slightly drunk and overexcited state I accepted, so off we went. Everything was going great, we were both laughing, having fun, we had some beers and put some music on... And then out of nowhere, after the upbeat dancey chart music we had been listening to, a sad song came on. I was obviously not prepared for this and I inexplicably started to absolutely bawl my eyes out crying. Initially when he asked if I was crying I insisted that no, I was in fact allergic to something and when he asked what I just screamed 'I DONT KNOW'. Poor guy probably thought he was getting lucky and instead got a drunk girl crying on his sofa. Bet I reminded him why he left home! 

Again, this next one isn't an official date, but it alllllll began on my birthday. I believe one of my girlfriends and I had started drinking at around 1pm (it was my fucking birthday stop judging me) and by the time it was the evening I was so inhebriated I almost smashed an enormous mirror upside-down-twerking in the hotel room my sister had got as my birthday gift for me and my friends. So, you get the idea - the party was getting wild. We went to a club with our friend who was a promoter and I remember very little about the night - unsurprisingly. 

I woke up the next morning not in my hotel room with my girlfriends, but at our other friend, the promoters house. Turns out I'd lost everyone and this poor guy had had to take my drunk ass home. I frantically patted myself down when I realised I was in his bed and was relieved to find I was still fully clothed. 'Oh god, what a good friend, what a gentleman' I thought. Turns out the actual reason he hadn't tried anything on was because I was sick on his bedroom floor. Classy as fuck I'm sure you'll agree. We cool though, he's still a friend to this day (although I have no idea why he wants to be!)

I went out with a French guy a few months ago now, who over the course of the evening decided to tell me how every woman he goes out with just falls head over heels in love with him and also proceeded to laugh about the fact he's cheated on every girlfriend he's ever had. I don't even know what more to write about this date other than the fact that after this he was actually shocked when I didn't want to see him again... Seriously though?? SERIOUSLY??? ****internal despair****

The last actual Tinder date I went on was a local, from Barcelona. He seemed cute, funny, successful, so I was pretty pumped to meet him. He met me at the metro station and told me he needed to go to the supermarket. For the date I'd told him I would cook dinner so I'd assumed the supermarket trip was for ingredients for dinner and some drinks.

WRONG.

This dude did a FULL ASS FUCKING SHOP, we must have been there for an HOUR while he compared the prices of shampoo and conditioner and laundry detergents. The shop he did was so big I ended up carrying THREE BAGS OF SHOPPING BACK TO HIS FLAT. Fucking heavy ones too. Then I cooked him dinner and when I asked if he would chop some garlic for me he said no. Literally no. ERM THAT IS THE LEAST YOU COULD DO AFTER I CARRIED YOUR FUCKING SHOPPING HOME FOR YOU MATE. And then after dinner he made me give him a back massage because he'd had some sports competition or something that morning. I think he thought I was actually his wife. Or a slave, I'm not sure which. (All jokes aside though, we did end up having a pretty good time, although I'm not sure why or how 😂)

That's not even all of them, there are more believe it or not, and they've all been equally enormous shit shows. My dating life as you can see has just become more material for a comedy sketch show in Spain than it already was at home. But as I've said previously, if I was in a successful functioning relationship - first of all I'd probably be very bored, and secondly I'd have nothing to write about! Every cloud and all that! 

Happy tindering peeps, and happy adulting! X

Bailey Does Barcelona - Travel Blogs

Seventeen days ago I got on a plane with a one way ticket to Barcelona, with a severely twisted ankle, 2 bags of my belongings and just enough money in my pocket to get by. I quit the job that made me lose the will to live every day and moved out of the house I'd lived in with my best friend (and also a couple of total morons) for the last year. I moved away from all the people I love to come and live in a house with a family of strangers who's first language isn't the same as mine, in a country where they drive on the other side of the road and being vegan is an alien concept. It seemed like a huge deal and everyone kept telling me how brave I was and they 'wish they could do something like that'. 

I thought it was a big deal. Countless times I asked myself 'what am I doing' and suddenly the life in London I had been so complacent about didn't seem so bad at all. 'Maybe I shouldn't go' I kept thinking, 'what if something happens to one of my friends or a member of my family and I can't get home in time to say goodbye?'. I cried when I said goodbye to my mum and my sister and my friends (with the exception of my GBF who I just had an argument with instead, but it we wouldn't have been us if that didn't happen (sorry Adam love you) and my group of besties who I just got so fucking wasted with the night before I left I was too drunk to even feel emotion when I said goodbye). I worried about all the nights I would miss out on while I was gone, all the fun they'd have without me. All the memories I won't get to make with them. I wondered if we would drift apart, If our bonds wouldn't be as strong when I got back. And then I got here. I got picked up from the train station by my host Mum, with my two bags on my crutches, got into the car and arrived at my new house for the next few months. 

And it's not a big deal at all. 

I think it's probably the same for everyone who leaves their home town or home country that pretty much immediately you gain a huge amount of perspective. You build all this stuff up in your mind, the what ifs, the maybes, the reasons why maybe you shouldn't do it and why maybe it's a bad decision and it seems like this huge deal, it seems scary and daunting and then you arrive and you're like 'oh. It's not a big deal at all'. You just sort of... get on with it. 

The first thing I've gained perspective on, is how fucking dramatic I am. Even reading back what I just wrote - I'm such a bloody drama queen. I'm two hours away from home. Some of my besties in London are from Australia, they're 22-30 hours away from home. And a last minute flight would cost them thousands should there be an emergency. I met an 18 year old girl here who's from Texas. She's moved here alone at 18, and she's 16+ hours away from home. And I'm pretty sure she didn't make as much of a song and dance about it as 23 year old me who could get home by fucking train if I had to. 

I'm an au pair here, which was a shocking choice of career to those who know me as 'Two Beers Bailey'  the girl who loves to get wasted on a Tuesday night and spent Wednesday morning with my head in the toilet at work after turning up 30 minutes late. And I'm pretty chuffed with my decision, the first two weeks were a breeze, playing with the kids, sunbathing, listening to them speak Spanish and hoping just sitting and watching them will be enough to pick it up (it won't, my Spanish is absolutely fucking abysmal). Easy, I thought! 

Nope. 

Kids aren't easy. Kids are stubborn. Kids don't like trying new food. (Which hurts when you spend an hour cooking lunch and they strut in from school pinching their nose at the smell and refuse to even try it) Kids don't like to do what you ask them. Kids might not like YOU. It's not easy. And that's awesome, because easy doesn't teach you anything. I am stubborn as hell. And when my kids are stubborn I recognise that quality in myself, and being on the receiving end of stubbornness is an eye opener. I would like to publicly apologise to any of my old bosses who might be reading this (Tom) - I am so sorry I was such a stubborn bitch with such a filthy attitude (when I was hungover (so quite frequently)) I realise now you must have wanted to strangle me. I am also sorry to my mum and any other adults who I wouldn't listen to when I was a kid. God bless you for your patience. 

And as well as helping you recognise qualities in yourself, it teaches you new skills, like patience. Staying calm when you'd usually flip. You can't be mad at kids, they're kids. They don't understand things from other people's perspectives yet, that's not their fault. And being able to be one of the people who helps them learn to see things from someone else's perspective is such a magical awesome gift. And having them teach me not to be a furious bitch from hell who has a fuse the length of a candle wick is such an awesome magical gift too. 

When I was in London, working in a pub or a restaurant or my office jobs, and someone foreign would come in and just stand and stare blankly at me it used to really wind me up. Dong get me wrong - I love how multicultural London is, I wanted to stay in the EU, I thought we should have refugees and immigrants in the country, but when I was busy and someone came in to my place of work expecting something and they hadn't had the courtesy to learn how to ask for it in the language of the country they were in it would just irritate me. NOW I AM THAT FOREIGNER. Never again will I get angry at those people, languages are fucking hard. And being in a new country unable to communicate effectively with people is scary and lonely sometimes. It's taught me to be kinder and more accepting. 

And speaking of loneliness, I was terrified about how lonely I might be when I got here without the comfort of knowing my friends were 5 minutes away on the bus, if I needed an emergency meeting to moan about the latest fuckboy who wasn't replying to my texts, or I wanted a hug because I'm a needy bitch. And the first two weeks I wasn't lonely at all, I cherished my alone time. Finished the first book I've read in years (thanks Grace - absolutely spectacular leaving gift!) Got the first tan I've had in 23 years and learned how to say 'I've got a knife' in Spanish on duolingo. Heaven! 

But then the loneliness did set in very mildly as the third week is starting to approach. And that pushed me to do something about it. I reached out to a bunch of people, some other au pairs, some vegans in the city, and now I have a weekend coming up full of plans, with people from all over the world, all of different ages and walks of life. And I'm super excited to see what awesome things they'll all teach me (while I'm pissed on the streets of Barcelona at a massive street party - hell yeah). 

It's so early on in my journey and I'm already learning so much. On the surface I've just been eating, sleeping and sitting in the sun. But when I scratch the surface I can see I've done so much more than that (amazing what a bit of alone time with your thoughts can do. Although don't spend too much alone time with your thoughts if you're anything like me - it gets weird in there). I have this fear that putting my experiences out there in this manner will mean that if it all goes tits up and I have to come home it will be all the more embarrassing because I've made this experience so public. But - thanks to the book I've just read 'The Life Changing Magic Of Not Giving A Fuck' (thanks again Grace) I thought - fuck it. If one person reads this and feels remotely inspired to quit the job they hate and do something fun then it will have been worth writing. And if this country or this experience doesn't work out for me long term, so what. I'll always be able to say I tried, and I've been happier in these two and a bit weeks with less money than I've had in years, than I was for months in my old job and my old life in London.

I urge you, if you're considering making a change in your life, no matter how small or how enormous, just do it. I know you've heard this a million times from a million sources, but just do it. If you're unhappy now you have nothing to lose. And it may seem difficult, and you'll probably build up a load of reasons in your mind why you can't do it. But if an unorganised, irresponsible idiot like me can do it, I assure you you definitely can. Turn off the 'what if' bit of your brain for one second and visualise how amazing that new job, new relationship, new city or new county could be and how much better your life could potentially be. Just give it a go. For me. Plz.

Happy adulting y'all X 

The Break Up Blog

Another fun part of adulting - Failed relationships!!! I was recently ‘involved’ with someone for the best part of five months. It didn’t end traumatically, my heart wasn’t shattered into a billion pieces and I wasn’t a hopeless mess – it was more just a bit of a shame, and it all came to a very amicable and mature end (first time for everything I suppose). 

My two (now ex) housemates, also had break ups in the time we lived together, and I thought it would be interesting to draw comparisons on how people deal with break ups differently. Bearing in mind the three break ups themselves were very different – one was the end to a 5 year relationship, the other an on / off 2-and-a-bit year relationship, and mine, the nearly-five-months-wasn’t-really-official ‘relationship’. 

Living with someone means you get the pleasure of being witness to every tear, tantrum and grimy detail of how people cope. 

Spoiler alert – there was a lot of wine involved in all three of our recovery periods!

 

The nearly-five-months-wasn’t-really-official ‘relationship’

- Don’t shave your legs for well over a month

- Drink daily

- Hold off from getting tinder because you know it is both a waste of data and also life

- Download tinder

- Get messages like this

- Go on tinder date on steak and blow job day 

- Give the guy steak and get his hopes up

- Dont give him a blow job

- Laugh at guy you didn’t give blow job to with your friends

- Get your sister pissed and make her download tinder

- Tinder swipe for your sister

- Consider other dating apps but then remember how many times you were offered money to do porn on OK cupid that time you downloaded it for 24 hours

- Go on nights out and spend too much money on drinks and forget about the £150 gas and electric bill you haven’t paid for 2 and a half months

- Panic over gas and electric bill

- Realise you have distracted yourself from break up by causing yourself anxiety about gas and electric bill

It worked for me!

The five year relationship 

- Initially cope shockingly well and baffle everyone around you

- Milk it a bit at work so you get to go home half way through the day and watch ex on the beach

- Stalk ex boyfriend intensely on every form of social media

- Consider career as private detective because you’re so fucking good at stalking ex boyfriend on social media

- Download tinder

- Go on Tinder date with minor celeb

- Document Tinder date with minor celeb on social media and make sure privacy settings are set to public, in hope ex boyfriend will see

- Dump minor celeb from Tinder

- Go on literally 1000 dates

- Make sure a decent proportion of these 1000 men are from work

- Give zero fucks when the men from work find out you've been dating all of them

- Dump all 1000 men and feel like fucking super woman 

- Snog a guy in front of someone who you know likes you, just for lols

- Get extremely drunk

- Go home extremely drunk and run a bath

- Get in bath

- Vomit all over self in bath

- Snapchat vommy bath to friends

- Fuck everything off and move to South America

Definitely worked for her

The on / off 2-and-a-bit year relationship

- Immediately get drunk

- Cry loudly

- Call ex whilst drunk and crying loudly

- Accidentally sit on housemates cat and almost break its neck

- Argue loudly with housemate

- Cry even more loudly

- Call mum whilst crying loudly

- Be fine the next day and immediately download tinder

- Tinder at every spare possible second

- Go on tinder date and fall in instant love

- Profess new found love to anyone that will listen

- Get bored after 2 days

- Go to gay bar 

- Get extremely drunk

- Fall in instant love with the first person you see

- Get bored after half an hour and find someone else

- Meet up with ex as ‘friends’

- Twice

- Get back together with ex

I suppose that worked for him too?

Break ups suck, and so does dating at times. I can’t explain how close I am to giving up all together and just getting several more cats. Will keep the blog updated with any more colourful dates I may go on, Tinder Tales part 3 coming soon! I also downloaded Bumble, was thinking when I have some stories together of doing a ‘Bumble Fumbles’ post? No? Ok, I’ll work on the title… I suppose I should be grateful really, I mean if I was in a successful functioning relationship what the fuck would I write about?! How dull!

Happy adulating peeps!

 

GOING VEGAN (well, trying to)

IIIIIIIIIII’M BACK BITCHES! 

So I’ve been thinking for a while now about going vegan, it started after a facebook friend shared some videos on animal abuse in the dairy and meat industries and they were pretty unpleasant to say the least. I will preach no more, I’m in no position to right now as I ate pretty much half a roast cow last weekend. However – food for thought (do I get pun points for that?) during the time I’ve been pondering going vegan I’ve thought to myself – would you be happy to pop your family dog into a mincer and make him into a delicious doggy casserole? I imagine the answer is probably something along the lines of ‘FUCK NO’. So why are we brought up thinking that cows are for killing but dogs aren’t? If your cat got knocked up and you were out of milk, would you just squeeze a bit of hers into your morning tea? Absolutely fucking not mate. Minging right? If we weren’t brought up drinking milk before being able to fully understand where it came from, I imagine most educated human beings at the age they are able to exercise free will would be like ‘what the fuck man, cow milk is for baby cows what the actual hell are you doing.’ It's normalised because we've never known any different, but does that make it right??

Of course the main problem with giving up meat and dairy is that it is unfortunately absolutely fucking delicious. I love steak. I love roasts. When I think of my life without cheese it basically brings tears to my eyes, I will have to get special pasta because there’s fucking eggs in the normal shit, BREAD, HOW CAN I LIVE WITHOUT BREAD? And I mean, come on - bacon. I’m trying extremely hard to block out of my mind the thought that if this all goes to plan I may never eat another McDonalds again in my life. That thought crushes my soul and makes me wonder what my reason for carrying on living would be. But I have to remember that to get that chicken nugget in my mouth hundreds of thousands of little new born baby cute yellow chickies were GROUND UP IN A FLUFFY MASACRE. Not ok.

I’ve found myself talking to non-vegan people about this and being almost apologetic about the fact I’m thinking of doing it. Almost like ‘I know this is a silly idea but…’. And people’s reactions are always pretty negative, like they think I’m going to turn into some raging lunatic hippy who wears grass skirts and marries a tree. Nah dude, I just don’t want to be a part of slaughtering animals anymore, that ok? But no pressure if you want to carry on eating them, I can’t deny they’re fucking delicious, so you do you my friend.

The other reaction I get is ‘You? Vegan? HAHA are you fucking kidding me mate’ which is because I eat so much crap that I would immediately have to cut out if I went vegan. Pizza’s, all fast food, microwave meals (oh my god it just occurred to me I will never have a hangover microwave macaroni cheese again *despairs*). And on top of the enormous amount of junk I eat – literally daily – I have the will power of a fat crack addict. Who just eats food and takes crack all day. So although my intentions are good, I can’t say there’s not a very high chance that I will decide it’s too hard and order a pizza with extra cheese and pepperoni on it in a few weeks’ time… But hey. I’ma give it a go. I will just repeat in my head over and over again every time I open the fridge ‘I love animals more than cheese, I love animals more than cheese, I love animals more than cheese’ and hope that does the trick. I imagine I will be smoking a lot more as a coping mechanism. Who needs steak when you have tobacco.

Oh and plus point – I DON’T HAVE TO GIVE UP ANY OF THE BOOZE I LIKEEEEEEE. (Obviously the very first thing I researched)

So next week I’m in Spain (haha suckers don’t be jel) but when I am back I will be blogging about my first week as a vegan, what I eat, what I’m missing or struggling with, and how many times I slip up (I love animals more than cheese, I love animals more than cheese, I love animals more than cheese).

If any team V’s are reading this, meal ideas are more than welcome. As are coping mechanisms. I imagine giving up cheese is like coming off heroin, right? Wish me luck guizeeeee! And happy adulting! x

How Do I Tinder Part 2 - Tinder Tales

So I've been deep in the wonderful world of dating for nearly 2 years now. When I was fresh back into the game, newly released from the stresses of a failing relationship, all I wanted to do was have pretty young men with low IQs buy me drinks and have casual.... Conversations with them. Lots of them. Boys were my religion and tinder was my church. Amen 🙏🏾

These days my dating attitude is more along the lines of marry me, or fuck off. Stop wasting my time man, like I don't want to wait for 3 days for a reply to my text and have stuff popping up on my Facebook news feed about you liking selfies of 15 year olds with their titties out. BORING. It's too stressful, girls don't want to seem too keen, guys wants to be big MEN and pretend that they don't have any feelings, and neither of you want to take yourselves off the market because of the fear there might be someone with bigger knockers or a bigger wang out there waiting to bang you - you can never just bloody ask each other outright if you like each other or if it's just casual, so you date each other with no idea what's actually going on and then you start to feel something and get scared and run away. TOO MUCH STRESS, I find just keeping myself alive hard work enough, I don't need to complicate my life any more, and I'm more than happy on my own with my cat (and my 'special friends') for now, thanks. For that reason tinder is gone, but thankfully for all of you, the colourful memories of my experiences live on.

I already went into a lot of detail about my very worst tinder date, but oh boy, there are many, many more tales for me to tell.

To start - The Model / Actor

Obviously, 'Model / Actor' being the opening line of his profile was very appealing on an incredibly shallow level (but then again generally all aspects of tinder are incredibly shallow). And the professional pictures of him in suits clutching roses (probably used on unpopular dating sights ironically) were enticing. I should have been put off immediately by the weird, awkward conversations we had. In fact I should have just been put off by the 'actor' part of his profile - I learnt that lesson the hard way with my thespian ex boyfriend. But I clung on to the hope he would be this gorgeous model guy who wasn't weird, just a bit quirky, maybe weird in an endearing way. When we met, he saw me from across the road and did this awful wave like an over excited 6 year old girl who'd just seen Micky Mouse at Disney Land, even though he knew full well I had already seen him. When we were at the bar, he kept missing the glass and pouring his strawberry cider all over the table, and instead of being cool about it and casually wiping it up, he dramatically threw his head in his hands and loudly declared how utterly embarrassed he was. Seriously, every time he tried to pour the drink. I swiftly made an excuse to leave, but he insisted on walking me to the bus stop despite my protests that that was ABSOLUTELY not necessary. As we crossed the road to said bus stop, a car came quickly around the corner and he squealed like a 12 year old girl and waved his hands in the air as he dodged out of its way. I asked him jokingly if he was sure he wasn't gay, and he replied with 'No, I'm not gay, and I can think of a way to prove it to you...'. Cringing harder than I thought was possible I answered him simply with 'Please don't'.

 

The Fit Barman.

Awkward when you spend 70% of the date at the bar chatting up the fit Irish barman instead of talking to your date. Couldn't finish my drinks quickly enough! Or buy enough rounds!

 

The 5.30am

There was that one time when I got so smashed I woke up in the guys bed at 5.30am and had to ask him what had happened because I couldn't remember. May sound scary - but oh no not for me. I just thought to myself 'yeahhhhh that sounds like something I would do'. I then proceeded to walk to work in the morning in the same clothes and make up as I was in the night before, still completely smashed, only to find that was the day my line manager and area director had decided to visit the office. That was definitely a low point of my adulating.

 

The Four Beers.

The classy spoons date that ended up with me having to reject a kiss from the guy before I got on the bus because I was too busy trying not to puke all over his shoes. I had four beers over about 5 hours, I am THAT much of a lightweight. I didn't only feel sick, I was actually, physically gagging. My bus turned up and I just ran onto it without even saying goodbye to him because I was so worried I was going to puke in front of / on him.

 

The Sneaky Tug.

This was a guy I saw a good five or six times, I went to his after having dinner with some friends and was a bit shitfaced so just wanted to go to sleep. I pretended to be unconscious while he made his advances because I couldn't be bothered to... well you know. Little did he know I was not actually unconscious and I lay there while he... saw to himself. I left for work in the morning and we never spoke again. Awkwaaaaaaard.

 

The Snapchat

On that subject - I think this was my very first Tinder date - I went out with a guy after work one night in Putney, he turned out to be a pretty nice guy, handsome, intelligent, driven. We had a great night, went to the pub, then for pizza then back to the pub. We talked all night, the conversation never ran dry, and he ended up staying at mine but nothing happened. The perfect gentleman, or so I thought... I got a snapchat the next evening of him.... seeing to himself, which he had captioned 'Thinking about last night'. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY DO YOU DO THAT. Lads, just don't. We literally never want to see that ever. Just DON'T. Unless we ask for it, we don't want to see it. AND WE WILL NEVER ASK FOR IT.

 

Needless to say, dating is hard. For the time being I have given up, other things are taking priority in my life, like food and not smoking (oops I had five cigarettes today). Trying to be a grown up is hard enough with out having to try and figure out what another failing adult wants when you don't even know what you want yourself. Unfortunately I have no advice to offer when it comes to dating, if anyone has any advice FOR me it would be welcomed with open arms!

 

I hope you got a good LOL out of my tragic love life, or at least I made you feel a bit better about your own. It's not all doom and gloom, I have made some great pals and have some good stories for you which I will save for another time. Happy adulating my friends x

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Quitting The Cigs

So, hand in hand with my terrible adulting and general bad decisions, I have been a smoker for two years now and I am quite severely asthmatic. Clever I know. 

In the spirit of improving my adulting, and also not dying, I have decided / I have no choice but to give up smoking.

This is how I feel when I think about actually doing it.

But unfortunately, having my one millionth chest infection since I started smoking those 2 years ago (also who the eff starts smoking at 20 years old?!) and my 4th trip to hospital in that time has left me with little choice. 

This isn't fun 

Neither are these 

Neither is this 

AND NEITHER IS THIS 

No I was not injecting heroin, that's an arterial blood gas test. It's how they get a good indication of your blood oxygen levels. Where they take BLOOD from your WRIST. They have to stab through MUSCLE to get to your ARTERY. I'd rather have 10 asthma attacks than have that done again. OUCHHHHHH.

Apparently, because I'm an irresponsible, ignorant child, it has taken me the 4th trip to hospital to realise that my chest is too weak to keep smoking. The first 3 times I was like 'Meeeeeh no big deal, it's just a shed load of drugs, 8 steroids a day for a week, that's completely normal for a 22 year old. I'll just lay off the cigs for 3 days and then I'll be fine!'. But it's pretty terrifying being 22 years old and just standing up being enough to completely take your breath away.

I've mentioned my backwards logic before.I freak out about the tiniest things, like when I run out of soap or the supermarket is out of my brand of pasta sauce, I'll tell the whole world how angry I am about it and go on about it furiously for days on end - but when massive life altering things happen, I tend to either deal with them really well or do a total ostrich and bury my head in the sand and pretend it's not happening (which kind of makes it look like I'm dealing with it well to everyone else). With the hospital trips I just did the ostrich and convinced myself that because I was still alive it wasn't a big deal, maybe uploaded a light hearted post taking the mick out of myself on Facebook, but actually it's not funny. To get serious and a bit grim for a second, realistically I could have died any of those 4 times. And that's bloody terrifying. So, no more cigs for me. 

AND IM FUCKING FURIOUS ABOUT IT. 

I'm having a complete toddler tantrum. My sister and my dad and a handful of my cousins are also asthmatic, AND THEY CAN ALL SMOKE AND THEY ARE FINE AND THEY ALL HAD WORSE ASTHMA THAN ME. LIFE IS SO UNFAIR AND IM SO ANGRY. But my life's actually quite good and I have really nice friends and family and I don't really want to die. So I have to stop. DAMN YOU WONDERFUL FRIENDS AND FAMILY.

I have no real technique for quitting yet, as the last four days have been smoke free purely because I can barely breathe in oxygen at the moment, never mind tar, but I know as soon as I'm better the first thing I will want to do is chain smoke 20 cigarettes and have a bottle of wine. I am worried I'm going to replace smoking with even more drinking. But I'm going to really try not to, and give it a proper go and bring you all along with me on my journey, maybe help some others in my position. Here's to being a better and healthier adult!

I had planned on doing a ton of blogs while I've been off work about cooking and budgeting on beauty products and bits of that nature but as you can tell, I've been a little preoccupied by finding somewhere to live and not dying. I PROMISE I HAVE ANOTHER TINDER BLOG IN THE PIPELINE, hold tight people.

Thanks for all the well wishes and happy, happy adulting peeps x

Follow me on Twitter, Instagram and bloglovin for updates on my silly weird life. 

Instagram: sophiabailey93

Twitter: @sophia_bailey

Link to bloglovin at the side! 

A Bad Guide To House Hunting

So, this time last week, my wonderful friend Izzy came up and packed my life, my cat and my very teary self into her car and brought me back to Mums in East Sussex safe and sound. And, after just one week of homelessness, I've managed to find some housemates and a place to live! Not bad going for a week if you ask me! Here are a few simple steps to find somewhere like I did if you're ever in a similar situation. 

1. Make sure you don't start looking for somewhere new till well after the contract at your previous tenancy has run out and you've had to take two weeks off work to come and live with your mummy. 

2. Make sure you save next to no money and spend it all on beer and takeaways instead. 

3. Make sure you drink three bottles of red wine the night before your viewings and stay up really late so you feel like complete shit and you're exhausted all day.

4. Choose two housemates who are in a relationship so you can be a total third wheel and just chill with your cat for the duration of the new tenancy.

5. Don't mention the fact you have a cat.

6. Make sure not to check the weather on the day of your viewings so you don't bring a coat, get completely drenched and then get a chest infection.

7. Be sure to keep smoking all day even though you know you're getting a chest infection. 

8. Go to loads of properties out of your price range so the ones you can afford look a bit naff in comparison. 

9. Spend loads of money on food in between viewings so you have less for your deposit. 

10. Complain about how tired you are at 5 minute intervals throughout the day to everyone around you and get your new housemates super excited to live with you. 

Yeah.  

All kidding aside though, it was a successful and actually quite fun day and I'm HUGELY relieved I actually have somewhere to live in two weeks time, and have two amaze housemates to make a home with for the next year. The crippling panic and anxiety has eased of at least slightly. Although not completely as until we move to the new place I am stuck in a house where my mums cat and my cat are at actual war. Sweet.

I think yesterday working out is mainly down to luck, as as you can see we were not incredibly organised, we were very hungover and by about 3pm just wanted to give up and go to bed. This is not a good lesson in adulting however I am  walking proof everything tends to just work out in the end! THANK GOD.

So here I sit with a rank chest infection, tea, toast and lemsip up to my eye balls and still in my PJs at 5pm. Adulting at its finest I'm sure you will agree. And I don't even have my mummy to look after me because she buggered off to Ireland as soon as she heard I was coming home for two weeks. Cheers Ma. If anyone wants to come take care of me that would be FAB THANKS.

Happy adulting bitches x

How To Deal With Being A Nervous Wreck

^^^^ ME^^^^

I am an incredibly, incredibly anxious person. I'm basically the personification of Courage the Cowardly Dog. If you don't experience anxiety, or even know what it is, the best way I can describe it is it's the same feeling you get when someone tells you really bad news, and I don't mean 'there's no chocolate left', I mean like 'Your parents have just been eaten by snakes' kind of bad news. That weird sensation when your heart skips 3 beats and it feels like your stomach has fallen out of your arse. Kind of like you're going to projectile vomit and have a heart attack simultaneously. Well I basically live my life like this. I know, I know, I'm a total catch, form a queue fellas. Not being able to decide what to have for lunch makes me anxious, when my cat isn't home by 10pm I am completely convinced she's been eaten by foxes, I'm scared of flying, I'm scared of lifts, I am always terrified that when I'm going up stairs I'm going to trip and break my face open. Experiencing anxiety when you're going through a transition in your life, like a break up or a move or a new job is completely normal - experiencing anxiety when everything is going really well and you're just anxious about what is going to go wrong next is basically mental. So I'm going to work on this and maybe help other people who are nervous wrecks like me get over it too.

Don't get me wrong here - I'm generally a pretty chirpy person, like I'm not medicated for my anxiety, I'm not depressed and there are definitely people who experience much higher levels of anxiety than me! But it's a pretty shitty way to live your life when you just worry about everything all the time. A life lived in fear is a life half lived after all. And actually, at the moment I think my anxiety levels are pretty justified. I mean I'm pretty much at my peak of shitty adulting. I'm moving out of the house I've lived in for three years at the weekend, I (still) haven't started packing yet, I have nowhere to live and no savings for a deposit so I've had to take two weeks off work to live with my Mummy, I have to find a flat under £800000 per month that will let me keep my cat and is near a station that isn't inhabited by arse holes, and to top it all off I've just had super noodles for dinner. Plus I've paid about a billion pounds of bills this month, AND one of my closest friends at work left today. Sob :(

So I usually deal with anxiety with three things - WINE, CAKE, and TOBACCO.

Drinking through the anxiety seems like the easiest and best solution to me. And to be honest it totally works in the short term. I tend to drink till I cant feel any emotion, be it anxiety or shame. And I eat all my feelings - happiness, sadness, excitement, hunger, tiredness as well as anxiety. Smoking is a bad idea in general and doesn't help anything especially not anxiety, but I like it so whatevs. Smoking weed probably does actually help, but I cant afford that shit.

Unfortunately all my coping mechanisms are flawed. Drinking makes you hungover, and being hungover makes you anxious. This is because of all the weird chemical and biological imbalances going on in your body and your brain, and your system trying to get it all back to normal. And the drinking it's self can also go one of two ways - it is a mood enhancer after all, I mean, if you have a couple of drinks and put on some cheery tunes and have a little anti anxiety party in your room, you'll probably feel a bit better and numb that nagging knot in your stomach for a few hours. BUT you could also end up in a blubbering ball of snot and tears, calling all your friends asking why they don't love you and texting your ex boyfriends that you don't care they're engaged and have kids, you want them back. It's a risky game in its self and the end result is always the hangover anyway. For this reason I would not recommend drinking as a coping mechanism. (says the chick with the 650ml Heineken in hand - preach)

And yes, eating a chocolate bar or a big fricking bowl of ice-cream, or three cheese toasties is going to release some delightful endorphins in your brain and make you feel AWESOME for an hour or two. But then you get the sugar crash, the feeling that you have furry teeth and you need to shower because you're getting the cheese sweats, and eventually you'll also get cellulite too and that shit makes no one happy. 

So here are some ways to cope better than I do when you're feeling a bit nervous or anxious. Healthy food is going to make you feel way better than that cake. Get some greens and some fruit in that face. Make a fruit smoothie, and eat an avocado with a spoon and pretend its ice-cream. You'll still get the endorphin release, but it will last longer, and you wont feel shit afterwards, you'll feel clean and healthy and full of energy.

Distract yourself - not with wine. Organise a day out with your besties (NO BOOZE), read a book, go for a walk, call your mum, pamper yourself a bit. You will have to face up to whatever is making you anxious at some point, but distracting yourself for a couple hours doing something nice and relaxing and fun can only help. Plus when you've removed yourself from the unresolvable pit of doom you'd gotten yourself into by completely over-thinking everything, when you go back to the problem later it doesn't seem so bad.  

Do some exercise. I personally hate exercise, but I've heard it helps. Plus if it is something you do enjoy, it first of all counts a distraction and secondly it releases more of those lovely endorphins. And although you get a burst of adrenaline and energy straight afterwards and you're wide awake, after a couple hours you'll probably feel pretty exhausted and slip straight into a lovely deep sleep. Feeling anxious can keep your brain moving at a million miles an hour and make it pretty difficult to switch off and go to sleep.

Some things I plan on experimenting with to control my anxiety (and also my general out-of-control levels of anger) are yoga and meditation. If I'm being honest, I think its complete bullshit, but people who I respect and trust (who aren't total hippies for the record) have recommended it to me and said it would help. So I'll write a couple of posts on my experiences and although I'm definitely a skeptic now, who knows, maybe I'll rediscover myself! Stay tuned peeps.

Oh and if anyone in London knows of anywhere I could live that would be GREAAAAAAT.

Happy adulting x

10 Of The Worst Things About Adulting

Hello friends, back on topic after last weeks feminism rant I thought I would share with you 10 of my pet peeves about adulting...

10. Cooking

So I think I might have mentioned previously I love food. When I moved to London 4 years ago the most technical thing I could make was a cheese toastie (big up Auntie Brid for the toastie maker). After a solid two years of McDonald's, Gregs and microwave meals, I have actually started to cook things myself from scratch. And actually, it's pretty fun and gives you a massive sense of satisfaction and achievement. However, when you start it's really quite daunting. Like, looking up a recipe online is enough to put you off. Why the fuck do I need 700 ingredients to make a pasta bake. Why do I need to buy more tools than it would take to fix a car when all I want is to bake a sodding cake. And also, I don't know about anyone else but when I get home from work I don't want to spend an hour making  some elaborate feast, I want to put pajamas on and eat ice cream and drink wine in bed. WHERE DO YOU FIND THE TIME??? Take aways, fast food and ready meals are too tempting, and I am extremely lucky I am not 50 stone. Actually looking over my diet I'm pretty lucky I'm still alive. Take tonight's dinner for example...

Yum.

9. Cleaning

I'm going to be very real here. I clean my room probably once every three months. For real. I only do a load of washing when I have completely run out of clean pants and have worn at least two pairs inside out. I have fallen out on some level with pretty much every person I've ever lived with because whenever the communal areas get too dirty to inhabit I just stop using them and pretend those rooms don't exist. I HATE cleaning. But on the flip side of that when it comes to things I eat off and drink from I am a germ FREAK. I have to stearalise mugs before I make a cup of tea. I wash every utensil and piece of cutlery twice before I use it (and then leave it for a week and a half after I've finished with it before cleaning it again) My main motivation to progress in my career is to earn enough money  to pay someone else to clean my house. High five to all the housewives out there - you deserve a fucking Nobel Prize. Aaaaaaand this post has just ruined any small chance I had left of ever getting married. Sweet!

8.Having to make your own decisions.

I have made pretty much exclusively bad decisions since I have been living independently.

'Don't get a cat, you can barely look after yourself' everyone said. FUCK YOU I WILL DO WHAT I WANT. And now I'm £50 poorer a month and I cant find anywhere to live because nowhere in London allows pets. Nice one me. 

Every time I go out on a week day and have to sneak to the toilet at work to puke up my McDonalds breakfast the next day I swear I'll never do it again. Then the week after I'm all like - Oopsie its 2am on Tuesday and I'm still in Be @ 1 with three cocktails a beer and a shot of Jaegermeister. I don't have the adult function in my brain. I think I will live the rest of my life like an unchaperoned child.

7. Working

You will never be able to pay me enough to get out of bed at 7am. The only reason I work is because benefits wouldn't cover my fags and alcohol habit. 

6. Commuting to work

If there was ever an argument for contraception it is public transport in London. There is ALWAYS a screaming child on my bus. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN CRYING ABOUT - YOU'RE NOT THE ONE ON YOUR WAY TO WORK, YOU'RE PROBABLY ON YOUR WAY TO EAT A DELICIOUS ASPARAGUS PUREE THEN SHIT YOUR PANTS AND HAVE A NAP. I think my anger towards children mainly steams from pure jealousy. And if its not a screaming child, its a stinky homeless person or a half naked lunatic. And don't ask me why because my commuting face is far from friendly, but I attract ALL OF THEM like a sodding magnet.  

5. Managing your own bedtime.

I have spent the last 4 years of my life tired. Every night I say I'm getting an early night. And every night I am up till 1 am watching YouTube videos and cat vines. Is this something I can sue Apple for because I'm pretty sure I didn't do this before they equipped  me with an Iphone?

4. Managing your own money.

Like what the actual fuck am I going to work for when I spend half of it on rent for the shoe box bedroom I'm living in in the house I share with 20 other people, and the rest goes on electricity bills and toilet roll. I haven't shopped in like 3 months. Actually that's a lie, I shopped last month but this is another good reason that I shouldn't be ALLOWED to manage my own money - I made it to the last week of the month with £300 (which is a genuine first in 4 years) and instead of putting that money towards the deposit for the imminent move I have coming up, I spent it all on Topshop clothes and a pub lunch. Worth it!

3. House Sharing

Working in the property market has brought me to the very depressing realisation I will NEVER be a homeowner. Unless I win the lottery or have some really rich relatives I don't know about, I literally have no hope. And I also have no hope of affording to rent a one bedroom flat in London. Not even a fucking studio flat. Average price is genuinely over a grand a month in this city. BEFORE BILLS. So that means I will be house sharing until I'm 40. And that means I will have people complaining about my dirty dishes for the next 18 years. Moaning at me for being too loud. Chasing people 5 times before the transfer me the money for the God damn council tax. Having explosive, screaming arguments with people about crumbs on the counter in the kitchen and then not speaking to them for 3 months and having to avoid whichever room they're using until they're finished. Landlords who are unreasonable CRIMINALS like mine now.

2. Dating

Dating is just a constant roller-coaster of disappointment and anxiety to me. I meet someone who's creepy and weird - disappointment. I meet someone I like - anxiety. Why haven't you text me for a WHOLE HOUR. YOU LIKED SOMEONE ELSE'S SELFIE ON INSTAGRAM. I DON'T CARE IF IT WAS A BOY YOU CAN ONLY LIKE MY SELFIES. It's emotionally stressful and also time consuming and it's bloody expensive. Why do we have to go to some fancy cocktail bar, cant we get a 4 pack of fosters each and sit in a park??

1.The realisation this is what it will be like forever and you have to get the hang of all this shit on your own.

I just want someone to tell me how to do it all. Please. MUMMY.

I'm getting there. Slowly. Kind of. Let me know what you hate most about adulting, because misery loves company. Now I'm off to drink some wine and watch pointless videos on YouTube and forget that I'm moving out of my house at the weekend and I have nowhere to live and I haven't started packing yet.

Happy Adulting x