One girl two cups

Today, I have the blogging twinge.

I can’t help myself but write about the most interesting experience that has occurred in my wonderful and exciting life. Today was pay day – if you are anything like myself you jump up and down with joy because you just got paid. Then, you cry because all your money is going on bills. You then work out a loose budget with the little money you have left.

This month I decided it was bra month. Yes, as a women we are expected to buy what can only be described as material things to cover our modesty. In my case, I have large assets that cause back pain, larger tops and joy to men (sorry but it is true).

I stroll into town, enjoying the sights and sounds of spring. The sun is shining and it was beautiful. I was on a mission.

I was a bra missionary.

If I am being honest, I haven’t been shopping for breast holders in while, because they are so expensive.

Seriously, all underwear is so over priced. Shops have released that we can’t live without it, so they just double, triple or even quadruple the price for something that most of the time no one can see.

You wake up, absent-mindedly grab whatever underwear is on top of your underwear pile, put it on and away you go – to fight the day.

I personally, do not spend hours debating which piece of underwear I will be wearing….underneath my clothes – because it is under my clothes. Let’s face it, for some unknown reason – that I have not researched into depth – it is socially unacceptable not to wear underwear. I mean, was underwear designed as a fashion statement back in the day?

But, for those who are interested the undergarment was invented for:

  1. Extra warmth
  2. They keep outer wear from being ruined or as Wikipedia states – being soiled.
  3. Bra’s  provide support for breasts and apparently the bra is 100 years old.
  4. Underwear can also be used to seduce someone of your desire – however removing it in a moment of passion can be difficult… well, so I have heard…

So there you go a lesson about underwear.

Sorry, I changed the subject.

I went bra shopping because it would appear that social norms require me to purchase such items. I went to a popular chain usually associated with food and old people’s clothing. This isn’t normal food… it’s really gooood food. Enough already. I am sure you have guessed.

Apparently, they have an excellent underwear department.

I walk into the shop and search for the lingerie section, which is no where to be seen. In fact, it is located next door to the mens clothing section on the first floor.

Wow. Shop designers what an excellent and awkward place to put it.

Now, I have to pick my underwear while men peer at me through shirts and trousers just across the room. The other situation, which I enjoy is the awkward faces of husbands, partners or boyfriends standing awkwardly next to the ‘DD+ push up bra’ section, while they wait for their wives, girlfriends, partners etc –  try on bras in the fitting rooms. Do I smile at them? Oh yes I do,  because I enjoy the uncomfortable situation, of a strange man looking at me… as I pick up by matching pants and bra set.

Picking bra’s is difficult as well as uncomfortable.

Firstly, before you can even pick up a bra.

You need to ask yourself…what size am I?

It is advised to get a bra fitting when purchasing bra’s because all women are different shapes sizes and the body may have changed shape over night. Heaven forbid. Well, I ask the lady if she stocks my bra size – I was currently wearing. She then says very loudly.

‘NO we do not have that size here, that is rather large’

Oh excellent thank-you!  This lovely lady obviously had no tact or just thought it was banter –  proclaiming  to the whole of the lingerie section, the awkward husbands, boyfriends,  partners and of course the whole mens clothing section – that my breasts are too large for your selection of bra’s.

Bloody hell. After having being shoved into a changing room and brought a selection of bra’s – that would fit on my head and double up as an old fashioned hat. It would appear I was saved. There was a size that fitted me.

I then went out into the wilderness and then had to selection of bras and pants. It is so difficult to find a bra that is pleasing to the eye. Then they don’t have your size. Frustrating is an under-statement.

However, I thought I would splash out and buy matching underwear! I mean who actually wears matching underwear…

I arriving at the check-out.

I was robbed.

Yes robbed.

£77 pounds later I am now allowed to wear a bra.

Bastards.

 

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Dating: Tinder THE NAKED TRUTH

As my series on dating has shown my dating has been a pretty interesting experience, to say the least. It has had some ups but to be honest mostly downs. But, weridly these downs have been pretty amusing. Everything you have read in these blogs has been completely and utterly true. No truth has been stretched. Nothing has been made up for your entertainment. Maybe – it is the men I am attracted to. Maybe – its because I keep trying new things and moving away from my norm. I don’t think I have a type but upon reflection – its staring me in the face.

Am I desperate? Do I pine to spend time with someone because everyone else round me is in happy relationships. Honestly – the answer is strangely no. You find yourself spending weekends in bed eating peanut butter on toast, drinking tea and then eating a whole jar of peanut butter off a knife – which I have found I love doing. Whilst, your housemate and close friends travel to the different corners of the country to visit their other halves. Joyous. Its lovely and of course I am extremely happy for each and everyone of them. I have found weekends an exciting time to travel, see new friends and see old ones.

They say your twenties are a time for exploring, finding yourself and having fun. I am doing all of those things. I am twenty- two years old and yes, I am single! Who cares! I am loving it. What will the future bring? I have hopefully a prosperous career. At the drop of a hat I could go anywhere in the world.

But, its time to stop. Its time to stop looking. Stop settling just to fit in.

So, I really don’t need a man to complete my life at the moment. Anyone who knows me will realise that I am a career women who wants to be successful in the an industry that needs you to constantly be on top. Constantly up-to-date. Constantly ahead of everyone else. In fact, be more prepared and live life in the fast lane.

Tinder

So that’s why I joined Tinder….

Ha! Got you there.

Tinder is a wonderful invention.

The set up of Tinder is simple.

It connects secretly with Facebook and steals your name, age and a small sample of photos.

You can upload extra photos so that the male/female players can judge you further.

The whole app is based on location – which you can set from 2km to 150km away. I usually have my set to the closet possible which is 2km. I can’t be doing with the prospect of travelling. All though I am sure you all know from my POF dating experiences, men usually travel to see me. I am cool like that.

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Tinder gets better. In fact you don’t even really need to be able to read to use it. It just has pictures. It is dating for the lazy. You can Tinder anywhere!

Tinder

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, there is a short blurb section where people mostly write their Twitter, Facebook, BBM pins and Snap-chat names so you can stalk them further. Personally, I think most people are just trying to get extra followers.

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But Tinder cuts the crap. I don’t need to read a long profile about how amazing you were at teaching children in other countries, that you’ve travelled to Thailand and touched a tiger, you just live for the gym and your friends are your life…

Trust me I have read the same blurb hundreds of times and seen the same photos over and over again. Sadly, your travelling experience would appear to be the same as everyone else’s….! So, if you thought that you had a unique experience  I am afraid that 50-60% of people on Tinder have touched a tiger or an elephant, been to a Thailand full moon party, taught in a foreign school, strangely held a snake or been to an American Basketball game.

Tinder is simple.

I look at a photo of you and for all three seconds

of my life I decide if you are attractive. If you fit the bill I swipe my finger to the right and if you don’t really meet my desires its on the scrap heap, swipe to the left!

If both parties have swiped to the right. “It’s a match!’

This then gets added to your match section.

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If I am being honest it is a bit of an ego boost.

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I have currently 545 matches… and sadly they mean nothing.

Then if you can be bothered you can engage in awkward conversation with this person.

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I must say it is just men looking for an easy leg over. I do not part-take in such activities. However, I do enjoy ripping people apart when such requests should be proposed. I actually feel like I am doing these men a favour by either telling them off or messing them around.

I thought I would give you some excellent examples of people I have had to deal with – let me add I have protected their identities.

Personally Marvin (below) is one of my favourites…. and to the rest of the desperate men out there… I hope to god you learn. Thank you Marvin.

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V is for… urgh Valentines Day!

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I am sure many of you are aware that I am single.

However, I have always been against the capitalist celebration of Valentine’s Day. In fact, when I was in a relationship the celebration of Valentine’s Day was banished and turned into fillet steak day. Also, to the dirty minded of my readers – NO it was not the other kind of steak day.

This Valentine’s Day I was single. For the first time in four years, which was refreshing, although sadly, it was minus the steak. But, I did have a rather amusing day.

Love was not on my mind.

Well, apart from scrolling through the unlikely males on Tinder. I have now decided that Tinder is a game about how many matches I can get. I am not interested in part-taking in any conversation with anyone. At just over 420 matches I think I have done pretty well! I have of course had some amusing messages sent to me (which will be discussed in another blog). As well as, particular friends hi-jacking my phone on nights out and liking people they know full well I wouldn’t be attracted to. You know who you are. Bastards!

This Valentine’s Day I ate two packs of love hearts, so fast I ended up having fizzy indigestion. It was like being in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – well how I would imagine it would feel. Then I ate a whole bar of ‘Extra Creamy’ Lindtt Chocolate. I felt sick. But it was a good single sick feeling – rather than that questionable morning sick feeling you might get if you were in a relationship. If you know what I mean. So winning.

Valentine’s this year involved a comedy evening, a bottle of champagne, two men and some chicken. What a night. Now I know what some of you are thinking – this girl knows how to party! Yes, yes I do.

The two men were both from work and could both pass as my dad. So let me get this straight, I spent my Valentine’s evening with two middle aged men. But, it was the best Valentine’s evening I have ever had. No joke.

We got very very drunk before we attended the comedy evening, ‘Comedy Blind Date.’ I drank a whole bottle of champagne and introduced the gentlemen to tequila shots with a twist. Forget salt and lemon. Try cinnamon and orange juice. So much better. I would go as far as saying more civilised way of shotting (I know this isn’t a real word) into oblivion.

Being the classy lady that I am, I took the remnants of my champagne  or maybe I opened another bottle (I can’t remember) to the comedy evening in a plastic bottle, Which  I swigged from during the show. To be honest,drinking was the only way to prepare us for this night . Upon our arrival, I noticed to my disgust everyone was on a date. Why  would you come to a comedy evening called ‘Comedy Blind Date’ when you already have a date? It is in no way romantic.

What a joke. I can’t remember whether I was drunk or I had missed the point completely, but, the evening involved three comedians battling it out to be a random women’s date that was already pre chosen. Baffling. There was no potential for me to find a man and I was watching comedians who didn’t want to be there win a date with a women they didn’t want. Unfortunately, there were far to many jokes about divorce. I laugh at them. Some people may have cried. Others may have reassured their partners that divorce was out of the question – ‘we are solid as a rock!’. For those starting out in a new relationship, its 1 in 3. Just saying! But I thought ‘divorce on Valentine’s Day, shame on you!’ What a hoot!

The comedian presenter began by asking random couples questions about how happy they were together, how long they had been together…. BORING. Needless to say the comedian asked is anyone single.

I shouted ‘Yes’ and no one else did. Ha. Story of my life. Sorry for being single.

Well of course this gave the man a good reason to pick on me. Seriously, every-time I go to a comedy evening I usually get picked on. Unfortunately for the comedians I give as good as I get and often get more laughs than the comedians themselves (true story). In this case, I gave it so good the only thing this comedian could say was ‘Shut up!’ I replied ‘Thought so…!’

I sat in between my fathers for the evening whilst swigging from my plastic bottle of champagne. It was delightful. Then to end the evening we went into what one of my father’s likes to call ‘Chicky Joe’s’ no idea why, I usually call it by the name of the shop. These can vary from ‘Maryland Chicken’,’In and Out Chicken’ and so on. I once told Alistair Campbell to get a meal from In and Out Chicken. Anyway I digress, we proceeded to ask for a family bucket of chicken, no idea why.

Does anyone love the feeling in the taxi ride home when you are starving hungry, holding a hot steaming bag of food – in a paper brown bag (so that no one knows what it is) and you save it till you get home. For some reason I love eating the late night drunken takeaway in bed. Which I did.

I woke up with a half eaten box of chicken in my bed. But it was a good Valentine’s Day.

‘Herpes and honesty’

Hello, my name is Becky. After reading Hannah’s blog, it did give me a small amount of satisfaction that the dating world isn’t all ‘Our eyes met across a crowded restaurant… and now we’re married’ – even if that is how some people sell it.

I thought it was time to tell my story. For my dating experience,  I take you to Manchester and a friend’s birthday, a night out involving large amounts of Chinese food, dancing on chairs and Sambuca (as usual always an error).

The lucky gentleman involved was not part of the birthday group, but he was there with a group of friends.

We got chatting (as you do) and I noticed how he had a lovely cheekiness about him. He made me laugh and he had moves like jaggar.  Sadly, nothing came of it, the night ended and we left without exchanging numbers.

About a week later I received a text message from a friend saying that ‘something wonderful had happened’ and that a boy had asked a friend of a friend who happened to know someone at the party for the number of ‘a girl in a black dress with blonde hair’ – nailed it!

I have no idea how I did it but obviously something I had said on the night had made an impact – it must have been my sparkling sense of humor!

We text back and forth for a while and decided to meet for a coffee after he had been mountainbiking (active = good!).

Now at this point I must tell you about a certain ‘condition’ this gentleman had… and I take my hat off to him for telling me early on – it gained him major brownie points – this poor gentleman had a little well known STI … Herpes.

 

Now I’m sure you’re wondering why this bought him brownie points – he could have waited until we hit it off and then told me… I liked the honesty. I contemplated cutting contact because being honest myself I panicked to begin with but after researching it, it’s all not bad – don’t read stuff on the internet it’s just scare-mongering!

The ‘date’ was unfortunately one of the most awkward I have been on, after flirtatious texting I expected a bit of a spark and the general cheekiness I had seen on the night out, however the reality was far from that. We awkwardly chatted about mundane day to day stuff (I actually can’t remember what we talked about which must show how enthralled I was with his conversation). Now I’m sure my conversation wasn’t that riveting either but there are only so many questions you can ask to start a conversation… maybe mine were too poor.. because they failed miserably.

We parted ways – luckily he had other plans (may be been a decoy but I really didn’t care at that point!) however he did ask if I wanted to meet up again… to which I agreed – I gave him the benefit of the doubt and thought that if we could go somewhere a bit busier with maybe a few drinks we’d both relax and conversation might flow.

Before we made it to that point however the young gentleman pushed the boundaries of politeness over text messaging… at first I thought it was a bit of fun but then swiftly recognised that this was not in my comfort zone so backed off in terms of racy conversation.

He persisted, ignoring my blatant dull replies that I was sending to try and hint him away from that conversation. When that didn’t work I told him that certain comments he made were putting me off him.

Eventually, after speakin about an injury I had to see a physio about he sent a message along the lines of ‘so you must like having your legs open’.

The only response I had…. DELETE.

Have you or someone you know been through a horrific or a good dating experience that you want the world to know about? Well, it is time to let it all out via my amazing blog. Please get in contact via commenting below or Twitter @h_tucks with your stories.