Gone with the Bullfrog

If you want to know how to fuck something up before it begins, make sure you come to me, as I'm a pro. I’m like an emotional bulldozer, knocking down any feelings that are still standing. Yep, I bulldozed my way through anything that might have been with Mr.W.S and I feel like shit.

The other day, I had a little chat on the phone with Mr.W.S, and I finally plucked up the courage to ask him what he was doing that evening. He told me he was going for dinner with friends so, when I mentioned I’d be in our favourite bar, he said he might see me in there around midnight. Of course I was looking forward to it, I love being around him and I enjoy my nights out so much more when he’s there.

That evening, at the bar, my friends and I were knocking back the free bullfrogs. It was the perfect pastime whilst waiting to see Mr.W.S. In fact I was having such a blast that when I looked at my phone, it was already half past midnight. I did a quick scout around the bar to see if he had already arrived, but when I didn’t see him, I thought I’d give him a call to tell him to hurry up.

Back in the bar, my friend had slipped off home but I decided to hang out and wait for Mr.W.S to turn up... He didn’t. I think it was then it dawned on me that he just wasn’t interested. And so I burst into tears. There I was, in the middle of the bar, alone and bawling my eyes out. The only comfort I had was being offered tissues from drunk strangers.

Mascara running down my face, I text Mr.W.S. Having read the messages back, they didn’t really make much sense, nor did they really portray how I felt. At all. I remember being so drunk, I was struggling to send text messages, so I called him instead. I really don’t remember what I said, I just remember crying uncontrollably and wanting to see him. I also recall thinking he must think I’m crazy. I’m not.

The only other part of the conversation I have a vague recollection of is him telling me to get in a taxi and then my phone battery dying. I sobbed all the way home. I felt so needy that I decided the only way to stop that would be to distance myself from Mr W.S. So, when I got home, I hit the delete button next to his name on Facebook. I didn’t want to but, in my drunken stupor, I thought it’d be for the best – for me and for him.

The next morning, not only did I wake up feeling like I’d been hit by a truck, I also looked a complete wreck and felt incredibly embarrassed. As soon as I opened my eyes, I turned on my Mac and typed his name into Facebook. I cringed when his wall didn’t appear. I wanted to kick myself. Great, now not only does he think I’m a complete lunatic, he probably also thinks I hate him. Fabulous. Just the scenario you want to be faced with on a Monday morning.

I stewed over it all day and wondered whether I should call or text him, but I couldn't imagine he’d want to hear from me. I’d been a massive twat and I was pretty certain there was no way of redeeming myself.

Luckily for me, Mr W.S called me that evening. And whilst I was completely mortified, I was so relieved that he didn't think I was a total idiot. Even if I do think so.

But, as always with me, I never receive good news without some bad news... Yep, he finally told me he's just not that into me. So, yes, some of you can now say "I told you so" and feel all smug that I've, once again, been flung onto the rejected pile. However, I'm cool with it. The way I see it is that I don't want to be with someone who isn't into me any more than I'd want to be with Frank Gallagher. So, as Rhett Butler once said, "frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn".

Knowing Me, Knowing You

In Dubai, it can be difficult to find people you connect well with, particularly on an emotional and intellectual level. And when I say connect well with, I mean having a real deep understanding and close affinity with someone. I have so many wonderful friends in Dubai, but I wouldn't say I have that kind of connection with many of them. That doesn't mean I love them any less, but I am perhaps less open with them about my deeper feelings.

When I first met Mr. W.S (sorry, babe!!), it didn't occur to me he might be someone I'd spend all night with, having heart-to-hearts. And it wasn't until eight months after our first meeting that I realised I'd opened up to him far more than I opened up to most people.

I'm an incredibly trusting person, and will always give people the benefit of the doubt. Having said that, there is part of me I keep totally under wraps. I have certain characteristics and emotions that I never tell anyone, and only those who truly pay attention to me will work me out. Mr. W.S has started to do just that...

During our first heart-to-heart, my barriers were still well and truly up. There was no way I was going to let some guy work out who I really am, what I'm really like and what I really want. By our second all-night conversation, I felt much more at ease in his company and I began to open up. By our third, I began showing some emotion. I was hesitant at first, perhaps due to past experiences, but Mr. W.S reciprocated and also opened up to me.

So, when I heard from friends that Mr.W.S hadn't been sincere with me, I was shocked and quite upset. I wondered how I could be so stupid as to let someone in who didn't really care. I also wondered why he'd bother wasting his time trying to work me out. I don't know if I was more angry at myself or him but, when I saw him, I lost it for a moment and snapped. It wasn't until he started talking and I looked at his face that I realised why I had opened up to him.

I felt like an idiot having snapped at him. Here was a guy who was genuine, someone I really enjoyed being with and could talk openly to. He wasn't in it to fuck me and take advantage. Perhaps that's what scares me. I'm so used to my relationships being based around sex, hanging out with a guy who wants to be friends with me is almost alien.

But that's part of the problem. Now, do I want to let someone in so deeply and risk being badly hurt? Or do I go with the flow and hope for the best? After all, he's still only scratched the surface...

I guess the way I see things is that I can no longer savour my virginity so, instead, I hold back my feelings and emotions, only letting those who truly deserve it in. I've only ever let two guys in before - J and Mr M.N - I had my heart ripped to shreds on both occasions, and I'm not sure I can go through all of that again.

Perhaps I'm naive in thinking there's anything else beyond being drinking buddies with Mr.W.S. Maybe the all-nighters are insignificant and the cuddles not as intense as I believe them to be. Maybe in my head this is what I think it might be like to be understood, in reality it's probably just a sympathetic rub on the back.

Whatever it is, it feels good at the time and I guess I should rinse it until I feel the hurt could outweigh the pleasure...

Singled Out

I'm not usually fussed about being single. In fact, over the years, I've actually come to enjoy it. However, recently, it's started to frustrate me. Not because I need a man to make me happy, but because all of my friends are in relationships. Yes, I know I sound like a child who wants the latest toy, but that's exactly how not being in a relationship is making me feel - left out.

Prime example; there's a bank holiday coming up and I'm dying to get away for a short break. But who to go with? All my friends have plans with their other halves, so I've no choice to book for one. And do you have any idea how much extra I have to pay just because I'm going on holiday alone? It's like a single-tax or something. Talk about kicking a woman while she's down!

The other problem with being single is that your friends never stop going on about trying to find you a partner. They always scratch their heads and ask you why you're still single with a bemused look on their faces. Well, it's not like I have an answer to that, is it?

Last weekend, I was out with some friends for a few drinks and from the moment I arrived until the moment I left, the conversation revolved around my love life. Or lack thereof. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one to shy away from the topic (bloody hell, I write a blog about it for goodness sake) but when it goes on and on for five hours plus, it does become a little tiresome... No, I don't know why I'm still single. No, I'm not covered in scales. No, I don't keep a collection of toenail clippings. And no, I don't talk about ex-boyfriends to guys I've just met. Anyway, on this particular night out, I left in a strop - something I almost never do. Why? Because it all got a bit too much...

On a night out, if I've not found a charming young man to occupy myself with, I do have a tendency to text or call J. I believe this is my single-girl right. I'm not doing anything wrong, I merely want some attention from a man I know will sleep with me. Ok, I know he's 3500 miles away, but it's the attention I'm after. So, when my friends nag and moan at me for contacting J, I take offence. I mean it's alright for them in their lovey-dovey relationships, probably getting all the nookie they need. I bet they've forgotten what it feels like to crave attention from the opposite sex. Well, I haven't!

So after being told by my loved-up friends, with their disapproving looks, that I shouldn't be contacting J, I decided enough was enough and left. I can just about tolerate discussing my lacklustre love-life all evening, but trying to stop me from getting that little bit of attention I need to stop me from going mad... well, that's just taking it too far.

Is being in a relationship like joining the Free Masons? Is it like some exclusive club that I have no idea how to join and even if I do find out, I have to wait for someone to die before they let me join? At least my friends haven't reached the stage of organising 'couples only' dinners. Although sometimes I think they're not far off.

It's not that I'm not happy for my friends, or that I'm jealous of their relationships, I just wish being single wasn't so exclusive. I'd quite like to go on holiday with one of my friends or be their plus one to an event. It'd also be lovely if there was some spontaneity, rather than them having to consult the other half before committing to spending time with me.

Anyway, before I sound like some bitter old spinster, I suppose I better be grateful that I at least have a cat to come home to... Oh.

To be or not to be?

Well, 2010 hardly got off to the best start for me in terms of my lovelife. Which is why, by the way, I haven’t blogged in so long…

It’s been an arid six months in the desert. So much so, I arranged a little trip to see my friend J to help me get through the year. As I explained in a previous blog post, it’s a guaranteed with J – no games, no messing around, just pure explicit fun. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on him. After almost six months of torture, I was going to ravish him. All the pent up frustration was going to blow his mind and I was going to love every second of it. I could barely contain my excitement on the journey to see him; the thought of what was to come almost made me climax there and then.

I arrived at my destination a little too early to call J, and so I spent the morning with Little Miss LC. What could be better than shopping in the sunshine with your best friend you hadn’t seen in months, followed by an intense session with your FB of seven years? Nothing, that’s what. And it’d all so be worth the journey. After much catching up with the bestie, I decided it was time to call J to arrange where and when we were going to meet. Our call was as normal as any of our calls had been over the last seven years - flirtatious yet matter-of-fact.

The conclusion of our call was that J was going to call me back with a plan. I eagerly awaited his call…

Ten minutes passed and I received a text message from J. My heart skipped a beat with excitement. But it should have skipped a beat with disappointment, anger or sheer shock. It was the text message every girl dreads when she’s seeing a guy, and it went like this:

“Rims look I can’t do this! I thought I could but I can’t bring myself too (sic)! I’m seeing someone and we are having a baby! It wasn’t planned but I can’t jepordise anything! I wanted to tell you face to face but things are rough at the moment! Don’t text back I’ll call you on your Dubai number next week! I’m sorry! X”

I can’t explain how I felt at that moment. Seven years of my life had just been crushed and I had so many questions – Who? How? Where? When? Why? That was it, I couldn’t control myself; the tears came tumbling down. There I was, sat alone, on a busy high street, bawling my eyes out. I wanted to text him back, even though he’d told me not to, but I didn’t know what to say. I reread the message – once, twice, thrice. How could he? Especially as I’d flown half way round the world to spend the weekend with him. I wanted to hit him so hard but he wasn’t there. I had no outlet for my feelings.

As soon as Little Miss LC emerged from the shop she was in, I told her the bad news. She immediately took me for consolation Cosmopolitans at a nearby bar. She listened to me moan and question why, but there was one thing she couldn’t give me… answers. I needed to know. I needed to know how it happened, how he felt, why he hadn’t told me earlier. I know I probably shouldn’t have wanted to find out all these answers, but I did. Desperately.

I tried calling J but he didn’t pick up. He then called me straight back. I asked him if he was joking and he told me he wasn’t but he couldn’t talk. The call ended. I was totally deflated. How could he let me come all this way to see him and not tell me? Did all these years really mean nothing to him? How could he be this heartless? I sent him another message saying if we weren’t going to talk now, we were never going to talk. He responded by promising he’d call me next week and asking me not to use his number. I’d been using that number for the last seven years!!! I was fuming and so I decided the best way for me to calm down was to drown my sorrows.

Several Cosmos later, I left Little Miss LC to meet another friend in another bar across town. As I was early, I thought I’d get a couple in before hand. I chased vodka and lemonades with jagerbombs. How I wasn’t blind drunk by the time my friend arrived, I have no idea. As the day drew to a close, I was glad to get some rest and think about the situation rationally. I decided I’d give J the opportunity to explain himself and I’d wait until the end of the week to see if he’d call me as he promised. After all, I didn’t want it to end this way… if at all.

Back in Dubai, I wished the week away waiting for J’s call. Perhaps I was being naïve, but I really believed he’d call me. Surely he knew I’d be upset, and surely the last seven years meant something to him too. Clearly it didn’t. As the week went on, I realised he probably wasn’t going to call to explain. It really dawned on me when I was on a night out with friends and, out of nowhere, the waterworks began and my sobbing uncontrollable. It was then I realised I liked him far more than I'd ever let on.

The girls attempted to console me in the bathroom of the karaoke bar, but it was no use. No matter how many times they told me how gorgeous and amazing I was, J still didn’t care and he clearly didn’t share the same opinion of me as my girlfriends did. I was absolutely devastated.

Thursday night came and J still hadn’t called. I decided if he didn’t care then I shouldn’t either, and so I sent him a message telling him not to contact me ever again. Ten minutes later, he called. He told me he was in a difficult place right now but that he cared for me and always looked forward to seeing me. I told him that, after so long, it was inevitable that I had developed feelings for him, and he said he felt the same way. But, it was a case of too little too late. He’s to become a dad in two months time, and of course his son will be his focus, and I’ll be pushed even further down the list.

When the call ended, I felt a sense of relief. I was pleased that some things that had been left unsaid for so long were now out in the open. And I was pleased that it hadn’t ended with my harsh text message. J and I decided we’d remain friends and just see how things went. I don’t think it will ever be the same between us; it’ll all just fizzle out. Either that or we’ll end up together. Either way, a child is a huge commitment and it’s forever changed the dynamic of our relationship.

I know so many people will be reading this, telling me to kick him to the kerb, but you know what? I just can’t do it. I wish I could, but my fondness for J is far greater than I’ll ever admit. Even to myself. And if Carrie and Mr. Big can work through their issues and live happily ever after, then maybe there’s hope for me and J…

The Seven Year Itch

As it’s been a while since I last blogged, I thought I’d make this entry about someone who has played a significant role in my life over the last seven years. Why haven’t I blogged about this person before? I’m not sure to be honest. I guess it’s the fact that I’ve become so used to our “relationship” that I no longer needed to work it out.

So, who is this person? Well he’s a friend I see every time I visit the UK. He’s tall, cute and we have the most amazing, tantalizing sex. After an on/off relationship for seven years, we know what we like, we know what we’re good at and we know how to please each other. It's been a rollercoaster relationship but we’ve (somehow) managed to remain great friends with exceptional benefits.

We first met in 2003; I’d just returned to the UK after working in Majorca for the summer during my university holidays and he’d just returned to the UK after working in Malia for six months. Initially, we met with the pretence to date, which we did. Twice.

We quickly slipped from dating to being friends with benefits. When we first met, I lived in North London and J lived in West London. I remember hearing him pulling up into my driveway (not a pun) in his TVR and the butterflies I’d get in my stomach… I wanted him and I wanted him so badly. I also remember taking the tube from the house I shared with my uni friends to his place, wearing nothing but a trench coat and high heels!

Our relationship never developed into anything beyond casual lovers. There’s only one reason for this; J will never have a girlfriend. Not because he can’t find one, but because he doesn’t want one. In the time we’ve been friends, I’ve never known him to have a girlfriend. We’ve both talked about other physical encounters we’ve had, but he’s never mentioned a relationship.

At first I thought he was a commitment phobe, and sometimes I do still think that, but then I look back over our relationship and realise we’ve been committed to each other… for seven years! Ok, it’s not commitment in the traditional sense but we’ve always been a constant for one another.

After university, I ended up moving round the corner from J, probably about 150 yards away. I’d creep to his place in the dead of the night in just my underwear and he’d greet me at the front door with a big smile on his face which would lead to a passionate kiss. But, even though we lived so close, our “relationship” suffered. Occasionally we’d fight like husband and wife, although I couldn’t tell you what those arguments were about.

The confrontations were quite verbally vicious at times and we were less intimate than we ever had been but, when we weren’t arguing, we were spending more time together as just friends. We’d be at the same parties occasionally and introduce one another to our friends. Once, I even convinced him to look after my pet rabbit when I was on holiday in Egypt.

A year later, I moved away. Three and a half thousand miles away. Funnily enough, both our friendship and our physical relationship have never been stronger. Both of us are aware the distance puts a barrier over us ever developing deeper emotional feelings for one another, so there’s less of a threat of us ruining what we do have. Or at least I thought so.

It may be that we’re only physically together a handful of times in the year, but we still manage to keep the spark alive when we’re not. Although I never call J when I’m in Dubai, he will occasionally call me. We also video call over Skype, share a lot of intimate text messages, picture messages and emails. Intimately, nobody knows me better. Not even my ex-boyfriend of two years.

J knows me inside out. Sexual fantasies, family issues, past/present relationships… there’s not much we haven’t shared. So, what happens when I’m seeing someone?

Well, J usually questions me about the guy I’m seeing. In the past, particularly recently, he’s acted in quite a jealous manner. But, at the end of the day, he knows I can’t resist him. And although I try to refrain from sending him messages when I'm with someone else, I have succumbed in the past. And if I’m in the UK… well, that’s just dangerous.

It’s not that I’m holding off falling in love because I’d rather sleep with J, not at all. I just haven’t met someone worth giving him up for yet. But sometimes I wonder if I’m I in a danger zone here? Am I lulling myself into a false sense of security? Fooling myself that I don’t have feelings for J? Is it really that I’ve not met anyone special or is that nobody else compares?

Recently, I’ve told a few friends about my relationship with J. Every one of their responses has been “Why don’t you marry him?” or “Don’t you end up marrying guys like that?”. One friend asked me if I loved him. I couldn’t answer. Not because I was ashamed but because, quite simply, I didn’t know. Yes, I care immensely for J but we’ve never spent more than 12 hours together, so how can I possibly know if I’m in love with him?

I do know, however, that I’d find it incredibly difficult to end our seven year affair. In fact, when I tried to end it when I was last back in the UK (for reasons I won’t go into right now), he tried to change my mind. Of course he succeeded. But if it had ended, would we be “just friends” or would it be only a matter of time before we were casual lovers again? Or would we cut each other off completely?

Sometimes I wonder if my friends are right. I mean how many people have maintained a successful fuck buddy relationship for seven years? Out of curiosity, I googled it and found most people’s FB relationships fizzled out within a year. Or one of them ended up falling for the other. Either way, most of them ended up with no further contact with their FB, which is something that would devastate me if it happened to J and I.

Really though, how long will this affair last. Will we still be doing this in five years time? 10 years? 30 years? What if neither of us meets someone we want to settle down with? Will we be grey and wrinkly and still ‘at it’? Will we cave in and just marry each other? Or will we both have forgotten each other by then?

It’s hard for me to imagine my life without J in many ways; I’m so used to him being there. It’s difficult to explain because on the one hand we are just fuck buddies. But then surely you know that breaking away from someone, after sleeping with them for seven years, is not going to be easy for either party. Even if you are both emotionally detached.

All of this makes me wonder if there is more to it than either of us are letting on. On a recent trip back to the UK, I literally snapped my fingers and J came running. And everytime I meet up with him, I feel so nervous and excited. Neither of which are normal behaviours for two people who are supposedly emotionally detached from one another.

Could it be that we both hold a special torch for each other but neither of us have (or want to) recognise it? I’m not opposed to being in a relationship with J, but the circumstances have just never fallen into place. A lot has changed over the last seven years, we’re both far more mature than we were when we first met and I think there’s a lot more mutual respect, but I’m not sure if it’d constitute a healthy relationship.

My dilemma is, I don’t want to be the one to test the waters. We’re honest with each other in so many respects, but we’ve been so adamant that we’re nothing more than friends with benefits in the past, that it’s become too difficult to bring it up with one another. At least that’s how I feel.

I daren’t talk about it with J in case he runs a mile, especially as it could be a waste of a perfectly good fuck buddy and friendship because I’m not even sure of my true feelings towards him.

Question is; should I risk it?

Since you've been gone

As I sit here typing, there are tears cascading down my cheeks. I've shed many tears over this particular subject over the last two months. In fact, at one point, I wondered if I'd ever stop crying. I know she's only a phone call away, but I can't begin to describe how much I miss Little Miss LC.

Yes, there will be phone calls, emails and biannual visits, but there won't be gossiping over cosmos, honest verdicts on new shoes/dresses or that sympathetic hug when things go wrong with a guy.

We're all well aware that relationships with members of the opposite sex need to be balanced between physical and emotional, but we forget we need that balance with our girlfriends too. I mean who else would have sat with me for over two hours, as I soaked my injured toe in lukewarm water, in an attempt to peel off a bandage? And who else would have gone out to the pharmacy at midnight to buy sterilised gauze for me? I can't think of anyone else.

It's been a month since Little Miss LC left Dubai's shores, and I still feel the same way today as I did the day she left - sad. As I watched her, the munchkin and Kins pile into the taxi and drive away from their home, I couldn't control myself and the only person left to console me was their maid. Was this a picture of what my life in Dubai would become without my best friend? Comforted by a stranger who probably didn't even know my name.

Images crept into my mind of being sat alone at a seedy bar, drinking a cosmopolitan, with a fat and lonely regular punter draping his arm around my shoulders, telling me tales of how much worse his loved and lost stories were. I shuddered at the thought.

I cried the entire taxi ride home, I cried all night and I cried all day at work. To me, this was the greatest loss I had experienced since my grandmother died when I was eight years old. I'm not sure if I consider myself lucky or unlucky to have not had any great losses in my life. On one hand, all of my loved ones are alive and kicking, on the other hand, it makes even my best friend moving 3000 miles away seem like a monumental loss. I do wonder how I'd cope if I did lose a loved one. My guess is not very well.

Anyway, thankfully, my life hasn't been that tragic. I'm still the girl-about-town that I always have been, but just without someone to enjoy it with. It's strange when I have newsworthy gossip and nobody to immediately share it with. Now I have to take time zones and lifestyle changes into consideration. I miss the instant mutual encouragement - instead, I'm often left agonising over situations on my own for hours before Little Miss LC can call me and put my mind at ease. I'm sure my blood pressure has risen over the last few weeks.

Well, at least there are only 47 days until I'm reunited with Little Miss LC, and I can't wait to be physically close to her again. Laughing together over Skype is just not as funny as laughing together in person, and I can't wait to see her little smiley face rather than an emoticon of one.

Baby, I love you! xx

When a good night goes bad

Yes, I'm aware I haven't blogged for a while. I've been too busy partying, and subsequently suffering from hangovers, to type out a thought provoking entry. And, as the saying goes, I don't do things by halves.

However, this evening, I'm leaving the heavy boozing to my chums. Instead, I'm opting for my duvet, Sex and the City, endless cups of tea and guilt-inducing chocolate digestive biscuits. How very un-Dubai. But at least you can now discover what it is exactly that has kept me from blogging for so long...

Let me start by offering you ladies a tip; never offer a man no-strings attached sex. Why? Because in the unlikely event he turns you down, as I discovered, it is deeply humiliating, no matter how well you take it.

The lucky gentleman in question was Mr A.P. Little Miss LC and I had organised birthday celebrations for him, which included food, booze and wonderful friends. It was the perfect evening — the food was sublime, the drinks did a good job (perhaps a little too good of a job for me) and the company was at its most beautiful and entertaining.

That evening, as the cocktails flowed, we decided to move from the restaurant to a swanky bar down the road. It's here where it all went downhill for me. Never having been one to realise my limits, I knocked back mojito after mojito, only pausing to toke on a cigarette or laugh hysterically at a joke. Needless to say, my already practically non-existent inhibitions dwindled down to the point I felt comfortable enough to attempt seduction.

I strolled over to Mr. A.P in my skyscraper heels, pulled him closer and whispered in his ear. What I whispered was nothing short of blunt and I was certain I was onto a sure winner. After all, I also gave him a description of my underwear, which was by no means a regular day-to-day set. When I'd finished whispering in his ear, I pulled away and we looked at each other eye to eye. This was it, he was going to kiss me... Except he didn't. He just smiled at my brazen attitude, shook his head and said 'no'.

To say I was taken aback would be an understatement. I was utterly bewildered by his response. Had we not had romantic liaisons in the past, I may have considered this was a likely outcome, but we have been romantically linked. Not only that, but it was his birthday, I was wearing some of my finest underwear and had just offered him a no-strings attached birthday treat.

Had past romantic encounters with other men wrongly led me to believe that all men were sex-hungry, emotionless animals? Had I totally misjudged the male mind? Or was there a genuine explanation for this act of complete abstinence?

I attempted to contest his decision, but Mr. A.P wasn't budging. Despite discussing it length, it was clear he wasn't comfortable with the situation and so I walked away frustrated.

At the end of the night, I made my way home in a taxi. Alone. As I tried to analyse the events of the night in my head, I was also rifling through my clutch trying to find my house keys. I couldn't find them. Great; drunk and locked out. I called my flatmate but there was no answer. Trying everyone else in my phonebook who'd been out that night, I came across Mr. A.P's name. Should I call him? I was genuinely stranded...

I pressed the call button. Mr. A.P answered, but I don't think he was best pleased, and I'm sure he thought it was a ploy. Perhaps it was, subconsciously. He reluctantly allowed me to stay, and so I took a taxi all the way across town... to sleep on his sofa. There was no action. Instead I was left looking desperate and a little bit stupid.

The next morning, I was greeted with a rather obnoxious hangover, a cup of coffee and a smiling Mr. A.P. I can only assume it was a pity smile. We didn't talk about our conversation the night before, Mr A.P is far too much of gentleman to bring it up, and so we discussed the week ahead, which would consist of rugby, booze and a lot of fun.

Before I made my way home, Mr. A.P lent me a pair of his flip-flops to get home in - 5 inch stilettos aren't appreciated at 10am with a raging hangover and a trip across town. So there I was doing the taxi ride of shame; make-up smeared, clutching my underwear and wearing 5 Dirham men's flip-flops. In fact, 'shame' would not be doing this scenario justice.

Funny thing was, two hours later, we were back on the booze at the Rugby 7's. Reading this, you'd probably think I was asking for trouble, but somehow I managed to control myself. After the previous night's performance, I'd be foolish to make the same mistake again.

I'm not 100% sure what this proves. Perhaps it's that Mr. A.P has no interest in me, perhaps it was we both want different outcomes or maybe he saw me as vulnerable (read: desperate) and didn't feel it was the right thing to do. Whatever the reason, I shall always think twice before whispering obscenities into a man's ear. The fear of rejection is far from futile.

The Friendly Face

It's always strange when you hear your ex is over you and back on the dating scene, but for me, it was even stranger. Or should that be familiar? That's right, I've heard reports that X is back on the dating scene... with my friends.

I'm not overly bothered by it, as he's not seeing close friends of mine, but I still find it weird for some reason. One of the girls is someone I work with and have mutual friends with, the other is a little closer to me as I've known her five years. She and I worked together in London before I moved to Dubai. We used to go out as a big group of girls but she's no Little Miss LC to me.

There is something, deep down, that does make me feel a little nauseous though. I'm not sure if I'm concerned what the girls will think of X, thus reflecting on me, whether it's what X will think of the girls, or if I just can't bear the thought of X having sex when I'm not.

It's not like I want him to hold back on dating until I'm ready to settle down and find a man of my own, so why does it make me feel odd? Do all girls feel this way after a break up? Is it a race between you and your ex to reach coupledom smugness? Or is it just Dubai and the way you can't sneeze without the entire community knowing about it?

Are we that deprived of choice in this city that we feel the need to recycle friends' cast-offs? And why do I feel weird about this but organising a 'one girl's trash is another girl's treasure' singles party is fine? Did my ties with X run deeper than I originally thought when we broke up? Or is it that neither of them have mentioned anything to me?

I have no intention of getting back with X , the feeling's just not there anymore, but are girls not supposed to have a little chat about it first? You know, check there are no hard feelings there. I mean, I could still be hung up on the guy. I'm not, but I could have been. 

At the end of the day, I don't mind if they're together. After all, X and I broke up five months ago, I ended with him and I've moved on since then. I guess I just didn't want to hear it from someone else.

Anyway, I wish them both the best of luck, they're both lovely people and probably far better suited than X and I ever were. But I've made a note to myself not to date a friend's ex before I've had a little chat with her about it first. It's just the courteous thing to do.

Cleudo

Life... it's full of complications. Complications that can sometimes cause more drama than you care for. Drama that forces you to make a decision. The consequences of that decision can often affect others, and it's those consequences that play a big part in the resolution.

This week I had to make a small decision because of, what I think could have been, exaggerated consequences. After much thought and confusion, I have decided to let the idea of Mr. A.P and I drop. It's not a decision I took lightly, particularly after our last encounter, but I feel it's the right one, for now at least.

I didn't want to make a choice but, unfortunately, that's what happens when others are involved. Particularly when the others are your closest friends. As another friend said to me recently, I should put chicks before dicks. But little did she know of the decision I'd already made in my mind to please my friend. The sacrifice may seem small, but to me it's a big deal. In fact, if I'm honest, it makes me miserable. I shall explain...

I received a number of responses to my last blog post; some telling me to go for it with Mr. A.P, some to wait and see what happens and one to knock it on the head. The latter seemed to cause some controversy amongst the rest of my girlfriends. I know they all have my best interests at heart, but they also have very different opinions on the matter. However, what concerns me most is that the friend, who told me to knock it on the head, knows Mr. A.P and painted a very different picture of how he felt in comparison to what he and I concluded ourselves.

After some very frank conversation, or at least so I thought, with Mr. A.P during our night together, we established that we do like each other. We're obviously also attracted to one another, but agreed we would just remain friends (with the occasional benefit) due to his obsession. I understood that and accepted it. We weren't closing the door, we were just leaving it ajar and I was very comfortable with that. In any case, I wouldn't want it to happen overnight. As I've said before, I prefer it when the excitement of whether or not it will happen is dragged out.

My good friend, however, is insistent this isn't the case. She's so sure that Mr. A.P is disinterested that I've been asked never to speak of him again. Obviously, for the purpose of the blog, I can't totally commit to that, but I have made a conscious effort not to mention his name in her presence.

So, how is my friend so sure that Mr. A.P isn't interested? Well, apparently he most definitely didn't want to spend the evening alone with me and scrabbled around, inviting people over to his place, before my arrival. Clearly, he had little success. In fact, when I called him before I left my office, I gave him the perfect opportunity to decline my company for the evening. He didn't. I believe his words were "I'd appreciate the company". 

My friend also mentioned that Mr. A.P had received a text from his obsession saying she knew he was involved with someone but she loved him and hoped their time would come. Obviously a text like that is provoking and leaves no room for me in his mind. I simply can't compete with it.

With those things in mind, I wondered why Mr. A.P had told me he liked me if that wasn't the case. Was he just trying to tell me what I wanted to hear? Or did he genuinely feel that way? After much thought about it, I decided to call Mr. A.P to give him the chance to be honest with me. 

During the call, I started by telling him that I wasn't disillusioned by the situation and that I take it for all it is right now, and that's a bit of fun. I went on to tell him I just wanted to be honest and clear about my thoughts and that I hoped he would be with me too. He replied by saying he thought we had an honest conversation on Sunday. There it was, his chance to get out of it, but again, he didn't seem to want to.

But what's the explanation for all of this? Could it be that Mr. A.P is putting on a facade, not letting on to anyone else that there is something between us? But then again, why? He knows all our mutual friends would hear the truth from me, surely? Is this just a very bad miscommunication? Who's wrong? Who's right?

In the meantime, I told my friend not to worry about protecting me. Yes, I like Mr. A.P but I don't like him enough to cry any tears over him. Just as it happened with S, I'd be gutted for a day or two, blog about it and move on. It's not really in my nature to be depressed, I'm far too happy-go-lucky for that and I'm in absolutely no rush to jump into a serious relationship anyway. I just enjoy hanging out with him and reaping some of those benefits!

Anyway, earlier this week, my friend and I had made plans go to the movies. Before I left to meet her she told me Mr. A.P had asked what were up to and if I'd mind if he came along. Of course I didn't mind. After all, we are friends and I'd still not established any true disinterest from him. 

Only a minute after my friend had asked me if I was fine with Mr. A.P coming along, he called me to aske me what was going through my head. I didn't have a clue what he was talking about. Then he asked why I had an issue with him going to the movies. I still wondered what the hell he was on about, I mean we are still friends, so why would I be bothered? Then those horrible words came out of his mouth... "Do you mind if we just knock this whole thing on the head?"

My jaw dropped. I wouldn't have been so shocked had he not used that particular phrase but, as soon as he said it, I knew something wasn't right. That was the phrase I'd used in my last blog post when considering how I should handle things with him. It was also the phrase the girls used on my facebook page (which I deleted before he saw). Could it be that it was just a big coincidence? 

I didn't argue. If that's what he wanted, then fine. But then he went on to say how "other people" kept saying things to him about the situation. Not that I really saw it as a situation, although perhaps it is now, but I wondered who the "other people" Mr. A.P spoke of were. And what had they been saying? What was going on here?

Mr. A.P came to the movies with us that evening, although I couldn't bring myself to ask him what the phone call was all about. In fact, we barely spoke the entire night. I couldn't even look at him because I was still trying to figure it all out in my head. How had he come to that decision, despite everything we'd talked about? It was totally unexpected. All I knew was it definitely wasn't him saying those things on the phone to me. So who was?

When I arrived home that evening, I text Mr. A.P saying that I had a feeling that he'd made a decision he didn't really want to make. He didn't reply, but then again I wasn't expecting him to. 

To be honest, I wouldn't mind if the decision had been his, I wouldn't even question it. But I knew this didn't add up and I wanted to know what was going on. Had someone said something about me? Had someone convinced him he was doing the wrong thing? What the fuck was happening here? I needed to get to the bottom of this...

The next day, I was chatting to a colleague of mine who happens to be friends with Mr A.P's obsession. I wondered if it had been Mr. A.P's obsession dictating to him to finish up what was going on between us? I questioned my colleague about her, but I'm assured she's far too loved up to interfere with Mr. A.P's love life. And she's also too loved-up to jeopardise her current relationship by stringing Mr. A.P along anymore.

But hang on a minute, didn't Mr. A.P's obsession text him saying she loved him? I posed the question to my colleague who just couldn't see it... Now I was certain something was up, as for what it was, I had no idea. But rest assured, I am going to get to the bottom of this!!

Stick, twist or bust?

Let it be known that, when it comes to dating, I am a complete masochist. I continually torment myself by trying to work out if a guy I’m into is into me, and if he is will anything ever happen between us. I’m a total glutton for punishment.

To be frank, I think underneath all the agonising, I secretly enjoy the drama of it all. I love waiting and watching it all unfold. Every touch, every kiss… it’s like I’ve been blindfolded and my senses have been heightened. Everything that happens is magnified a hundred times because I’m just so eager to know. To know if he likes me the way I like him. To know if he desires me the way I desire him…

The other night, all those feelings reached fever pitch and I was running on a high. After not having seen Mr A.P for two weeks, I so desperately needed a fix. So when I received an invite round to his new place, I knew I had to take it.

To be honest, I was surprised to receive the invitation in the first place. Only a day or two earlier Little Miss LC had mentioned that Mr. A.P had never made the effort to make any plans with me, and that it was a bit pathetic should he actually like me. She was right, and I almost resigned myself to the fact that it just wasn’t happening. But lo and behold, as if he’d heard our conversation, up pops the invitation to his new pad.

After my previous blog about what constitutes a date, I wondered if this was one. I needed to check and so posed the question to a few of my male friends, most of whom confirmed that it was, indeed, a date. You can imagine my delight. I’d been waiting for this for almost four months and the moment had finally arrived!

Over the few days leading up to the date, some of my friends tried to bring me down to Earth by telling me it wasn’t a date, and that there may be other people there. For a moment, I considered not going. But in my heart of hearts, I knew it was a date. After so many texts between myself and Mr. A.P over the past couple of months, I knew well enough that, if it wasn’t a one-on-one, he’d have made reference to inviting other people.

Sure enough, when I arrived at Mr. A.P’s place, it was just me and him. As we sat by the pool, listening to music, drinking wine and having one of our conversations where time stands still, I wondered how the evening would go. Would we both be too chicken-shit to make a move? Would he spurn my advances? Or would we end up in a state of romantic ecstasy?

As the evening progressed, our inhibitions dwindled (thank you alcohol)! I laid my cards on the table. I told Mr. A.P I liked him. I didn’t need to say anymore, he knew exactly what I meant. I braced myself for the inevitable let down but it never came. Instead, he took me by surprise and told me he liked me too.

That was it. Now I knew. I didn’t need to analyse anything anymore, I’d heard it from the horse’s mouth and that was all I needed. I didn’t need to ask anyone for their opinion and I didn’t need to work out what happened that night. It was black and white. There were still hurdles but, esentially, there’s a mutual attraction.

We moved from the patio table to the pool, and I think we both knew what would happen at that point. The playful splashing led to dunking, the dunking led to kissing, the kissing led to… well, I'll leave that to your imagination. It was perfect. Eveything I hoped it would be and more.

Ahh, the kissing. So soft yet still so passionate. They're all consuming and take me far away, out of this world. Picture this; in the pool, my legs are around his waist, his hands on my back and neck, I cup his face and run my fingers through his hair whilst the water lapped around us. It felt like I was in a movie scene but better – it was real.

When we woke up the next morning, we snuggled skin-on-skin. On a regular day, I stress about making it to the office on time but, that day, I couldn’t have cared less. I was so content I could have easily stayed there, in his arms, all day. I can’t put how I felt into words, no words would do it justice.

As the day went on, my state of bliss subsided. I think my friends were so used to giving me their opinions, that I didn’t even need to ask them this time round. Thing is, on this occasion, I didn’t want to hear any opinions. I don’t care if I’m going to get hurt. I don’t care if he’s only after what he can get. I just don’t care about any of that. Let me momentarily bask in this state of bliss. Let me reap all the feel-good factors before you bring me down. Let me fantasise about what could be, lose myself in the reverie, drift ethereally…

Back to reality and I do have to question Mr A.P’s motives. He may well like me, but if he doesn’t know what he wants i.e. me, then I’m not sure I can wait to find out. At the moment, he’s in a win-win situation as I’ve not been the primary reason for our meetings. Aside, perhaps, from the last one. I, on the other hand, am pining after him. Every time I see him or someone mentions his name I get butterflies in my stomach.

So, do I suck it up and wait? Do I make an effort to see him again one-on-one? Do I knock it on the head? Or do I bang my head against a brick wall?

Answers are appreciated but please be gentle.

More than just friends?

Over the past few weeks, when chatting to friends about my man-confusion, a couple of them have said I may be in the "friend zone". I always thought the term was reserved for members of the opposite sex whose company you enjoyed, but whose face was not one you'd want to wake up next to after a heavy night out on the tiles. I like to refer to them as the unfuckables.

It hadn't occurred to me that I could slowly make my way into the "friend zone" with a guy I'd been romantically linked to. Surely, if you're physically attracted to someone, that never really dies? At least not unless they did something awful, like bought S Club 7 CDs or wore white socks with Jesus sandals. So, that brings me to the question, where mutual attraction is involved, does the "friend zone" ever exist?

Some people believe if you don't act on your mutual attraction in a fairly swift manner, you're cast aside into the "friend zone". Whilst I agree that an infatuation can lose its spark, I'm not sure that the attraction completely disappears. Even when dating somebody else, the attraction between you and your friend may still remain, and who's to say nothing will materialise? So, do you ever put someone you're attracted to in the "friend zone"?

If there's been sexual contact in the past, whether first base or fourth base, but the relationship didn't fully develop for whatever reason, do you put your friend in the "friend zone"? Some guys tell me if there's been sexual contact in the past, then they can never put a girl in the "friend zone". As a girl, I'd say the same. No guy I've been intimate with in the past has been put in the "friend zone" because; he's either a douchebag (and no longer my friend) or I wouldn't say no to shacking up with them again in the future.

What about if there are barriers? Perhaps you work with them or they're your best friend's ex. I guess it depends if you're a fan of risky business...

I think if a guy tells you he's worried your friendship will change or that he values you too much as a friend to become involved with you, as much as I hate to say it, he's just not that into you. However, if I said so much to one of my male friends, it would mean one of two things; I'm not attracted to you at all or I am attracted to you but I'm too scared you don't feel the same way and I want you to tell me otherwise. It's a barrier against rejection.

In my eyes, when there's mutual attraction, the "friend zone" doesn't exist, for men or for women. The "friend zone" is really only a question to be considered if you're at the stage where you know you get on well, but nothing has yet progressed. But there really is no need to worry, if the feeling is mutual, something will happen... eventually.

When a date is a date is a date

It’s pretty obvious when you’re on a date, right? A guy asks you out for dinner, you have your hair and nails done, squeeze into that LBD that you know always makes you look a complete knock-out, don your favourite Laboutins and head to the most chic restaurant in town. Or so you’d think…

According to a male friend of mine, a date is not always a 'date’ and most guys really don’t like labelling a date a 'date’. Make sense? Apparently, men dislike the connotations associated with the word ‘date’. In other words, they think a 'date’ pressurises them into having a full blown relationship. So, if a guy just asks you to hang out one-on-one, effectively, you’re on a date. And guys think girls are complicated!

With that in mind, I thought back to how many dates I’d been on without even realising. Turns out it’s been a fair few. The reason I didn’t recognise they were dates is because they were either with a friend (but not too good a friend that it was definitely platonic) or a business acquaintance.

So, does that mean my sweaty roller blading session with Mr. A.P was a date? And my drinking binges with S were too? Do they know they were dates? And if Mr. A.P and I continue with our one-on-one blading sessions, does that mean we're dating? Well, we're going on dates, aren't we?

Still unclear on the definition of 'a date', I questioned a few friends of mine last night. What I'd hoped would give me a clear answer, turned into an insightful debate. Does a date have to be one-on-one? What if your coupled-up friends ask you out for dinner with them and their single guy friend? Is that a date? It may be a double date, but it's a date. And then what about when a single girl and her single male friend go shopping together? Surely that's not a date if you're just friends, that would be a frienaissance, which, as I learnt yesterday, is is where two friends agree to meet for a social activity on a purely platonic level.

What about a rendez-vous? To me, a rendez-vous is a little bit secretive and a little bit naughty, perhaps even downright filthy, and I wouldn't put it in the same bracket as a date. However, its literal translation from French does mean 'date' or 'appointment', suggesting it's not an illicit meeting.

Going back to 'date', according to my friend, BG, a date is sweet and is expected to grow into something. She was obviously referring to the fruit, but she had a point nonetheless... However, it was my housemate, BBD, who probably had the best definition for 'a date'. He described it as a pre-arranged meeting between two people where there is romantic intent from at least one party. I think that's as close to hitting the nail on the head as possible. Would you disagree?

BBD also mentioned that if you want to be 100% certain that you are on a date with the man in question, sleep with him. If he won't sleep with you, it wasn't a date. Unless it was a blind-date and you turned out to be a dog.

So children, now that we have (sort of) established the term 'date', we can now move on to 'dating'. Surely a string of dates with a person means that you are dating? But what if these get-togethers happen sporadically? Do the dates need to occur in quick succession, say no more than a week apart, in order to consitute 'dating'? What if you're in a LDR and only go on dates once a month? What if you go on dates with a friend once every month but you see each other in your circle of friends twice a week?

What about, what BG calls, 'the fillers'? In other words, the contact inbetween the time you went on your last date and when you go on your next date? It could be phone calls, emails, texts, seeing each other in a group of friends, facebook comments etc. Are they significant? Would a lack of fillers signify there is less romantic interest? Ultimately, without fillers, there will be no next date, so they must have some significance...

And after how many 'dates' do you consider yourself to be 'dating'? My guess would be that dating is the interim period between the first date, where you decide you have an attraction to someone or not, and entering into a relationship, which is where you have decided you want to commit to this person. The boys questioned seem to think that 'dating' only occurs after the third date. Why is that, as according to a study at the Edinburgh Science Festival a few years ago, most people decide whether or not we're partner material within the first 30 seconds of meeting?

Would you go on a second date with someone you weren't interested in dating? Nine times out of ten, the answer is no. So, a second date means you want to find out even more about that person to decide whether or not you wish to embark upon a relationship with them. Therefore, you are dating, right?

In addition to all that, BBD seemed to think that if there is no sexual contact (kissing included) after two or three dates, then you're no longer dating and have, instead, entered into a frienaissance. But what if you have had sexual contact but you weren't, technically, on a date at the time? I mean, if there's sexual contact at any time, you would consider that as romantic interest, wouldn't you?

It's a lot to think about and maybe there is no definition. Perhaps 'date' and 'dating' are subjective terms and the only certainty is that they're both minefields. However, let us not forget that they are the learning playground of life...

Mates Rates

It’s been a while since I’ve felt this way about Dubai. Over the last year or so, I’ve found myself pining to be back in London, surrounded by familiarity, rain and old friends. Dubai had become stale and I wondered if my time was up.

I’d be sick of the sand and dust everywhere, tired of running around in the fifty degree heat and bored of unnecessaarily drawn out procedures. Even the most menial tasks became a chore.

My days seemed to blur into one, all predictable and fairly mundane. Sure, there’d be the odd occasion to write home about but nothing that really instilled that long-lasting happy feeling in your soul. Do you know what I mean? The feeling that makes you happy to be here? Proud. Where you take in your surroundings whilst singing to your favourite song that’s just come on the radio, or laugh out loud reminiscing about the night before and can’t believe how lucky you are? The place, the people, the situations…

Well, that’s how I’ve been feeling again lately. Despite the occasional disappointment in the love life department, I am so happy to be here. I’ve caught myself randomly smiling wondering why life is treating me so well… I’ve also laughed out loud when I’m on my own, thinking of my eccentric friends – all of whom are so different but all have something in common.

Since I’ve been single, my circle of friends has shifted slightly. I’m doing new things and I’ve made new (and more importantly, good) friends. Some old friends have dropped of the radar. Not for any particular reason, it’s just the way life goes. But sometimes there are some friends you know you’ll never let go of.

My three Bournemouth girls, and oldest friends, S, N and R. Despite being 3500 miles away from them for the last four years, nothing’s changed. Everytime I see them, it’s just like being cast back to our college days. We’ve been through it all together – the make-ups, the break-ups, the holding of each others’ hair whilst being sick, driving tests, university, moving away and our first steps on the career ladder.

It’s been an emotional journey, and we’ve had our ups and downs, but they’re solid friends with whom I know I’ll share even more treasured memories like promotions, weddings and babies. It’s the kind of friendship you dream of as a kid, before you get distracted by boys, and nothing can take away its magic. The purity and innocence of my friendships with S, N and R are what makes them so special and it’s probably why they haven’t faded and never will…

Then there are the friends from Uni. I stood side by side with SE and LB throught our three years at Middlesex – scraping the pennies together for another drink at the pub, spending nights playing computer games instead of completing coursework and sharing the joy on graduation day. I laugh at the memories of us striving to be more grown up than we were but showing our real age through our mistakes.

It wasn’t just lectures where I learnt and discovered new things with SE and LB, the whole three years at university were eye openers. I can learn a lot just from looking back and seeing why, out of all the friends I had at university, I chose to remain close to SE and LB throughout the years after uni. Perhaps we’re still all learning together, despite the distance. Perhaps the distance is an education in itself…

Finally there are my Dubai friends. In a city that throws unexpected changes at you, it can be difficult to maintain good friendships. I was once told I wouldn’t make good friends here due to the transient nature of Dubai. But in reality, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

There are some people who tend to flit between different social groups, but my core friends are a constant. Never have I been so in love with a group of people, but I honestly think my friends are the best. They’ve brought back my love for Dubai!

As a group, we’re always up to something, whether it’s having a BBQ, celebrating an engagement, throwing a dinner party, going away for the weekend, electrocuting ourselves, wakeboarding, singing karaoke, skinny dipping, taking Dubai’s bars by storm, watching porn or playing the pub quiz. And even though there may be some heartache and arguments along the way, every single moment is awesome.

Whether I’ve known them four years or four months, they feel like family. If you’re in trouble, you know they’ll rally together to support you. And I’m a firm believer that you get what you give, which is why none of the bad apples linger.

When you’re 3500 miles away from home, its these guys you want to befriend; they have it all. I love each and every one of them for the same reasons and for different reasons.

M&N, aka the Cool Couple (CC) - for love and laughs
E – for loyalty and genuinity
Mr A.P – for adrenaline and mischief
NJG – for advice and honesty
HC – for bluntness and a splash of colour
RRB – for those schoolgirl giggles
KB, CJ and ML - for sanity, stories and a little education

Last but not least, Little Miss LC…

Little Miss LC is my bestie in Dubai, we’ve been friends pretty much since I first moved here and, although we had a blip for a while thanks to a relationship wanker (a boy for those of you confused), we’re pretty much inseperable. People often ask if we come as a pair and, whenever I tell someone I’m going out on the lash, they’ll always assume it’s with her. They’d be right.

I love Little Miss LC as though she were my little sister. In fact, I probably love her more. We shop together, dine together, drink together. We talk about everything and absolutely nothing. There are no taboos - sex, drugs, periods, childbirth, men, bikini waxes… You name it, we’ve talked about it. We arrive at parties together and we leave parties together, we’re side-by-side pretty much the whole way.

We’ve shared so many good times – drunk Austrian men buying us drinks, road trips with the roof down, bumping into exes and pretending not to see, being spat on by stand-up comedians, hiding people’s cigarettes and shoes, singing karaoke on our own in my flat and laughing so hard it hurts and/or we pee ourselves.

But now, now it’s coming to an end… Two months until Amsterdam steals her and it feels like a boyfriend has just split up with me. I begin to wonder - who will the new girl be? Will she be as fun as me? Will she be prettier? Will bestie think of me when she’s sipping cocktails with her?

It might take me a while to move on. Right now I can’t even think about finding a new gal pal. I guess I’ll just have to make the most of the next two months, which may explain why we’ve been out on the razzle dazzle pretty much every night over the last few days. The realisation that it’s an end of an era has finally hit home… and it’s pretty sad.

How will I tell her what I think of her new boyfriend? How will she tell me what she makes of my new man? Who will tell me if something I’ve tried on in a shop looks hideous? Who’s going to get excited with me about shoes? And who is going to drink cocktail after cocktail after cocktail with me?

I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it… In the meantime, I just want her to know I love her and I’m gonna miss the Bestie Wanker like crazy!! Bring on the nights out over the next two months, lady. And bring on my trip to Amsterdam! Dubai… Watch out!!

xxxxxxxxx

Can't cook or won't cook?

They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I know this to be true having witnessed this from an early age. Watching my mother slave away in the kitchen to appease the hunger pangs of my father, brother and I. There are very few occasions I can recollect where my father had left food on his plate. In fact, the most vivid memories I have of family meals consist of jars of pickled onions, mango chutney and green peppers taking up the table, and my father’s dinner plate strewn with olive pips. Homer Simpson springs to mind.

I also recall my mother painstakingly preparing dinner for a number of guests my dad had invited to our home. As an Arab, my mother would never be satisfied with just serving a simple dish. There would be salads and dips, followed by meat and then a sweet she had baked. All this activity would take place whilst my father was in the living room entertaining guests, smugly knowing they were about to be blown away by the food on offer.

Perhaps naively, I wanted to recreate the satisfaction that I remember from my parents’ dinner parties, however I was so unprepared for the amount of effort it would take…

With Ramadan in full swing and dinner parties seemingly the new going out, I invited a few friends over for a casual dinner party. I only intended on inviting around six people (the capacity of my dining table) but this soon became nine, ten, eleven and then twelve. Yep, I’d set myself the mammoth task of cooking for twelve! Not something I’d seen my mother, whom I consider a culinary genius, do! As the big day edged closer, I found beads of sweat forming at my temples every time I thought about it.

Shopping for the ingredients was a chore in itself – why is it next to impossible to find Ricotta cheese in this city?! What hadn’t crossed my mind is where I was planning to seat everyone. With only a small dining table for six, I soon realised I better purchase a fold out table and some extra chairs.

As I struggled through the aisles of Carrefour, bumping into children on trainers with wheels, clinging to the fold out table I was about to purchase whilst pushing a trolley with three fold out chairs hanging from my forearm, I prayed hosting this dinner party would be worth it. I mean, could I really pull this off? I can barely cook for myself, let alone twelve people! Or is it that I won’t cook for myself?

I watched as the Filipino checkout lady swiped the barcodes of my purchases. The end result was a bit of a shocker, something my plastic credit card was definitely not expecting, but I perservered.

Luckily I’d bagged myself a parking spot close to the mall entrance, so the trolley journey to my car would be to painful. I loaded my car with the goods, leaving the table until last… To my horror, it wouldn’t fit in my car! I turned the table around, attempted to take the roof of my car down, stripped the table of it’s packaging, making it vulnerable to scratches and scrapes. Nothing worked. I pushed and pulled and after 20 minutes of struggling, finally managed to wedge the beast in. I was sweating. It felt like I’d just wrestled with a grizzly bear in the 45 degree heat and 80% humidity, only then to go home and slave away over a hot stove for two hours!

Despite the odd setback, I actually enjoyed preparing for my dinner party and found that I have a talent for baking cakes. Perfect wife material. I was in the kitchen until 2am, having completely forgotten to eat myself. I opened the fridge in the hope of finding a midnight snack to gorge on before bed… Nothing. Nothing but the ingredients for my dinner party. I was tempted to scoff some of the cheese but knew it was too important to sacrifice. And so I went to bed hungry, having fasted all day and knowing I’d be fasting all day the following day. At least I’d appreciate the meal I was cooking!

The day of the dinner party arrived and I rushed home from work to complete my task. All was going well and I was slightly comforted by the fact my flatmate, a former chef, would soon be returning home and could help me out. But before I knew it there was a knock at the door… E and Mr A.P had arrived. Arrrggghh! I looked a mess – lack of make-up, strapless dress with bra straps protruding… not a good look.

I gave them simple instructions on the small tasks left and went to spruce myself up. As my guests trickled through my front door, I began to feel a sense of self-pride. Is this how my mother felt when cooking for my father and his friends? Or was this a deeper satisfaction as I was cooking for people I’d invited?

I’d already laid the table out and decorated the room with candles and so there was nothing left to do except dish up. I hoped that my guests had had enough wine on an empty stomach to not notice any flaws in my lasagne… As we all huddled around the table, I began to wonder what would be said of my attempts at a feast. Would my friends be polite and pat their stomachs as they winced and swallowed another bite? I guess I’ll never really know what they thought, although I think the coffee cake I’d baked went down pretty well.

Is it even the food that matters? I hate to lessen the worth of my mother’s dedication in the kitchen all those years ago, but I can’t help but wonder if it really is just the company that makes or breaks a dinner party. Afterall, I was surrounded by my nearest and dearest and everyone at the dinner table that evening was worth the hours of effort. Or perhaps it’s the entertainment? If that’s the case, I recommend to anyone hosting a dinner party to purchase electrocution games, post it notes and porn!

All in all, the evening was a success and I was up until all hours playing electrocution roulette with the boys whilst they drank… tequila and coke!! I think the reason behind hosting the dinner party was achieved. It was definitely one of those nights I won’t forget. For so many reasons…

The X Factor

It was silly of me to have thought things would be plain sailing after ending my relationship with X. There are ALWAYS reprocussions from a break-up – either I realise I’ve mad a mistake, he finds a new girl within a week and parades he around like a Gucci man-bag, he goes psycho and spreads viscious rumours / generally make my life miserable or he just won’t let go.

Thankfully it’s nothing too dramatic, he’s just suffering the after effects of a break-up and refusing to let go… Problem is, I don’t know how to handle it. I certainly don’t want to lead him on and break his heart but at the same time I don’t want to not see him as friends.

At the weekend, I agreed to meet him as I don’t want it to be one of those break-ups where we can’t bear to be in the same room as each other. He told me he had a surprise for me and would pick me up just before 4pm.

As if like clockwork, he arrived and off we went down Sheikh Zayed Road heading towards Abu Dhabi. I didn’t have a clue where we were going, despite me begging him to tell me.

It soon became evident he was taking me shooting. I momentarily panicked thinking he might flip into a rage because I’d ended it and shooting me dead. I couldn’t get Nancy Sinatra’s Bang Bang out of my head… Bang bang, he shot me down, Bang bang, I hit the ground, Bang bang, that awful sound, Bang bang, my baby shot me down… Arghhh!!

Turns out he didn’t flip into a rage and we actually had a really good time shooting. And I was pretty good at it, my bullets tearing through the bull’s eye on several occasions. After shooting we went to Magic Planet to play Air Hockey, which I always win against X. Perhaps he thought by doing activities I was better at than him would win me over?

After Air Hockey and an iced coffee, it got to the stage where we were saying “what do you want to do?” and then not coming up with any ideas. That, for me, is a date killer. If you can’t just have fun in each others’ company without the need to do something exciting, then it’s not really going to work. I love trying new and adventurous things but it can’t be the basis of a relationship… Eventually, I’ll run out of money!

So, I asked X to take me home and he obliged. Literally. As in, he didn’t just drop me off, but came into the flat. I flopped on the couch and drifted off for a little snooze whilst he sat next to me not doing a lot. Then he said he was going to clear out the last of his stuff and go home. I agreed and said I had a lot to do, like make my lunch for the week and wash my bedsheets. To which he then piped up “I’ll do it for you”.

Now, that’s sweet and I appreciate the sentiment but the thing is; I want a man, not a maid! I know he’s just trying to win back my affections, the big sister saw him out on Friday night and he quizzed her about what he should do because he was really missing me.

So now the question is, how do I stop leading him on without hurting him? Or do I have to cause him pain for him to move on? I couldn’t bear to hurt him, the very thought of it saddens me, but I don’t want to give him false hope because in the long run that will hurt him more. Or he’ll hate me and I don’t want to lose him as a friend. I care too deeply about him.

The thing is, what if he sees me out with another guy? Surely I should tell him before he finds out for himself? Or maybe I should just not see him as much? That way it might be a gradual realisation that it’s not going to happen… Or maybe I’m a bitch for not being a bitch and letting him know? So many dilemmas. I’ll let you know what happens…

Countdown to seeing S… 3 days!!!