WHY hasn't he called? The age old question that has been asked for centuries - well as long as phones have been around. Before that, it'd have been "why hath he not called by?" ; "where for art that bastard?" or "he clubbed me over the head; said he'd call by the cave, and hasn't so much as smoke signalled me" (ok, might be mixing some eras there, but point made). Now, I was having a chat with one of my besties tonight, a lovely gorgeousness of a girl, who currently has a nack for men striping in front of her. Not a bad nack to have by any stretch of the imagination, IF she actually fancied the men in question. The men she does fancy, date her, like her (so we think) then after a few dates never call again. And we are all left with a few bottles of wine, stratching our heads, asking that one question, we never get an answer to.....WHY?
Now this is not exclusive to her. This happens to us all. Guys we meet out, who ask US for OUR number, then never use it. Guys we go on a date with, and have a really nice time with; who there and then ask us out again. To never call. (FYI - me at the mo).
I decided to try and get to the bottom of this, and for help, asked a few of my male friends....All of whom have had their share of the ladies, and left them hanging on more than one occasion I expect....
Ex Local Lothario says:
"Well, it could be bacause they either didn't enjoy the date and will say just about anything in the heat of the moment to get away, and then never call," he says on the subject of never calling....."Or they really did enjoy it and are scared that you didn't and basically don't know what to do because they've tried there best already."
But then why that they've had a good time, or suggest a date two? Or really confuse us and snog us?
"Coz every guy likes a snog, wants to feel like 'the man' coz a second date is arranged and doesn't want to commit to anything serious for at least say 12 months?"
12 months?! 12 months! Seriously us women are rarely THAT patient...But then a little confession.....
"I hate to admit it, but it really was a case of get as much as could, from wherever I could, however I could. The lies and twists and manipulation are quite horribly brilliant, but now regrettable". (In fairness to this young man, and without sounding like a bitch to my fellow females, he was a slight evil genius with the ladies at times).
"The life of a player is not for me anymore. Tooooooo many mind games fuck up eventually!As some sort of defence, it actually took quite a lot of work to pull off, so it wasn't bad intentions just mis-spent energy that should really have gone into one worthwhile positive realtionship". Ahmen to that - on this occasion, we have one Ex Local Lothario turned good, but do they all see the light in the end?
Another male friend is still in the midst of his playing days, and hence forth will be known as The International Playboy....(FYI - when asking him just now what he wanted his name to be, I said "The Player seems too easy - and boy, is he!!)
At first he was apprehensive....
"You know by the law of man.......I'm bound to secrecy on this subject and should it come out that I have divulged said information to any member of the fairer sex I would be cast adrift by my fellow man leaving me with only my own mother as a potential wing man!"
I promised this would not be the case.....and after a few hours, he opened up the can of genius that is his opinion....
"This is not a subject that men talk openly or honestly about so I can only explain why I haven't called women back in the past. Its not because I'm trying to hurt someones feelings, its not because I'm an arse, its not even because I didn't like them as I probably did. There are factors to consider here, firstly, I'm pretty sure this is genetic amongst men but...............I have the emotional maturity of a monkey, everything is a joke with me and lets face it, relationships are serious business". (Hmm, he has a point there).
"The next thing to consider is that no matter how confident a person you may be that second call can be scary and even worse awkward........you've gotta think that we go through some of the same thoughts and worries that women do except if we seem too eager we come across as creepy or desperate! The only difference between us is that we don't constantly go on to our mates how she hasn't called / when will she call? / do you think I should call? / when would you call? As the only response we would get is HOMO!" (Loving the honesty - come on, men don't DO sharing as a rule).
"Fact is, if I really liked her, we got on well and I was very attracted to her........I would call next day, stuff rules, stuff mates I would just call. And if she likes me in the same way then its not creepy, its not desperate, it's made her day.............tell me I'm wrong??" (You're not wrong, God damnit!)
So there we have it. Simples. If he likes you, he will call. "He's Just Not That Into You". Men seem to think that this is the end of the argument, but we all know it isn't. We know that saying to our mate "he's just not that into you" will lead to us turning into a 6 year old child, and simply answering "but WHY?".....pass the corksrew; get the Ben & Jerrys.....it's going to be a lonnnnnnnng night.
As for my young man, well I hope he calls, we had a nice evening, but if he choses not to, I will be an adult. I won't call him every name under the sun and make up a nickname for him. I will simply scream "NEXT" and see it as a nice evening that didn't go anywhere......Will I heck - I'll be calling him mean names, and asking my friends over wine "whats wrong with me? WHY?!" - I'm a female after all - and this Lady is like all the rest underneath. I'm sure that out there right now there is a a group of men asking the same, whilst watching Love Actually, with face packs on, drinking wine.....they just don't want us to know. (FYI - Ex Local Lothario and The International Playboy did actually confirm this happens. They both opening admit to having said nights, and crying over lost loves, whilst working their tea zones...who'd have thought it boys?).
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
Sunday, 18 July 2010
Summer Loving, Had Me A Blast?
Sun, sand, sea and sex on the beach, the ingredients for some for a perfect holiday. We've all had those holiday flings - you know the ones, where the sun is shining, the skin is glowing, and after a few free shots, the guy who back home, would make you run a mile, suddenly turns into George Clooney. Before you know it there's sand in places you never thought possible and you're being arrested for public indecency.....just me? (Kidding - I am a Lady remember). But a holiday romance should last as long as your sunburn, and my rule is to get out before the skin peels. Relationship "experts" say that rarely do holiday romances lead to a long term commitment - no shit Sherlock, my cat could have told you that! We do it because we are at our most relaxed (unless like me you have a thing for holiday locations beginning with B and have got so far down the list that you're in Baghdad...) and the romance of the sun and sea lulls us to fall for that tanned Adonis over a Pina Coloda.
But how does it happen, and what happens next? Well, I reckon I've sussed the three main options of men we fall for on our hols, and in Danger world, this is how it'd go:
Types:
I reckon, over the years, I have met and fallen for three types of men.
1) The Waiter. Come on now, we've all done it. For starters, they are always tanned. They are normally met at night, when we are tanned and relaxed, and drinking. Due to said tan, Goran will look even hotter in the white shirt with the open top button. Add into it a little necklace - think leather chain with a coin or something like that. You get the picture.....I'm fancying Goran as I type....passport and ticket for one to Rhodes please Mr Cab man!
2) The Traveller. You'll meet him on the beach, where he'll be sat on his own, chilling, or possible doing yoga. Tanned, shaggy haired, and with piercing eyes, you'll fall for his care free spirit and one man attitude. His stories of trekking in Tibet and saving turtles will inspire you, more so if you've shared his rolly (which will probably be a joint). The fact he's currently in Benidorm won't even come into question - he's so out there and cool, you'll over look it. (For now).
3) The Brit Abroad. Dave we'll call him, as it sounds very lads on tour. He'll be away with the boys, and you'll meet him when he's playing volleyball in the pool and the ball accidentally hits you when sunbathing. He'll be tanned (a re-occurring theme) and be a jack the lad but has bought one of those necklaces with the coin on (after potting it on Goran the night before and deciding it looked cool) so you will be strangely attracted to him....
The First Kiss:
1) Goran. You'll have dragged your mates to Goran's restaurant every night for the past three days. Sick of eating dodgy paella, your mates will insist tonight you talk to him, after days of gazing at him over the menu. So tonight, you flirt, talk, and after being fuelled by free shots after dinner, that taste like mouth wash, you agree to go on a ride on his motorbike. Well, it'll be a moped, but you'll not care. Clutched onto Goran, you'll speed along the deserted roads, to a secluded spot. He'll tell you in broken English, that "your eyes, they pierce my heart. I feel alive" (or "your ees, that peeerce me hurt. I fell aleeve" - not sure what accent that is, but you get the jist). Then, you kiss. He tastes of Marlborough's and smells slightly of fried food. But the moon shines, and for now, Goran "hes your hurt".
2) The Traveller. You've joined him for a moonlight sing song around the camp fire, with the locals (in this case, as we are in Benidorm, Mavis the ex-pat and her husband Mario). After a few more of Phoenix' rollys, you are feeling fuzzy and warm. And slightly sick. Phoenix takes you off for a walk, when he tells you he feels like you were meant to meet, and the universe brought you together for a reason. That reason is planted on your quivering lips (due to being stoned) and you feel like the world is spinning and there's never been a more magical night. You're also pretty sure that the tree behind Phoenix just winked at you..
3)The Brit Abroad. Dave and his mates, will be watching the hotel entertainment with you and your girls. It'll be some hideously bad local singer who can't pronounce his R's properly. After, once you've laughed your make up off, Dave will challenge your group to a game of pool, and you accept. The Stella's will flow (better than the nasty wine the hotel serves) and after excessive cheating on your part, you beat Dave. Flirty flirty, more Stellas, and Dave and you continue playing long after the others have dispersed and gone to bed. Dave will then start a play fight, leading to the kiss over the table. A cheer will be heard - his mates are watching over the balcony. Nice.
The Holiday unfolds....
1) A week in and Goran has driven you half way round the island, and spoken "sweat nofings" into your ear. His lack of vocabulary is starting to grate a bit, and you gave in last night and made "swaet loove", and it wasn't that sweet, or very long. And the necklace you thought was so sexy earlier in the week, kept whacking you in the face during the deed. But more concerningly, Goran keeps talking about when he comes "to the Inland". You think he means England, and are wishing you hadn't swap addresses and numbers after the kiss under the moonlight. Bugger.
2) Phoenix on the other hand won't be telling you stories of when he comes to England, but will be trying to convince you to jack it all in and go travelling with him. Tempted as you are, you've started to notice a strange smell around Phoenix, and have ascertained that as you only making the loove (sorry, that's Goran) under the stars by Mavis' campfire, Phoenix doesn't actually have anywhere to live. Or wash. Hence the smell. And as a few of the kids staying at your hotel have been caught smoking drugs behind the bar, you've got an inkling, that the little money he does have is through dealing. And he keeps begging you to cash in your remaining travellers cheques, and give it to him to buy you both tickets to Pathos....
3) Dave is now sunburnt, and seems to have developed a slight Stella belly. You found his impressions of Roy Chubby Brown endearing at first, but now you realise he is slightly racist, sexist, and you're pretty sure that the itching you've developed since sleeping with him, isn't heat rash. You've also found out he lives with his mum, and only afforded the holiday after suing the police for false imprisonment. Only it wasn't false imprisonment. He really did punch a kebab van owner for there not being enough chilli sauce on his donor.
The Tan Fades....
1) The tan is fading; the pics are developed. You didn't realise quite how much Goran looks like a young Danny DeVito (with hair and height), and that he is a bit cross eyed. Those pics are so not making it onto facebook - maybe the ones he is wearing sunglasses in. All is going well, until the fist letter arrives. It speaks of the impending arrival of Goran. And his mum. You now have to move house. Or contact Phoenix and take him up on the offer of Pathos....
2) However Phoenix, or Malcolm as you find him to be called, is in prison. The Spanish police caught up with him after Mavis got so stoned she nearly drowned in the kiddies pool at the nearby hotel. Mario thankfully got her out in time. Turns out Phoenix, sorry Malcolm, is a wanted felon, and after showing her your holiday pics, your mum recognises him on Crime Watch.
3) Dave meanwhile is back in Wigan, and back in work. His mate Deano got him a job in his local Polish club as a barman. He keeps texting you asking to "cum down 2 LDN" but you still can't forgive him for the STD he gave you. You ask him not to contact you again, but he is pretty persistent. Until his credit runs out.
So, the tan fades, and so does the thrush given to you by Dave. The coin necklace Goran gave you snaps, and the last rolly Malcolm gave you, is discovered at the bottom of your case. Thankfully found by you, and not customs. Next years holiday seems a million years away, but when you get there, Mehmet / Rainbow / Darren will be waiting to sweep you off your feet. And have some Summer loving baby....
But how does it happen, and what happens next? Well, I reckon I've sussed the three main options of men we fall for on our hols, and in Danger world, this is how it'd go:
Types:
I reckon, over the years, I have met and fallen for three types of men.
1) The Waiter. Come on now, we've all done it. For starters, they are always tanned. They are normally met at night, when we are tanned and relaxed, and drinking. Due to said tan, Goran will look even hotter in the white shirt with the open top button. Add into it a little necklace - think leather chain with a coin or something like that. You get the picture.....I'm fancying Goran as I type....passport and ticket for one to Rhodes please Mr Cab man!
2) The Traveller. You'll meet him on the beach, where he'll be sat on his own, chilling, or possible doing yoga. Tanned, shaggy haired, and with piercing eyes, you'll fall for his care free spirit and one man attitude. His stories of trekking in Tibet and saving turtles will inspire you, more so if you've shared his rolly (which will probably be a joint). The fact he's currently in Benidorm won't even come into question - he's so out there and cool, you'll over look it. (For now).
3) The Brit Abroad. Dave we'll call him, as it sounds very lads on tour. He'll be away with the boys, and you'll meet him when he's playing volleyball in the pool and the ball accidentally hits you when sunbathing. He'll be tanned (a re-occurring theme) and be a jack the lad but has bought one of those necklaces with the coin on (after potting it on Goran the night before and deciding it looked cool) so you will be strangely attracted to him....
The First Kiss:
1) Goran. You'll have dragged your mates to Goran's restaurant every night for the past three days. Sick of eating dodgy paella, your mates will insist tonight you talk to him, after days of gazing at him over the menu. So tonight, you flirt, talk, and after being fuelled by free shots after dinner, that taste like mouth wash, you agree to go on a ride on his motorbike. Well, it'll be a moped, but you'll not care. Clutched onto Goran, you'll speed along the deserted roads, to a secluded spot. He'll tell you in broken English, that "your eyes, they pierce my heart. I feel alive" (or "your ees, that peeerce me hurt. I fell aleeve" - not sure what accent that is, but you get the jist). Then, you kiss. He tastes of Marlborough's and smells slightly of fried food. But the moon shines, and for now, Goran "hes your hurt".
2) The Traveller. You've joined him for a moonlight sing song around the camp fire, with the locals (in this case, as we are in Benidorm, Mavis the ex-pat and her husband Mario). After a few more of Phoenix' rollys, you are feeling fuzzy and warm. And slightly sick. Phoenix takes you off for a walk, when he tells you he feels like you were meant to meet, and the universe brought you together for a reason. That reason is planted on your quivering lips (due to being stoned) and you feel like the world is spinning and there's never been a more magical night. You're also pretty sure that the tree behind Phoenix just winked at you..
3)The Brit Abroad. Dave and his mates, will be watching the hotel entertainment with you and your girls. It'll be some hideously bad local singer who can't pronounce his R's properly. After, once you've laughed your make up off, Dave will challenge your group to a game of pool, and you accept. The Stella's will flow (better than the nasty wine the hotel serves) and after excessive cheating on your part, you beat Dave. Flirty flirty, more Stellas, and Dave and you continue playing long after the others have dispersed and gone to bed. Dave will then start a play fight, leading to the kiss over the table. A cheer will be heard - his mates are watching over the balcony. Nice.
The Holiday unfolds....
1) A week in and Goran has driven you half way round the island, and spoken "sweat nofings" into your ear. His lack of vocabulary is starting to grate a bit, and you gave in last night and made "swaet loove", and it wasn't that sweet, or very long. And the necklace you thought was so sexy earlier in the week, kept whacking you in the face during the deed. But more concerningly, Goran keeps talking about when he comes "to the Inland". You think he means England, and are wishing you hadn't swap addresses and numbers after the kiss under the moonlight. Bugger.
2) Phoenix on the other hand won't be telling you stories of when he comes to England, but will be trying to convince you to jack it all in and go travelling with him. Tempted as you are, you've started to notice a strange smell around Phoenix, and have ascertained that as you only making the loove (sorry, that's Goran) under the stars by Mavis' campfire, Phoenix doesn't actually have anywhere to live. Or wash. Hence the smell. And as a few of the kids staying at your hotel have been caught smoking drugs behind the bar, you've got an inkling, that the little money he does have is through dealing. And he keeps begging you to cash in your remaining travellers cheques, and give it to him to buy you both tickets to Pathos....
3) Dave is now sunburnt, and seems to have developed a slight Stella belly. You found his impressions of Roy Chubby Brown endearing at first, but now you realise he is slightly racist, sexist, and you're pretty sure that the itching you've developed since sleeping with him, isn't heat rash. You've also found out he lives with his mum, and only afforded the holiday after suing the police for false imprisonment. Only it wasn't false imprisonment. He really did punch a kebab van owner for there not being enough chilli sauce on his donor.
The Tan Fades....
1) The tan is fading; the pics are developed. You didn't realise quite how much Goran looks like a young Danny DeVito (with hair and height), and that he is a bit cross eyed. Those pics are so not making it onto facebook - maybe the ones he is wearing sunglasses in. All is going well, until the fist letter arrives. It speaks of the impending arrival of Goran. And his mum. You now have to move house. Or contact Phoenix and take him up on the offer of Pathos....
2) However Phoenix, or Malcolm as you find him to be called, is in prison. The Spanish police caught up with him after Mavis got so stoned she nearly drowned in the kiddies pool at the nearby hotel. Mario thankfully got her out in time. Turns out Phoenix, sorry Malcolm, is a wanted felon, and after showing her your holiday pics, your mum recognises him on Crime Watch.
3) Dave meanwhile is back in Wigan, and back in work. His mate Deano got him a job in his local Polish club as a barman. He keeps texting you asking to "cum down 2 LDN" but you still can't forgive him for the STD he gave you. You ask him not to contact you again, but he is pretty persistent. Until his credit runs out.
So, the tan fades, and so does the thrush given to you by Dave. The coin necklace Goran gave you snaps, and the last rolly Malcolm gave you, is discovered at the bottom of your case. Thankfully found by you, and not customs. Next years holiday seems a million years away, but when you get there, Mehmet / Rainbow / Darren will be waiting to sweep you off your feet. And have some Summer loving baby....
Monday, 5 July 2010
And We're Off....Wedding Season 2010
Over the past few years, wedding invites have started to become more frequent, mainly due to my membership to the 30's club. Last year, I had 2, this year two, and already a few lined up next year. As a singleton, and one of few spinsters left in the village (literally), weddings are a mixture of fear, excitement and a wee bit of "whens my turn?" (Obviously when GB works out i am the one for him, and whisks me off to LA. Actually, he could whisk me off to Skegness during rainy season and I'd not care).
This weekend, I attended, and helped celebrate the wedding of two of my dear friends, and I have to say, it was the most gorgeous day, and even I got a tad teary during the ceremony (a first). It was everything a wedding should be - the ceremony was short and had no hymns (not a fan); the bride looked gorgeous yet understated, and the venue was simply divine. And a free bar is always a plus in my book. But not all the weddings I have been requested to attend (and some I've not - plus ones r us), have followed such a divine pattern.....
My guide to a perfect wedding for a dangerous lady...
1) Plus ones - if I'm single, don't put a plus one. I know your trying to be nice, and "hopeful", but it makes single people feel like we need to magic a superman out of thin air. Or we take another single friend, and just cackle and get drunk together. Or we find a suitable man, but scare the shit out of him when we ask him to be our plus one. I did this a few years back, and it was like I'd proposed. There was a man shaped hole in my door, and dust blowing up from his quick exit. I went alone, and felt worse. NO plus ones peeps....it is not helpful.
2) Ceremony - not too long is the key for me. I've attended some I thought would never end - singing, praying, hymns, readings....we get it, you love each other, but lets not be bored beyond belief by it! 30 mins is the perfect amount, then the celebrating can reallllly start. And I love it when people write their own vows....normally because they are bloody hilarious and slightly vomit inducing - think the expression is "so bad, its good". " When I first saw you snuggle-kins, across that crowded bingo hall, I knew from the way you stamped your card, that you had stamped a mark on my heart forever". Genius and horrific all at once.
3) Entertainment - magicians are annoying. Comedians are generally not funny unless you've booked Michael McIntyre. DJs should be vetted thoroughly so you don't have a "scream if you want to go faster type" or someone whos most recent track is SClub 7. And for the love of god, no tributes. Five overweight men sat on stalls, murdering a Boyzone medley is just wrong. A good mixture and a right knees up is all we require to do a bit of drunken dancing...My personal fav was the wedding I went to that had Irish dancing. I decided I could do it just as well, and if it wasn't for the strong arm of my friend, I'd have been right up there. I've watched enough River Dance - it can't be THAT hard.
4) Table placement - don't put the singletons with the smug marrieds, unless you want LD drunk before you've done the first speech. Some hotties are always welcome - the wedding where myself and my lovely fellow spinster H were sat with 8 single men was a personal fav.And keep me away from emotional parents unless I like both the groom and the bride. I got stuck for an hour with a sobbing Father of the Bride once, and couldn't stand the girl, but had to sympathetically nod whilst he sobbed about her. Sambucca was my only cure.
5) First dance - another often genius "so bad it's good moment" - and you can normally tell the length of the marriage by the choice of the song. Not exposing my theory on this, because a few people are in the wrong category. Tragedy by Steps....hmm, funny but a bad sign. Celine Dion - My Heart Will Go On - errr, hello?! NO! And for fuckety fucks sake, Police - Every Breath You Take - I didn't know where to look. You may as well say "I'll stalk you if you ever leave me. And I saw you smile at Des from the greengrocers. He'll have a brick through his window Monday".
6) Throwing your bouquet - DO IT. Yes, its a tradition, and yes it's false hope, but for heavens sake ladies, give us something! You've had your perfect day, and we want ours. Catching your bouquet, or trying to, is a glimmer of hope through the spinster fog. These days, it's all "but I want to keep it and press it, and have it as a memory forever". You have a husband love, at least give me a bunch if dying flowers. I'll even lie and tell you I love the fact you have modelled your hair on Jordan and have about three horses' worth of hair extensions piled on your head like a cheap hooker. Fairs fair.
Thankfully, the wedding at the weekend ticked all the boxes of glorious-ness, minus I believe the bouquet throwing (to be fair the free bar means I have no sodding clue if it happened....so I am willing to let it slide!). I truly believe the gorgeous couple will grow old like the two lovely Dinosaurs in their reading. Now, as for those that have subjected LD over the years to shite cheap champagne; crappo DJs; and sat me with smug marrieds....if you get married a second time, do me a favour and through the bouquet my way. If I'm going to get GB I need all the help I can get.
This weekend, I attended, and helped celebrate the wedding of two of my dear friends, and I have to say, it was the most gorgeous day, and even I got a tad teary during the ceremony (a first). It was everything a wedding should be - the ceremony was short and had no hymns (not a fan); the bride looked gorgeous yet understated, and the venue was simply divine. And a free bar is always a plus in my book. But not all the weddings I have been requested to attend (and some I've not - plus ones r us), have followed such a divine pattern.....
My guide to a perfect wedding for a dangerous lady...
1) Plus ones - if I'm single, don't put a plus one. I know your trying to be nice, and "hopeful", but it makes single people feel like we need to magic a superman out of thin air. Or we take another single friend, and just cackle and get drunk together. Or we find a suitable man, but scare the shit out of him when we ask him to be our plus one. I did this a few years back, and it was like I'd proposed. There was a man shaped hole in my door, and dust blowing up from his quick exit. I went alone, and felt worse. NO plus ones peeps....it is not helpful.
2) Ceremony - not too long is the key for me. I've attended some I thought would never end - singing, praying, hymns, readings....we get it, you love each other, but lets not be bored beyond belief by it! 30 mins is the perfect amount, then the celebrating can reallllly start. And I love it when people write their own vows....normally because they are bloody hilarious and slightly vomit inducing - think the expression is "so bad, its good". " When I first saw you snuggle-kins, across that crowded bingo hall, I knew from the way you stamped your card, that you had stamped a mark on my heart forever". Genius and horrific all at once.
3) Entertainment - magicians are annoying. Comedians are generally not funny unless you've booked Michael McIntyre. DJs should be vetted thoroughly so you don't have a "scream if you want to go faster type" or someone whos most recent track is SClub 7. And for the love of god, no tributes. Five overweight men sat on stalls, murdering a Boyzone medley is just wrong. A good mixture and a right knees up is all we require to do a bit of drunken dancing...My personal fav was the wedding I went to that had Irish dancing. I decided I could do it just as well, and if it wasn't for the strong arm of my friend, I'd have been right up there. I've watched enough River Dance - it can't be THAT hard.
4) Table placement - don't put the singletons with the smug marrieds, unless you want LD drunk before you've done the first speech. Some hotties are always welcome - the wedding where myself and my lovely fellow spinster H were sat with 8 single men was a personal fav.And keep me away from emotional parents unless I like both the groom and the bride. I got stuck for an hour with a sobbing Father of the Bride once, and couldn't stand the girl, but had to sympathetically nod whilst he sobbed about her. Sambucca was my only cure.
5) First dance - another often genius "so bad it's good moment" - and you can normally tell the length of the marriage by the choice of the song. Not exposing my theory on this, because a few people are in the wrong category. Tragedy by Steps....hmm, funny but a bad sign. Celine Dion - My Heart Will Go On - errr, hello?! NO! And for fuckety fucks sake, Police - Every Breath You Take - I didn't know where to look. You may as well say "I'll stalk you if you ever leave me. And I saw you smile at Des from the greengrocers. He'll have a brick through his window Monday".
6) Throwing your bouquet - DO IT. Yes, its a tradition, and yes it's false hope, but for heavens sake ladies, give us something! You've had your perfect day, and we want ours. Catching your bouquet, or trying to, is a glimmer of hope through the spinster fog. These days, it's all "but I want to keep it and press it, and have it as a memory forever". You have a husband love, at least give me a bunch if dying flowers. I'll even lie and tell you I love the fact you have modelled your hair on Jordan and have about three horses' worth of hair extensions piled on your head like a cheap hooker. Fairs fair.
Thankfully, the wedding at the weekend ticked all the boxes of glorious-ness, minus I believe the bouquet throwing (to be fair the free bar means I have no sodding clue if it happened....so I am willing to let it slide!). I truly believe the gorgeous couple will grow old like the two lovely Dinosaurs in their reading. Now, as for those that have subjected LD over the years to shite cheap champagne; crappo DJs; and sat me with smug marrieds....if you get married a second time, do me a favour and through the bouquet my way. If I'm going to get GB I need all the help I can get.
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