I better shape up, 'cause I need a man!!

On the whole, I love being single. I don't have to account for anyone else when I do anything - my decisions are my decisions. I'm free to come and go as I please, nobody will whinge when I have hairy legs and I don't have to keep putting down the toilet seat. I'm a strong and independent woman with no need to rely on a man for financial or emotional support. So why would I want to be in a relationship?

Today, I discovered why it might be nice to have a man in my life. I'd just been to the mall to stock up on some essential items before my best friend comes to visit me here in Dubai. As I struggled with bags of heavy shopping, I wished the slow moving people in front of me would just move out of the fucking way, and that the parents with kids who kept running in my path would keep control of their little brats. I mean, if you can carry all those designer shopping bags, you can hold your child's hand. Because you can bet your bottom dollar if I whacked the little tykes on the head with any of my bags, the parents would be the first ones to cast me a dirty look. However, this wasn't even the point I wished I had a man.

Red faced, arms aching and sweating from my trip to the mall, I made it home. I put away my shopping but left out the tortilla chips and salsa. I thought they'd be the perfect antidote to my stressful mall trip. I gripped the lid of the salsa jar and twisted it. It didn't open. No worries, it'll loosen, right? It didn't. I tried again, this time using the bottom of my bath mat for a better grip. The bugger still didn't shift. Attempt number three included dipping the lid in boiling water, in the hope it would expand. It didn't. In a last attempt, I put a hole in the top of the jar, but it still wouldn't budge.

Now I was tired, sweating, frustrated and had sore wrists. I cursed being single. Yes, for those moments proceeding my fight with a salsa jar, I wanted a boyfriend. Someone who could flex their muscles and open the lid, so I could gorge on my tortilla chips whilst they felt manly for helping the poor damsel in distress. You see, I wouldn't be the only one who benefits from that arrangement. As it goes, my salsa jar is still sitting on my kitchen work top, unopened and unloved. Just like its owner.

Like I said, I'm happy being single but there are times when it'd be nice to have a man in my life. Of course when you've had no physical love for a while, it's always nice to have a guy satisfy those needs rather than your battery operated friend. No matter what anyone says, the two are just not the same. In fact, they're poles apart - one is a physical satisfaction, the other is an emotional satisfaction with the physical satisfaction being a byproduct.

Then there are times when you've made a mistake and need someone else's opinion on what to do. Perhaps it's not something your friends or family can help with. Or something you don't want to share with them. You know what they say, a problem shared is a problem halved. But they also say what doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger. However, the salsa jar dilemma proves that the latter isn't strictly true. Unless they're referring to my ability to cope with starvation.

Perhaps this is the way men feel when they can't iron out a stubborn crease in their shirt, or are bored of eating beans on toast every night. Maybe women are designed to know nothing about cars and men are designed to know nothing about cleaning products. Maybe it's that way for a reason; to need and desire a partner.

It's funny because I can have a child without a partner. Hell, I can have a child without even having sex, thanks to science and technology. But when I need to open a jar of salsa, I need a man...

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.

What are we?

As the digital age takes a firm hold, it seems it has become more and more difficult to define our relationships. A hundred years ago, a man and woman would be either; friends, afianced, married or illicit lovers. Fifty years on and we could throw in courting. Now, we can be friends, friends with benefits, dating, lovers, fuck buddies, an affair, afianced, married, separated, divorced. The list is endless!

Were all of these relationship statuses non-existent before? Or have we moved with the times and now just feel the need to define everything? Why do women feel the need to analyse every single detail so we can label what we’re doing with a guy? Can’t we just go with the flow and enjoy the ride? Do we feel the need to define our relationships, so that we can set boundaries, in order not to get hurt?

To have a turmoil-free relationship, do we need to know where we're going? I've been caught in that trap a few times - I've wanted a relationship but the guy just wanted something casual. However, if the guy had communicated that to me at the beginning, I could have made a decision whether I wanted to knob him off or risk developing feelings for him, knowing all he desired was a casual relationship. At least if I did go with the latter, I'd only have myself to blame when the pain and heartache ensued.

On the other hand, guys nearly always assume a girl is looking for a serious relationship and so even though I'm not at this point in my life, I seem to be kept at arms length. Look at S and Mr. A.P for example; both of whom seem to think I want something more than they're offering. But truth be told, I don't. I just enjoy hanging out with them and seeing what happens, but maybe I'm not making that clear?

I don't want a committed relationship with either of them because I don't think they're necessarily 100% right for me, but do I need to spell that out to them? And would they even believe me, or are guys programmed to think all girls are after a relationship that will end up in a suburban semi, spending their weekends deciding which nappies to buy, whilst the wife is busy preparing meat and two veg for dinner?

Maybe it's the guys that struggle to go with the flow? Perhaps they need us to define what kind of relationship we're having before they decide whether to back off or not? But what do I define it as? If you're friends who enjoy the occasional mutual benefit, what are you? Friends with benefits? Lovers? Fuck buddies? What are the differences between the three anyway? Does everyone have different definitions? 

What if there are interim periods where neither of us are seeing/sleeping with anyone else, does that mean we're in a relationship or is a relationship solely defined by a mutual desire to be in one? Do definitions help us realise when we're in a transitional period between the different relationship statuses? After all, don't both parties need to be travelling along the same path?

Whatever happens with either S or Mr. A.P, and whatever it's labelled as, I think there's a lot of fun to be had that can make single life that little bit more exciting, particularly when Dubai's dating scene is as dry as the city's summer months.  As long as honest feelings are communicated, I think we can just roll with it and enjoy.

So maybe that's how we can define a definition; a modern day way of communicating...

Tis the season to be jolly

That's right, the season has arrived where it's all about the dresses, champagne and beautiful decorations. No, I'm not talking about Christmas, I'm talking about weddings. And last weekend saw me attend my first wedding of the season...

Drama Queen had been planning her wedding for weeks, months even. Everyone in the office had heard the painstaking phone calls to her father, mother, fiancé and hotel about the dress, cake, food, colour co-ordination and every other tiny detail that makes a wedding day. So to say we were all expecting a knockout wedding would be an understatement.

In anticipation of Drama Queen's spectacular wedding, just as the bride wanted, all the girls planned their perfect wedding outfits, accessories, hair, manicures and pedicures. Let it be known, it's no easy feat being a woman in the naughties, let alone with the added pressure of preparing for, what would probably be, the wedding of the year.

The dress I picked out was a demure, 50's style number. Ivory with black stripes on the skirt, it was perfect wedding attendance material. With the dress, I donned my favourite pair of black sky-high heels and made my way to the hotel to meet my colleagues for warm-up cocktails at one of Dubai's trendiest bars.

Everyone looked picture perfect, but of course we would, we were under the scrutiny of some of Dubai's best looking people. (For those of you who don't know, a Palestinian/Lebanese union is one of unprecedented style and beauty. For both the women, and the men.)

The wedding, as expected, was nothing short of stunning, and all those agonising phone calls Drama Queen had made over the past few weeks had obviously paid off. We all waited for the bride to enter with bated breath, and so when we were ushered to the bottom of the stairs, we knew the tears were imminent.

As the Arabian drummers made their way down the stairs, behind them, they revealed the happy couple. It was most definitely a sight for sore eyes. Drama Queen was less drama and all queen — absolutely beautiful, not that any one of us expected anything less. And as the couple made their way down the stairs, guests snapped photos and shed a few happy tears. Myself included.

After all the perfect people had been sitting at the perfectly decorated tables, observing the perfect couple, my colleagues and I decided to head to the bar. As we made our way up the marble bridal stairs, we joked they would do someone some serious damage. Little did I know that someone would be me.

As I took a step up, I suddenly felt a searing pain. I hopped to the side and took off my shoe. There it was; my perfectly manicured foot, covered in blood and missing a big toenail. As my blood dripped down the stairs, I felt faint but my main concern was about ruining the party.

My colleagues gathered around and ushered me into one of their cars to take me to hospital. I'm not going to lie, it wasn't a pleasant trip, but we were at the Iranian hospital so it really should have been expected. With us in our party dresses and them in their abayas, it was a little embarrassing to say the least. And just to crank up the embarrassment factor a notch, I was shoved in a wheelchair. Was this karma biting me in the ass? Was losing a toenail not enough? Evidently not.

After the unbearable, pain-inducing poking and prodding from the doctor and nurse, I was sent on my merry way. Naturally, we went straight back to the wedding, and on the journey there, to distract me from the pain, my colleagues and I belted out Mariah Carey's All I want for Christmas at full blast. It worked, I was distracted for a full three minutes and forty-four seconds. Ok, ok, I had to look that up on my iTunes!

Back at the wedding, I spied my departed toenail on the stairs. I couldn't bring myself to pick it up, and so I left it for the cleaners. After all, it wouldn't be Drama Queen's wedding sans the drama, and so I felt happy to have left my mark of drama, right there on the stairs.

Despite the unbearable pain in my foot, I pulled myself together to throw some shapes on the dance floor with the bride. As I did so, I took a good look around and saw so much happiness and wondered what it was about marriage, aside from the fabulous party, that was so joyous.

Why is it we feel we need marriage to validate our relationships? Let's not sugar-coat it, it's easier than ever to obtain a divorce these days, so there's much less of a commitment to marriage anyway. But then I thought of my perfect relationship and how, in the distant future, I'd probably want to marry my perfect boyfriend. I'm not sure why though; is it just the next logical step, is it for the future kids, or is it security? Perhaps it's even insecurity? But the need to be potentially tied to someone for eternity seems a little drastic, does it not?

Whatever the reason, most girls dream of it from a young age. I mean, Barbie has Ken, Minnie has Mickey (mouse is their surname, right?) and Cinderella has Prince Charming. It's drummed into us girls that marriage is the right step from the age of three, so why would we reject it? Men, on the other hand, are read stories about super-heroes who save the world from destruction, and play with toys like cars and meccano. Is it any wonder that we think women are from Venus and men are from Mars when we're brought up to value totally different things?

Maybe I should consider writing a children's book about the successful career woman who earned so much money that she bought her own jet to fly to her private island where everything was at her disposal — men, food, shoes, handbags... you name it. But then why does that story seem incomplete without her being whisked off her feet by some loveable hunk?

As a single woman in Dubai, are we just enduring the footloose and fancy-free lifestyle, in the hope of bumping into The One along the way, or are we genuinely embracing our freedom? Does even the most cynical woman really just want to settle down? Perhaps she's only a cynic towards marriage because she's not yet met her match?

Well, whatever the reason is for getting hitched, I hope it's the right one and we'll all live happily ever after.

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.

Single Satisfaction

Despite the announcement of several engagements and pregnancies this year, I still have a number of fabulous, single girlfriends. They’re the kind of girls that are probably a bit too comfortable being single – independent and strong-minded. Saying that, every girl loves a bit of attention, doesn’t she?

So, amidst all the uncertainty surrounding Mr. A.P, I decided to host a singles dinner. The concept was simple – invite all my single girlfriends in Dubai to dinner, get each one of them to bring a single guy friend, meet at a restaurant with a set price all-you-can-eat-and-drink and let carnage ensue. I was hoping the night might appease some of my single girlfriends’ appetites… In the run up to the dinner, some of my girlfriends moaned how they knew of no eligible bachelors to bring. At first I couldn’t believe that such intelligent, gorgeous and outgoing women didn’t know any eligible men but then I realized that I’d have struggled if my only option hadn’t said yes. Were Dubai’s men really that bad?

There was no need to worry in the end, as like true troopers, they pulled it out of the bag. Although, admittedly, a couple of them had scraped the barrell! But as it was a pilot run, we’ll gloss over that on this occasion.

On the night, eight girls and eight guys turned up at the bar for pre-dinner drinks, in hope of finding their Romeo or Juliet. It was an optimistic thought, but everyone was so curious about how the night would turn out, it didn’t matter. But, as the hostess, there were moments where I felt a little awkward and wished I’d planned it better.

Dinner went well, and people automatically adopted the boy-girl-boy-girl seating plan, which saved us all from the embarrassment of having place-cards that I’d not made! Everyone chatted amongst themselves and there were no issues with the bill, which was an absolute God-send.

Some people dwindled off home but those who wanted to continue the party went on to one of Dubai’s swanky cocktail bars. I left everyone to their own devices and chatted to the eligible bachelor I’d brought along… S.

After a few too many Cosmopolitans, I talked at him about the Mr. A.P situation. Yes, I know… again! He listened though, and he didn’t complain, which was very sweet. In the end, after God knows how long I’d been rambling on about it for, S said he had to go. We hugged goodnight, but it was one of those hugs that went on for just a little bit longer than it should have. Next thing I knew, we were kissing.

At that moment in time, all sorts of things went through my mind - namely visions of bare skin and bed sheets. The visions didn’t materialise, and I can honestly say I’m glad they didn’t. It would have been way too easy. This story has been dragged out for over two years, if it’s going to be done at all; it’s going to be done well.

You know what, here I am; two guys I know I shouldn’t be attracted to, both of whom are telling me they don’t want it, yet things just keep on happening. Could it be that I’m actually enjoying playing this game? Could it be that I don’t want them either? I know they’re both emotionally unavailable, so why would I keep going there unless I’m emotionally unavailable too?

Am I pressured by friends and family into feeling that I want a relationship when really I don’t want one at all? Do I want to conform to society’s expectations of finding a man with whom I should have a monogamous relationship with, or do I want to rebel…?

I know the answer; it’s you that needs to work it out.

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.