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

Poo year

I don't think January is really anyone's favourite month. Christmas is over. Which means you're probably fat. And poor. And unlike everyone on your Facebook you're probably neither engaged nor expecting a baby (although I personally won't complain about the latter)

New Years is also over, which means you're probably still hungover on the 3rd of January, likely woke up with a stranger in your bed who was well below your normal standards, and you still haven't been to the gym or eaten a single vegetable yet. Or, if you're me, 7 of your mates flew to Spain where you now live to spend New Year's Eve with you and you came down with the flu / a chest infection / the plague the day they arrived and spent New Year's Eve in bed sweating and crying while they drank tequila and practiced their fake orgasms (true story). 

Personally, my Christmas and New Years didn't really go to plan at all. Like a lot of people's actually, away from the glossy perfection they upload on social media. Now don't get me wrong, Christmas and New Years are wonderful and magical, like any other time you get to focus all your energy and love on the people who matter most to you. But there's a lot of pressure on these two days to be perfect, and they rarely are. Plus there's a big anticlimax when it's all over and you have to wait a whole year to do it all again. 

I always try to be a positive person and usually I'm pretty fucking good at it, but at the moment I'm just feeling a bit deflated and a bit naff. And do you know what, that's ok. And it's ok if you're feeling a bit naff to, because your a human being, and despite the fact you're supposed to magically turn into Beyoncé at the strike of midnight on the 1st of January every year doesn't actually mean you're any less entitled to be a fucking human being. 

You can still have the best year ever if you take a week to get over your hangover after New Years Eve. You can still have the best year ever if you've gained 3 stone in chocolate and wine weight over Christmas. I can still have the best year ever even though I've spent the first 3 days of the year in bed coughing so hard I genuinely think I've broken all my ribs. Don't rush ya self, forget about the pressure to make 2017 'your year' and just be kind to yourself. It doesn't have to be perfect from day one. We got 12 months of this ish to make some magical shit happen y'all. Look after yourself, and your body and your mind (I strongly suggest going vegan *shameless plug*) Then look after your family and your friends. And good things will come.  Then this will be your year. 

And hey, if I'm going to be positive about being sick over New Years - I probably saved myself from shagging someone I shouldn't have, I didn't spend any money, I've actually lost weight and I haven't had a cigarette for 4 days! Killin' it!

Now go do some shit that makes you happy, whether that's going to the gym or drinking a bottle of wine, whatever, I'm not here to judge. Have a wonderful 2017 friends. 

Happy adulting x

Spanish Stuff: Volume 1

Happy 1 month-iversary to me and my new love, Barcelona. It's going well, I think we are going to last. Just thought I'd fill you all in on some stuff I've noticed and / or learned about Spain and the Spanish culture so far, in case you are coming here, or just want a good bloody laugh, because some of it is hilarious. 

Firstly, they drive on the other side of the road. That's quite apparent pretty much as soon as you get here. You probably knew that already if you're not a retard like me. But when you've been here a month and you still try and get into the drivers seat instead of the passenger seat literally every day, you start to look pretty stupid. 

If you've never heard a Spanish family have a full blown conversation, it sounds pretty much exactly like the Eminem song 'Rap God' when he's doing the super super fast bit. There's no way an English person will ever be able to keep up so my advice is just smile and say 'Sí'. It's served me pretty well so far. 

When writing in Spanish, accents are very important. 'Si' with no accent actually means if. Not yes. Also año (year) with no accent means anus. As in arse hole. Watch out for that one.

Spanish men are soppy as fuck. Your tinder will just be full of kissy faces and heart eyes emojis. This is not my cup of tea, I'm English and am used to dating men who use 'banter' as an excuse to be  utter cunts. If I can't moan about how much of a prick you are to my girlfriends I'm not interested. Although sometimes their names are hilarious... 

Lols. 

Also I highly reccomend South American men, and there are no shortage of those here. Why do I reccomend them you ask?? Weeeellll I'll just leave this chart here.... 

I'll say no more.

If you're a low key alcoholic or an asthmatic smoker like me, then Spain is literally heaven. 50g's of tobacco is EIGHT MOTHER-FLIPPING EUROS, and you can get a 12 pack of beers for €2.85. I'm never coming home. 

Sangria hangovers literally feel like Satan hammered his way through your skull with a butter knife, took a shit on your brain and left a gaping hole in your head. Don't ever drink it for 14 hours straight (guilty). I've watched them make it and there is like 3 tablespoons of sugar in every glass . You've been warned.

If you go to the beach in Barcelona, you will be harassed every 30 seconds by people selling beers and blankets. DO NOT BUY THE BEER. I've heard a rumour they keep it in the sewers at night when they're not selling it - VOM. And if you do want a blanket, we managed to haggle a guy down from €30 to €7 so don't get ripped off. (We still didn't buy it, it was just for bants) If you don't want either of these items, I find screaming 'coño' at the top of your lungs to be pretty effective. Or just say 'Tengo un cochillo' quietly and I imagine they will leave pretty abruptly. 

Spanish people shout at each other a LOT. Don't be alarmed, this is just how they communicate. They're usually not having an argument, but sometimes it's hard to tell. 

Spanish people think English people are all alcoholics. Although in most cases this is true, try not to start bar fights or vomit in the street - athough this is normal and socially acceptable behaviour in London, it is not here. Weird. 

Spanish trains are by far the most bizarre 

I've ever encountered. Sometimes they just don't turn up. No announcements, they just never come. There are no boards showing the next trains at most stations outside the city, and a lot of the trains have no announcements on them either. And if you're sitting anywhere that isn't exactly in the middle of the train you will rarely see the station name when you pull into the platform. I have panicked several times and just guessed where to get off. It has usually been wrong. 

They also don't have bridges to cross over the platforms, you literally just walk over the tracks. Health and safety at its finest. 

Back to the positives - this is a place where my sleeping schedule is perfectly acceptable. I can sleep in the middle of the day with absolutely no judgement, because everyone else does it too. God bless you siestas <3

And finally, EVERYTHING on Spanish TV is overtly sexual. I was watching some Spanish sitcom with the 9 year old and 11 year old girls I au pair for at about 7.30 in the evening and someone threw an enormous pink dildo out a window which proceeded to hit a pedestrian on the head. There's an enourmous billboard we pass on our way into Barcelona that advertises a sex toy warehouse and condom commercials are on in the middle of the day. None of that is exaggerated for comic effect - it is very bizarre coming from a land where my mum still thinks I'm too young to have a boyfriend at nearly 24 and if someone so much as kisses on TV while you're in the same room as your family everyone becomes visibly uncomfortable. But hey, I ain't complaining. My crudeness fits right in! 

This will no doubt be volume one, I'll keep y'all updated with the weirdness and wonderfulness that is the Spanish culture.

Happy adulting peeps X

Reasons I like my cat more than you.

Today was Tuesday, which is basically just a second Monday. On top of that, it marks a week since I got back from my glorious holiday and that means I was no longer in beautiful Spain, but instead was at work. It also marks a week since I last ate meat or dairy and I’m having severe cheese withdrawal symptoms. Oh, and it was sunny and at least 14 degrees but somehow managed to snow (its fucking APRIL), and all humans around me seemed to be in arse hole mode (a bit like I am I suppose).For those reasons, I reverted back to not just being a stroppy teenager, oh no, but a full blown toddler and had a tantrum and hated anyone who wasn’t my cat. Not really that different to most days in fairness... Here’s why.

 

1. My cat doesn’t have as go at me for being late to stuff

2. My cat doesn’t make me do paperwork I don’t want to do

3. If my cat had a phone, she would fucking text me back

4. She would probably text me first actually.

5. My cat has not once asked me why I’m going vegan

6. Or called me a hippie

7. Or told me I need psychiatric help for going vegan (thanks Ma)

8. My cat doesn’t judge me for drinking alone

9. My cat doesn’t judge me for being hungover

10. My cat doesn’t harass me on Tinder

11. My cat doesn’t send me unwanted dick pics

12. She only wants to get me into bed for cuddles

13. And when she says cuddles, she literally means cuddles

14. My cat doesn’t ride her bicycle at 0.5 mph in front of my bus when I’m on my way home from work

15. My cat isn’t a 13 year old chav getting mouthy on my bus on my way home from work

16. My cat still loves me with no makeup on

17. My cat still loves me when my hair is dirty

18. And when I haven’t shaved my legs for two weeks(ok, four weeks)

19. My cat doesn’t have a go at me for being messy

20. My cat doesn’t lecture me about my poor life choices

21. My cat doesn’t think giving her a cuddle is flirting

22. My cat likes my singing

23. And she’s fluffy and COOT

 

She does dribble on my face and sit on my phone when I’m trying to use it though. But I suppose nobody is perfect.

I realise this post gets me no adult points. That’s fine, I didn’t want to adult today anyway. I am wanting to adopt a slightly more positive outlook on life though, as I have a tendency to be a bit of a grump and / or jump into panic mode and worst case scenario when things go wrong. However, I will always stand by having a big old MOAN whenever I want to anyone who will listen. It’s free therapy. And once I’ve done it I will be in a better mind frame to be positive – I mean, I feel better already! I’m planning on exercising and starting yoga (really going to help my new vegan hippie reputation) to see if they help with positivity and mood in the way people claim they do. I imagine they’re just going to cause someone of my fitness level pain, and that brings me absolutely no positivity or joy. But I suppose we will see.

Vegan week 1 blog is coming for anyone that is at all interested, but I’m waiting until I get paid so my meals are slightly more exciting than rice and salt. It was all going fine till my housemates cooked roast beef on Sunday – but fear not, I stayed strong. 

Send me pictures of your cats. 

Thanks, 

Happy adulting! 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

Follow me!
Instagram: sophiabailey93
Twitter: @Sophia_Bailey
Search the blog on Bloglovin!
All links on the right x

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!