Two and half years ago I found myself in a sticky spot. A relationship I had been involved in for a year came to an abrupt end. I felt psychically and mentally unhealthy. My job, which was a major source of empowerment for me, turned sour. I was struggling to see straight.

In a nutshell I became super depressed. But, I had previous. I knew I had to take care of myself to get better. That there wasn't any other way out.


Firstly I smarted up my diet. I joined my local Slimming World, with the aim of gaining control of my very indulgent and very unhealthy eating habits. I wanted to lose 1 1/2 stone.

I also started to see a councillor. Every other Saturday morning I opened up to a stranger about all the things I felt.

I had a housemate at the time but I didn't feel too much fun to live with. Quite honestly I needed to be able to come home, take off the mask I wore at work all day and cry. He soon moved out.

As the months went on and the weight fell off I began to feel better. Soon I felt strong enough to job hunt. By the Christmas I'd reached my goal weight and I had a new job lined up.

At the time I was still experiencing depression but I was dealing with it, battling it.

In the January I decided I wanted to get physically fit. I was approaching 29 and I had my heart set on wearing the same outfit as I did for my 22nd birthday - only I wanted to look better in at 29. I started running.

I had previously dabbled in running but I never became fully dedicated. Initially I was running 3/4ks but by the time my birthday came round, late February, I was up to the 10k distance. I also started Pilates. I developed a sense of pleasure from exercising that I'd never felt before. I loved that during my run or Pilates class all my mental energy was focused on my bodily strength (and not my anxieties). It was one of the only times I didn't feel I was beating myself up.

All of these changes I had introduced really lifted my confidence. I began dating again. It was great dating. I would see a few different guys, nothing romantic - just spending time with different people, getting to know them and figuring out what it was that I wanted.

Soon I started spending a little more time with one; Mr Actually. I was attracted to his sense of adventure and his positive outlook. We would also spend quite a bit of time sharing our dreams in terms of lifestyle and family. We felt on the same page.

However. He was planning to go travelling.

Because of this I was super careful not to fall for him. I wanted people in my life who I could depend on, not people who would leave. Over a year we would see each other very sporadically. I'd put some space between us every time I felt I was getting a little too involved.

Over this time I lost sight a little of looking after myself. I was still running, just not as much as I had been, my diet was OK but difficult when you're in the throws of dating, eating out and cocktails. Quite honestly my focus shifted from myself onto him.

When he left in May I was quite certain I wouldn't hear from him again, despite him constantly insisting that would never happen. I just couldn't believe him - I wanted to of course, I just had to play it safe.

Two months after he left we were still in frequent contact. Texts most days, a call every few days. He would tell me how much he wished I was there with him, how one day we'll be doing all the things we used to dream about together. My resolve in not believing this guy began to soften.

He had always liked the idea of me flying out to meet him somewhere mid-travels. A break in his trip between South East Asia and Australia. He continued to mention this in the months after he left so I booked flights and started planning our trip to Bali.

I spent 3 months planning the 2 1/2 week trip. The closer the trip came the more anxious I grew. For various reasons; I'm not a great flyer, it was the furthest I've ever been from home and I knew this experience would be a turning point for me and him. Also I had started hearing from him a little less, I got a sense for what was happening. Also in the run up to this holiday I stopped running entirely and my diet was not at all very healthy - I wasn't focused on taking care of myself, I was too worried about what would happen after Bali.

It was very clear how he felt on day 2 of the trip. He explained that his plans had changed, that he was going to go to Australia for as long as his visa would allow and from there, who knows.

Quite understandably I was upset. I knew ironically that this guy, who I admired so much for his adventurous outlook, would be leaving my life because of it.

Due to my anxiety pre-Bali I'd packed a book my Mum had given me years before. The book, written by a Father to his 18 year old daughter, offers 3 pieces of life advice; one of them being positive thinking. Explaining the importance of always looking at the good stuff and not getting caught up on the bad.

Most days whilst away I wrote a pros and cons list in my head about my situation with Mr Actually. It went a little like this:

Con:
-He won't be in my life anymore, his texts and calls won't put that smile on my face anymore
-We're not going to do all the things we talked about doing together

Pro:
-I'm going to go home, date and meet someone new who truly does want to do those things with me
-I'm going to fall in love

I felt a massive turning point when saying goodbye to him at the airport. He was flying 5 hours to Sydney, I was flying 18 hours home. For the first time ever I didn't want to go home. I couldn't see what I was going home for. Yes there was my friends and family - but they would still love me wherever I was.

1 month after being back from Bali I still couldn't shake my need for freedom and adventure. I soon realised that I had met Mr Actually for a reason - my relationship with him took me to Bali and Bali made me realise my love for travel, freedom and adventure.

Excited about what was to come and in a bid for a new direction I starting reading self-help books. Initially it was The Life Plan by Shannah Kennedy, opening my mind up to the power of visualisation. Then I came across The Secret; the concept of the universe and positive thinking.

Within 3 months of being home I had a whole new outlook on life, a new set of goals and 2 trips booked.

Today I am feeling just as positive. The last 6 months have been the best I think I have ever had. I wake up most days thanking the universe for the day I am about to have, using affirmations to keep my mind on track. I get into bed each night and mentally write my gratitude list.

My strength of mind has overtaken my physical strength. In a bid to lift my overall strength I've signed up to a 10k run and have been regularly running since January. My diet is a bit of a struggle but I am determined to keep listening to my body and giving it the fuel it needs.

How long's a piece of string?

The age old question; how long does it take you to get over an ex? Some say half the length of the time of the relationship. When Carrie gets broken up with via post-it note, she famously spends the same amount of time mourning her relationship as he did ending it. Some people hop straight on-to and in-to the next (nightmare) relationship and others take ages, years even. 

I am the latter. 

Historically it takes me ages to get over an ex. I spend many months analysing what went wrong, feeling either absolutely ecstatic to be free from the latest loser or suicidal at the thought of being single. Actually no, it's not that I don't like being single - I actually love fending for myself, I am the ultimate single gal after all, it's more the searing pain of loss I don't like. The way it feels like you've lost a limb. 

Take my last break up for example. It really didn't take me long to realise Mr Boy was never really meant for me. How could he be? I could never be with someone who would break my heart in a blink of an eye. But, I still felt the pain. I missed him so much. Probably too much. Plus I had all the questions that would never get answered. Lots of loose ends and insecurities just floating around all over the place.

I never admit to anyone just how much I still think about him. I think I do this for many reasons but mainly because it's embarrassing. I find the whole situation embarrassing if I'm honest; how was I surprised that a 21 year old boy didn't want to stay committed to a 27 year old woman? I was dumped by a 21 year old for goodness sake. What's more it had/has such an affect on my life and the they way I feel about most things - how could I have let him have that much influence over me? (You see all the questions...?!)

Woman find it romantic when men still pine for them years after the end of their liaison. Men on the other hand label woman desperate and crazy. There's another reason why I keep schtum. 

My Mum hit the nail in the head at the weekend. She said that Mr Boy broke my heart so much that it caused me a lot of damage. She said it will take me a long time to trust someone, to enter into a relationship again and she's definitely not wrong. 

Love and Ex Boys

I've had a breakthrough with Mr Rebelious. Trivial text chat turned serious when he told me he was glad we were speaking again, that he had never dreamt a month ago that we would be so friendly and that he missed me. All of the above I kind of agreed with - I am so glad to be talking again, for various reasons. 

Chat got even more serious when he admitted to wanting to be apart of my life. He said he was sorry for all the drama he put me through, he said he's not the same person he was... 

The explanations went on. I replied with honesty. I told him that I had only ever seen the good in him but he continued to hurt me, I explained that several boys since him have done the same and that has really affected me. I told him I don't trust my own judgement anymore, that I don't feel good about myself, that I really struggle to trust him even as a friend. 

Messages went back and fourth. Him saying he doesn't want to cause me any hurt, he said he always has been and always will be in love with me. Crazy right? Totally.

Being so honest with him has made me feel so much better about the situation. I flat out told him that we couldn't have the sort of relationship I need, I told him I am done with this pattern of falling for guys who are so opposite me. I know now that I am so attracted to those care-free, lazy guys because I hate the pressure I feel to be successful. I look for an outlet from all that pressure with these guys, but by their nature these guys cannot give me the stability that I also need - they are too just too care-free.

All of this has made me feel on a high. It doesn't matter what Mr Rebelious says how he feels, it doesn't matter if I believe it or not - all that matters is how I feel. I feel better this week than I have in months, 6 months to be more precise. I've realised that I am better on my own right now. I want to meet people, I want to have fun and go on dates but I'm not sure I want a relationship for a while. I mean that, if I didn't I wouldn't feel so good right now.

I miss what I had with Mr Boy everyday. I will always love him, I will always love all my ex boys. Those connections I had with those boys were real, they were special. Sure they weren't marriage material but they're a few of the most special relationships I have ever had. Yet...

 

A Crazy Blast From The Past

I saw a ghost on Christmas Eve. During festive drinks with friends at my local, I saw Mr Rebellious. I have not laid eyes on him for 5 years. I haven't heard a scrap of information about him for four - much to the dismay of my usually successful investigative skills.

After we broke up he got into some trouble, pissed off a lot of his friends and fled the area, setting himself up with a new life the other side of London. You'd think in this day and age it would be impossible to disappear - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter would give the game away, right? Not for this guy. He doesn't do social media, I don't think he even does the Internet. I later found out on Christmas Eve that he doesn't even have a smart phone. Crazy.

So the thing with this guy? Well, he was my second ever boyfriend, he was the rebellious guy I should have dated at 18, not 22. I would go out with him and his friends and lie to my folks about where I was, I would turn a blind eye to all the drug shenanigans and I never really referred to him as my boyfriend until after we broke up. We had a fairly on/off relationship, he would let me down all the time; when I went back up to Uni after nearly a year and half together he would tell me he was visiting, he would tell me he was on his way but he would never show up. I wouldn't hear from him for days. When he did get back in touch he would be full of the 'I'm so sorry, your too good for me blah blah blah'. I would give in after a while and so continued our destructive relationship cycle. 

So what was the hook? I honestly do not know. He has always been the one person I just could not help myself with. Every time we hung out I knew I shouldn't, I knew he was nothing but trouble but... I liked it. I liked that he wasn't sensible, responsible, boring - like me. I liked that he poodled through life, treated his friends (at the time) like family, I liked that he didn't care so much about the future like I did. He seemed fun, carefree and totally laid back.

So Christmas Eve, at the pub, in he walks. My tummy flipped. What I do know about him the last few years is that he has been through some really dark times and to be honest, I would never have been shocked to hear that he had done something silly to himself. To see him stroll in the pub just as he used to all those years ago bowled me over. My friend I was seemed just as shocked as I was when I told her I'd spotted him. I've told her so many stories over the last few years but had never been able to put a face to name for her. I wonder sometimes if she ever thought I was making this guy up. Hell, I even sometimes thought I made this guy up.

That's the thing you see. After you break up with someone, after someone who was once instrumental in your life just disappears, all those memories you have together seem odd. All those things that only you two know about; holidays, late night conversations, lovely sexy times, they do not seem real anymore. Just seeing him in the pub, talking to everyone like he had never left made me realise how those two years did actually happen and regardless of how he sees it, they were important.

It took me 10 mins to pluck up the courage to go talk to him. I was shaking like a leaf. Of all the people I get anxiety about bumping into, I would never have put him up on that list. After a little awkward exchange he asked if I was going to be in the pub for a while, he said he would come over for a catch up. I went back to my friends still shaking. Can you imagine the anxiety if I hadn't have had the four vodkas prior to all this?!

After another ten or so minutes he came over and we did in fact catch up. Within just a few more minutes we were talking like no time had passed since we last hung out. He said he hadn't been back for years and he confessed to being worried about the potential of bumping into me - he had not changed one little bit. I asked him why would he be worried about bumping into me. He said he wondered if I had become a bitch and that I might turn on him. Boy, if he could see how hurt I've been over the last few years, he would realise I could never be that mean to him. All the drama we had is nothing compared to my more recent heartbreak.

We reminisced all night. We talked about past holidays, past arguments, about me being so young and hopeful for the future, how I realise now how annoying that is. Funnily enough he recalled things a little differently to me. He remembered me being insecure, something I never like to come across as but something I have realised recently that I definitely struggle with. He said I broke his heart, that he really loved me, that he thought I could be the one to sort him out. I told him that wanted to.

Quite frankly I had the most fun I've had in months chatting with him. I'm not sure if it's because of the closure or the relief that he's doing ok now or what. I do know that I felt nothing but love for this guy, like friendship love. It filled me with such a warm feeling to know that this guy goes about his day to day life with all the fond memories of our time together just like I have. I guess it felt good to know that after all the drama, the tears and the pain, all that matters is the fact that at some point you loved each other and that in itself is pretty flipping lovely. 

When the time came to leave I kinda didn't want to. Remember, this was the most fun I've had in months - going back to my mundane life of worrying about how I feel does not appeal. He suggested meeting up for another drink some other time, he offered me his number and just like those times 7 years ago when we first started dating I knew I shouldn't. And, just like all those times 7 years ago I did it anyway. I took his number and I messaged him. Life's short, you gotta have fun, you gotta be a bit irresponsible sometimes. 

Funnily enough, just like 7 years ago he didn't text me back. He really hasn't changed one little bit.

Four Months On

It's been nearly four months since Mr Boy broke up with me in my kitchen, out of the blue, on a random Thursday night. Since I last posted I have completed #100DaysOfHappiness, lost more weight (some people actually describing me as skinny!) and I have started to see a councillor. My new focus is me. I'm trying to get good sleep, watch the alcohol intake and be kind to myself. I've been spending time with friends and family, watching movies and generally enjoying having my house to myself.

Over the last week or so I've actually caught up with a couple of friends I haven't spoken to for a while.

My relationship with the Uni girls is a little complicated but we've been friends nearly ten years. We lived together when were just learning what it's like to be an adult, we've shared many a boy problem and many drunken nights. Whilst in Manchester those three years, these girls were my family. In general I do feel in quite a different stage of my life compared to them. They are really settling down and looking forward to their near distance future of babies and marriages. I suppose it's fair to say I've been reluctant to explain to them my latest relationship break up, especially after telling them nothing but good things whilst I was with Mr Boy.

Last night I caught up with one of them for post-work drinks. It turned out to be really good to talk the past 6 months through with her. Both my Uni girls were surprised when I told them my story - that always helps me to see that it was ok in being shocked too. My friend last night said it was a shame I had invested all that time and effort into something that ended so abruptly - she hit the nail on the head. I explained that at least I've learnt some lessons about guys, her response was 'yea, like you didn't know all that before'. Again, totally right - I've met my fair share of unreliable dudes.

I apologise for still to be rambling on about this four months on. One big worry of mine is that people think I should be over all this by now, that I should be like 'Mr Boy who?' and already be on to the next. I'm sure a few of my friends think that what I had with him isn't anything to miss, especially as some of my friends are dealing with breakups where they were planning their future with these dudes; but the trouble is you just can't help how you feel. If I could I would definitely not still be thinking about it all.  He really hurt me and it takes time to get your head around all that. I'm getting there though.

The No-Game Game

My summer romance is hotting up and just like this current heat wave, I definitely plan to make the most of it - ha! Without meaning to sound smug, I have been having the most fun I ever have had dating! Who knew dating could be this fun? Certainly none of my ex snogs.

Over the past 6 weeks I have experienced the kind of dates you come to expect from watching any Ryan Gosling film and from reading all those airy-fairy chick lits. In the first few weeks we of course did the usual drinks/dinner/cinema thing, but this dude - Mr Boy - thinks outside the box. 

One Sunday evening he suggested a spontaneous BBQ (spontaneous because I have no garden and no BBQ, not because I think BBQs are all that wild). He drove over to mine, nipped to the shop and stocked up on BBQ goodies; disposable BBQ, burgers, sausages, Corona and of course the traditional BBQ essential - a pack of playing cards. We sat on the embankment of the river in my home town until 1130; eating, drinking and me losing at Rummy. I would go as far to say it was the best BBQ I've had all summer. 

Games have become quite a thing for our dates. By games I do actually mean real competitive games, not those type of games I'm used to playing with boys - the is-he-or-isn't-he-interested ones. No, no, no, proper games where there are actual written rules and everything.

Other games we have played as well as cards include bowling. Exactly like in Greese 2 we have donned those silly shoes and joyfully screamed 'Shoot the bowl!' - although I think I might be the only one who enjoys that reference. I'm not sure he's even aware of a Greese 2, in fact, I'm not sure he's even aware of a Greese 1 or John Travolta for that matter... Anyway, I was useless, but I really liked the shoes so we went back the following week where I embarrassingly got beaten again. 

I've tried to re-cover from my bowling embarrassment (my bowling ego is on the floor) by whipping out my pool skills. Thanks to my Dad and summer holidays as a child spent in Spain, my pool skills are not too shabby. Unfortunately I'm yet to win a game against this bowling/pool playing pro.

Then there was my games night. Four of us in total indulged in nachos and Camembert (something for every type of cheese lover) and a couple of jugs of Cosmo's before undertaking the most epic and drunken of games nights. Articulate, Heads Up and Bullshit were our games of choice, a nice mix I thought of tradition, modern technology and good old fashioned blasphemy. You can probably guess who came out triumphant.

How refreshing does all of the above sound? How lovely it is to actually have fun hanging out with someone without worrying about weather or not he is using me for sex, where this all is going and if he will even text me back the next day. I kind of feel that the beauty of him is that he is yet to be messed up by a chick, he hasn't experienced all the let downs and shit that I have over the last six years, he's all new and how lucky am I?!

My Summer Fling Virginity

It's official; I'm having a summer romance. 4 dates in and with 3 more already in the diary - I think it's safe to label it now.

I've never had a summer fling before but I've naturally always fancied it. Fun dates in the sunshine, flirty eyes over ice cold beers, smooching just as the sun goes down (it's already been noted that I have watched way too many rom-coms, so just roll with it). It's been fun so far and god knows that's what I need. There's just one teensy little thing... Of course there is, nothing is ever straight forward with dudes and me.

This guy is super eager. Just then, when I said 3 dates already booked in - yea, one refers to a festival. A FESTIVAL PEOPLE. That's a pretty serious date. As soon as one dates over he's on the text later that night pinpointing my next available diary space. It's cute right but I'm just not used to this. The kinda guys I've been dealing with lately have been the absolute opposite of that. I literally had to twist Mr CBAs arm to spend anytime with me. Friday and Saturday nights were off the cards and daytime dates were an even bigger no-no. I was reduced to weekday evenings only, if he even remembered we'd made plans. As for Mr Double Date, he was a little bit more up for it but only if he could fit it around the gym and it was slotted in the dating diary a year in advance. 

I totally understand what gods doing here, I see the irony and his sneaky plan. I moan for ages about meeting a guy who is a keen-bean, someone I didn't have to chase, someone who might actually chase me. And look what he's sent me. 

If I've learnt anything the last couple of years it's that nothing is ever as you imagined it would be. Sadly this dudes eagerness is throwing me off, it appears too good to be true and perhaps it is. I even addressed it with him recently, don't worry, I used a well thought through emoji to get the tone of the text just right. Firstly he asked if it was a bad thing, then he said that he doesn't have a lot of time and that he wants to make the most of it (btw, he's not dying he's just heading back to Uni at the end of the summer). Somewhere amoungst these messages he also admitted to 'enjoying spending time' with me. He also used a carefully selected emoji, you know the one with the monkey covering his eyes? 

My biggest concern with all of this is that perhaps it is too good to be true and let's face it (trying my hardest not to be the cynical old cow I am slowly turning in to), things generally are. I'm going with it though, perhaps he's right, perhaps summer flings are all about making the most of those few months of pub gardens and flip flops. Or maybe I'm gleefully skipping into a another massive disaster. 

The Cougar Club

A friend of mine has begun dating a 20 year old. She's 27. Yep, she's a potential new member of the couger club.

She caught me up on her latest gossip over a civilised dinner last week. You know, the sort of dinner with nice wine, no chips and a latte as a night cap; an adult dinner. The type of dinner adults have. When I say adults I specifically mean anyone 25 plus. A slightly different lady date than one might expect from dating a younger man (or should I say boy...).  

She met this guy, so she tells me, through a new group of 'younger friends' (her quotations, not mine). She didn't need to persuade me how appealing it is to hang out with the younger folk. I too struggle to find Saturday night companions more my age. Most of my friends tend to spend their free time with their lovers and quite rightly so. 

She tells me she hasn't persued any of this, that she has just let this happen and let him do the work and she said she's fully aware of the badge of honour he could well be proudly wearing (on the lapel of his buttoned up polo shirt) if he does succeed in his mission to score with this older chick. 

So what is the harm of a summer fling? She needs one, she deserves some fun in the sun regardless of who it is and indeed how old he is. 

The point I was very quick to raise, from my extremely feminist view point, was this; if this situation was the other way around, no body would be batting an eyelid. If he was 27 and she was 20 this blog post would be entirely irrelevant. Guys date younger girls all the time without the need to question their moral conduct. When I was 21 I dated a 27 year old and barely considered the age gap. I only ever addressed it went poking fun at 'how old' he was - which, believe me, if this young'un does to my friend then there could be severe   consequences...

When looking for reassurance or guidance or some kind of indication that what I'm about to do is acceptable to the outside world, I always look to my idols. And, if being a couger is good enough for Demi, Madge and Jenny from the block then it's good enough for my gal pal. 

'Mugged Off'

Without trying to sound like a nineties chick-lit cliché ; I have major trust issues.

It's never really occurred to me before. In fact, I don't think I had these issues with any previous boyfriend; I always believed what they said to me and trusted them. For the most part this worked well. It worked well until I developed this obsession with being 'mugged off'.

Being 'mugged off' is a term that has been thrown about a lot lately, especially since Lee from Blue led on two relatively unknown glamour models in the Celebrity Big Brother house. But I have been using 'mugged off' long before Casey wailed it in the Diary Room on day 5.

To me, being 'mugged off' means someone (usually a dude) intentionally telling you a porky of which you trustingly believe. It's not until you hear the truth (usually from a completely innocent bystander) that you even realise you have been subject to such 'mugging off'. This leaves you, me and poor glamour model Casey feeling like an absolute idiot. An absolute idiot to have believed a word that came out of his horrible little mouth.

This is where, I think, I then take it to the next level. Following the feeling of foolishness, I then feel like the upper hand is given to the lier/dude/scumbag. That somewhere in the world he will be bragging to his mates about how he played me, he he made me look so stupid! And stupid is the last thing I want to look EVER. This is where the 'mugging off' really gets to me.

I didn't realise any of this until I got talking to my new therapist, er I mean housemate. My new, ahem, housemate listens to me intently as I relay my latest boy stories and how I feel about them. He always offers such sound advice.

Recently I have been talking him through a few boy tales. Tales of guys saying one thing and doing the other. This, to me, is classic 'mugging off'. My fear of being the receiver of such behaviour has led me to dis-trust pretty much anything a boy ever says.

My irrational mis-trust has been even more boosted these last few days when my housemate confessed that boys intentionally tell porkies just to make themselves look good! Now, instead of just mis-trusting their intention with me, their whereabouts on a Tuesday night and if they do in fact even like me, I find myself also questioning their rather gallant opinion on animal cruelty or third world poverty!

I know, I know. I have taken all this a little too far. Sure, it's good to keep your guard up, to protect yourself a little but you have to let go of some craziness sometimes right? Is it a case of trusting until proven guilty or is it more a case of building up the trust. My therapist says trust is something to build and I suppose that's right. Let's just hope I don't find out my therapist has been 'mugging me off' as well.

First Date Games

I have a situation. Of course, by situation I mean a boy. To be matter of fact, I actually have a date. A first date.

First dates are odd aren't they? A bit like a job interview really; 'What do you do?' 'Do you have any hobbies?' 'Where do you see yourself in five years?'. The first date is a job interview where neither one of you want to be seen to overly want to get. Both applicants are cool and aloof about the job on offer.

Of course not all job interviews, er I mean first dates, go this way. Sometimes you come across applicants who are mega keen. I've interviewed a few who have been very clear of what they want out of the job in question, namely a wife and kids. Obviously that kind of directness is off putting, well to me anyway. I guess even in a real life job interview the sucker-uppers never get through to the second stage. It's the ones who have that perfect balance of skill, attitude and confidence. 

This leads me to consider if first date games are an absolute necessary part of the dating process. Perhaps we need a bit of aloofness and lets-pretend-I-don't-even-fancy-you to keep things interesting and fun. Perhaps if two people met up in a swanky bar, ordered a couple of drinks and opened the chitchat with 'I really fancy you, will you be my boyfriend' the whole concept of dating would be ruined. This comes as a challenge to me. I am a heart-on-your-sleeve kind of gal. I tell everyone my secrets, I'm as honest as a nun. Dating games are difficult. This time however I am going to play. 

Perhaps I need to attack this situation like a would with a job (I'm pretty sure this was my downfall last time but oh well...). I think I want this job, I just need to find out a bit more about the, ahem, package. What are the benefits? Is there a lot of opportunity? What's the probationary period like? 

So my strategy looks a bit like this:

1. Aloof - I will not confess my interest in this job, I mean boy, oh no I mean game, oh god I have no idea. I will be cool as a cue, keep my distance, leave him guessing. 

2. Observe - whilst being my very unnaturally aloof self, I will sit back and look out for the IOIs (you remember my FPUA days right?). I need to keep sight of what his intensions. Which leads me on to my third and final rule...

3. A sex ban - that's right kids, no sex. It won't be easy but it's going to happen. I always fall in love with the guys I have sex with. I'm a passionate gal, I don't just have sex for sex sake, it's emotional for me. 

So that's it. My current situation will be battled with me acting like a don't care, whilst tying to find out if he does and keeping my legs shut. Sounds to me like I have this job in the bag...

Viva Espania

During my week on holiday I learnt the following; my oldest pal makes a great wingman, free pouring vodka is both a blessing and a danger, a jump in the pool is a lush hangover cure and prescription sunnies are incredible. Oh and I also learnt some Spanish. If you'd like to order a couple of large beers and ask for the bill, I am totally your gal.

It took me a little while to relax in truth, I couldn't help fidgeting on my sun bed, wondering what time it was at home and what I would be doing if I wasn't on my hols. But, helped along by the beating down sun (and a couple of cervessa) all my worries soon melted away. By day three my biggest concern was at which point I should turn over to toast my back.

I kicked off my holiday reading with a bit of a heavy one; Sally Brampton's memoir of her depression, entitled Shoot the Damn Dog. Yea I know, I did think that perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to read such a deep book when I was attempting to escape all that drama, but actually it was insightful and inspiring. I balanced the mood by then reading the obligatory holiday sex book. Pretty filthy to be honest. So filthy in fact that I read it in 24 hours. 

I don't know what it is about the sun but it got me feeling a bit fruity (or was that just the sex book?). I soon found myself dreaming about the cute Spanish waiters at our favourite beach bar and the older man type who sat brooding, looking out to see unwinding with his red wine. It gave me plenty of writing material...

'I have been fantasizing a lot. I think it's a really good thing; my moody thinking time (well most of it) has been replaced by fantasy time. An indication of hope surely? Something I've definitely found difficult these past few months...

Fantasy number 1: the older man. A while ago I set myself the dating challenge of going out with three different guys, two of which I have achieved, the third remains unaccomplished. A date with Mr Older Man needs to happen. I've been finding myself imagining how sexy this could really be. Last night we had dinner in our new favourite bar on the beach and I couldn't help myself perving on this typically delicious older man type. He had longish, sunkissed hair, swept back with a bit of wet look gel. His skin was deeply tanned and weather beaten, his hands adorned with a few chunky gold rings and his wrists wrapped in a few worn leather bracelets. To top it all off, he was wearing a white linen shirt. The only thing missing were the keys to his yaht.

Fantasy number 2: the holiday romance aka sexy senora. You know this favourite beach bar of ours? Well not only are some of the clientele dreamy but the waiters are not too bad either. Spanish, knowing only a little English and dressed in white (probably linen, let's dream) to emphasise their natural tans. We have our favourite, we've nicknamed him the very unsexy name of Diego (desperately trying to think up a sexy Spanish alternative - failing, miserably). Anyway Diego has spotted us. Only on our second night drinking in the place he had remembered our drinks; 'Vodka con toniqua'. There was even a little flirt - he called me beautiful! This guy knows all the good English words...'

Well, to let you into a little gossip, fantasy number two was realised only a few nights later. After some more flirting and broken conversation we bagged ourselves an invite to after hours cocktails on the beach with two of the sexy senoras. We very cooly agreed to hang about the bar for them to finish, passing the time with a couple more vodka con toniqua. Unsurprisingly we got pretty hammered. By the time they had finished we probably shouldn't have started on the cocktails but oh well, we were on holiday! They mixed us whatever we fancied (Mojito - naturally) and the four of us headed to the empty beach.

Cannot remember what the hell we talked about, but I do remember desperately trying to turn the flirt up with Diego. Turns out he speaks little to no English. Tricky I thought, but also pretty fucking hot. After another round of cocktails (and dodging of the invitation for a dip in the bar's pool) we headed back to the beach. This time his (uglier) friend appeared more interested and hell, I went along with it, I was on holiday after all, but to be honest, I have had better snogs in the corner of The Rose at closing on a Saturday night. 

I woke up the next day with a pretty fucking horrendous hangover. I went back to sleep until 2:30pm then sweated the alcohol out of my body around the pool for the rest of the afternoon. By the time the evening came we were ready to return to our favourite joint and face the consequences. As I said to my oldest pal; 'Let's just go for the giggles'. Also I quite like these awkward situations. So we went for a last night dinner and to our relief it was all good. They even asked us to stick around for drinks that night too (yea sure they did, perhaps they thought they would get a little luckier than just a fumble on the beach).

I am determined not to break this holiday aura I seem to be sauntering around with. I'm even seriously thinking about booking another holiday with the girls in October (obviously I am going to have to sell something precious to pay for it; either my body or my car or both). Getting away from the daily grind (sorry for the cliche) has really helped me to see things much clearer. I'm not going to get bogged down by silly life stuff, the most important thing is to enjoy everyday and to do the things I love and to be with my friends and family. Works work, boys are boys; it's not the be all and end all. I plan to do crazy silly things when I get the opportunity to and hell, even live to regret a few things. Think of all the fun stories I will have to tell. 

The dating game

Last night was my second date with a different guy in the last five days. I'm getting quite good with this date malarkey, even if I do say so myself. Last night was really good! I was slightly concerned Mr Double Date would be a bit awkward, but as I don't really allow awkward situations (remember my super power of chat that wards of anything remotely awkward) it was ok.

During après text with KK at about midnight last night, she asked if he was as mysterious as we had wondered. And he kind of was. Mysterious in a good way, you know a bit of a closed book, something alien to someone like me who shares everything with everyone. There was some flirting too which was nice, this was sort of missing from my date with Mr Friends Brother. There was some innuendo and a teeny bit of touching. 

We left the pub quite late, one of the last few in the place (always a good sign) and he drove me home. I was getting a bit excited/anxious about the drop off to-kiss-or-not-to-kiss thing. I kinda wanted to (another good sign) but I chickened out. Anyway if I've learnt anything from KK recently it's to keep them guessing so that's not such a bad thing. 

During my escape there was the usual 'this was nice, we should do it again' to which I replied 'yea sure', he then put the ball back in my court by saying 'get in touch'. Oh tits, I do not want the ball whatsoever. I was hoping he would have text last night to say 'had a nice time blah blah blah' but he didn't. Maybe he'll text this morn... Oh shit, I'm back to the guessing game again.

Holiday countdown

Only three more alarm calls until my week in the sunshine, not that I'm counting of course. I have attempted to get organised, I have even wrote a list of things to pack and things to do. The things to do list involves washing, travel insurance and picking up another bikini; you know, the essentials. I'm super busy this week as well which is good, the time will probably fly past. 530 on Friday is going to feel incredible.

Here's some boy related news; I went out on date number one last Friday and I have a date tonight with boy number two. At the weekend there was even the potential of a boy number three but that's just greedy, right? Date number one was nice, even if I did get a little drunk on Mojitos and get invited to an orgy by some couger at the bar. He was sweet (my date, not the couger), we chatted lots and it was refreshing for him to be genuinely interested in me. Will I go out with him again? Yea maybe, as usual I'm just going with flow.

Tonight should be interesting with Mr Double Date. I don't think I'm going to drink though, not because I don't want to get drunk (silly billy) but because I don't fancy being in this dudes car alone! I don't know him and we're heading to this pub by this lake where all the Bedford murderes take their dead bodies, not that I've thought too much about it...

Getting back on the horse

So I need to get back out there. If not to give my hugely dented ego a little boost but to also give myself some hope of there actually being someone decent out there for me. This time however I am approaching things differently. Firstly I am not doing any chasing whatsoever; if he's bothered he'll come my way, I am not twisting anyone elses arm into liking me. Secondly I am keeping a lid on my expectations; no day dreaming of what our wedding would be like five minutes into the first date and no hope of anything turning into something. I am taking these boys for exactly what they are, I am completely going with the flow.

So I have three potentials. When I say potentials I do literally mean potential dates, not boyfriends, not lovers and certainly not future husbands. What I really want right now is a nice evening and some nice conversation. That's it. Full stop. I don't even want any funny business. The thought of all that... ugh. Not bothered whatsoever.

Anyway, so these three potentials...

Mr Double Date
This is an interesting one. One of the girls has just started seeing this lovely new boy who she met out in town (yes, it happens, decent men can be found in The Rose! I know, I know and I was biggest skeptic...). Thing is with lovely boys is that they tend to have lovely friends, or so my friend has led me to believe. I have met him a few times already, but both times I or he was majorly under the influence of alcohol (most probably Jaegermeister). But, these drunken meetings haven't put either of us off. A double date is booked in for this week. I promise to keep you in the loop.

Mr Friends Brother
I know, this never ends well. That's the reason my friend has been fighting this for quite some time, but I am doing my no expectations thing remember? He's single, I'm single, whats the harm in a little drink and a chit chat? It's quite nice to talk to someone new and get to know someone else. My friend has supposedly passed on my number so we'll see.

Mr Suger Daddy
Right, so this one is so unlike me. But this dude is an actual man, like a fully grown adult, interesting no? I really don't fancy him but I'm interested. He's a really good talker and a really good listener. And what do I like best after wine and food? Talking of course! We would get on like a house on fire. Plus he's a man, he would most probably do all the chasing, the planning, the organising - that sounds great right? No thinking about where I should meet him or what time. Actually that sounds amazing, perhaps that should be the third thing I do differently this time around in all this dating business; no organising.

Obviously I am still majorly in love with Mr CBA, I dreamt he came running back to me the other night. Ha, I am bonkers. But I know I need to get over this now. I've reached the point where I realise this is not good for me, I need to start feeling good about myself again and I think going on a few dates and meeting some new boys could help with that. As I said above I am not actively seeking out any of this, I am letting fate work its magic, what will be.

Great Expectations

I'm sure I've mentioned before that I have horrendously high expectations. I expect far too much from friendships, relationships, my career and whilst attempting not to sound too dramatic; life. When I was younger I imagined myself as an adult with an incredible job, loads of friends and a fantastic dating/boy life. I guess I just imagined things would be all rosy.

Where does all this come from? Who knows. Recently I've seen lots of comedy Facebook status' and pins on Pinterest blaming Disney for women's high expectations when it comes to things like boys (and of course, hair). I guess they could be held a little responsible. And if Disney are a little at fault I guess so are Chick-Lit writers, Rom-Com directors and Patrick Swayze.

It's not just me who expects a boy to fall madly in love with me, climb up a fire escape with a bunch of red roses and snog my face off whilst a classic 80's tune plays in the background, loads of other girls want that too. Why do you think we keep reading those shitty novels where we all know the ending and keep watching those shitty films that make us cry; we want our happy ending.

At 26, I now feel in a place where I need to manage my ridiculously high expectations of men, before they are all discarded to the he's-lush-but-he-just-can't-dance-the-mirange scrap heap. After spending 2 years of my early twenties with a guy who I felt at the time made no effort, I thought I deserved much more; I thought I deserved the perfect guy who met all my expectations. I was not going to settle for less. Two and half years on, I am still single.

Firstly I don't actually think there is a guy out there who checks everything off my list; teeth, triangle, brains, height, funny, Kardashian lover, wine drinker... The list goes on, obviously. It's near on impossible to find this guy. Secondly, say just for one second he is out there, do I even deserve this guy?! Perhaps I am not good enough for this near on perfect guy, maybe I'm awful.
So perhaps I should start to think about which expectations I can let go off or at least be lenient with. What can I let slide with the guy I actually quite like. A sort of expectation priority list.

Probably number one on my expectation list is reliability. People or guys who let me down really get my goat; if we make plans we do it, if I plan something I mean it. I struggle to be lenient here. This is a biggy for me. I can however be lenient on texting; I'm alright not hearing from you for a few days, it's cool, what would we chit-chat about anyway? I can do funny, witty texts but I struggle with conversational messages. There is only so many times you can ask What are you up to today? Drinking I'm ok with, who am I to lecture anyone about excessive nights on wine/beer/Jaegerbombs anyway. Drugs? A step too far, massive no-no.

I could go on forever. The point is sometimes you have to let some your expectations of relationships, jobs and life go. By holding on to them you go a little crazy and most importantly risk missing out on something amazing that you hadn't quite imagined or expected. Sure, keep your standards but just keep those great expectations in check.

The Disappearing Singleton

Recently I have been observing something I have not experienced for a very long time. Not since the days of my first school romance with Mr Reliable have I felt this way. I am sure you have all experienced this too at one time or another, perhaps it has even been you acting this way.

You know when your gal pal meets a new guy and she quickly disappears off the raider? She's not available for a midweek glass of wine at the drop of a hat anymore, you might have to book her up a whole week in advance - the cheek of it! She might also be slow at texting back; funny how love affects the texting skills.

I have had countless friends disappear into their lovely new relationship. It's not just girls either, boys do it too, actually I sometimes think boys are worse than girls. I like to think of myself as an understanding friend who would never blame any friend for doing this. I sort of think that if that were me I would want my friend to be understanding of my reasons. This honeymoon phase doesn't last that long anyway. Give it a few months or maybe a year and your pal will realise she has been too focused on herself. It's cool. If she doesn't come back to you or if your not supportive of her then the bottom line is your not that good friends.

There is another thing that I have witnessed that happens almost simultaneously when your friend starts dating the right guy as opposed to all those wrong ones. When she meets Mr Right she stops sharing the juicy sex details and you never hear her complain about him not texting her back. It's almost as if things are so perfect she has nothing to talk about (by talk I obviously mean the thing that we girls do best, that's moan). When you finally get hold of your gal pal and book a drink or dinner in for two weeks on Thursday (when the new boyf is away, obvs) she spends the entire evening with a sickly smile plastered across her face and puts a positive spin on EVERYTHING.

Recently I caught myself disappearing a little.

Obviously I am not claiming to have met Mr Right but I think I have met a Mr Right Now. I haven't had a boy in my life like this for quite some time. The last few times I have met up with the girls I have heard the phrase 'oh your just loved up' and more than once let me tell you. I pride myself in never putting bros before hoes and I have always been really good at it. I am independent when it comes to things like friends and socialising, even when in a relationship, but boy am I finding it hard this time round to juggle all things friends and boys.

I have always been determined not to become one of those smug married types. You've all seen Bridget Jones' diary. The bit where she goes alone to the dinner party with a thousand loved up couples and they interrogate her into the working mind of a 30 year old singleton. In a funny sort of way I looked up to her. For most of my early twenties I wanted to be single and man-less just so I could say 'Nope, I don't need a man, women can be cool AND single'. I think that's why I loved Sex and The City so much, they were all very cool and very single for most of the 6 seasons. But surely I can have a boy and still champion the rights for the single women? Beyonce does it. Also my dream of becoming Bridget Jones could still be realised one day.

I suppose this singleton dissapearing act is a bit like the fairy tale ending 'and they lived happily ever after'. Which is lovely and probably something my Mum really wishes for me but I don't think it will happen this way for me. I think no matter my relationship status I will also be a little bit of a singleton.

Change

I experienced quite horrendous January blues. I don't think I have experienced them quite like that before. I tried to put my finger on it and I came up with the explanation of a combination of boys, work (both of my works) and quite a bit of boredom.

I love starting new things. As I wrote in early January I love New Year, I also love moving furniture around and meeting new people; I pretty much just like breaking up routine. It's the whole starting-a-new-chapter thing I like so much. Looking back over what you have achieved and learnt, reflecting on how things have changed and looking forward to more change. Maybe I am one of those weirdos who love change.

By the time February came I decided I must do something about it. Things don't just happen, you have to put in a little ground work. You have to make a little effort and then grab the opportunities as they turn up. A friend I was speaking to at the time said she had read about a women who had felt similarly to me. She developed this idea of accepting any opportunity that arose; she said yes to any invitation, made the effort when she really didn't want to... I think I'm right in thinking she ended up with an amazing new new man in New York (but my imagination might have made that bit up).

So I put myself out there a little. I did some job hunting, considered a career to change to a shelf stacker and I even dreamt about packing a suitcase and clearing off somewhere hot. One lunchtime I searched Skyscanner for the cheapest flight out of here. Anyway, one thing led to another and I found myself offered a new job working in London. Obviously I grabbed that opportunity with both hands, this was not only what I needed but something I really wanted. This new job is not only a new challenge but also a whole new way of life. As of 2nd April I will be joining all those London commuters and I will of course be blogging my new adventure (hopefully).

Because I had a bit of free thinking time I spent a lot of it obsessing about the boy; this was the second thing that was getting me down. Things had been a little hairy, but of course they had; me and boys are never simple. He is still very much on the scene despite the rational side of my brain trying to cut things off with him, on more than one occasion. Trouble is my little heart pipes up after a few days and says 'Hello, I need some love' and it makes me grab my phone and SOS text him.

Luckily he doesn't think I'm too crazy. He is very good at chatting, we have discussed our situ in great detail. Turns out he hasn't met a girl before he has been bothered about, sure he's had a few GFs but nothing serious, I mentioned the L word - he says he doesn't think he's ever been there before. Interesting. He concluded the convo by saying he was going to make much more effort and actually, since our little chit-chat he has. He sent me flowers to the office on my birthday (when all I was hoping for was a text), we haven't fallen out in 3 weeks (I'm counting) and the kisses have got even better! Wow. But obviously it's not all him, I am no angel in all this drama. I absolutely get carried away, I think about things way too much and I have massively high expectations. So I am battling all of my demons and making effort too.

So here's to starting something new. Hopefully starting this new chapter in my life will be all good but you never really know, you've got to take some risks sometimes or else you end up never doing anything. At least now I will have much more to think about than just this one silly boy ;)

"You could do so much better"

I hate this phrase, it's just utter bullshit. You'd hear this from your friend after that guy you liked dumped you, you might even say it back to that friend when the guy she likes dumps her. Some girls probably find great comfort in this little phrase, but no, not me. I hate it.

I heard this a lot during my two years on-and-off with Mr Rebellious. Every time he stood-me-up, or was asleep when we were meant to be going out or dropped off the face of the earth for a few days without a word of warning; my Mum, my friends and anyone else I moaned to about him would conclude our entire conversation with "You could do so much better".

When I was with Mr Rebellious I kinda thought this was true. I knew he was a bit different to all the nice guys my friends were going out with, my Mum told me this with her disappointed tone pretty much every day. I knew I was nice to him, I treated him with respect and I would foolishly never stand-him-up back (probably because I didn't want to face facts that he wouldn't actually be that bothered). When I ended things I thought I would go on to bigger, better things, that I would meet a nice guy who treated me lovely; I have been single for over two years.

"You could do so much better" suggests you were out of your ex-beau's league, that he will one day wake up with the realisation that he was a massive tool and will kick himself for letting you go, meanwhile your living-it-up with the absolute man of your dreams and a great big smile on your face. I know it's supposed to be a positive thing to make you feel better about yourself but I simply think it sets the poor dumped person up for disappointment. Also what about the idea that some people simply cannot do much better than their ex, what if they deserved everything they got from their ex - I am sure they would also be told that exact same bullshit phrase.

I get told all the time I am too fussy with guys, that I need to lower my standards (which kinda suggests they think I am a little above my station when it comes to guys, but I digress). I know this is not true. I know what I am looking for, I know I just want that spark/connection with someone. It doesn't matter who they are or what they do; if there's a spark, there's a spark and I will go explore. It's not about doing much better than the previous or than anyone for that matter it's just about finding the right guy. I guess that's what gets me in pickles with guys others deem not worthy of me in the first place.

Now when I hear this much dreaded phrase I simply ask right back; "Well where is this Mr Perfect?". Next time you get told this just have a little think, you can hit them in the face with my back comment if you like, buy that's only if your as cynical and bitter as me.

Well hello 2013 and hello resolutions

I have been AWOL these last couple of weeks. I blame Christmas, laziness and a boy. I would love to sit here and tell you all about my latest boy situ (and believe me, I have lots to write about) but truth be told I kind of don't want to. I'm kinda keeping it on the down low at the moment anyway, so writing it up on here for the whole entire world to see (if they really wanted to) would sort of put a stop to that.

With my own boy-bipolar off limits that only leaves my gal pals lives to catch you up on. However, it doesn't really seem fair to dish their dirt but not my own. So whilst the jury is out on what to tell you r.e. the boys in our lives I will instead write a New Year resolutions post.

I love New Year. I always look upon it as a time to reflect over the previous year and to look forward to all the amazing things that could happen in the one ahead. Obviously if you have had a pretty shitty year it's not so great to look back and reflect, but New Year is still the perfect time to put that all behind you and look to the future.

As I love New Year so much I obviously always plan resolutions. For the past couple of years I have tried to limit them to only 2 or 3; in the hope of increasing the odds of actually fulfilling them. Last year I resolved to realise that I simply cannot please everyone, that there will definitely be people I come across who don't like me no matter what I do. I think I actually completed this resolution. I couldn't give a monkey's if someone doesn't like me any more. In fact I quite like it - it's one less person I have to make all the effort with (e.g. attempt conversation, arrange to see). Quite simply Fuck 'em. I am quite happy to sit in an awkward environment for an entire evening if necessary. Just you dare me...

This year I have 2 resolutions.

Firstly I plan to take back up my childhood/teenage hobby of dancing. Yes yes, I know, I dance pretty much every Saturday night on the postagestamp sized grimmy floor of The Rose, but this doesn't really count. I actually mean a dance class. For 15 years I danced tap, ballet, modern and I also studied contemporary dance for A Level. Ok, so I didn't pass with an A* or anything (that's sort of why I didn't carry it on) but it was such a huge part of my life growing up. Now at the age of 25 it is nowhere to be seen in my sober life. I resolve to go back to lessons once a week, get moving a bit more and simply HAVE LOADS OF FUN (whilst learning some sexy new moves).

My second resolution for 2013 is to be less of bitch. When I have been talking to people about New Year resolutions it has been quite nice that most people have been surprised at this one, but I think these are the people who don't really know me too well. I can be a massive cow. Just horrible really, short, snappy, outspoken, opinionated etc. Don't get me wrong, all these personality traits do make me who I am but I think I am going to tone them down a little this year, bite my tongue a bit more and generally be a nicer person. Perhaps then I won't have to worry about my last years resolution.

Along with these there are the obvious ones; lose a few pounds, make this year the year I have that killer body, read more. These will be loitering in the background too. I am also planning on writing more on here so spread the word and keep checking back for updates. I promise to spill some boy beans.

Happy New Year!

Game free? Well almost

So where were you at six o'clock on Saturday night when I SOS text KK and Blondie;
Seriously, this family/baby shindig really isn't my scene. I'm guna have to get wasted tonight

I was mid family get-together, where conversation revolved around dirty nappies, X Factor and boring married life. This was when I could even hold a conversation over all the screaming children. I have nothing in common with these people, someone please ask me about something normal. You know, what my thoughts are on the new Marvelle baby announcement perhaps or what my preference is; Brazilian or Hollywood.

Therefore, I am sure you will agree that I had no choice but to rush home as soon as I could, swing by Tesco for a bottle of Chardonnay and down two thirds of it before the girls were even round. By 1130 I happily found myself at the bar in the Rose ordering the second round of Jaegerbombs.

I did quite good Monday to Wednesday. I did actually feel like a hermit at the beginning of the week; work, home, bed, work, home, bed and so on. Thursday night I was working, that cannot be helped and also, I sort of get paid to flirt with the boys so that's fine. By Friday I was knackered but was seeing Mr Robbie Williams at the O2 so obviously made the effort. By the time Saturday came I felt like I needed the comforting crowds of The Rose; I feel at home in my towering heels with a face full of makeup and a belly full of wine.

I had quite good game too actually. I was full of confidence and got talking to some good looking boys, striking up conversation about the length of time they spent blow-drying their immaculate barnets. When KK suggested Embassy (think Save the Last Dance but with a lower ceiling and lots of blue strobe lighting) I thought it was a fabulous idea!

And it was. I had a really good night. Do you know why? I couldn't have cared less. I wasn't bothered about trying to look good or making the eyes across the crowded dance floor. Screw it. Screw them! If they are interested let them make the move.

This sort of brings me on to a little bit of boy gossip; this one I think I actually like a little but I have to tread very carefully - the ones I like never work out. Therefore I am going to keep it very vague, in the hope to save my embarrassment when it doesn't work out. I am getting very mixed signals of off one boy; clear IOIs one minute then nothing the next. I am confused. My game knowledge is causing even more confusion, therefore I am continuing to play it cool. Will keep you posted here. It's still very early days.