Not so action woman

I haven't blogged for the last couple of weeks, mainly due to the lack of action I've been having, but also partially to my new-found love of all things active. I know! Who'd have thought? Me, doing physical activity! There's always a method behind the madness though, and what else would it be other than a man? Ok, that's not the only reason! I've also been getting active because a) It's ramadan and I haven't needed to take time out to nurse a hangover, b) I am getting sooo out of shape that it's become necessary for me to exercise and c) I need to meet new people and put myself back out there!

Well, I can tick off all three. Although B is perhaps debatable. So whilst it does kind of come down to a guy, I'm hoping it's something I'll continue regardless. 

I bet some of you are wondering what these "activities" are exactly... No, it's not rampant sex. Unfortunately. But oddly, it feels almost as good. I'm talking endorphins, you twisted people!!

For months I'd been begging M to take me wakeboarding, but so little faith she had in my awakening skills after a night on the cosmos, that she never encouraged me. But alas, some of my friends have a little more faith and I'm incredibly grateful to E for showing me the light and taking me boarding.

Yes, waking up at 6am at the weekend to make the hours drive to the Marine Club in Um Al Quwain is torture and not my idea of fun (anyone who knows me will know I'm really not a morning person). But, the benefits are not to be ignored - beautiful sunrise, a clear Sheikh Zayed Road, silky smooth water, energy to take you through the day and still having the afternoon free to do other weekend activities. It's just a shame the drive isn't more aesthetically pleasing. The 311 highway really does offer very little in terms of visual stimulation, apart from the odd glimpse of a camel, which is now a rare sight in Dubai.

When you arrive at the Marine Club, there's a certain energy and community feel about the place. Most people there are wakeboarders and skiers and seem to bond over their mutual love for the sports. There's no booze at the club (sigh), but they do make fabulous milkshakes, so I can overlook that flaw for now. Everyone hangs out at the pool or in the restaurant watching wakeboarding DVDs and chatting away. But it's only when the boat pulls in, ready to take them out onto the water, when the real buzz kicks in.

We all pile into the boat and it tends to be the most experienced boarder who goes first. They make it look so easy, but I now know the reality! Everyone glides over the crystal waters, slaloming, jumping, switching, it's all very cool to watch... until it gets to me! I'm pulled over, under and backwards, never really managing to get up and filling my lungs with the saltiest sea water you can imagine. Hardly the picture of glamour I try to portray of myself! 

Coughing, spluttering and hacking up all the water from my sinuses, I continue to give it another go. Granted it's only my second time wakeboarding but it's still highly frustrating. Having said that, the encouragement from other boarders is truly amazing and they're all the same with each other. The constructive points they all give each other (and me) really makes you want to stick at it and keep trying and trying and trying. And so I did.

I've managed to get up on the wakeboard now, which I consider a massive acheivement, and am very proud of myself. However, you really need patience and determination. Giving up isn't an option. Normally I'd have thrown the gauntlet down by the second attempt but, as the other wakeboarders were so encouraging, I've stuck at it. Usually, if there's the slightest whiff of competition and I'd bolt for the door, but it doesn't seem to be so much competitive as it is self-improvement.

The other benefit of wakeboarding is the eye candy. I'm not one to go for pretty boys, of whom there seem to be a few of at the club, but it makes a change from having to look at Dubai's usual set of absolute mingers you find in the bars. Plus, the pretty boys actually speak to you as you're there for the same reason as they are.

So I'm definitely sticking to the sport. Not buying a board yet, but once I can stay up for a decent amount of time, it is something I'll definitely consider investing in.

Aside from the wakeboarding, I've returned to swimming regularly. You really do take having a free outdoor pool on your front door step for granted. Having barely used it (except for tanning purposes) over the last 3 1/2 years, it's come as a surprise how wonderfully convenient it is. I wake up before work, swim a few lengths and feel surprisingly awake and ready for the day, rather than hitting my snooze button over and over again before waking at 8.50am and realising I have to be in the office in 10 minutes! Plus everyone knows swimming is one of the best sports to tone up. Who needs a gym and running on a treadmill when you can swim a few lengths in Dubai's glorious sunshine?!

Anyway, last but not least, the other sport I'm getting back into is rollerblading. Before I moved to Dubai, blading was one of the only sports I participated in. I'd been blading since I was about 13, up and down the road I grew up on, round the block and, of course, to roller-discos. When I lived in London, I continued to be a regular roller-disco goer - speed skating in circles to house music, to dressing up in 70's gear and skating backwards to disco grooves. I loved it! However my beloved blades were just to big and heavy to accommodate on my stingy baggage allowance when I moved to Dubai (yeah, thanks BA) and so blading became a thing of the past... until now.

Earlier this year, I bought myself a brand new pair of Nike Bauers. It was love at first sight and I couldn't wait to put them to good use. A couple of the girls in the office agreed that they'd come blading with me (I'm not keen on doing sports on my own) and I was too excited about the prospect! However, getting the girls to actually come blading was a different story altogether. Working hours and weather being the most common excuses used. So my poor blades sat in the boot of my car for a few months, untouched.

A couple of weeks ago, I got to talking about blading with some of my friends, and Mr A.P mentioned he had a pair and wouldn't mind giving it a bash after having not bladed for a few months. This was music to my ears and in my head I built up all kinds or romantic images of us roller-blading into the sunset together...

That couldn't have been further from the truth! One evening last week, Mr A.P and I met up for a quick sesh. Blading sesh that is! I couldn't wait to show off my spin-stops, jumps and backwards skating, and so off we went to Jumeirah Beach to use the skating track. I jumped out of the car and donned my blades immediately. It felt weird to be back on wheels after so long, but I was too excited to be weary.

We crossed the sand in our blades to the track. Mr A.P hopped on and started blading and then I stepped on to the track. The track was so smooth that, within one stroke, I felt myself going... downwards. Yep, I fell on my arse. I blame the fact the blades were so new and didn't have stoppers (although that wasn't a problem with my old pair). It was mortifyingly embarrassing. Not only had I bragged about how I used to skate, I fell (and rather heftily I might add) right in front of the guy I was trying to impress. My credibility left me at that moment, like a person's soul when they've just died.

Not wanting to show how much of a wuss I am, I quickly picked myself up and pretended I was fine. I did have a bit of a wobble to begin with, but I didn't fall over after that. I was still far from cool though, and after 15 minutes, I was so exhausted, I was struggling to blade. It really takes its toll on the old calves, you know. It actually came to the point where Mr. A.P had to push me along the track! Although, to be fair, it was almost 6pm and, as I was fasting, I hadn't had a drop to eat or drink all day, so my energy levels were pretty low.

He put his arms around my waist and shifted me along the track. I wanted to spin round and kiss him, but I thought better of it considering I'd already fallen over without trying to do anything! It was still nice to have some alone time with Mr. A.P, even if I was too chicken shit to make a move. And despite the amount of pain I felt, and still feel, in my coccyx, I'm looking forward to our next blading session, where I'm hoping there will be a little more movement...

2010 - The year of The Wedding

I'm reaching that point in my life where fewer of my friends will be ticking the 'single' box on an application form when there's an enquiry about their single status. As each month passes by, another one of my friends becomes engaged...

It's become so ridiculous, that I even received a dual congratulatory email notice from my boss for two of my colleagues' (separate) engagements. It'd had only been two weeks since the last congratulatory engagement email. And there was another one a few weeks prior to that. There's only 23 of us in the bloody office, and that's including the ones who are married anyway!

I already have three weddings to attend in 2010 (and quite possibly one more if another of my friends say yes to their imminent proposal), and that's not including attending those of my colleagues. It looks like it might actually get to the point where I won't have time to sort out my own love life because I'll be off celebrating another couple's love for each other every weekend of the year. That'd be tragic. Although they do say it's the most likely place to meet your future spouse... Must be the romantic light we all see each other in.

Most magazines would cruelly point out that I'm jealous of my friends' blissful relationships, but they're wrong. I'm more concerned about how we'll maintain our friendships. It might be fine for a year or so after the wedding, but then you get the "I'm pregnant" announcement, which obviously means no boozy nights out as she can't drink and he's working all hours under the sun to prepare for the little one's arrival. Then along comes baby and it's all breast feeding and nappies. Don't get me wrong, I love kids and I don't mind hearing about their first step/word/poo but can we not do it over cocktails in a swish bar occasionally?

Is that selfish? I understand a husband/wife/child is a huge commitment and, ultimately, that's my aim too... one day. But I vow not to let my friendships slip away. After all, I'd appreciate my friends for still being my friends after nine months of being a bore. I'd also appreciate that just because I'm married or had a child, our friendship does not revolve around that and the occasional girls night out will still be needed, even if my arse does wobble.

Truth is, I'm worried I'm going to be left behind. A mere distant memory of the 'good old single days'... There will be no more dancing like a loon until 3am because she's too worried everyone can see she's carrying a little baby weight and has been too busy to hit the gym. There will be no dinner parties because they can't find someone to babysit, and they can't host because their living room is full of toys, not to mention a screaming, attention-seeking  child. 

So, may my days be full of baby gossip, child entertaining and warmth, whilst my nights are cold and lonely watching Sex and the City, longing for what might have been if we were all still single.

This is a story for the broken-hearted

I'm writing this blog on behalf of all girls out there who have been in love, in lust and broken hearted. We all share your pain, every one of us has been there, some more often than others. Some of us take it hard, some of us deal with it very well but every girl goes through it.

My first love broke my heart 7 years ago and it's still as raw today as it was then. I compare every man I meet to him and I remember all the good times; the laughter, the kissing, the lingering looks. I crave that same love. Those same memories. I crave to find a guy that can make me feel the way he did. And then I remember how it ended and I remember the depression that set in on me. I couldn't move for 6 weeks. I thought I might die without his arms around me, either that or drown in my own tears. It was the worst pain I'd ever experienced.

Seven years on and I deal with these circumstances in a far less dramatic way, but rejection is never easy and we all grieve in one way or another. These days I tend to shrug my shoulders, blog about it and move on. Although the disappointment still lingers...

As some of you know, I finally met up with S last night and, as always, I loved being in his company. I love the way time flies when I'm with him. I love how our conversation flows and I love how I can just relax around him. 

It was only when a random drunk girl began quizzing us about our relationship that I felt awkward. She thought S was hot and asked if he was my boyfriend, to which I replied he wasn't. But her questions didn't stop there. She then asked if he was gay, if we'd slept together, if we'd ever thought about sleeping together, amongst other things. It was one of those embarrassing moments where you just want the ground to open up and swallow you whole. But there was no sign of mercy and instead, the drunk girl just kept asking the same questions over and over again.

I was somewhat relieved when she left. Finally spared of any further embarrassment! Soon after, S called it a night. It was only 11.30, what had happened to my raucous drinking buddy? Normally we wouldn't stop until we were slurring our words and talking all kinds of random rubbish. I was disappointed my last night before a month of fasting was being cut short but I wasn't going to beg him to stay out.

S hugged me goodnight and I said I'd probably see him after Ramadan (seeing as we seem to be drinking buddies). He said he'd see me before, maybe go to the movies or something. At first I wasn't sure what to make of that, "movies" can swing both ways - platonic or conventional date. I guessed from the way the night had gone that it was going to be the former. I was right. But I still hoped.

So, this morning I receive a text from S explaining that he's not ready for a relationship and that what happened between us shouldn't have happened. I totally understand that he's not ready for a relationship, I mean neither am I really, but thinking what happened between us shouldn't have happened... oooh, ouch! That's hard to hear and changes the context of "I'm not ready for a relationship" to "I'm just not that into you". I wonder what changed between the last day we spent together and last night/today. I'd kind of understand if we were drunk and fooling around, but we weren't, it was the day after the night before. So what changed?

Something happened between then and today and I don't know what it is, and although I'm trying not to dwell on it, I think it's just what girls do. Seriously, why do I even care? He's made it quite clear that nothing is going to happen, so why has it tortured me all day?

You know what, fuck it. Yeah, fuck it. I knew I was building it all up in my head. He was away too long and I thought about it way too much. I mean take away the sex from a relationship and you're essentially left with a friendship. That's what happened with me and X. So what the fuck am I so gutted about? That S and I aren't going to sleep together? How can it be that simple? Why would sleeping with S be any different to sleeping with someone else? What is it about this guy?!?! FFS!

Wow, my options have been whittled down from four to just one in the space of a week. S is out, K has left the country and I've not heard from Danny again. That just leaves me with Mr. A.P and things haven't exactly taken off the ground yet. In fact, it's incredibly slow moving, but drawing it out is actually quite exciting. We had dinner at E's on Thursday night and there was some flirty conversation going on but if there's absolutely no movement tomorrow when we go skiing, I'm writing it off.

Moral of the story; ladies, don't get hung up on guys. Most of them wouldn't know a fabulous thing if it was tugging on their balls!

In the meantime ladies, feel free to introduce me to a guy that's going to blow me away! Preferably tall with blue eyes, killer smile and is not devoid of a personality. I need a new play thing!

I love mid-week surprises!

Well, yesterday was an interesting one yet I was only expecting it to be a fairly routine Tuesday, just waiting for the day to pass as quickly as possible so it would be Thursday evening!

It was elevensies and I went downstairs for a cigarette. Floating in my own little world I was approached by a guy asking me for a lighter, to which I obliged. He then began chatting to me as I quickly inhaled a puff of nicotine-fused smoke. As I stubbed out my cigarette he asked me for my number. I couldn’t think of an excuse quickly enough to not give him my number, I was too taken aback. It’s been a while since I was approached in such a manner and even when I had been in the past it was a complete rarity.

So I gave him my number and rushed back upstairs. I put his number in my phone, but only so I would know not to answer. He was a friendly guy, with a good job as a banker, but he just didn’t do it for me physically and leading on one guy is more than enough!

As it neared lunchtime, our receptionist called me telling me there was Sugar Daddy’s here for me. For non-Dubaians, Sugar Daddy’s is arguably one of the best cake bakeries this side of the desert! I was confused, I hadn’t ordered anything from Sugar Daddy’s. I went to reception and a delivery man handed me a box of delicately decorated cupcakes. I asked who had ordered them…. It was X.

What am I supposed to do? It's not like I can send them back and anyone who knows me will tell you I can not resist a cupcake (or 4). So off I went, back to my desk armed with some of the most delectable cakes in town. The girls (and guys) in my office gave mixed reviews about X sending me cupcakes. "Too little too late" was one response. "He's really trying, you should give him a chance" was another. And one of the boys told me to stop leading him on.

Yes, well, I'm just not cruel enough to be blunt with him. I can't tell credit card salesmen to fuck off, so I can hardly say it to X, whom I still really care for. But then you do have to be cruel to be kind... What to do?

A little later in the day, I found myself caught up in a little email flirting. We're currently pitching for a fab event at work and have had to team up with an events management company. So when I met up with them one day, you can imagine my delight when I was introduced to a cute London boy (CLB) who'd be handling the event. The great thing was, I didn't even start the email flirt, he did.

So, with a smile on my face, I left the office to join the girls at the pub quiz. A fairly tame night for me in comparison to the revelry I've been enjoying of late, but we did win the quiz! Ok, the prize is shit but the satisfaction of winning can not be beaten (excuse the pun).

As for today, X emailed me again asking if I wanted to do something on Saturday. I've not said yes but I didn't say no either. As I'm now seeing S on Friday instead of Thursday, I'm kinda hoping I won't be leaving my bed all day on Saturday... 2 days to go!

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!!!

How to lose a girl in 10 days

I guess some of you are wondering what happened with Mr. A.P last night? Well, in a word, nothing. And it's become so frustrating that I'm rapidly losing interest.

Whilst my friends assure me he is interested, I am beginning to think otherwise. So, he texts back, asks if I'm going out and is friendly when I see him, but last night made me realise that's just not enough. Oddly, if this was pre-X, I'd continue chasing but I've changed. I now put me first and if a guy isn't totally going to cut the mustard, he's out.

Whilst Mr. A.P is a great guy in many ways, he also is carrying more baggage than I realised. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for being understanding but he has to want to help himself first and that's not something I'm seeing with Mr. A.P, in fact quite the opposite. Let me explain what I'm talking about...

Yesterday evening it was my intention to go to Hopfest, the annual beer festival in Dubai. Mr. A.P text me during the day asking if I'd be going, to which I said I might if our mutual friend E would attend, as I didn't know anyone else going apart from himself and E. However, I later received an invitation from the CC. I love M's dinner parties; company is excellent, food is sublime and drinks flowing. When the CC said they'd invite Mr. A.P to dinner too, I said I'd go, thinking an intimate dinner with close friends is the perfect way to, well, get more intimate with Mr. A.P.

I sent Mr A.P a message that I might not go to Hopfest as I'd had a dinner invite and he told me he'd also been invited and wished he'd said yes as Hopfest was not his cup of tea. I tried to encourage him to come to the dinner party, but he didn't take the bait.

After dinner, I called him. I thought I might go down there or perhaps he'd come for after-dinner drinks. But nope. In my last vain attempt, this morning I asked if he'd be going back to the beer festival this afternoon, letting him know I'd be there for lunch. Again, nope. 

All these missed opportunities, on top of Tuesday's window, has lead me to give up hope. I'm just too impatient to wait around only to come out of it broken-hearted. I know I'm waiting for S but at least when he is in the country, he makes an effort to see me.

Thing is with Mr. A.P is I don't think he's quite over his ex and she seems to manipulate and play him. Despite her being with another guy, Mr. A.P falls for her. And I'm not ready for all that bullshit. If he really wanted to be free of her games, I'm his ticket out of there. But I guess he doesn't, as he was with her yesterday evening...

I mean, I love the thrill of the chase and the excitement, but I'm not prepared to be part of a ripple effect because some girl I've not met can't decide what she wants. My game playing days are over and I'm not willing to play a losing game.

I'm not casting him off altogether, but I'm no longer going to make any effort. If he wakes up and smells the coffee, he knows where I am. Right now I'm on countdown to seeing S... 6 days to go!

Waiting for a bus out of Singledom

Men are like buses… you wait around for one for ages and then three come along at the same time. Question is; which one will I ride? What’s the final destination? What happens if I get the wrong bus? How will I know I’ve taken the wrong bus until it’s off course and then it’s too late to change? Is it all about the destination or is it the journey that matters most?

Right now I’m bus-hopping, not quite sure upon which bus I should embark before they pull out of the station. There are delays and sometimes I wonder if the drivers want to switch destinations or, worst of all, create diversions. Or will they just shut the doors and drive on?Such has been my musings of late.

I feel like I’ve been in a waiting room for eternity. I was hoping for a clincher with Mr. A.P the other night, but he didn’t come out with us in the end. Neither did K. And S is still away, prolonging my suspense. So, instead, I drank myself into oblivion. Free drinks really don’t help my situation and I ended up in a karaoke bar, sans mon amies, being possessive over the microphone and puking on my own feet because I missed the target of the toilet basin. Hardly the girl Mr. A.P, K or S would want to be seen with!

Not knowing when to stop, I ended up meeting an old school friend for a drink at the other end of town. Not any drink though. Nope, that’d be silly. I went in all guns blazing and ordered a tiki puka puka. For those of you reading this outside of Dubai, a tiki puka puka is one of the drinks you only order when you want to be found in a pool of your own sick. Unfortunately, I wasn’t found…

I wish I hadn’t drank so much, I’d quite have liked to have had a proper catch up with my old school friend rather than overwhelm her with drunken ramblings! Poor lass. It was still great to see her though. It’s always nice to see someone you haven’t seen for so many years, to see the direction they’ve taken in life even though they pretty much started at the same point as you.

Anyway, after a night of drunken rampaging, I was woken up at 8.45am by my colleague waiting to pick me up to go to work. Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!! Pyjamas off, work clothes on, brush teeth and out the door. Luckily, my friend drove so I could put on some make-up in the car but I was so hungover, my face was a blur. I definitely didn’t look my best. Or smell it.

I always thought it took litres of water, a fry-up and some panadol to cure a hangover, but do you know what cures it best of all? A text from a guy you’re lusting after. Mr. A.P sent me a message in the morning and it totally perked me up. In fact he text me a few times, and a couple of them even included a kiss at the end! Not sure why the letter x at an end of a text really makes all the difference, but oddly it does. I mean, is that like a peck-on-the-cheek x or is a grab-me-and-kiss-me-passionately x? I’m hoping the latter!

But still, with all this stuff with Mr. A.P going on, I’m waiting for S. He’s finally confirmed when he’s coming back and when we can hang out, but the only thing is it’s during Ramadan. I’m no devout Muslim, not by a long shot, but if I say I’m going to do something, I like to stick to it. It’s all about willpower for me and pushing myself that little bit further. And yes, even if that means abstaining for a month from both alcohol and sex.

I think I might buckle. I’ve been waiting for so long that I don’t think I can possibly hold out for another month. In fact thinking about another week is tough enough. I’ve been listening to Paula Cole’s Feelin’ Love on repeat, which probably hasn’t helped my desires, and I’m not a big believer in suppressing feelings. In fact the only feeling I suppress is anger, but I’m not sure I even suppress that. I guess I’m just not an angry person.

So, I have a whole week to continue fantasizing about what will happen with S and, yes, I will let my imagination get carried away. I’ve always been a dreamer, my parents told me that so many times, and they’re totally right. So why change old habits? In terms of reality, I’m hoping to see Mr. A.P tonight and for something to progress there. Something happen!! Please!!

Que Sera, Sera

Well, it's amazing what can happen in the space of a few weeks. From being in a dead end relationship, to realising how much I missed J and pining for London, to wondering who I'll be dating next in Dubai.

Another Cosmo filled night, another scenario. This time, out with the gang at Apres. The post-ski, or ski-shy, hang out. Remember, I'm writing this after 6 cosmos... enough to give a girl a hangover!

This evening, Miss LC and I tagged along to the apres ski drinks (actually, we were there almost two hours before the skiers turned up, but who's counting)! Anyway, Mr A.P is there, as I knew he would be after Thursday night's delightful conversation. 

It was all light-hearted chit-chat over drinks with friends, just the way a Sunday night should be. As the evening progressed, it dawned on me that I do rather like Mr A.P. He's a very sweet and seemingly genuine guy. Plus he's cute. Not in a drop-dead-gorgeous-Brad-Pitt way, but in a your-smile-is-to-die-for way. Does that make sense? I'm sure most of you girls know what I'm talking about.

However things didn't get very raucous for a Dubai night out, it was all quite subdued. That's probably a good thing, I've been having too many crazy nights since I've been single, so it was quite refreshing just to have post-work cocktails for a few hours. Plus I didn't particularly want to make a drunken fool out of myself. Nope, I was gonna be c-o-o-l, cooooool.

Anyway, when E left, Mr A.P gave myself and Miss LC a double cheek-to-cheek and swiftly followed E. I must admit I was a little disappointed. I didn't really get the opportunity to put the feelers out and he wasn't exactly obvious, one way or the other, whether he liked me or not. I don't mind that, in fact Miss LC is right, it's all part of the fun and the chase. But my god, do you want to know. I want to know. I want to know what's going to happen. How is it going to happen, if it happens?

It's one of those things where your mind works overtime and over analyses everything. Who said what, the eye contact, the body language. Everything. It's all very exciting. With suspense killing me, I text E to put the feelers out for me. Hell, if I can't do it, someone has to help me out! After a few minutes, high on suspense, E texts back saying the feeling may well be mutual. Errmmm... YAY!

So, now what? There's only one thing... yep, another night out. Tomorrow. Ouch. I have to blow off seeing the ex and his new apartment for potential new love. Harsh, but it has to be done. So tomorrow is potentially the fourth meeting with Mr. AP but I don't think it'll end up as one of those where we slope off for some dirty action, but it could well be that we swap numbers. Which is a joy in itself. I mean, it may lead to a date. Oh my god, a date. I've not been on one of those since... well, since before I met X!

I love that feeling - deciding what to wear, suggesting a location, it's all exciting stuff. I'm looking forward to finding out how it unravels. There's just one factor that is playing on my mind... S.

It's weird, because whilst things develop on the Mr A.P front, I'm still thinking about S. I don't know what it is about him. It's driving me crazy. It feels like I've been waiting forever to see him, and to be honest, I can't wait. Maybe it's got to the point where I literally can not wait. Arghhh! Confused.com.

I've been in a similar situation before. Two years ago. Things were developing between me and X but I also liked P. As it happens, things didn't develop quickly enough with P, and I ended up dating X. In hindsight, I'm not sure if that was the right decision on my part but I can't cry over spilt milk.

Thing is, I can't let other potential dates pass me by in the hope things will happen with the guy I'm too into for words. I mean, if I pass by Mr A.P, only to find out S has no interest whatsoever, I'd kick myself. But then I know I'm too much of a wuss to end things with Mr. A.P if S is interested. These are all scenarios in my head of course. It could be that neither S or Mr A.P actually give a shit. Well, that'd be a blow to a girl's ego. But oddly, I'm still used to that rejection.

Then again, they both have an equal running. S should be back in the next few days (at least I hope he is) and I don't even have Mr A.P's number yet and I don't think he's the type to jump in at the deep end. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is what will be, will be.

Man, oh man!

Being a single gal about town can be tough - the endless couples dining over candlelight when you're trying to down a cocktail, the guys you chat to who just whip out the finger embraced in a platinum wedding band and, possibly worst of all, the obnoxious arseholes who think you're an obnoxious arsehole. This week, I've experienced it all...

Forget New York as the city that doesn't sleep, Dubai has officially taken its place. Even on a humid Monday night in the heat of summer. Granted, most places were pretty quiet, but what does that matter when you're two girls on the town, polishing off a bottle of wine and contemplating how complicated relationship baggage can really be. It was a heavy conversation and I knew we had to lighten things up a little. And I knew exactly how...

Twenty minutes later, myself and HA were sipping Bullfrogs in Rock Bottom. I'd been frequenting the place a lot recently and I figured, as HA had made the effort to come all the way from Abu Dhabi, that it was only fair that I should take her to Dubai's nightlife highlight. It wasn't long before a guy sent over some shots to us, although I really could have done without it, but having learned my lesson a few days earlier, we just accepted, smiled and said thanks.

Looking around the club, I felt sober, despite being a little over tipsy. There were girls throwing themselves at guys, guys stumbling after girls, both sexes throwing unconventional shapes on the dancefloor and prostitutes pretending to be of higher class than they actually are. In this scenario, I was stone cold sober, proving Monday nights really are for the die hard.

Having had no luck finding a Romeo on Monday night, I was pretty sure Tuesday night would prove fruitful, after all, it was ladies night. I even selected a dress to wear to work that could be easily sexed up with a pair of sky high heels and undoing a few buttons. I had no intentions of going unnoticed. That was until I found out we were going to quiz night at Fibber Magees...

On a regular occasion, I quite enjoy quiz night at Fibbers. In fact, it's often the post-work relief I need - good friends, great food and cheap booze. No, make that free booze. But now I'm back on the shelf, quiz night just didn't cut the mustard. If you're in a relationship, it's great for a bit of escapism, but trying to find a man in there is, well, just not going to happen. Don't get me wrong, I spotted a few cute guys swagger in, but how do you approach the cute guy surrounded by a group of his friends whilst a quiz master is trying to shout a question out to a rowdy crowd? The answer is, you don't.

Luckily, E brought a couple of her friends along that I'd not met and if anything else, it was nice to make small talk with someone new. Unfortunately, the disappointment of not having a wild girls night out at Scarletts, along with the fact that it was the most excruciatingly painful quiz I'd ever been put through (the regular host was on holiday), made me a little withdrawn. You know the night has pretty much been a wash-out when the highlight of the evening is when your friends write "you suck" on a piece of plasticine and then proceed to throw it at the quiz master. Childish? Yes. Hilarious? Definitely!

So, with Tuesday out of the way, I knew picking up my single spirits was definitely a job for the weekend and you can imagine my delight when Little Miss S informed me and Miss LC that the U.S Navy boys were in town and she was dragging them out to get a taster of a real Dubai night. We were swooning at the very thought of it and the end of the week could not come quick enough.

Thursday night at Hive, Miss LC and I spotted Little Miss S outside with said boys. Not wanting to venture outside in the fear of morphing into frizzy-haired, shiny-faced beasts, we remained in the cool of the AC, casually sipping our cosmos. To my horror, I spotted BJ, and it almost made me want to sit outside and let the beast inside me free. 

BJ is an ex. Not my ex. A friends ex. I really don't like him, at least not like that, although a week earlier he'd struck up conversation with me on Facebook. The conversation went a little something like this:

BJ: So you're single now?

Me: Yes, how did you know that?

BJ: A guess.

Me: Ok.

BJ: We should hang out sometime.

Me: Ok, let me know when you're out and about.

BJ: I meant I could be round in the next hour.

Me: What? It's midnight on a weeknight.

BJ: I've always fancied you.

Me: Ok.

BJ: I know you fancy me.

Me: Errr ok.

BJ: I know you do, I remember the time when you told me you did.

Me: Funny that, because I don't. And no, I don't fancy you.

BJ: Fair enough

BJ goes offline

It was cringe-worthy and so when I saw him at the bar, it was an avoid-all-eye-contact situation. I knew if I looked in his direction he'd come over and slap my arse. He was that kind of guy (if you couldn't already guess from the above conversation). To ensure all eye contact was avoided, Miss LC and I stood by a mirror and checked out the whole bar through our new reflective friend. It came in handy. We checked out loads of guys without the whole awkward "12 o'clock. But don't look now" situation.

Midway through our mirror watching, we were pleasantly surprised to be graced with the presence of MA and NH, collectively known as CC aka the cool couple. In tow was Mr. AP, who I'd previously met at quiz night, followed by RB with his unmistakable school girl laugh. At that point Little Miss S brought in her entourage of Navy boys. Never had I been so disappointed with the military. A far cry from the suited, tall, muscle men image I had in my head, stood before us was a 5'9" boy who must have been fresh out of school. This was definitely not the type of seamen we were hoping for.

To my rescue, NH swiftly brought in Mr. AP and introduced us for a third time. It was one of those slightly awkward and embarrassing moments where both Mr. AP and I both knew we were the single guy and the single girl being made to have a conversation. Fortunately, the conversation didn't remain a forced one for more than a minute or so. Five minutes in and I was so engrossed in conversation with Mr. AP that I'd totally forgotten I was in a bar. We mostly talked about travel, which is always one of my favourite topics in conversation. He genuinely seemed interested in my travel related experiences and I was genuinely interested in his upbringing in the region. I have no idea how long we talked for. It may have been 10 minutes, it could have been an hour, I totally lost track of time.

Conversation came to an end when Mr. AP had to leave due to work commitments the next morning. When he asked me if I'd be going skiing on Sunday, I told him I might be around for drinks in the aptly named Apres bar after the skiing session. After all, I need to keep all my doors wide open, right?

So, with another door open, I was ready to open even more doors, but this time the door of the i2 Lounge. It was somewhere none of us had ventured before, but we needed a change from our regular haunts. We weren't disappointed, well except for Miss LC who prefers a little more class. i2 was dingy, sweaty and a little bit grimy but with the 80's tunes blaring out and the couldn't-give-a-fuck crowd, it was the perfect remedy from Dubai's monotonous could-give-a-fuck crowd.

We drank, we danced and we giggled. Hell, even tequila shots were involved! But as the clock ticked, the crowd became rowdier and denser, to the point I was being knocked left, right and centre. I left, happy that I'd found another place to frequent, so long as it wasn't past 1.30am on a Friday morning.

After sleeping off the hangover and indulging in my Friday ritual of having a Pizza Hut, I rounded up the girls for another night of Dubai debauchery. All in brightly coloured dresses, we made our way to a cocktail lounge across town. It was dead. At least until Little Miss S turned up with a new set of U.S Navy boys.

That thick, loud American accent is almost enough to put a girl right off her cocktails but we persevered knowing that it wasn't long until their curfew. However, what we couldn't stand was the obnoxious attitude, which was quite rightfully put back in its place by Miss HJ, queen of the demoralising put downs! Unsurprisingly, they thought we were stuck-up, rich girls.

Whilst at the table, I had to quiz the queen of demoralising put downs about S. After all, they're very close. I don't know why I brought it up, I guess it's unfinished business that's playing on my mind. The whole will we/won't we thing is torture and I haven't seen S in so long that I've had too much time to dwell on it. Do you or don't you risk the friendship? Does he even like me? Was it the booze? It can't just be the booze, we were sober the next day. Do I want it? What do I want? Friendship, fun or relationship? Or can you have all three with one guy? What does he want? Is this all in my head? Have I totally blown this out of proportion? Or is the feeling really there?

Queenie wouldn't divulge. Perhaps my desire for information wasn't clear enough. Perhaps she genuinely didn't know. Whatever it is, if there's one thing I've learnt, it's not to put all my eggs in one basket.

After a number of cocktails we left the navy boys and headed to yet another cocktail bar. The conversation in the taxi on the way was one of those you're unlikely to forget - one that is perhaps too taboo for my blog.

At the bar, I decided that as a single girl, I should go back to my single ways. During the past couple of weeks, I hadn't really met any guys of interest. Yes, I do have someone in my mind, but as I said, I need to keep all options open. So I took the plunge and chatted to the two random guys whose table we had overtaken.

The two guys were Billy and John. They were very pleasant chaps and seemed genuinely surprised that I strolled up to them, bold as brass, to strike up a conversation with them. I discovered Billy was single but John was recently married. I wouldn't have known John was married if Billy hadn't pointed it out - John held his pint in his right hand with his left hand in his pocket throughout the duration of our conversation.

That brings me to the question whether or not guys should keep schtum about the wedding band or thrust it in your face to warn you off before you even open your mouth? If they keep quiet, you think they have an agenda, if they tell you they're married within the first two minutes of meeting you, you feel like you have an agenda. Why don't men just use subtle hints? There's no need to rub my single nose in it.

The married men in the next bar we went to thrust it in my face. The wedding band, that is. I was mildly offended as they were middle-aged and hardly the hottest men at the bar! I mean, as if I'd come onto them anyway. But they did push me in the direction of their single friend, Danny.

The first thing about Danny that I noticed was that he was short. Any of my friends will tell you I have a penchant for tall men. Very tall. X was 6'6". J is 6'3". S is probably around the 6' mark. But here I was, in a conversation with 5'8" Danny. I became frustrated with having to hunch over to talk to him. To be fair to him, I am only 5'5", but in my heels, no matter which pair I'd have put on that evening, I reach at least 5'10". It got to the point where Danny grabbed my legs and took my shoes off. Yep, I was barefoot in a bar. Oh. The. Shame. But it was less shameful than bending my knees to talk to a guy, so I thought I'd go with it.

Danny and I talked for a while. About what, I couldn't really tell you. By that point, the cocktails had gone to my head. His friends left, my friends left, and before we knew it, we were sat at the bar drinking by ourselves. We didn't stay long but it was too late to go to another bar, so instead we went back to his friends place where Danny told me there'd be a few of them up drinking. When we got there, everyone was in bed. Typical man-ploy I thought.

It worked. Well, sort of anyway. We didn't do much talking, but we did a hell of a lot of kissing. It was definitely the ego-boost I needed. However, I wouldn't go as far as to I sleep with him, despite my urges. I guess I'm just past that age where sex on the first night is acceptable. Sure, it might have been great to gossip about it with the girls at our next cocktail session but I think I'm also at the age where I like to have sex that actually means something. Besides, the shame the next morning would override the pleasure from the night before.

After a lot of kissing, I decided I should go home. As I left, Danny asked me for my number. I gave it to him, not that I think he'll call. Even if he does I'm not sure I'd go out with him. But I am dead set on keeping all those doors open, so I won't rule him out completely. Call it shallow, but I'm just uncomfortable with his height. My heels are too important to me.

So now I'm looking forward to the next week... Will Danny call? Will I hit it off with Mr. AP? Will I meet a new Romeo? Or will things happen with S when he returns? Your guess is as good as mine...

Home Alone

I'm not sure what it is; whether it's the realisation it's the end of an era or the fact it's dawned on me that I'm back on the single-shelf, but watching X leave the apartment today was hard. I had no idea it'd be this sad.

So I've moaned about his stuff taking up my wardrobe space and how he's in the shower for more than 20 minutes when I need to get ready for work, but when he left this evening, I shed a tear. A few actually. Perhaps I just needed to get it out of my system, after all this was my first serious relationship and I'd never ended it with a guy before - I was always the one that was dumped before it even began.

As I crawled into bed this evening, I noticed a present he'd left on my pillow. It was a DVD boxset of one of my favourite British dramas (no, I'm not telling you what it is for the sheer embarrassment of it). In the bag were also some of my favourite chocolates. I know most girls won't think it's a big deal, but for me, it was, as X was never really one to buy me flowers or chocolates. In fact, romance wasn't really very high on his agenda, which I guess makes this gift that extra special. Although it could be that I'm just a little emotional.

It's weird, we've not slept in the same bed for well over a month as we've both been away, but it saddens me knowing we're both here but he's not here. It's not that we were an overtly affectionate couple but I'm surprised at how, well, empty my bed feels. I've been fine the last two weeks whilst he's been away, so why now am I upset? Is it something that takes time? How long is it before I've adjusted back to single life? Or does feeling this way mean I don't really want this?

And I thought it was confusing being dumped. All those questions you ask yourself like 'why doesn't he like me? Am I ugly? Is my sense of humour that bad? Did he see that huge zit on my chin?'. But at least with being dumped it's all released through anger - the Alanis Morissette blaring in the background, throwing things around your bedroom, deleting his number and text messages and erasing him from your Facebook friends. They're all great ways of getting some closure. 

Ahh, closure, the word that everyone dreads. Guys hate it, girls need it. Question is, do I? Is that what I'm missing? When my relationship with X ended, there was no slanging match or slamming of doors, nor was there one last really hot sex session. Do those things really help you move on?

As the dumper, I'm not angry and finding the right release for my emotions is hard. I've chosen tears for now but I'm not sure they really represent how I'm feeling. As a professional communicator, aka PR darling, I'm guessing my release will be to bend my friends' ears about it. Girlfriends always have a solution and I'm looking forward to hearing their advice.

It seems there's no way out of a relationship unscathed, whether you're the dumper or dumpee, if it's done face-to-face or by text, if it's mutual or not, at least one of us is always going to get hurt. I'm just hoping the road to recovery isn't a long one.