You Might Meet Me Later?? Ummmmm....No Thanks

His Text:
"Hi, I know we arranged to meet this Sunday but I've got a mate round so I'm going to have to cancel, how about I make it up to you by taking you for a date on Tuesday."
Two days later...
"Hi, sorry I'm feeling a little ill and have loads of work so I might not be able to make it tomorrow, I'll txt you before to let you know."

When did we become so dispensible men feel they can offer a meet up and then cancel or attempt to rearrange last minute...all the time? 

The Reply:
"Actually, I've been invited out by friends, so I'll do that instead, lets just meet up some other time"
...Aka, 'you dick, you actually think I've got nothing better to do with my evening then wait by the phone for your call? Please, I actually have a social life, so bugger off and don't come back till you have a worth while enough offer for me to consider you again.'

Ofcourse men do not get this subtle under lined message, if on occasion they do, they suddenly turn into their five year old selves after their mother threatened to take away their favorite toy and give it to the boy next to them.

Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing wrong, I go over and over past events trying to work out what my down fall was.  On this occasion the above events were to a friend of mine rather than me, for once.  Suddenly I stopped going over my history with Henry and felt a momentary sense of confidence, it's not me, its them.  If this seemingly regular Manchester man can dismiss this size six, long legged perfection then the insanity must be theirs.  Another friend of mine also had a date cancelled a matter of hours before meeting with just a simple "sorry, realised I'm busy tonight, might be able to make it around 11pm though?", simple response to that, "maybe not".

Why do we sit down and loose confidence in ourselves when we are quite obviously not the ones at fault? I sometimes find myself breathing in when I pass mirrors, or pulling that stupid mirror face so many of us have.  I then make a personal note to loose a stone, lather myself in fake tan and invest in a wig.  I've always told myself I'll grow out of it, but a decade on and the self criticism has only become more consuming, with only minutes or hours of contentment in each day.  If my own attempts at training my thoughts to be slightly more positive have failed so miserably, I think I'm finally open to other options and suggestions.  We had a session with a life coach yesterday and whilst I found her 'happy happy' presentation unbearable, she had a very good point, we can't control what others do but we can change and control ourselves.  I would like to change my cynical ways and become a slightly more optimistic person, but I just don't see that happening.  My mother has a saying "hope for the best, plan for the worst", however without realising I had unconsciously changed it into my own personal life long mantra "hope for the best, expect the worst".  Optimism isn't my forte.

My sister is celebrating her 28th birthday today and is being taken out by her brand new boyfriend after five birthdays of singlehood and living at home. They say time heals all and age brings wisdom, well I'm only 23 so maybe this is all to come.

Heres to finding out

MissE

Round Two?

Getting what I want or considering what he needs

We meet as we have any other day, I've known him for five years and we have been nothing but friends. In University we shared a bed one night after a very drunken evening celebrating his birthday, I knew him but not well.  My best friend had dated his best friend for years, so as she ventured into her x-boyfriend's room, he offered me his.  'Richard' was very sweet and obviously shy beneath it all, so I slept there and to my surprise, had one of the best nights sleeps I'd had in weeks (halls were not the best place for a good nights rest).  So after that we became 'sleeping buddies', one of the only men I had met at University that I could actually sleep next too, every other man would have me up and out by 7am in my haste to get away.  I had an idea he fancied me a while after we met and one drunken evening I received a text from him asking if anything was ever going to happen between us, I told him we were friends  and our friendship resumed unquestioned.  Five years and countless meet ups later we met again in the Northern Quarter for a night of bar hopping and drunken debautery.  It started out as normal, I told him about the latest wanker I was dating, he told me about his sporting activities and recent knee injury.  Three bars later and I was starting to feel the numerous cocktails I had devoured a little more than him, so we moved on to the Black Dog Ballroom so he could play catch up.  Two pool games and six Jagerbombs later and a flirty banter was creeping into our drunken interaction, then the moment occurred.  I looked up just as he looked down and for a second we locked eyes and forget all conversation, he looked different and for a second I wondered what this meant. Then, before I could process the moment, he looked away and headed off for last orders.  A moment of confusion and questions, 'did we just have a moment?', we had, and when he returned from the bar with two Jagerbombs I lead him to a corner booth to sit and possibly, resume.  We clinked and downed, then he looked at me as I relished the last drops of my dutch courage.  I looked up as he moved closer and then before I could feel a single butterfly, he finally after five years, kissed me.  And that was it, locked in that position for the next twenty minutes till I finally ask the question he later told me he'd waited to hear, "do you want to go home?".  We headed out for a taxi and in the back seat of a hackney carriage he found a new sense of confidence I'd never seen before, amazing.  He may be shy and awkward in the light of day, but he certainly wasn't in dim light of that taxi ride to my quaint student house, and he didn't disappoint.  After months of washing machine kisses and two second flourishes, I was finally able to enjoy myself in a way I hadn't experienced since my last meeting seven months before with 'Henry".  How had I not known about this boy that had been there for five years and countless dates?

Now our second meet up looms and with the knowledge of what would normally be expected to happen, I have to stand back and ask, 'is it ok to get with this boy who may possibly be far more emotionally involved than I could ever be?'  I do not believe in lying to nice people or leading them astray, I love Henry and for a long time more I shall still love Henry, I cannot get emotional envolved with someone new untill I can say I am at least partly over Henry.  Men have often told me that "our affair is nothing more than fun" and they can't commit, I have of course said I feel the exact same way, till I don't. Can I be a man and allow this fling to progress when I know that the words "I don't care either", mean nothing three months in?  So I will ask him up front what his feeling on the matter are (a courtesy never extended to me by any man) and whilst I may be hoping to arrange a friends with benefits deal, I will only do so if I truely believe no harm will be done six months down the line when I leave for London never to return.

So heres to hoping, every women has her needs

MissE

"I Want to Raid your Honour"

A Different Manchester Weekend 

Sometimes the goals you hold dearest can seem completely unattainable and the pursuit of such high hoped dreams pointless.  I have found that the one piece of advice so often handed out is annoyingly, the right one, you will find what you want when you stop searching for it.  As an eternal single, I find this theme runs most often in my love life, though as time has gone on it has seeped into my everyday.  'Henry' once boasted to me (in his annoyingly arrogant way), "I'm so laid back, I'm practically horizontal"...well, what response can anyone give to that.  I have always struggled with my temper and inability to accept authority.  Till one day, standing on an underground platform, waiting for the over due arriving of my train, I found myself consumed with anger and a steadily rising body temperature.  Suddenly I realised I couldn't be this angry over something so trivial and completely out of my control.  It's a train, a matter of minutes late, if I can't handle this, I'm fucked.  And there it was, acceptance.  After this enlightening moment I finally managed to get a grip on my anger and became more 'horizontal'.  

However, whilst living at home this summer, under the authority of my mother and ever opinionated and preaching sister, I lost my enlightenment.   Since then it has been a slow progression into sheer anger at everything and most people (as my blog entries probably show).  But enough is enough, no one can succeed and be happy in a permanent state of utter rage and hatred.  So I have now decided to start again, I'm living in my student house under my rules, with the continual help rather than hinderance of my housemates, so theres no excuse for anger.  I will stop eating my way through a life supply of calories, critiquing and judging every new hand I shake and giving up every time things go a little off track.  I can't make promises but I can make goals that are attainable and with the knowledge that I have achieved them before, I'm sure I can again.  

My weekend was spent with the ever calming presence of my darling (we'll call her Juliet....her normal name is also taken from a Shakespearian play) Juliet.  We spend time talking under the warmth of my electric blanket and hours touring store after store, trying on the ridiculous and the obscure items of highstreet fashion today. I became 'London MissE', rather than the angry, awkward and stupidly shy 'Manchester MissE', all my northern friends have come to know.  If I could do it for 2 days with her by my side, I can do it for one months without her physical presence.  So I will, I will breathe, count to ten, consider the situation and reasons for the situation and find an alternative reaction. Maybe then my New Years revolution can be to improve on my current work, rather than to change everything and completely write 2011 off.  

So, I'm going to keep to my attainable goal, a better me by January.  If I don't like me, I'm fucked if I think anyone else will.

MissE

Facebook is Never Private

"I can still see you"

The use of social media (as this ameteur blog shows), has risen dramatically in the last few years and now can be used as part of the screening process for jobs.  You may have a very high security level but this doesn't really mean much and you can still be accessed by those you may think your hidden from.  This has now become part of our education, 'don't say it on facebook, they'll find out', this year a women was fired for calling in sick for a few days whilst pasting her mini holiday snaps up on facebook...Yet I have just left a lecture were a student was publically named and shamed for bitching about lecturers in a facebook group.  However this is beyond stupidity as the lecturer in question is part of this group along with her collegues, this group is also made up of 179 fellow students.  Why do we feel that social media finally allows us to truely speak our minds?  'The Ostrich effect', if I can't see them they can't see or hear me... sadly this is not true and the Ostrich is not noted for its intelligence.

 My dating experiences have led me to be belive that men are big fans/ believers in this practise.  'If I just don't contact her and avoid her it'll go away and then I can reappear when all is well again', I'm sorry to tell you, but this just isn't true (as many of my past boyfriends have found out the hard way).  The fight or flight reflex can also be added to this line of thought, just because you run away and refuse to acknowlegde something, doesn't mean it will suddenly cease to exist.  Women are known and steriotyped for over thinking and over anaylsis everything, but I'm not sure I'd rather take the stereotypical male approach of just not thinking at all.  We can say we don't care and we do things because we 'just left like it' but often this is not true, we do it because of who we are or what we want to be.  When I march into Topshop and spend £200 (once every millenium), I do it because I've decided I need to be better and I'm going to achieve this by improving my image.  There, idea, aim, solution and action.  So next time the man in my life (whenever this mystery man I speak of appears) declares his action to not mean anything, he just did it because he did.... (terrible argument and yes I have heard it before) I will stand up and argue my case with one he can feel the same type of anger over, my shopping habbits. 

So stop, think, consider other options and then finally, act.

MissE

Two Plus Two Equals America

Manchester grounded

Well I am back in Manchester and have attended my first lecture in two weeks.  Its strange when you return to something after a while, the adjustment period is in most ways minutes long but in others days or weeks. I am not one for wasting time so I have taken the 'throw yourself into it' approach.  I like this approach, its uncomplicated, direct and unfussy, I hate fuss.  I am attending the German Christmas market tonight with my beloved housemates as the first of my Manchester nights out.  This would be nice and gentle, if it weren't for the bar opposite offering 2 4 1 cocktails that our friend bar tends in... This is good, this is real student life.  I say this, yet my x-student friends in full time jobs also have these nights, just mostly towards the end of the week or at the weekend.  So am I in denial thinking I am a typical student when actually I am a typical English person?  No one can deny the notorious binge drinking reputation we English have earned and the truth behind it.  I myself am of Irish blood but seemingly English in every other sense.  But I am hoping to report a different side to the use of my endless free time over the next few months.  Tonight German Christmas Market, next week outdoor ice skating and the week after that??? We'll see what I can think up, possibly bowling...

As for my time in London, I chose to spent my last night in my local pub with old friends of mine, it would seem 22-24 is the time of self discovery and sheer confusion.  I've always assumed I would be an adult by this age, but I fear that couldn't be further from the truth.  A friend of mine was recently discovered to have dated the x-boyfriend of a close mate of ours a year ago about 8 months after they broke up.  The girl we shall name as Olive was pretty damn angry over this discovery and has banished my friend from her life (whilst also attempting to banish her from everyone elses).  I couldn't help but wonder who was right and when enough is enough.  Olive dumped him, she chose to walk away, my friend fell for him unwillingly, it just happened.  Now she stands with the scarlet letter printed upon her forehead as Olive spreads the word of the betrayal.  When did the drama of jealous and insecure 13 year old girls suddenly come back to make an appearance in our 'adult' lives? He was single, she was single and more importantly, is the man not the baddy here? We always blame the women, if this was two men, the women would be blamed (generally speaking...) Why are women still meant to act like our predecessors whilst men (as always) are  congratulated for their slutty or 'womanising' habits? Well I say fuck off, women are free agents as men are, if you want to question this situation, replace the two girls with two men and the man with a girl, see if you still agree with Olive and her endless anger.  My love obsession Henry would go around acting as he felt fit, only to complain about my 'continual moaning', yet if I were to act for one night as he has for the last four years I would be met with utter scorn.

Isn't it time we put men in their place as Beyonce beautifully highlighted in her video/song "If I were a Boy"? Well I personally am on team anti-Olive, he was in the wrong, she was not even that good friends with Olive.  For the next six months in Manchester I will do as I see fit and if any man wishes to label me the endless names they have collected for us women, then so be it.

Six months left and endless amounts of fun to be had

Keep having fun

MissE

Normality Resumes and So Do I

Manchester to London to Brighton to London to Manchester

Well I have had my time of rest and now I am to resume as normal back in the rainy old city of Manchester.  The dreaded letter from the Manchester Infirmary finally arrived at my surgery yesterday,  a detailed description of the events and the consequences on my 'incident'.  She talks as though I am to apologise for my behaviour, I am, but that does not stop me from resenting her for saying it out loud.  My actions are my own, I can do as I please as long as I am willing to take the consequences for myself and those around me.  However some of our actions effect those around us without them meaning to, sometimes it would be nice if people stayed out of our private affairs and left us to act in a manner which is best for us alone.

My eyes are no longer puffy and my arms are no longer punctured with holes, so normality can resume.  This is fine, there is far to much going on around us for self obsession, the answer is to engross ones self in this action and ensure there is no time to think or obsess.  I enjoy being busy, it makes resting far more enjoyable.  I work, spend countless hours in the library and I observe my hobbies as thought they were scheduled and unoptional.

I have a passion for film watching and find their world far more interesting than my own...who doesn't.  This weekend is the release of Twilight Breaking Dawn, a film based around the typical theme love conquering all.  This theme is recycled beyond any other, yet it is one I am sure most people have known personally.  I have been involved and sadly obsessed with the same boy (not man) since the spring of my first year at University, lets call him Henry.  My friend added him on Facebook the day after we met and told me his status said he was in a relationship.  He didn't except my Facebook friend request till about 5 days after this, by which time, his status was undisclosed.  If this was not a sign of things to come... I take signs far more seriously now, especially those based on logic.  Four years later and I still can't manage to picture myself when I'm older without him.  He obviously, doesn't have this problem.  Three notable times he has left me and more but with apologises followed soon after.  I have tried dating other people but I can't seem to make myself believe it to be anything more than simple amusement, they are play toys and simply there to pass the time.

The last time he ended things (last April) he did so one week before a romantic weekend away we had booked months before.  I was at a friends house early on Sunday morning, he called, I answered like any other day, I didn't realise it was one of those days, the days when he decides he no longer wants to see me.  I refuse to be an emotional women and give him the grief and sadness he seems so much to want, so I tell him he is an idiot and I do not want to hear anymore of his silly words.  Two months pass and I do not respond to a single text or call, not a word, this is my form of punishment.  He wants me most during this times of silence.  Finally, my feelings of sympathy for my cruel and unkind behaviour take over and my silence is broken and just like that, he wins and I am back to those first few months when I was his mistress.

We were not on good terms before my illness, he has a new girl, she's beautiful, he says they are just 'seeing' eachother, but that was me once. So we have agreed, after seven months to finally meet again in January, just as friends, to end on good terms.  I have two months to decide if this is a good idea or if it will bring me right back to last April.  I know these meet ups all too well, as he acts unfazed and distracted, I can do nothing but smile at him and try with all my might to bring his attention back to me.  I don't always know I'm doing it, but I am, I'm always trying to bring him back to me.   So I have two months, to make myself better than him, any girl that has ever had 'that boy' will understand my lack of confidence in this task.  We will see.

Till then, keep reading

MissE

Confusion, recollection and realisation

The lights above are unnecessarily bright, with their white dimpled casing and their endless ability to daze and distract.  Neither surgeon nor scientist could need such white burning clarity. The muffled moans of mostly drunken and pained young men fill the chemical air. This is where they bring them to recover or repent, a weekly occurrence no doubt.

As realisation of the events of the evening slowly surface, they do so will a rose coloured understanding of what will happen next and exactly what happened before. A room with no windows and the shrieks of a man with unknown torment, what else could one need to start the recovery process. I don't know how so much money can disappear to leave this, successful and often life saving yes, but as with most great institutes, tattered around the edges.  Saturday night as many unfortunate souls know it, but never before me.  I guess everything happens once, unless you hide away all your years, so this is it, experience. Interesting is once word, unforgettable another, but mostly eye opening.  Dear God don't let me end up here again, I may in years to come find myself waking in these surroundings, but one can only hope it is on better and more acceptable terms.  

I find it so funny how life can completely change in one day so easily.  I am meant to be living the student dream but as I have learnt from so many of my University fellows (especially female) the student dream is not all they sell it to be.   Years worth of debt, three years worth of an emotional rollercoaster and then the eventual rat race for any 13k or above job. Motivation for this ‘once in a life time experience’ is wearing thin, as per usual, due to some regrettable white paper by the new government.  But I am a cynic and I am not handing out all the facts, University does prepare you for life, it does mould you as a person and in some cases it can show you your path in life. Just not always.  

When my unusual Saturday night experience finally came to an end....Monday night, after starvation, irritation and sheer confusion, I have never eyed a bowl of spaghetti Bolognese with such delight.  Thank you to the small saving graces in life, those are the things that bring us back to life.  The after mass is pretty predictable: home, rest, films, TV, anger, annoyance, exhaustion and endless questions.  The question are what mark these periods I find, when has anyone ever before wanted to know so much about me? If I were to hand out this information freely I would be labeled an inappropriate, rambling, emotional idiot, yet now it has become commonplace.   I will slowly silence these questions and fit them into a designated weekly slot and allow normality to resume for the other 167 hours of the week.  So here I sit, 9:30pm on a Friday night, in my new normality (which I doubt will last), watching a film and blogging, both of which I consider to meet the criteria of 'relaxing and calming activities'.  As for what the next 7 Fridays entail, I will not speculate but try my best to do what on that day, at that hour, seems attractive.  Spending your days saying ‘yes!’ because the reaction to no is too sad, is no way to spend your days.  Being selfish can be an awful trait, but it is also necessary to survive the University days.  So first I will sleep, then I will start slowly till eventually I build my weekly routine again around the choices which most please me, without bringing too much displeasure to those around me.

So here’s to trying again

Regards

MissE

If you go down to the Locks today your sure to get a surprise...

A night which may have been greeted with some reluctancy at first, soon developed into cocktails, champagne and many an unflattering photo. A girls night out can only and does only mean one thing: laughter, man scouting, outrages dancing and inevitably tears, lost items, smeared make up, hook ups and lovers tiffs (who always managed to turn up, whether due to mistrust or a drunken booty call miss timed). Well a night in the plush and posy bars of Didsbury soon turned into a drunken cab ride to Deansgate Locks; The testosterone ridden, botox filled, lipsy dress wearing, wannabe Gangster/WAG capital of Manchester. Well I can't say lipsy is my favorite shop, nor is my forehead tight enough for the crowds of the Locks, however for the first few hours I did enjoy myself. But as with all good things in life, they must come to an end, a drunken, messy, purse robbing end. Yes, as I innocently wiggled my 'stuff' on the dance floor, a smooth handed criminal made his sweep of the floor, one rhinestone studded handbag at a time. My bag jumped, my mind wondered, my eyes searched and then realisation struck, the bastard had stolen my brand new camera. Three nights worth of Pantene worthy advert photos gone, in a criminal blink of an eye. Me? have something stolen/lost on a drunken night out? No, absolutely not, I am not that girl. Yet there I stood, angry, disbelieving and most of all, fricking pissed off. So what is my conclusion on going out after having sat in front of your bedroom mirror for an hour trying to persuade yourself to drink vodka over tea? DON'T! Its divine intervention. Stay at home, close your curtains, lock your door and tell your dearest and nearest to piss off, or you too may find yourself one beautiful, technologically advance camera down. And did I meet a nice man to make up for this tragic loss? no, plain and simple. The men were drunk past all normal recognition, their sweaty faces oddly less than appealing and their taste in women? far from my fully clothed, simple make up wearing self.

So if you decide to go down to the Locks today for an evening of drunken debauchery, just don't. It's not worth it, there has to be better evenings to be had than that sweaty hell hole of a clubbing hot spot.

So think, plan, listen to your gut and choose wisely.

Regards, MissE

Student Dilemmas...

Some people are critical of the student life style and ask "what do they actually do with there time except get drunk and sleep?" Well I also find myself asking this question on occasion, as I sit in front of my slightly stained bedroom mirror, I am trying to muster the energy and more importantly, the will, to go out for another night of the same old same old.  It raining, this is Manchester, rain is as reliable as the sunset and sunrise, none the less, it still manages to dishearten after the hour of hair styling. By my side a cup of tea and more appropriate, a glass of vodka, lemon and lime.  I find myself eyeing the later drink with a mix of resistance and utter distain, however the forces of nature have come to intervene and alas, cold tea, is never appealing.  So as I contemplate whether to go smokey and seductive, or bright and colourful with this evenings make up palette, I finally take my first sip of the night ahead.  What did I do yesterday? Went for a lovely dinner in Deansgate and then (of course) went on to get wankered in a number of empty bars.  I subtly attempted to match my friends drinking with my one to their every three, but my covert operation was apparently far less 'covert' then I had hoped.  "Come on E, drink up, it'll make you feel better", the mantra of students everywhere.  However having recently discovered the stunningly thin, glossy haired, longed legged beauty that is my love interests new beau, I debate the truth in this statement.  The girl sat on the corner sofa, crying her eyes out over her 'doomed' love life is a role I'm never to eager to play, yet once again I sip the quizzer inducing drink at my side and prepare for a night of drunken antics. It's time to leave and my spirits are about as high as my cheek bones but I wouldn't be a real student if I didn't throw caution and better judgement to the wind and race out of the door into the ever inviting rain.

So good friday and good night

MissE

To whom may be concerned

To whom may be concern

I am now, after a long and gruelling 5 years, coming to the end of my University days. Pending the start of my professional life, the need for some direction seems appropriate and the one missing key point from my CV.  As so I have decided upon a blog to help order my thoughts and highlight my strong/weak points.  Reasoning:

 I have a debatably unusual habit of sending texts to myself when I want to express something that may not be deemed appropriate for the general public or certain individuals. Yes, if I find someone to be: annoying, stupid, arrogant, ridiculous, embarrassing, unassuming...or on a rare occasion....lovely, good looking, generous or other nice sentiments which I cannot express to said individual, I text them to myself. Allowing a feeling of release that all things that need saying have been said, if only to the invisible man. However on occasion I have out of sheer boredom, read back across these messages and found some to be amusing, interesting or merely monologuing to the best of abilities. To normalise my seemingly introverted self, I have decided to start 'blogging' these entries in the hope of creating something expressive out of something rather odd. I can only hope my descriptive powers are lacking enough, that entries will not seem oddly similar, may the individuals involved stumble across them. For obvious reason I shall now explain that I shall not be using my real name. for my social life may not always be 'booming' but I would would definitely deem it 'missable' should my friends discover my true feelings on their views of current affairs etc. 

I have what may be described as a Shakespearian take on the English Language.  This is in part due to Dyslexia and part due to my inability to  find word that express exact sentiment.  So read this blog onomatopeically and you'll be fine

All the best, me