He's already put a ring on it....

So in a bid to stop fantasising about my American hunk (see previous post) and try and regain some sort of realistic approach to my future love life (whilst still hoping he'll fly to England whisk me off my feet and live happily ever after) - I re-downloaded tinder and arranged a date with (a seemingly) lovely gentleman.

By now you all know how my Tinder Tales tend to go but let's start from the very beginning....

My date met me at the bar, mojito in hand with a signet ring placed on his pinky, his exceptionally posh accent purred "Helloooooo, delightful to meet you" as he lent in for a kiss (on both cheeks, of course) and promptly spilt his cocktail on to my foot.

Posh P. had an air and grace about him, as if I had just entered his bar and the people surrounding us were merely background noise, he was almost camp; a sort of Hugh Grant character but minus the floppy hair...or much hair at all really (NOT that it matters, I am not a bald'isct).

We got talking straight away, never once finishing a conversation but flitting from one subject to another but after a while it became quite hard work - not because I felt I had to fill in any gaps or scramble for things to say - because I have a tendency to mimic the accents of the people I'm talking to. So, as I started to talk to Posh P. my accent merged in to a cross between Liz Hurley and someone out of Made in Chelsea and my mouth actually started to ache. I'm quite well spoken any way (thanks to my Father's threats that the Queen could visit at any moment and we mustn't sound like"yobs" - that's middle class parenting for you!) but my voice went SUPER posh and it's actually really hard to keep up! Every now and again I'd drop the accent, any one remember Ross from 'Friends' trying to phase out his fake British accent? Well, that's how I sounded when I slipped up.

Despite chatting non stop for over 2 hours I didn't learn a huge amount about him, we did have chemistry and laughed a lot - maybe it was the champagne that helped? Posh P. was light on details, for example, he had been in the Army but when I asked what he had done within the Army his response was; "well I went to Iraq and got a tan darling....." he was obviously making light of quite a heavy topic and didn't want to discuss it, so I let it drop. When I asked about his previous relationship he only mentioned that it ended 1.5 years ago and had lasted for 6 years... but again it's not exactly first date etiquette to discusses ex's, so I left it.

After the bottle of fizz had been finished and we'd moved on to champagne cocktails... Posh P. went full on Hugh Grant: "I find it rather unusual that we have connected with such a chemistry from a Tinder date - I've really enjoyed this evening, and I don't do PDA's, but for the past hour I've really wanted to kiss you".

I couldn't believe how straight to the point he had been, he was charming and I was extremely flattered, we went outside and walked through the court yard, under the twinkle lights, and shared a kiss.

The next day I couldn't help but do a bit of internet investigation, detective work...okay fine, full on stalking. Don't ask me how... but I found out his full name and Googled him. I eventually came across his family's country estate, which is hired out for weddings, and I started to let my imagination run away with me.... Until I discovered something I wish I hadn't, he'd already put a ring on it; he was married.

I spent the day after the date so angry that I had allowed some posh, Hugh Grant type character charm me in to a snog and flirtation. I'm not the one who has lied or cheated but I felt guilty by association - I went on a rant to my colleague who quickly pointed out that he could be divorced....Ah. I couldn't just text him and ask if he was married/divorced.... it would give away my psychotic internet lurking, I've resolved to waiting for the opportunity to slide in the question.

So what have I learnt from this date? I should stick to my own accent, my internet investigations may be slightly out of control, he could be divorced, DON'T kiss on the first date, and lastly, maybe it's best to keep fantasising about my American Hunk moving to England.

Crossing the Atlantic for Love

In my last blog I wrote about a date which ended up costing me ALOT of money, it was a dinner date at home and in order to keep the kids upstairs I bribed my son with a new PlayStation - my son did as he was told and so I kept up my end of the bargain (I've not won the lottery, it was second hand). Sadly the bloke never contacted me again - note to self: never cook for a man you're trying to impress.

Anyway, my most recent date 'trumps' the last one in so many ways... THIS is the most expensive date I've ever been on and I really can't afford for my dates to keep inflating in this manner!

As the title suggests, I recently flew across the Atlantic in my quest for love aka for a date. No, you didn't misread that; I met a guy on tinder and, having never met him, I booked a flight and 7hr 45 mins across the globe to meet him. No, I'm not so desperate I set my tinder radius to 5,567 km (yes, I googled it) there's an explanation for this mad act.

Okay, here's some context - In late June 2015, I matched on tinder with a rather good-looking young man, who at the time waws only 20.5 km away. We got talking, he didn't give any "motorboat" one-liners, like the one I received recently (see below), he was perfectly lovely with an awesome personality. I must have been slightly distracted because I didn't see job description: "actor on a cruise line.... AMERICAN" - my new match was only 20.5 km away for less than 24 hours before he sailed out of my reach, however, the idea of him was out of reach before I had realised it.

Despite the difference in lifestyle and the small issue of copious land and sea separating us, we continued chatting almost every day since we 'matched', until one day I had enough. I couldn't handle having a strong connection with someone I'd never met and would possibly never meet - it was do or die, I had to meet him and see if it was real.

I realise that flying to America to meet a man I'd never met before could have been quite literally "do or die" but l had a very strong feeling that I'd be fine - I had been emailing, calling and Skyping him for nine months (but I also had friends addresses in New York that I could escape too if he turned out to be crazy).

When I arrived at the airport he was there, donned in a suit and carrying a sign with his pet name for me, "chuck". Initially, I couldn't read the sign as my eyes were welling up with happy tears (happy to see him and that I hadn't been 'catfished').

Hugging my American hunk hello (in real life) felt weird... Because it didn't actually feel weird, it felt so natural being in his presence. After being online pen-pals for so long I had spent 7hours+ in the sky worried that we wouldn't hit it off, I needn't have worried.

My stay in New York with my American hunk was a complete blur of pure happiness, excitement, tourism and bright lights! I'm so glad that I was "mad" enough to take the risk and meet someone that I adored from afar. Who knows what will happen in the future but if distance and circumstances have their way then, at the very least, my American hunk will be a lifetime friend.

My adventure to New York, in which I took a massive risk, taught me how I deserve to be treated and if it's not going to be my American hunk I shouldn't settle for less. My trip has taught me to make my own life adventures instead of waiting for it to come to me, my life won't change if I continue to sit on my sofa watching Gogglebox in my PJ's. The "Love Actually" airport scene isn't just for the movies, I should know, I lived it through my own happy tears. 

Have I gone mad? Maybe so. But let me tell you a secret....all the best people are. ( Alice in Wonderland)

Only you can mend your broken heart

Almost a year ago to the day my heart was broken. I didn't see it coming, I was completely blindsided. The man I had invested my time, energy, passion and love decided to leave me.

Without going in to the gory details or slamming the character of my ex boyfriend, I'll keep this light on information. So if any of my readers (and I hope there are some) have had their heart mashed in to a million pieces you'll know the pain may not be physical but it's indescribable!

One evening my friends and family took a break from counselling me through my break up and I had a moment to be totally self indulgent, so I took the opportunity to stop being strong and feel sorry for myself.

I didn't just listen to "The top 10 best break up songs" and have a little cry; I cried for my children and the disappointment I felt for letting them down with another father figure, I cried for the future I had been working towards as part of a couple, I cried because I felt unloved and alone, I cried because I was scared and I cried because the tears were flowing and I could hear myself echoing around the room.

I cried for myself.

Suddenly I took a deep breath and had a moment of self reflection - "What if I see my way out this darkness and I actually feel good again?" At the time it seemed like climbing Mount Everest but I hung on to that thought like the anchor of a ship riding out a rough storm. That evening I had a sudden urge to document how I was feeling at the lowest of the low in the hope that one day I could look back and see a progression - similar to a "before and after" picture for weight loss or a DIY project.

No one ever takes pictures of sad moments - you don't hire a photographer for a funeral? But suddenly I was a photographer for the funeral of my own relationship...

This photo was taken the 5th April 2015 - the moment that I thought I would never be able to get my 'shit' together. I didn't have a job and I didn't have a plan - I was paper work and a signature away from dropping out of university and I was contemplating all sorts of negative things.

Through the love of EVERYBODY in my life and (without blowing my own trumpet) my sheer determination (!) the person in that photograph is a stranger to me now. I remember how I felt at the time of the photograph being taken but it feels like a lifetime ago.

So why have I just publicly aired my dirty laundry and posted the most unattractive photo of myself? Because my story of heartbreak and what was a bleak time in my life is now a distant memory - in fact it serves me as encouragement when I'm feeling defeated.

If your heart is breaking, times are tough and nothing seems 'do-able' - take a photo! Take a photo and leave it in your camera roll, almost forget you took it and when the sun starts to feel warmer, you heart doesn't feel as heavy and you're smile is bigger - look back on that old, hurt, broken you and feel encouraged that you've mended your broken heart. YOU can bring yourself though the tough times and just like a DIY project you're a work in progress, the photo is just an awesome 'before and after'.

“Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...It's about learning to dance in the rain.”

Love C

Never Been Kissed

The title of this blog is very tongue in cheek (as really it was tongue in my mouth) "Never been kissed" (1999) is a rom com starring Drew Barrymore, who plays a young journalist who was a "geek" in high school and was never kissed by a boy.... but I'll rewind and start this Tinder Tale from the beginning.

It all started the usual way... matching with a good looking chap on Tinder. Straight away we hit it off, I was hugely rebounding from my "Dolphin Rescuer" so I guess I came across as aloof, casual and sexy (this is what I'm telling myself). I can really get along with just about anyone when my level of sarcasm and weird sense of humour communicates well over technology, and with this particular tinder tale we seemed to match well.

I do love a proactive "dater" - we matched on the Saturday, swapped numbers by the Sunday and had our first date planned for the Wednesday! A whirlwind of communication and anticipation of meeting a stranger was exciting - it was enough time to establish that we had enough in common to get along in person; feel we had got to know each other enough, without entering the "safe-zone" of mundane chat, and in my mind the chances of him being a mass murderer weren't as high a when we had first started talking.

So I arrived at the pub I choose for every first date (I'm pretty sure the bar staff think I'm a "lady of the night") and had enough time to climb on to the bar stool (I'm 4'11, I can't elegantly perch) and adopt a "casual" position. My date arrived and thankfully he wasn't wielding a knife and looked a lot like his photos.

Before I go on I guess I should give my date a nickname, as is tradition for my Tinder Tales. I've struggled with this nickname, as the most obvious ones could give away his identity, but I shall knight my (unworthy) suitor, "Charlie Chaplin". Why? Purely because he presented himself as an absolute gentleman but that turned out to be the biggest joke (plus it's a hidden joke for my boss & colleague if they read this).

So, I sat down for drinks with Charlie Chaplin and instead of first date awkward silences or "20 question" type conversation we HIT IT OFF, I didn't check my phone untill it was way beyond my babysitters "knock off" time (thanks mum).

As i shuffled out the pub in my very worn down and ill fitting heels my chivalrous Charlie Chaplin offered to walk me to my car. As much as I was grateful for this lovely offer I was quite looking forward to whipping my heels off and walking bare foot back to my car, using that time to decide if I "liked" him enough for a second date.

As we got to my car, parked in a loading bay behind Debenhams, I turned to thank him for the drink and a nice evening (which it had been) I went in for a one armed hug and a kiss on the cheek, before I knew it Mr. Chaplin abruptly turned his head and went in for a full on kiss....which turned in to a snog.

As the wind swept my hair back I readjusted my footing in my agonising heels, I dared to lift my arms up to Charlie Chaplins shoulder.....all I could think was, "what IS that smell?" - turns out we were making out next to the near by hotel's bins. Forgetting the smell I started to let my heart get excited and began to kiss him back just as he was pulling away, cue me awkwardly kissing the air between our mouths. I fill the silence and smelly air with "well, that was nice"..... and fell down the curb in to my car, cursing my heels (which are now in the bin).

Before the kiss I wasn't blown away by Charlie Chaplin but afterwards I was convinced this guy was "IT" ....  despite the bin smell.

A couple weeks later I invited him to my house for dinner, I had even bribed my son to stay in his room with a new playstation! This may seem extreme but a small child walking in to a dinner or intimate moment on the sofa is more of a mood killer than a smelly bin. My cooking was average, the wine he brought was okay, the conversation was lovely, and the kissing was MUCH better than the first date.

Sadly I never heard from Charlie Chaplin after our second date... actually I did but I could tell it was only to "phase me out". Although the first date was lovely and the kiss was unexpected, a true gentlemen would've been upfront instead of "phasing me out".

We've all got to kiss some frogs before we find the right one but in this case I wish I'D NEVER BEEN KISSED - purely because I had to keep my promise and buy my son a playstation - most expensive failed relationship EVER.

Prince Charming or Dolphin Rescuer?

So the blog’s back! which can only mean one thing, my Prince Charming and I had a whirlwind romance, got married and lived happily after; until one day he disappeared whilst trying to save a pod of drowning dolphins…. OR something like that anyway.

Not sure when (or if) I’ll be dating again but for now I’m making lots of plans to be happy without a fella. When I was with the aforementioned “dolphin rescuer” we made a ‘wish list’ for 2016, it was a way of making sure we didn’t use our quality time being couch potatoes and to ensure we collected memories, not things. Well, instead of searching out another “fish saving hero” I’m going to do the list on my own and with the people I love.

This weekend I took my children to Oxygen in Southampton and had the best time jumping around in the indoor trampolining/free running centre. Although this was on the ‘wish list’ I was a bit worried about the trip, fellow mumma’s who didn’t do their Kegel exercises I’m sure you know what I mean, but we had a great time and was so good to be smiling and having fun!

Another item on the ‘wish list’ also features on my ‘bucket list’, to visit Rome. I’ve always wanted to go and I’m not entirely sure why, maybe the romantic lure of the city resonates with my love for all things… romantic! So I’m booking a trip to Rome with my best girl friend and maybe I’ll meet a lovely Italian who won’t judge me for the amount of pasta I can pack away?

So this whole single thing is okay, I’ll go through the 'wish list' at my own pace and live life to it’s fullest – and if I get lonely maybe I’ll buy a sheep instead of another cat….

Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em | Polyamorous Paul

Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em - a popular British sitcom shown in the 70's, starring Michael Crawford who played the lead role of loveable Frank. Sadly, this blog doesn't feature a clumsy but adorable male protagonist it features a bigoted, narcissistic character. A character I've named Polyamorous Paul.

So this blog title isn't in reference to the sitcom but is a reminder that these type of men, the Polyamorous Paul's,  are born from women! My poor son has no idea the lesson's I shall be drumming in to him!

So, it started the usual way, with a tinder match. Paul was a fair bit older than me but I hoped this would mean maturity, self assurance, security and achievement. He played polo, which I love, and I met my match when it came to witty retorts. I was delighted when he asked me out and when he suggested a phone call I had the right mix of nerves and excitement.

Before our phone conversation he disappeared off the radar... when he reappeared via text he claimed he had left his phone in a taxi and had been desperate to get hold of me. At this point a faint tingle of alarm bells rang but I told myself to stop being so negative, these things happen!

We continued chatting via text for a couple of days... his tone had changed slightly and began to steer towards boarder line remarks and dodgy innuendos. Alarm bells got louder but I ignored the remarks, or laughed them off, and agreed to a rearrangement of a phone call.

Polyamorous Paul was a pleasure to talk to over the phone, he was well spoken, polite and put my previous apprehension to rest. I got off the phone and told my friend all about him over a few Friday night drinks. I was excited, positive and looked forward to him texting me again.

A few hours after our phone call my phone pinged! I glanced down and saw his name on my screen, with a huge grin on my face I picked up my phone and readied myself to flirt outrageously. It was a Whatsapp message but it wasn't from Polyamorous Paul, it was about him.

At first I couldn't make head nor tail of what was being sent to me (I was a bottle of wine in to my evening at this point) and then I realised the WhatsApp message was in fact a group. A group of women that had dated or messaged Polyamorous Paul, instigated by his long suffering ex.

The evening ended with a phone call from one of the other girls explaining her interaction with Polyamorous Paul and how she had cancelled her date with him after her own alarm bells had rung. Only three hours after my phone call with Polyamorous Paul was I on the phone to a member of his harem - I suddenly felt like a loose women panelist, swapping stories and man bashing except this one deserved it.

The following morning Polyamorous Paul had the audacity to text me.....

I guess the other members told him where to go....

The fact that Polyamorous Paul tried to convince me (and probably himself) that he "wasn't trying to mess anyone around" was laughable, however I was thankful that I'd made a lucky escape.

Moral of the story, listen to the alarm bells of your conscious mind...and Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em!

"Ooh Betty ..." When will I learn?

Date #3 - forget Mr. Darcy meet Mr. Lainston

Date number 3 (known as Mr. Lainston) was neither a disaster nor was there a fireworks display, but in my opinion that's a successful date!

Mr. Lainston suggested a first date at a beautiful hotel in my local area, the setting was something out of Downton Abbey. Although i was excited about the venue I'm a modern day girl and expect to pay half for drinks or dinner (but kinda hope he pays) however when he set the expensive venue I seriously hoped he wouldn't make me pay half....at the end of the date I went for the handbag reach, fully knowing i couldn't afford it, and thankfully he declined my offer. But let's not jump to the end....

As I drove up the long drive to the beautiful hotel I played Celine Dion over the radio and allowed my imagination to play away. I pictured Mr.Darcy waiting to greet me by the manor house doors, he would take my arm and glide me towards the garden terrace for champagne and strawberries.  In my mind I was Elizabeth Bennet not Bridget Jones, I would have the same spark and wit as Jane Austen's protagonist; but I would not have any prejudice.

Despite trying to channel the classy Miss. Bennet character I floundered in the first 10 minutes. Instead of being a Jane Austen character I was more like Bridget Jones....Mr. Lainston casually asked me when I'd last visited the hotel, my filter must have deleted itself....

"Well, Mr. Lainston, the last time I was here was my wedding night...which was in 2006, basically a lifetime ago... i barely recognise this place..."

I believe in honesty but my goodness I wish I had lied, the poor man couldn't hide his stutter.

After my unnecessary revelation, we fell in to a comfortable discussion surrounding work and personal progression. We had a lot in common despite a nine year age gap and there was no awkward silences, although it was obvious we were both thinking ahead on what to say next.

After a while we got on to why we were single and why he didn't have children. He described how his ex wife had children who were around 8 years and 10 years old (roughly the same as mine) and how his ex wasn't prepared to "go through it" again after a decade. At this point I fell in to my Bridget Jones character and started to sympathise with my dates ex wife.... I agreed with her worries and felt her pain (despite her being over 10 years older than me.)  Word to the wise... things aren't going well when you have more in common with your dates ex, than you have with your date.

That being said, Mr. Lainston must have liked my Bridget Jones personality more than my desired Miss.Bennet as the second date has already been booked.

I guess Mr. Lainston came without prejudice....but I hope he came with some pride.