Hello 2010 !

Well this is it! Unbelievably I have made it through this year relatively unscathed and in full possession of my marbles ! I began the year practically on flatline. Not sure entirely what the year would hold for me, in truth full of fear and wondering where the next potshoot was going to come from.

Slowly I set my sights on doing something with my writing - which evolved into this blog, that has allowed me to praise, bitch, air my hopes and fears and sometimes just moan about how crap life can be.

Next came work, a real rollercoaster of a ride, that one. Just when I've thought I was on track HWMBO would pull out one of those pesky bananas skins and launched it so neatly that I'd end up on the floor wondering what the hell had just happened.

The battle continues and as every warrior princess knows just because you loose the odd battle, doesn't mean you have to lose the war!

Then there was my lovelife - a train wreck at the beginning of the year and much the same at the end of it, but hey nobody's perfect right? Having played at and failed miserably trying to date in the 'real world', I took my love search into cyperspace.

This particular journey, has been at turns exciting, miserable, funny, exasperating, disappointing, frustrating but so worthwhile as ultimately, I've learnt so much about myself.

I am a catch (and a true diva!) but a blooming fussy one! I have realised that sometimes that 'he must have' checklist that so many of us divas have, can actually mean we let guys who might actually turn out to be the 'real deal' slip through our fingers.

I'm not in love with the idea of being in love anymore. Yes I did just say it it ! Finding someone would be great, but not if I have to sacrifice me - what I want and how I want to be treated - I deserve!

I am not sure what 2010 holds for me, but I do know that whatever it is I can deal with it!

Oops DG Does It Again!

I arrived at work with two lattes in hand, ready for a pow wow with A. When I found his seat empty, my heart sank as I realised that he was probably having a Garbo moment and couldn't be bothered to leave his bedroom and make his way to work on such a miserable rainy day. So I called him.

"You know usually I'd say you were being a little dramatic, but I have to say what I said last time, this guy is behaving like a fucking idiot! Either he's are in or out. I mean he disappears and comes back and that behaves like this!" "That's exactly it!" I replied "I have no idea how someone could turn something as simple as hanging out together, in something so bloody complicated!. If he playing around with someone else, why doesn't he just say so!"

The morning came and went - no phone call. This afternoon no phone call. Then at 5:14pm "Hi I haven't forgotten you, I'll call you back in an hour!" "Ok" I managed to say, while trying to pay for some groceries. By 7:00pm no call back, so I texted "U ok?" (which as we all know in man language could mean anything from she wants to marry me, to she's trying to catch me out so I better come up with something to say).

He replied "Call you later all good". Well its 12:15 and still no word from him. Annoying, but so pathetically predictable. Men !

D-Day Looms !

All things being equal, tomorrow I should be meeting DG to go to the cinema and then have dinner. At the end of this meeting both of us should know whether we a) like each other ) can be bothered to see each other again and c) want to give dating a go.

I say we should be, because once again a spanner has been thrown into the works. First DG disappeared off the radar, now he says he has heard that the weather is potentially going to be bad tomorrow, preventing him from driving down to see me.

Do I believe him, in a word no! His excuse is way too convenient. I checked the weather in his area for tomorrow and guess what aside from some rain, it' going to be ok, that's right not the severe weather conditions he's mentioned to me.

So why the charade? Why not just say what's on your mind? Are you in or out DG?

There comes a point when a diva's gut tells her that she's heard one too many excuses from someone. Maybe given one too many chances to that same someone and then if she's smart, however, reluctantly she will turn on her favourite stilettos and leave that certain somebody behind.

I am looking forward to his promised early morning phone call he has 'promised' to give me tomorrow!

My Bad Boy !

So you want to know what's been happening with DG? Well he's been texting and phoning and....but wait a minute we've been here before haven't we?. Whereas before I was beguiled and more than a little hopeful, now I am cautious.

Of course I still like him, I am just being careful. As with any disappointed dating diva, I have promised myself to keep my head and listen to it (for a change) instead of being overwhelmed by fairy dust and fluffy daydreams.

Yesterday, he dropped the bombshell. "I want to come and see you on Boxing Day. I can drive down in the afternoon. We can spend some time together and....." "Hold on a minute", I interrupted. "That sounds suspciously like a date. You sure you want to do that. That is a pretty high level of commitment for you. You know you would be required to turn up".

"You're not going to let me live my AWOL moment down anytime soon are you", he replied laughing. Deeds not words DG, actions not statements of intent!

Besides, forgiving someone for acting like a prat is all well and good, but not learning from what has happened, that's just stupid. Do I trust him and think he'll show up this time? My lips are sealed !

EPILOGUE - Being a man, the rationale of taking to the open road to meet up with with a diva who lives two hours away from you, on Boxing Day may seem very plausible; but of course I jumped on it. So the new plan is to meet up next Tuesday....I am now definitely glad I didn't put any money on this meeting working out!

Departures and Promises

Well the sad day has arrived when I bid a sad farewell to Big D. Big D as you may remember is one of my most favourite men.

He is an out and out hound. But what I love about him the most, apart from him being an amazing Dad, a good friend who listens to me (usually when I am at my most scatty!), whose ability to make me laugh out loud never fails him, matched with his general self depreciating humour; is his total honesty about what he offers women; which in short at this moment in time, is an uncommitted return booty pitspot.

If you're special you'll get dinner and maybe even a show, otherwise its flighty Facebook messages and a few cheeky text messages. Yet despite his smoothly executed dating moves, always laid out clearly with a 'no commitment tag'; his strike rating with women has this year been on par with a footballer who can't help but score, in practically every single match they are involved in.

He is taking a year off to go travelling and as we reminicised today over both our dating highs and lows (mainly mine of course) this year, he let slip that I am one of the few women in his life who is actually an out and out friend, as opposed to a failed relationship he has tried to transition from a trainwreck in a friendship cum return pickled (kept on ice, to be entered in the event of horny dog emergency) booty call.

" What an honour you do me big D" I laughed. "At least I'm honest about it B. I don't promise them anything, but somehow they all want a piece of big D". Which brings me to a question, why do women love bad boys?

I know why, because they're usually, funny, super sexy and so devillishly unpredictable in terms of their behaviour, particularly when dealing with their earnest conquests, that even when they're treating you like dirt, you strangely want more of the same.

The type of women who date BB's cheerfully resign themselves to always being part of a revolving merry-go-round of other women. BBs are never be around when you really need them and at that at the first mention of the 'C' word, any self respecting BB is likely to a) break out in a cold sweat and b) disappear off the love radar - as happened with the dancer (Big D, I couldn't resist mentioning her, poor deluded creature!)

Don't get me wrong I'm not judging these women who happy with all of the above. I prefer to take the higher, more entertaining long-term ground (catch-up sessions with Big D are hilarious) and be one of the very few women friends a BB has, who hasn't been seduced by his charms, adores him for being his bad self, and always being so bloody honest, that you can't help being honest with them in return.

Big D I salute you and wish the women who are about to become involved with you all the luck in the world. They are most definitely going to need it! Stay in touch Big D and as ever loving your work babe!

Return of the Bolter Part 2

So how did we end things? Well we didn't. DG wants to meet. I said we should carry on talking as friends until he trusts me, the situation and deals with whatever relationship demons he has... It is as simple as that.

I am not prepared to 'fix' anymore men. I want to be with someone who is uncomplicated and ready to e with someone who can't be bothered with drama. Someone who is whole - not missing commonsense, courage, the ability to listen to what I am saying and take it seriously.

While I'm at it, I forgot to mention mention balls. No I haven't become obessessed by them suddenly, but it does seem that finding a guy who possesses a pair is a big ask.

Will DG bolt again....your guess is as good as mine. He is officially on probation !

Return of the Bolter

I kid you not, DG aka The Bolter has just been on the phone to me. First I received a text "I have been a bit of a twat if i'm honest. Are you still talking to me?". To which I replied "I didn't stop talking to you, it was the other way round, but I never hold grudges, life's too short. R u ok ? (the phrase that was met with by the stony silence a few weeks ago!).

To which he replied "I'm good, just dealing with some shit. How are you doing gorgeous?" Now right about here, any smart man would have thrown himself at my mercy, and repeated the words sorry 'Sorry I was and am a jackarse' over and over again. Two ignored text messages from him later (oh yes, I can ignore people too!) and I got the call.?

He apologised for disappearing, but I wasn't willing to let him off the hook. "Why did you behave in such a stupid, immature way?" I asked. "I just didn't trust the whole internet thing or us", he stammered.

"Not good enough", I snapped. "You need to treat any relationship as unique. I am not responsible for your relationship history and I don't see why you should use you past experiences to throw in my face. I don't deserve that and frankly it's your stuff to deal with, which is why your behaviour pissed me off so much. It was just plain rude and totally unnecessary!"

"I know and again I apologise I really wanted to spend time with you, but all I could think about was what if it went wrong and...." I interrupted "If you are not willing to take a chance on meeting someone, putting yourself out there, being honest and upfront, then you are just going to wind up alone, like you are right now".

"I hear you" he replied, "So what do we do now?"

Little Miss Christmas !

Christmas is kind of a double-edged side for the single diva. On the one hand you are pushed into the arms of your family, often for an extended period of time, during which you often revert into the body and mindset of a sulky teenager.

While on the other hand you realise that you will wake up alone on Christmas morning and you won't be receiving that one gift from someone very special , which shows how much they love you.

Rather than give in to the depression that can grip at this time of year, as you hear about friends engagements, weddings, babies and dream jobs, let's take a few minutes to consider the joy of being single at Christmas.

You will not have deny yourself your little luxuries, of clothes, food, and sometimes dare I say it shoes, so that you are able to afford to buy your significant other that ridiculously extravagant gift, that he has been banging on about for the last few weeks.

You will not have clone yourself into a smiling Cheshire Cat, nodding at that incredibly boring story you are being told about your boyfriend when he was three by his vaguely deaf aunt.
And you won't sit beside your Mum cringing as she pulls out your first nativity play photographs to embarrass you with.

You can pad around in your pjs, watch old movies all day long and if you are very, very smart use this 'alone time' to recharge your batteries and take sometime for yourself and maybe even discover the true meaning of Christmas.

Flogging a Dead Horse

Christmas comes but once a year and kicks us singletons in the teeth with all the gusto of a parent, battling a clone of themselves for the last one, of this seasons' must-have toy.

In the midst of all the seasonal madness, the search for someone to snuggle up to continues unabated. I have not heard from Mr Invisible since Saturday and was surprised to receive the following from him.

"Are we still meeting? x" in a text message sent at 5:28 on a very cold Wednesday in a snow wrapped London town. I raised one eyebrow, scratched my head and then reflected on our last conversation, in which he had promised faithfully to let me know by this week Tuesday latest, whether he had space in his presidential duties (let's be honest, the way he carries on, you would honestly be forgiven for thinking that he is the busiest and most powerful leader of the free world); to catch-up with me this week.

Hearing nothing by the end of Tuesday, I made alternative arrangements in the shape of some last minute Christmas shopping and a hot chocolate in town with a friend. After his message I called him back, because I couldn't resist getting to say the following in very solemn tones.

"It just feels like our schedules are challenging and continually conflicted and you really don't have any time for anyone right now". I paused waiting for his response, sensing his realisation that he was about to be terminated.

"Why don't we try after Christmas?" he replied hopefully. "Only if you have the time" I said holding back my laughter. As if ! Second chances are all well and good, but when you reach fourth and fifth ones it is just plain stupid.

Why do men say one thing and then do the complete opposite and then make out that it is somehow completely unavoidable? In short, they are blameless ! Take MP, one of my funniest, hottest, smartest girlfriends' who moved to LA and immersed herself in the dating culture of her Stateside cousins with style.

After several unhappy attempts at the usual friend of a friend's brother, internet, work and blind dating, she found herself a British guy, one who we actually knew when we were in college. Should have been onto a winner, right?

Not exactly. For the past three years they have rubbed along together reasonably well, but once a year, every year , having always agreed previously to it, he bails on coming back to the UK to meet her parents at Christmas.

His reasons grow more colourful each year from childcare (he has a daughter), car and money issues , through to him having and by default, wanting, to do things with his own family, this is one guy who is completely unabashed at letting my friend down and then adding to her misery by letting her face the the music "el solo" back in the UK.

Every year he knows he's in the wrong, so his latest story increases in length, becomes more fanciful and ultimately is so flimsy, when 'tested', that she doesn't believe him.

"I'm tired of making excuses for him. I just want out. He is soooo selfish. If he wants something then fine, it has to happen and I have to compromise, otherwise he just sulks. Why do I keep finding arseholes like this" . You can guess my response.

"Dump him, but do it after Christmas, you don't want to stress yourself out during the holidays. You have too many parties to go to and too much fun to have. He doesn't respect your feelings period and he's not ready to meet your parents, in fact he may never be ready to meet your parents".

"He's not man enough to do the decent thing and say it aloud, he rather plead the "It Wasn't Me" line of defence. As for why you keep finding arseholes, because that's life. You have to take the rough with the smooth and sometimes, crap keeps coming your way. "

While I love MP's commitment to hanging on in there with her man, there comes a time in every diva's life, when you have to find the strength to walk away and not even give a damn about it. Why should you? Because trust me....the one you are leaving behind won't !

Mr Invisible Has No Balls !

As you may recall, when last I touched on the saga of Mr Invisible we were supposed to have dinner on Tuesday, which was then moved to Friday, which didn't happen because when he finally called me on Friday, it was way too late to meet up.

The conversation as usual was taken up by him going on about buying his house. His obsession with this subect is now beyond the pale. He has agonised and over-analysed every aspect to such a degree that I had to remind him "...to calm down and not kill the joy of buying your first home".

This seemed to calm him down, until I let slip that I brought my house from start to finish in 28 days and hadn't really stressed out about it. This set off a replying rant about him "...needing to be sure, about things!".

He suggested we meet on Saturday. Saturday afternoon came I texted him and told him I was at a photographic exhibition, asked whether he wanted to join me and maybe grab some dinner afterwards.

Two hours and two texts (including one to delay meeting by one hour) and two phone calls later and Mr Invisible still hadn't even left the house yet, due to a problem with the tube network (aka subway system to my transatlantic readers!).

An interested man, with a pair of balls, would have found an alternative mode of transport to get to his destination and prevent him from being labelled a serial 'no show'."No worries", I texted after his cancellation text "I've made other arrangements anyway".

My issue with Mr Invisible? If he can't be bothered to make the effort and show up once, twice or however many times, why should I get upset about it....really not worth my energy. The exhibition was great and dinner with the girls was even better!

Technology and A Very Bad Party.

I use Facebook for a number of reasons - first to catch up with friends, next to find out what friends of friends are up to and finally just like any other self respecting diva to find out what my exes are up to!

Now don't say you haven't done it....we all have. Nervously typing the name of an ex, waiting for the search engine to flicker green with the results answer. Imagine my disappointment when I was met with an announcement telling me about changes in security settings.

I tagged my most recent long-term ex and was annoyed to find I was locked out his profile and the reassuring sight of his still being listed as single some two and a half years after we parted. Sad I know but technology can be so unjust sometimes.

However, nothing is more unjust to a diva then a badly organized social event. Have ploughed through another day of joy with HWMBO, I was looking forward to my office Christmas party. Pulled together by the Sports and Social Club I gladly handed over my £12.50 and headed on over to a bar on B Street.

What a mistake! I arrived fashionably late to be met with the uncertainity on an unsignposted venue, people I had never met before and certainly were part of my company elbowing me out of the way to get to a an overwhelmed bar, underwhelmed with staff.

To add to my frustration, the allocation of free drink cards had been totally ballsed up by the venue, leaving just four people out of 85 with them. But for the intervention of one of the committee, the large white wine and diet coke I purchased would have cost me, half the price of my ticket for the event!

The appearance of food was twice delayed and on hearing of the latest delay, I registered my protest at the whole mess, by getting my bag and coat; and vacating to the pizza place opposite - where the quick service, surprisingly tasty food and reasonable price, served to highlight everything that was wrong with the event.

Who organised this disaster ? A committee of no less than 6 people, each apparently more stupid than the other, who clearly know nothing about running an event.

I have learnt through my years of throwing truly fabulous parties, and life in general, one commander-in-chief who knows what they are doing, is worth x many committee members who forget to agree on even the most basic elements, because their egos won't allow them.

Sliding Doors

The thaw with HWMBO officially finished today when he returned to the level of misery we usually associate with him. Fortunately, he was out of the office for most of the afternoon, which left me free to job hunt and think about what to wear for my latest Christmas party on Friday.

My online shopping was interrrupted by GL whose speed dating had been cancelled. Before I could reply, A whisked me away for lunch, where he forced me to have the skinless grilled chicken with sweet potatoes - an usual combination which worked etremely well together, while we people watched and gossiped. I returned from lunch giggly and stuffed to the gills.

It Started With A List

First to any newcomers to my weekly musings a big hello from your favourite London Diva. Since the last time we talked, I am happy to say that usual service in my trainwreck of a lovelife has been resumed.

Mr Invisible would now like to see me this Friday night - which a) annoyingly inconvenient - it seems even less the favourable love prospects fail to fall in line with my plans - must be something in the water! and b) this new date just isn't possible as I am off to yet another Christmas party, the first of which I have just returned from, hoarse and ever so slightly merry, which for a Christmas humbug like myself is very rare indeed.

There is something disarmingly endearing about watching your usually serious colleagues, concentrated on the lyrics of some dodgy song, nervously clutching their karaoke mike and praying they can remember the beat of the entire song.

I did what I always do, which is sing at the end of the evening (Nothing Compares To You, Sinead O'Connor), when everyone is as drunk as a skunk and a less than mighty voice able to hold a tune, is miraculously transformed into something halfway decent. My cunning plan came off with a hitch, so well in fact that 3 people dubbed me a ringer!

I crossed it off my list. Which list I hear you ask? The list of course. In the first week of December every year I make my list of things I want to happen to me in the next year.

Last year's list was a short one - pass my degree. Check. Be more organized - half check. Be solvent - well I didn't know we would hit the worst depression since 1929 did I ?- so let's call that half a check and to be continued.

Finally, I asked for real deal -'the one' or as close to him as possible, I don't want to disqualify any potential candidates. Must remember to carry that over to next year's list!

I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues !

Well I've just about made it through the weekend without gnashing my teeth, wailing at the moon and wondering how many more dating rejections I can take, until I give up the ghost and resign myself to becoming a multiple cat owner.

As I predicted, I am gutted about the whole DG fisaco, regardless of what friends and family have told me. I am resigned to the fact that you can't force someone to like you or have any semblance of a consience about how they cut you loose. That's just life, but it doesn't mean to say it doesn't suck!

Over this weekend, I have been contacted by a variety of potential love interests (their words not mine!) . Each suitor is predictably throughly undesirable. Why four old fat guys, two men with super large teeth or three white guys who have always wanted to date black women, think that I would possibly want to connect with them beggars belief.

Also let's not forget of my lovely friends who have offered to set me up with recently broken up guys - why, why would you want to go out with someone whose just broken up with someone, it is a sure-fire route to disaster!

The result of this ring of popularity was enough to drive me to a flood of tears, as my confidence has taken an all mighty kicking. Even a diva can only keep her positivity levels up for so long. I'll come back from it, because as we know I have so much experience in this field; but this latest dating set back has left me more determined than ever to conquer my dating jinx permanently.

The Bolter !

Well it's official DG is history. Whereas at the beginning of the year, I might have dissolved into a wave of self pity, locked myself away with a tub of Haagen Dazs Pralines and Cream and 'All True Woman CD2', wailing 'All By Myself' at the top of my voice, this time I am merely a little disappointed. Let's be blunt the boy (because that is how he's behaved!), is plain rude! Complete silence - totally fucking rude!

As for DG himself well, of course I still like him, I'm not some type of emotional tap, that switches itself off at will, but I do have contempt for his cowardice in not manning up and saying he'd changed mind. Typical schoolboy moment from an ultimately immature man.

I called G last night to break the bad news to her. "Something bad must have happened" said G hopefully, until I told her the full story.

Having concluded that things were definitely terminal via listening in on my conversation with G, The Fool then interjected with "Men have feelings too!", "No they don't!" I retorted snappily via third party G. Readers we all know that men do of course do have some feeling, just to a much lessor extent, more like your basic, I don't give a shit really variety.

It was left to A who summed up exactly what type of man DG is via his text to me this morning "What a fucking idiot he is!". My thoughts precisely. As well as making me laugh out loud with his text sent to me on a crowded train enroute to work, A also provided me with invaluable advice about another species of man to look out for on the dating circuit.

The Bolter ! The Bolter is the man who for all intents purposes appears to be a true throughbred. He is at first super keen, overly attentive, has charms so smooth that they could be carved out of butter and ultimately seems to display the sincere nature of a genuine good guy.

However, potential daters beware, the time commitment that a Bolter invests in you will only ever be fleeting. The moment that it looks like the fairytale (which is often being played out fastforward in their heads, in both wholesome and carnal versions) will need to be translated into the rather more mundane arena of real life; that is when the Bolter bolts. In short, DG is a classic Bolter.

Which brings me full circle to my year of internet dating which is very nearly up and has ended like it begun, with me still being single. My rose coloured glasses, which prevented me from seeing beyond the romantic fairytale the whole of my pretty shit dating life, have gone. Permanently smashed, never to be repaired. I have been seeing guys for the very first time exactly as they are, not as I want them to be.

Including DG, there's been the Dane - the ultimate female viagra shot - too beautiful to ever have to wait around to get laid by me or any other woman for that matter !

Then of course there was the psuedo relationship (felt like one, but wasn't actually one!) with M2 (remember him, yes i'm still trying to forget that one myself!). You remember the one I went away with and who dumped me ten minutes after we got back, but more importantly thought it was a great idea to text me some five minutes later to tell me to "Keep smiling" - what a jerk!

PP the one who failed so miserably in his attempt to get me into bed, ignored my morning after end of the day text "How was your day?" -which I still believe is one of the most ungirly, asexual things you could ever say to a man after a first date.

But those four little words somehow managed to freak him out so much that he a) didn't respond to the text and b) when he next saw me a few days later, was embarrassed enough to duck into a train carriage rather than say hello! What an arse!

Mr DJ who dropped me a line to say that he had 'got a better offer' (or was it one, or two or three or maybe even four - another guy using the internet to get over a relationship gone bad!)

S the self proclaimed 'nice guy' IT Director who first thanked me for helping him to regain his confidence after a dry dating spell, then told me as he was just letting me know that I was ok to look elsewhere as he has found his dream girl. Let's not forget his super kind offer of perhaps getting in touch with me, if it didn't work with his dream girl. Thank you !

A guest 'appearance' from H both via my recollection (finally over him - I know it took me long enough!) and he popped up on his birthday this year, before ending as we always do with him 'vanishing' off the radar again - hold on a minute is that repeated behaviour complex?

Joking aside, with a love life that can be described kindly as a stuttering non-starter, I am amazed I am still holding on to the old adage that there's someone for everybody.

If that's the case, I wish he would flamming well hurry up, because I am totally bored with this 'waiting' for him lark ! Or as your hooked up friends always like to glibbly say to you "When you least expect it, it will happen". My response - Bollocks! Its so easy to say stuff like that when you are on the other side of the fence - hooked up and happy!

Oh No Not Again !

They say that sometimes saying or expecting the worse, means that you are willing it to happen, so somebody should by rights shoot me right about now. Why? DG has disappeared. Completely dropping off the radar as of this morning.

Our last conversation was last night, when he mentioned he had a touch of 'man flu' and was going to bed early to try and shake it off before our weekend together and he asked me to text him in the morning.

So I did. No response. So a little later, I called him and after one ring the phone clicked abruptly off, so I left it alone, all day. About 2 mins ago I sent a non-committal boy text "U ok?" still nothing. What is going on? ....I have no idea! But if anything resembling an update on the situation ocurs, well then you will be the first to know.

Update One - DG is alive and well and has rather tellingly has been active today on his dd account. I sent an email to his facebook and dd accounts

"DG, not sure what's going on with you as on dd you are shown as being active today, so thankfully you are ok. If you have changed your mind about meeting up Yes/No will do.
If you don't want to talk anymore Yes/No will also do. Not angry or put out, just very, very confused by you - B ".

The reality that has just dawned on me is yet again I have fallen foul of the dating numbers game. The difference being this time, I didn't put all my eggs in one basket and am seeing Mr Invisible on Tuesday for dinner.

Is he the one I really want? Well at the moment clearly not, but sitting at home moping over somebody who hasn't even got the balls to get on the phone and say they've changed their mind about things, is for me not really an option. Oh how far I've come this year!

Easy Like Sunday Morning

So what's happened since the last time we 'talked' - well plenty! The new kid on my dating block aka DG continues to be well more than a little gorgeous ! We text in the morning, a few cheeky ones here and there and talk at the end of each day usually for an hour or two.

This whole situation has been so damn easy. No drama ! No commitment phobic hysteria ! No other women on the sidelines, that may or may not be revisited. If he's got something to say, he just blurts it out however, un-PC and God how refreshing!

He already has our entire weekend mapped out, from picking me up at the station onwards and its kind of sweet, particularly as I'm not used to being treated like that.

Usually it's me bending over backwards, like some demented bitch dog chasing her itching collar and wondering why it won't come off. The more I learn about him, the more I like having him around. He's my buddy as well as being a studmuffin.

Only one thing I'm worried about, if this doesn't work out I honestly will be more than a little gutted.

In the midst of my little piece of paradise, my opposite number, who arrived with such high hopes, of climbing from assistant to management; on the back of her charge's tailcoat has crashed and burned.

She has hit upon the hard lesson that all assistants everywhere (however great they are !) come to learn - no matter how amazing you are, you will never, ever be great enough be considered as important enough or equal to the demands and self interest of the person you are 'serving'. Their needs,wants, and feelings will always come first.

After she had dried her tears, ranted through her quite hefty list of issues and generally let out some long held frustrations ("Why do I have to go get his sodding lunch, the ungrateful bugger!"), I gave her the mother of all pep talks.

Whether it will work or not remains to be seen; but it did serve as notice to me that the grass really isn't always greener on the other side.

The New Man

Well I finally caught up with G today and it was great. She was her normal, scatty, funny, nutty self, in short on top form- still with the Fool, but hey a diva can't make all her wishes come true, can she?. I've really missed my favourite little Aussie munchkin and our gossip fests.

Part of our gossip involved my new man. When did this happen, I hear you ask? Exactly four days ago, but strangely it feels like months already.

DG is 27, Welsh (fortunately I like the accent!), likes rugby and bikes, is gorgeous, funny and the father of a too cute son. I like him - there I said it, and on my normal track record, this should mean that within the next week he will be revealed to us all as, a liar, cheat , player or just an arse.

In this case I have my fingers crossed that he's a good guy, because I know there are still some good ones left out there!

The Return of G

As you all know I have spent most of 2009, praying my favourite nutty friend G would wake up, smell the coffee of life and dump The Fool. We have had several 'fireside chats' when I have been quite upfront about just how much I dislike him, while listening to her protestations about how great he is, some of the time!.

So great in fact that me and her other friends never see her anymore. I'd given up all hope of reconnecting with her, until she texted me today and asked whether she could buy me dinner this weekend. "Yes", I replied, "So long as the catch up is just with you". "Yes" was the curt reply.

I am already wondering what bombshell she is about to drop me this time. Are they engaged ? Has she gone blonde? (God I hope not, she is a terrible blonde! The colour is way too harsh on her!) Or has she finally realised, that no diva is an island and long after the latest 'flavour of the month' has packed up and moved on, your friends will still be around.

The Invisible Man

First I would like to apologise to G, who I blew out as well as my regular gym session, for a date or rather a non-descript date.

Non-descript dates are those dates that you think just might be ok, but actually turn out to be well, very, very dull. I sensed that this particular hook up probably wasn't going to be a vintage one, when WP called yesterday to cancel due to work.

Not a problem as I've never met him before and there is absolutely no point in ruffling your feathers, when your potential date calls you early to cancel.

The next day - now new date day, playing it super casual I texted at 5pm to see if we were still on. "Still on, looking forward to meeting you -x-". So I shut down my laptop, reapplied my lipstick and headed over to Starbucks.

His arrival on time was welcome, but my heart sank when I laid eyes on a super skinny man, with a concave shiny, bald head and all the sex appeal of a lightly boiled egg.

Politeness, curiousity and pity (for him not me!)meant that two hours, two mince pies (one each!) and two coffees later, I emerged from Starbucks drained of all enthusiasm, energy and empathy, having 'enjoyed' the company of a limp, intense, joyless man, who declared himself 'happy and lucky' but clearly neither!

It seemed my happy-go-lucky, chatty self, made an equal impression on WP, as when I checked online later to pick up my latest 'dating' emails, his profile flashed up as being online. Clearly he had already gone back to the drawing board to try and find someone as dull and boring as himself.

It's funny how we delude ourselves about how well those dates that we want to work have gone, but when you've been on a rubbish one, there's no hiding from the truth! Next!

POSTSCRIPT - Unbelievably I have just received a text from the invisible man, telling me what a lovely time he had with me and asking me how my day was. Weird - perhaps he thinks I'm someone else!

It's All About the Picture

So let's cut to the chase, because you know you want to know. Has the Dane been in contact? In a word no. Absolutely no surprise though. One, I made myself look like a total tool with my last email and next you know when you just know, that someone's having a bit of fun, well that's exactly what it was.

When I saw him happily online, chatting to someone else, I had to smile. The good thing is, though that our little flirtation was the boost I needed to revitalise my taking care of myself regime.

Let's just say I am definitely no slacker in working out. I enjoy the buzz, of walking out of the gym and knowing that I've just done a major workout. But somehow the whole healthy eating "my body is a temple" gig has always been a little beyond me, until now.

Slowly, but surely in the past two weeks I've been turning things around, aided by A's bullying encouragement, I have been ditching the junk, and replacing it with the good stuff and hey I'm already noticing the difference in terms of my energy levels and shape.

Which led me to another change. When I first starting virtual dating, all the guys I knew said that the one essential element to any online profile for a woman was the picture that went with it. I managed to dig out a okish shot that passed the boys' test for being suitably alluring and I thought I was doing ok until yesterday.

Buoyed by my new look, I got A, to wave his magic photo lens over me and make me a supermodel. The results, got me more hits than I have ever had in a single day, which left me pondering - the Dane who!

Calamity BB Strikes Again !

They say that some things are just not meant to be and the Dane it would appear now falls under this category.

Having I thought excelled myself in demonstrating both a competitive dating spirit, creativity andblagged lingustic skills (curtesy of an online translator tool!), I have just been told by A, that these translation tools are in short crap, as they tend to give literal meanings as opposed more flexible multi-meanings - leaving the Dane with the impression that I am a total nutcase!

A having comprehensively proved to me that phrasebooks and the internet are no match for actually learning a language, made me laugh by telling me what a loser I was. My response was of course to laugh my head off, because well it is funny isn't it? That will teach me to be such a smart arse !

Ok A, You Said Do Something About the Dane So I Did...

There are some tantalising morsels of beefcake that a diva just can't wave goodbye to without a fight. And the Dane is one of them. He's handsome, funny and smart. A beautiful rarity who leaves a girl hot and bothered just from talking to her.

Having consulted my favourite love guru A, I was sent away with these salient words of wisdom. " Remember he is good looking and good looking guys don't have to chase anybody. They just get chased!"

And my favourite A recommendation, which was to send the Dane a message telling him to come and "Visit my cha cha!", which had the pair of us howling so much that we were in danger of dropping our lattes and not making it through the security gates, back upstairs to our office.

What I adore about A is his attitude to love and the fact that while it is good to put some effort into the dating thing, you have to have some fun with it too. Undoubtedly it is one of the best things I've learnt this year, along with not raining on your own parade too much, because you didn't manage to hook up with that man, woman or love freak you wanted to.

Sure chemistry and perception of it by one or both sides can be a little off-centre (look at me and M - I thought we were hot...he most certainly did not!).

What do I think my chances are with the Dane. In my head - we are dirty, red hot, bad, mad and dangerous to know. But in reality the deck of love cards is firmly stacked against me.

Did I take A's advice? Sort of but not so explicitly - I sent a cheeky 'come and get me' message, translated into Danish (no, not be me, I used an internet language translator!) to show my creativity and willingness to stand out from my competition.

Result - well who knows? My experience of men tells me absolutely nothing. I am completely inept at figuring out what their thinking, their next moves, but it doesn't mean I can't have any fun trying to work them out!

It could really go either way with the Dane but one thing's for sure, instead of thinking I may not be good enough, this time I've thrown my hat into the dating arena and at least joined the race to to win the man and that is really what this merry-go-round is all about. Putting yourself out there and seeing what happens.

Good Girl Gone Bad!

After x many years of being an archtypical good girl, I have decided to do a 360 and tap into my inner nasty girl and have some not too clean fun!

Unfortunately this turn of events has also coincided with two things. First, the disappearance of 'the beautiful one' aka 'The Dane', who of course was way too gorgeous to wait around for this good girl to drop her drawers for him. In this case, I honestly can't blame him though, his body was too beautiful to be enjoyed by just one woman!

Second, is my realisation, that younger guys may be hot, sexy and permanently horny, but generally don't have a lot to say for themselves when they're not horizontal with you. My conversations with R have been akin to talking to a reluctant teenager, chosing to selectively hear what you are saying to them; but wishing they could play their X-box without being distracted!

Being a good girl I was always told, would mean that you had the respect of your peers and potential partners alike. As said good girl, I have never experienced the horror of waking up beside a stranger whose name I can't quite remember.

Nor have I been annoyed with both him and myself as before the wine (or in my case sugar rush) kicked in, I had absolutely no intention of sleeping with him. No, I have missed that particular adventure out of my non-dating journal - special thanks to J, for telling me all about her episode of this though! I confirm I have now stopped laughing!

The reality is although I've never really had any long-term esteem issues (some minor wobbles like most people, two days max followed by my usual can't be bothered to be miserable about it anymore moment!). I can't help thinking that I might be missing out on some meaningless, but naughty fun.

I have vowed that next time the opportunity arises, I am going to go for it. After all even nice girls can be naughty sometimes right! I can just call it my dirty little secret or secrets, depending on how lucky and bad I am going to be!

The Wonder of You !

In a life that is full of running around, meetings, deadlines and trying to manage the expectations of ourselves and others; we would all do well to stop and consider that all work and no play could leave you a jaded, loveless diva. This week the entire hours I have worked are well in excess of my contracted 40 hours, but this is nothing new with me.

My extra hours are to a) keep my job and the wolf HWMBO away from my door and b) in a fruitless attempt to somehow get ahead on my To Do list which never quite seems to happen. I am surrounded by friends and colleagues who put themselves on the line every day, in pursuit of the praise of their bosses, the industry they work in and a decent pay cheque.

But what if this thirst for career glory means everything else goes to pot? What if you live to work? Not work to live? This year five of my closest friends have between them moved abroad to start dream jobs, met the man of their dreams, got married and in two cases had their second babies. All of them are ridculously happy and deservedly so.

My only real accomplishments this year, have been getting my degree - something which finally laid the ghost of me being a college dropout to rest, not just in my parents eyes who have never let me forget my 'failure', but in my own default ability to start big things and once the shiny newness of it all has evaporated, quietly 'forget' to finish them.

And let's not forget my baby - this blog, which I am proud of as it's given a voice to my opinions and connected me with people, (other than the loyal 12 who you see alongside side each entry), who I would never otherwise known about or be in contact with, through the wonderful world of Twitter.

As this year comes to a close, it is blindingly obvious that for years I have put all of my eggs in one basket - my career - only to found out like so many others, that a life without balance between professional and personal can be and feel just a little empty sometimes; regardless of however 'popular' you are in the world around you. Time to shake things up again BB methinks!

What Goes Round Comes Around !

Well it's finally happened. After months of being told how utterly useless I am daily (in his opinion only!), HWMBO has got a taste of his own medicine, curtesy of a little feedback/payback from his DRs.

The realisation that if anyone has to work on themselves then it's him was kind of shocking for him to take onboard. At the end of the day he appeared drained and disillusioned. I asked him how he was.

"In a difficult place, having heard everyone's views, I have a lot to think about", he replied just a little forlornly. "Well", I said pausing cheerily "If anyone can push through this tough time it's you. After all we are in the same boat". I swear, I positively skipped out of his office.

That bitch known as karma continues to bite anyone who thinks they are bigger than her!

When Did I Become A Cougar ?

Having failed somewhat miserably to find a man of of my own age, who is stable, emotionally available, somewhat solvent and generally sane, I have moved onto to younger men; or rather they have made their way into my life.

R told me that he thought I was lovely, genuine and he really wanted to get to know me more. While "The Dane" just cut to the chase and described in explicit detail exactly what he wanted to do with and to me.

I have concluded that sub 30 men are indeed worthy of further exploration in terms of their energy levels, earnest nature and little boy lost personas; which is a welcome constant to their sometimes jaded older rivals.

At closer quarters, since the last time we spoke C has become my housemate. He is adorable, loves cooking, resembles a small puppy in terms of his sheer enthusiasm, is funny (although he does have the tendency to kill a joke stone dead by referring back to it constantly, normally over the space of 24 hours and in doing so reminds me of my ex RG, who always thought he was way more funny then he actually was).

Rather oddly it already feels like I am living with a naughty younger brother, but the reality of having another person, who is so clearly mentally younger, then me in my space, has been sharply brought home by a few niggly habits he has exhibited.

He leaves his tea mug on the floor by the sofa, instead of taking it to the kitchen and washing it up. When he does remember to pick it up, he thinks that by leaving it in the sink, the kitchen fairies will wash it up for him in the night.

Having been gently steered to remove his socks from our drying rack, he did as he was told, but then left the now empty drying rack standing - why the hell he didn't take it down, it clearly wasn't needed any more.

He yawns loudly like a cat repeatedly, says he's tired and then just like a small child, struggles to stay up late.....on a school night! Go to bed C, we all need our sleep!

If he is the typical example of a younger man, then I think I will confine my exchanges with them to dates, dinner and a few random naughty moments. Much less hard work, unless of course I meet one of them who gives me the challenge i'm looking for!

Epilogue - My Big Day !

I thought the day after was supposed to be pants....but it wasn't. HWMBO was surprisingly calm....well as calm as he can be. M had held the fort like a trouper, despite L being off sick and throughout the day I had friends calling me and colleagues coming up to ask how my graduation went.

I stayed late to finish off a few things in the office and then headed off to the supermarket, having been blown out by G yet again. The whole G siuation is definitely no pissing me off - this time no excuse, not even a phone call. I feel a clear the air moment coming on or a parting of the ways is on the cards. I don't do frienemies !

Just as I was scanning my groceries, my phone rang. I have learnt the hard way, that diving around in your bag, trying to retrieve a ringing phone, before it stops ringing is like hoping that dropped toast will land butter side up, it's 50:50.

When I checked my phone later, I found a voicemail from my Dad on it. "B, I just wanted to say congratulations again and talk to you. I'm so proud of you, very proud!" I called him right back, we caught up on our days and ended on our signature "Love you!".

He may be grouchy sometimes, funny as hell (all the time!), wise beyond words and probably the most judgemental person I know, but he has a heart of gold and is the real deal! If I can find a man half as good as him, then I will have found a prize indeed.

My Big Day!

I woke up feeling apprehensive, nervous and just a little anxious. Two reminder phone calls later to my Dad and always late sister and my nerves were soon in check.

I went to pick up my gown...two and a half hours early, just in case! While the hat actually managed to fit over my head and date worthy-worthy uncontrollable weave (don't you find ladies, whenever you are about to go that all important first date you either get a spot outbreak or a bad hair day; or if you are really unlucky both!).

My hire gown was of course, missing the necessary button to hold it in place over my carefully chosen outfit. Being a diva in a state of permanent 'just in case of an emergency' alert and possessing a bag, that truly has everything but the kitchen sink in it, I was able to find two safety pins, so I could pin my gown firmly to me and stop it sliding off.

By 1:30 my Dad had called twice from a speeding taxi cab to let me know he was enroute and when he eventually arrived at 1:45, I couldn't have been more relieved. He looked super sharp, in a beautiful suit, long overcoat and trilby hat. He smiled broadly at me as he got out of the taxi. Not his usual Dad smile, one of those super proud ones, which he reels out once in a blue moon.

By the time I took my seat with the rest of the graduates, my sister and nephew were predictably nowhere to be seen and my nightmare about tripping up the stairs, while collecting my graduation scroll was gnawing away at me.

I counted down the graduates in front of me, felt my mouth go dry then took to the stairs..., negotiated them safely before, gliding off the other end of the stage...job done! All that remained was for me to high five my buddy Judith, be reunited with my family and laugh my socks off at my sister being, well my sister.

Yes, she kept it real, looked absolutely gorgeous and managed to keep her bling habit under control, but it didn't stop her being her usual outrageous self. Arriving with just one ticket between her and my nephew, she somehow talked another graduation guest into moving to another seat, so he could sit beside her. My family you got to love them !

Home and Compromise.

Letting someone into my heart is something I always do unconditionally, way too often and invariably with the wrong person; but hey one day I'll crack it. Letting someone into my home, well that is another matter entirely.

On Saturday my new tenant moves in. In preparation for this event I have decluttered my second bedroom aka my dressing room and returned it to the anonoymous shell it was when I first brought my house five years ago.

Standing in the room, I remembered how bare it once was, with nothing in it but my bed in a box and a single picture on the wall. Downstairs wasn't much better, having rented for years, I'd amassed four suitcases and three boxes as my sum total of worldly goods.

On my first night in the house, I remember crying with joy at the thought that no one could ever again tell me that I had to move out, couldn't decorate, have a pet or hold a wild party. Since then I have revelled in having my own space.

Not having to deal with somone else's mess, leaving my things wherever I want to, padding to the fridge in my bra and pants and not having to negotiate about who has the remote control or which side of the sofa I sit on.

After three false starts with female housemates whohad major league boyfriend (existing and revolving door ones!) and family issues, then of course there's the young lady who managed to block my drains with her habbit of flushing non-biogradable beauty wipes down the toilet, I had pretty much had enough, until S suggested I meet his friend C.

C is quiet, laid-back, calm, funny and quirky, and scored bonus brownie points for nodded in all the right places when I told him about M. Yep, C is the complete opposite of me, which is why I feel that this houseshare just may work. Oh and before I forget C loves to cook...no DIY skills though....well a diva can't have everything can she?

Just one last thing for those of any of you who read the blog and have your fingers crossed for that fairytale ending for me...of course I don't fancy C....sod's law right?

Anti-Climax !

I am 48 hours away from my much longed for graduation and I have to say I'm kind of underwhelmed. My friends appear to forgotten about it or just not be that bothered about it - "You were always going to pass!" and my nutty sister is threatening to out bling everyone in the graduation hall just to freak me out.

My Dad hasn't been feeling the greatest and confessed tonight that it's 50:50 as to whether he'll make it or not. In short, what the hell is going on?

My highpoint has surprisingly come from work. My team who you know I love, gathered around my desk at the end of the day, along with HWMBO and gave me a card and a red letter day experience. I was really touched, particualarly when HWMBO took me by surprise with a speech and and a Dad hug...totally surreal !

Snuggled up on my sofa later, I turned the day around in my head and instead of worrying about who is or isn't bothered about my graduation or just what I am up to in general, I thought about all the time and effort I'd put into getting this darned degree and every else I've achieved this year, and just for once instead of worrying about everyone else and making sure they are ok, I was proud of myself. So roll on Wednesday and please, please don't let me trip up !

Recruitment and Romance

There are several things that hack me off about recruitment agencies. It's not just the copious forms you have to fill out repeating all of the information that's on your cv, before you can even get a pre-interview with the agency.

It's not the various software tests you have are forced to take; it is the the bloody photograph they insist on taking of you. Why do they need it? "Just so we know who you are!" said the receptionist reassuringly pressing her camera button, managing to secure a blinking, deer in headlights shot of me for the file.

My pre-interviewer was AM, a willowy blonde, who proceeded to talk me through my cv, which she clearly hadn't read. One typing test and 10 minutes later I was back out on the pavement, wondering why I'd wasted my time going to the agency at all; a fact reinforced by my being told that the vacancy I had applied for had already been filled.

I took my rumbling stomach to Mc D's for a grease refuel. Standing to my left was a fortysomething, suited man with cat green eyes and a mega watt smile. "Are they still doing breakfast?" he asked leaning in to hear my response, smelling so damned good I almost licked him. "Yes, but you better get your order in sharpish" I replied smiling.

Waiting for my order I could feel him watching me and as I collected my order, he caught me by my arm and said "Can I take your number?". "Why not" I replied. But as he reached into his pocket for his phone, I noticed the familar glint of a wedding band.

"Not a problem for you is it?" he said noticing where my eyes were fixed. "Actually, it is. Enjoy your breakfast!" I said cheerily, turning on my heels and with my bum wiggling for all it was worth, knowing full well that while he was still watching, I had just avoided one of life's little tender traps.

Call Me !

I can stand breaking the heel of my favourite Jimmy Choos, I am a permanent resident at Heartbreak Hotel, hell I can even tolerate working for HWMBO (although hopefully, not for too much longer); but take away my phone and I am sorry but things can turn mildly hysterical with me.

Having left uncharacteristically early from work, without so much as a click of my red heels, I was at home happily pondering what to have for dinner. One horror filled dip into my overflowing handbag confirmed the absence of my phone. Panic gripped me as I desperately retraced my steps, trying to remember when last I'd seen or used it.

Racking my brains was a cloudy, unfocused exercise, particularly as all I could think about was the number of irreplaceable numbers I had on my phone, along with several random numbers of psuedo men who turned out to be no more than dating footnotes.

I thought about last weekend when in an attempt to clean up my numerous saved messages, I relived some very funny and sad moments. For me at various times in my life, my phone has been a mobile support system. It has enabled me to communicate with my wise family, diverting friends and occasionally taken me on a journey of passison, which has lifted some days from mundane to the enchanted.

Arriving back at my office, I was delighted to find that slick, silver box of memories nestling happily in my in-tray. Must save my numbers to my laptop I thought, before calling F.

What A Week!

G and I finally connected via phone after several weeks of silence. She is still with the Fool, she continues to pander to his insecurities by seeing him every weekend, while he in turn, satisfies her need for drama by instigating rows about what she got up to before they met. In short it's all just a little bit too fu..ked up for me !

Even when she called me, he was with her in the background and as normal she couldn't resist recounting their latest row. My advice was blunt as usual "Tell that jackarse you are who you are and he should have your back no matter what!". She repeated my words verbatum to the Fool who of course wanted to talk to me. I declined his kind offer.

Back at work I have been beyond focused. I have micro-managed my every move, to the point of boring myself rigid as I morphed into an administrative superbod so effectively, that HWMBO commended my efforts twice in one week! I know - has he been replaced by a nicer clone?

My new tenant C came over to drop some stuff off on Wednesday, before he officially moves in, in two weeks time. We caught up over a cup of tea and he sealed his place as a new friend by declaring that M's dumping of me was evidence of my having "...a lucky escape!".

Lions and Tigers and Bears Oh My !

I've been offline for the last few days, as I have been at a motivational team building event or so I thought. My first day was filled with the back-to-back presentations and general go team back-slapping you always expect at these type of events.

The next half day was spent doing more of the same, with me still smarting from JA's (if you need to know what the initials stand for - please let me know, I will be only too happy to tell you!) cutting comments clearly directed at me.

I hasten to add, I ran the whole conference last year with a team of one (not a novice team of 4 plus an events company!) and trust me that conferece was the business!

M and I were looking forward to sitting on the train and just for once, going home at a reasonable time until, yes you've guessed it, a timely voice message from HWMBO requesting our immediate return to the office, to "clean up a few things" before the weekend, turned happish Friday into shit Friday in a matter of seconds as anything to do with him, is never simple.

As we walked to the office, I noticed a group of about ten secondary schoolboys in a semi-circle. As we drew closer, I noticed two of them were fighting. I don't know what possessed me, but I ploughed straight in the thick of things"Oi you two stop it!" I shrieked sounding like an EastEnders extra.

I must have looked pretty scary or just pissed off and I was also carrying a baseball bat (a prop from our Sporting Heroes themed fancy dress party the night before) because the boys instantly stopped fighting each other. I told one to "..Do one!" and the other one to "Walk away", before I got really ticked off and then proceeded to give the remaining boys a very graphic telling off, which including parental gems like how 'disappointed' I was in their behaviour and how 'behaving like thugs just ain't cool !"

M told me I had made him laugh when I'd 'kicked off', but he knew I could handle things, and we hurriedly tapped away on our keyboards, pulling together the stuff HWMBO had asked for, until M had to leave.

Hammering through my final update of the day with HWMBO, I realised I had just got my groove back. If I can handle a rowdy group of boys , without turning a hair and keep them in check, why the hell am I so bothered about HWMBO and keeping him sweet? I so want to get things right with him. Make him happy and God knows I try my best every single blooming day.

I've spent so much time over the last six months wrapped up in trying to keep everyone happy (mostly HWMBO), being seen to do the right things, team playing like my life depended on it; until my own ambitions, needs and hey just every day joy have been anniliated. Some days I have wondered what is the actual point of continuing to chase my tail leading such a soulless existence.

Well sod it, from today it's all about me and in keeping with our motivational guest speaker - this diva is Taming her Lions,Tigers and Bears and taking no prisoners!

Introducing .........

As even I get bored with writing and reading back over my ramblings about love, my slightly dodgy life and just things that amuse me, I have decided to introduce an occasional feature to the blog- Drop It Like It's Hot !

Music - New Artist - Mpho

I can't take credit for discovering this South African songbird, S introduced me to her during one of our Apple TV music marathons. Just one listen of her version of Kate Bush classic 'Running Up That Hill', was enough to send me to the i-Tunes store.

Top 3
1. Oopsy Daisy - Chipmunk
2. Want - Natalie Umbruglia
3. Sweet Disposition - The Tender Trap

Hidden Gem - Radio Days, Lower Marsh Street

I stumbled across this beautiful shop near Waterloo station. They sell Vintage Clothing Collectable's Memorabilia from 1920's to1970's. Well worth a visit. radiodaysvintage.co.uk/

Beauty - *Relaunched* Stay Matte Foundation, Liquid, Mousse and Stay Matte Powder

Back with a bang, an old favourite of mine is Rimmel London's Stay Matte range relaunched, with upgraded formulations, matte for up to 12 hours and a containing natural shine-control complex combining three botanicals cotton, chamomile and cucumber. My only complaint as usual, with all of the cosmetics giants in the UK ,is the limited colour range available nationwide.

Fashion - Back to Black and right on trend, leather has hit the High Street ! Go online to H&M, click on their style guide feature and turn up the heat as an interactive stylist. My favourite pick is the strapless faux leather dress £29.99 - guaranteed to get a diva noticed !

Fair to Middling

Sometimes there is nothing more comforting than a day of mediocrity and it is just such a day I have found myself gently nestled in. HWMBO was working from home (relief)! M1 was exhausted from a night spent looking after his sick baby, but just about made it through the day without the caffeine kick of my proplus pills.

I love those little bubbles of energy, which regularly ensure that during various Board meetings, I display all the alertness of a meerkat on steroids - all straight backed and starey eyed!

My mania surrounding my graduation ceremony, has given way to the smug satisfaction of having my tickets arrive, finding a dress I can walk, eat in and hopefully climb the stairs to the presentation lecturn to. My only stumbling block, finding a hat big enough to get my hair into was evaporated when I correctly measured my head circumference !

Just spoke to Tigger, who is still living in rose-tinted bliss with "The Child"or my other favourite name for her "The Hobbit", who Tigger continues to let nowhere near me, for fear of my messing with her delicate, slightly restricted intellect.

We agreed it's been way too long since our last dedicated evening piss-taking/catch up session and made a date for next week. Can't wait - a guaranteed laugh in session with one of my favourite people. Just what the doctor ordered !

Fighting Fit!

There are three things a diva may turn to, to help her get through the shame of being dumped - copious amounts of wine, unlimited retail therapy and the steady demolition of her favourite sugary treat.

I favour a fourth way - the gym or in this instance a hard core session on the treadmill, followed by hitting the punchbag as hard as possible, while visualling it with M2's face on it.

I must have still been sporting the look of a deranged, angry woman on my face during my train journey home, because I caught the eye of a fellow male passenger who declared
"Cheer up darling, it might never happen!". "It already has" I said.
"Let me guess darling, man trouble?" I nodded.
"Don't worry you'll get over it". "I already have" I replied smiling, as I got off the train. M2 who?

Putting A Lid On It!

Now that the dust has settled and more importantly I have sent a measured, but suitably cutting "....And another thing" e-mail to M2- which really it had to be done, because he's just been such a dickhead. No spark my arse - he has been all over me like a rash from the first moment moment we met, including some very, very soppy text messages.

Ordinarily this diva maintains her cool in break-up situations (with my track record I've had a lot of experience!) and if he had displayed just one morsel of shame, I might have let him get away with that lame kiss off. Being classy can be such a bore sometimes, particularly when you know someone is taking the complete piss out of you. However, M2's 360, plus his dumb arse follow-up text message, definitely warranted him being called out by me, for being the insincere, indecisive wolf that he is.

Who knows maybe he has indeed gone back to his ex, that's what usually happens in these scenarios. The very same ex who he was too scarced to tell that he was seeing me, for fear of jeoparisdising a favourable post-split deal on the house, the business and more importantly potentially losing custody rights to the dog. Yes, you did hear me right his damned dog, or actually his ex's damned dog !

That should have been a flag right there for me huh?. Lesson 101 in the Great Book of Dating, has just been learned !

Rallying Round !

When the chips are down and a diva is feeling bummed out, she can always rely on her friends to step in and give her a firm talking to.

A responded in typical brutual fashion "BB he's definitely not for you. He just said the right things you wanted hear and got to you that way. Yes, that text message he sent you was stupid, but remember me and H ? I don't want you to turn this on yourself, just forget about him, really who is this guy anyway?"

S & R dropped by to whisk me away to IKEA for sympathy, meatballs and buying something for just for the hell of it therapy. R was uncharasteristically vocal "He's an idiot. It's like he's made this decision without even thinking about it. Not everything is about thunderbolts and sparks flying around. What about slow burn, getting to know someone and hell whatever happened to compromise".

"You went away with him, joined in with him, doing something that scarces the crap out of you (we went to a theme park and I got on some really big rides against my better judgement and so M2 wouldn't have to go on everything by himself - I know you've got to give me 10 out of 10 for effort!) put yourself out there for him and this is how he behaves" . He sounds like an indecisive knob!".

G was even more scathing "What a f..cking arsehole! You're honest with him about what you want, hell you even asked him whether he was in the right place to be dating and he just acts like a total dickhead. What an arsehole!"

I agreed with all of the above of course and thank my friends for reassuring me that M2 should be consigned to box of losers in my past and that his opinion is one to completely ignore.

The ritual of removing M2 began when I deleted M2's last incredibly stupid text to me and ended with me deleting his number from my phone. I then congratulated myself for being tear and sugar free - after all what's the point of wasting my energy and eating my way into a sugary frenzy.

What a difference a year of dodgy dating makes - no expectations - no disappointment - or at least no disappointment big enough for me to feel blue about anymore! Men, I just don't understand them.

Same Old Story, Same Old Song

It appears that M2 does indeed know what he wants and it isn't me. It seems my cynical initial misgivings about M2 were spot on. How I long to be proved wrong by a man...any man....come on there must be one man out there, who is exactly what and who he says he is, knows what he wants and doesn't play games or do a U-turn of moumental proportions.

We have just returned from a few nights away and while seated on my sofa drinking my perfectly made tea, M2 calmly declared that he didn't think there was 'a spark between us, he couldn't see himself falling in love with me anytime soon (what an idiot) but that I was a 'lovely person".

I said I was disappointed, which I was, because he appeared to have put a lot of time into convincing me that he was genuinely interested in me, that I let my guard down really began to enjoy his company and all the silly things like funny and filthy texts and end of the day phone calls; only to find myself disappointed again.

Being disappointed by men is something boring, that I am so used to experiencing, that if a straight, available man actually was genuinely interested in me and then didn't disappoint me, I am absolutely sure the shock would probably kill me!

The effort, time and energy that it took me to suspend my disbelief, open up, talk to M2, get to know him and get 'involved' with him has not been completely misspent. Once again I have learnt a valuable lesson that nice guys can just be a different class of the bad boys (aka bastards) I have routinely gone for since I started dating.

M2 obviously felt sufficiently good about the way he'd left things with me, to feel that keeping the lines of communication open was appropriate, and has just sent the following cheery text message saying that "It was not my intention to make you sad. Keep smiling B". Cheers M2, a truly legendary moment in inappropriate behaviour.

It beggars belief the unfortunate timing and ways men come up with along a generous smattering of temporary verbal diarrhoea which seems to afflict them, when they dump women.

For the record, to the men who read my blog - Being told there is no spark by a man, tells the woman on the receiving end of said statement t,hat they are missing lacking something. It could be anything - brains, beauty, sex appeal whatever. However, in no shape or form is it a nice, cheery, warm, friendly, positive thing for a woman to hear; and the likelyhood of said woman continuing to smile when confronted by this statement, is in a nutshell totally unlikely.

Being told that somebody doesn't seeing themselves falling in love with you, for a woman is like being hurt with a blunt instrument in a very delicate place as both your pride and ego take a double whammy to the guts.

If you then add to that, being told by the same person , that they didn't mean to hurt you, think you're great anyway; then this truly takes the biscuit .....nice knowing you M2, you are a total idiot!

Back With A Bang !

So for those of you who have been worried about my absence online, fear not. Since last we spoke, my mum has made a swift recovery from her illness. My appraisal with HWMBO was a car crash meeting of two people in a terminal relationship, resulting in me stepping up my efforts to find a new 'opportunity' elsewhere.

I am finally on my much vaulted holiday and enjoying reading, writing, staying up even later then usual and just having some time to myself for the first time in what seems like ages. Another thing which hasn't happened in ages is me receiving the attentions of a good man.

Despite my initial slightly judgemental reservations, M2 continues to be a man on a mission to win my affections. He calls on time, turns up for dates, snogs like a dream (among other things!), is funny, smart, can fit kitchens, bathrooms and is able to lay floors - I know, a man with genuine DIY skills - an allrounder!

How long his pursuit of me continues for, I have no idea, but what a change it makes to spend time with a man who knows what he wants. Correction - seems to know what he wants. I was beginning to think that this class of man was extinct!

Day From Hell and the Parent Trap

This week has been driven by work surprise, surprise. I was overtaken by the drama that is preparing for mid-year reviews. The concept of racing around the business trying to get a peer and a superior to say how amazing you are is about as real is C's boobs.

E-mails are exchanged, favours are called in and everyone gets a chance to smugily review their handy work before sending it onto the relevant person's boss. HWMBO's decision to move me up his appraisal schedule, forced some nifty footwork by yours truly.

I reworked my objectives ready, keen to present the proactive face of someone not desperate to escape the corporate circus ring, but to continue to be proactive, productive part of it.

A surprise e-mail from my Mum spun my head into an orbit and the day on its head. My Mum is the original diva with a double topping of religion on top of her. No matter what the situation, her ability to bring God into the conversation in on the undercard is 100% guaranteed.

We are so completely different in personality, temperament, looks just about everything really, I have often wondered how we can be related.

First she told me off for not being in touch and then informed me that she was recovering from pneumonia, having been in hospital for the last three weeks and had been released two days ago. Then she proceeded to tell me who I would need to contact in the event of her death. She ended things by telling me that she hoped I was well.

I did what any reasonable diva would do in the situation and proceeded to cry like a baby, followed by a guilt trip of momumental proportions. I hysterically dialled her number over and over until she picked up.

She sounded exactly the same, calmed and unfailingly poised, unlike me. She proceeded to relay her entire experience, complete with biblical asides and apologised for alarming me. I could quite cheerily of killed her !

M2 was lovely, offering to drive down from his to mine to cheer me up and look after me. He really is turning out to be a beautiful man and I am liking him more and more.

Am I Settling ?

Waking up this morning I felt smugily relieved that I had made it through my date in one piece. On the train to work, I replayed our conversations and couldn't help but smile. I had a good laid-back uncomplicated time, which as we know is practically unheard of for me.

I would and should have been content, but for a nigglying feeling in the back of my mind; that somehow I had moved from being a sexy must have to a left on the shelf relic, just grateful to be taken out by anybody and treated well.

Five years ago I wouldn't have given M2 the time of day. Sounds shallow I know, but so true. I would have focused on our height difference - I was positively Amazon beside him in my non-negotiable heels. I would have dismissed his thug you like face - East End gangster meets Bulldog and his musclebound michelin man body, would have had me demanding that he cut-down those gym sessions.

Yes back in the day, I considered myself such a foxy piece of tail, that if you didn't have beauty, brawn and brains, the closest you'd get to me was via satellite link. Which led me to the question when did I move from looking for Mr Right Now to settling for a pumped up version of my ex R?

Now before you reach for your Jimmy Choos to throw at me and remind me of my previous crappy love interests, the irony of becoming a 'settler' is not wasted on me. For years I have pursued men who I have considered to be my ideal and they have consistently, unremittingly let me down. Don't get me wrong it wasn't a campaign of rejection by them, it as more so my allowing myself to be treated like an afterthought.

I have only been on the one date with M2 so far, but by virtue of his openess, punctuality/ability to actually be bothered to show up (!), manners and lack of complications, he is already head and shoulders (pardon the pun) above some of those Mr Ideals I have spent so much time on. But like the beginning of every good book, what will happen next? Well that's another blog entry.

The Date

So you're wondering what happened on the date? Well here goes. I left work on time and headed to Covent Garden. Waiting outside the tube station I prowled around like a caged tiger waiting for her prey to arrive.

When M2 arrived, on time (no H timekeeping or even bothering to show up issues here, thank God!), it was a pleasant surprise. He wasn't the man mountain I expected in weight terms. In fact, telling me he had a houze body, was both a joke and test to see whether I would show up or not.

At Chez Gerard, we took up residence on the balcony and got down the nitty gritty of enjoying a meal and finding out more about each other. The conversation flowed, the sense of humour we had captured during our initial hook up was alive and well.

We were so entertaining, that the couple opposite who seemed to be in the throes of a row, spent most of their evening throwing each other angry looks and listening to our conversation.

"So you have you had a good time" M2 asked. "Yes" I said smiling. "Want to do it again?". "Yes, if you can find the time", I said recalling his work schedule which is totally crazy. "The ball's in your court. If you're bothered you'll find the time, if not then we've had a good night", I said finishing my dessert.

What a turnaround - As every diva knows one date does not a relationship make. Once you have learnt this lesson and abandoned any expectations of fairytale endings, then you can consider yourself well versed in the art of dating, whatever the dating dilemma.

The One With The Crunchy Stomach

So here I am minus 24 hours and counting to my date. I have face packed, defuzzed, spent way too much time deciding to wear a dress, of course a flattering black one, paired with black evening jacket, black stilettoes and purple clutch bag.

G called kowing I would be freaking out with the reassuring declaration that "You are one hot woman and this guy should think himself lucky to be going out with you. And make sure he buys you dinner!"

She can be so romantic when she wants to be! She even promised to throw in a free SOS emergency call, during dinner, just in case the date turns into a disaster and I need a speedy escape route.

My stomach is crunching at the thought of putting myself in the firing line for a little more dating disappointment or just out and out rejection. What happened with PP has suddenly popped back in my head and I am trying my best to not think that I have to get through a full day with HWMBO's slings and arrows before I even go on the blooming date. Oh for a quiet life!

Size Does Matter !

So I've been trying to get my head around the potential man mountain M2 is going to be and it is still worrying me. A and G offered heartfelt examples of friends or acquaintances who hooked up with bigger partner, then motivated them to drop the weight quick time and ended up with Mr or Mrs Right.

Thinking about it again, I realised that I was behaving just like some of the arseholes I've encountered this year and judging a book by its cover, without actually turning any of the pages. It's so easy to be seduced by a pleasing exterior, but it doesn't always mean the inside matches.

Oh No!

Yes, you've guessed it G is sticking with the Fool and what's more he's moving in with her. Love really does make you nuts !!

And so we move on to the ridiculous aka my love life. M2 is continues to be on his best behaviour and we are meeting up Thursday. Great I hear you say, yep, it would be if a certain matter hadn't been brought to my attention.

While reviewing men's profiles I have noticed that they are not backwards in coming forward, when it comes saying exactly what they are looking for in potential partners, from looks to how much they weigh. On M2's profile he specified his weight, but, during a conversation today I found out that he hadn't been honest about it. He is bigger, much bigger.

Having already agreed to meet with him on Thursday, I have decided to tackle the matter face to face. You never know. My willingness to meet up with M2 was reinforced by the arrival of this little gem in my mailbox from the rather sleazy J, who has winked at me repeatedly for the last 2 weeks.

"Hi, loved your profile and pictures. I am online hoping to find a gorgeous busty black lady with the curves to match her sparkling smile and willing to jump for joy and fly on the wings of love and passion - I think you're that woman".

Lucky me - not! Clearly my having a brain, personality, hell maybe even some opinions just insn't that important. There are lots of things I look for in partners, however picking someone on the grounds of their race as part of my checklist has never ever entered my head.

The fact that this idiot thought it might be flattering in some way to highlight his racial preference to me, probably goes some way to explaining why he is single and probably will be for the foreseeable future.

Secrets and Lies

A few of you both here and via Twitter have asked me what my problem is with G's boyfriend aka the Fool. Where do I start ? First there's what G's told me about him. He is smart, but childish, verging on petulant. He's a lightswitch guy - hot one day, ice-cold the next - to the point of making G want to head for the door sometimes.

Then there's his determined efforts to get me on side. It seems he is 'threatened' by my close relationship with G and has made repeated text message entreaties to me to either 'talk to her' when he feels a row is getting out of hand or his latest prose asking "why don't you want to meet me?....I was hoping you, me and G could have a threesome". Another text followed the next morning saying that the previous text was "meant to be a joke".

Next is his jealousy - he is demanding of her time in person, (every weekend she makes a two train hour journey to see him) via text, phone and videocam. During his more dramatic moments when they are rowing, he enjoys doing so via all three mediums for maximum effect.

And rowing is exactly what they are doing again. Having managed to survive a whole week in each other's company at G's place (the first time since the infamous "we were on a break incident"), it seems the Fool still hasn't learnt the lesson that if you go looking for trouble, it will surely find you first.

While staying with G, he went snooping and stumbled across some things that pointed to a really dark time in G's life and some major demons that she had to face, fight and get over. Stuff that I and her other friends who know about it are exceptionally proud of her for dealing with, overcoming and leaving behind.

When I first met G, I didn't like her very much. She seemed cold, spiky and just wouldn't engage with me on any level really. As I got to know her, I found her to be a smart, warm, funny, hugely complicated woman, but with a heart of solid gold. When she told me about her skeletons I didn't occur to me to judge her, in fact I respected her honesty and it was the final part of the puzzle for me as to who she was.

So I was totally pissed off to hear her on the phone, practically breaking her heart, because having 'found out' not been told (which it was G's right to do that in her own time) the Fool decided to give her a hard time about it.

It is hard to own and be honest about your dark side and because of this many of us choose to say nothing for fear of contempt, judgement or rejection. The one place where you expect to find unconditional love apart from family and friends, would be with your special somebody. When that person lets you down, it's no wonder that you feel that the carpet's been dragged out from under you.

I have my fingers firmly crossed that G sees the light and ditches the Fool. Unfortunately, my instinct tells me that she'll do the one thing that so many of us do, even when crappy situations are smacking us in the face; and hang on in there hoping things will get better.

First Contact

The first phone call with a potential new squeeze can go either of two ways. After 5 mins it can shudder to an uneasy halt, as you struggle to exchange the same pleasantries you might reserve for a fellow rail passenger. Or if you luck out be more like the light hearted conversation I had with M2 yesterday.

He called on time and on the right day. For those of you who are concerned about my obsession with men either not showing up at all or communicating so infrequently with you, that you wonder whether they have been swallowed up by a black hole - it is an unfortunate legacy of my time with H (see 'H' June 09).

I didn't think it was necessarily the worst thing in the world a man could do to a woman, continually standing her up - more inconvenient. Kind of like a harsh reminder of how not to be treated by someone. Even my inflated ego took a kicking during that prolonged moment of madness.

As a lady who has never been hung up on poster boy looks, more on humour, being smart, sarcastic, honest and sincere (I know, no wonder I'm single - these are rare qualities indeed in your average man), my methods of establishing whether some or any of these qualities are present within them are varied, but one of them is in his voice.

M2's voice was warm and friendly and he made me laugh from the start of our conversation courtesy of a few well timed-jokes at his own expense. An hour rolled by before we both signed off to returned to an afternoon of phone calls, meetings and frustrations like, why do I have to share a room with a work colleague at conference?

I can't think of anything more off-putting then seeing a female colleague first thing in the morning devoid of make-up, straight out of the shower resembling a drowned rat or face down on their bed after a hard night's drinking (them, not me!).

After the call I got a cheeky text from M2 saying how great it was to talk to me at last. "When are you going to meet up with your boyfriend" sang A, having first sung "B and M2 sitting in a tree K.I.S.S.I.N.G!" .

Totally juvenile I know, but so darned funny and of course A can get away with being a knob some of the time...I mean most of the time ! You know it's true you little bulldog you! "I don't know" I replied snappily.

The question had of course already arisen. During our conversation he talked about the two businesses he runs and from the sound of things, never really switches off from. I couldn't stop myself from throwing the practical stone of reality into proceedings.

"With all that work on, I have no idea how you find time for yourself let alone someone else. Are you sure you are ready to start dating, after your break-up?". "For the right person, I'd make time B" , he replied just a little too smoothly for my liking.

The jury's still out on you M2 - who of course doesn't know about my blogging ! Before I forget he sent me his picture stroking a dog .....- stormingly funny !! "Has my ugly mug put you off" he said via text. "No of course not I said, I've always wanted to date a Bond villian lookalike !".

Holly Golighty Neeeds a Burger - Fast !!!

Last night I went with friends to the theatre to see 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'. It started off light and fluffy, nurtured by quirky casting of Anna Friel. This little moppet (as she still resembles a teenager), started out in Brookside, has gone on to sparklein the La La Land of TV success, having previously set many a teenager boys' pulse into racing anxiety in the 80's, with a short, sweet girl on girl kiss.

By the mid-way part of the production, the cosy Audrey Hepburn Holly of the Hollywood classic had been exposed and stripped bare. First by her life as a high class hooker, next by the derobing of Ms Friel.

The female form is truly a an artistic miracle. At its best, with its soft curves and fleshy angles, it is powerful enough to create and enthrall while initiating a delicious anticipation in the eyes of a beholder; waiting hungrily to see it diversed of any cover.

When Ms Friel stood on stage naked, I was overcome by a combination of horror and pity. She was practically emacipated from top to bottom, devoid of absolutely any muscle tone or bulk. This tiny, mum of one, stood proudly on stage, displaying breasts which hung like empty water balloons, sealed by bullet hard (due to the ice-cold theatre temperature) nipples. As if this wasn't enough fher lat round bottom looked like an abino abandoned on an island of colour.

Looking down at my perfect double D's I was instantly comforted by the realisation, that my love of exercise, plus real food, means that I would never have to take off my clothes and be confronted by such a miserable sight.

Breakfast at Tiffanys ! Try a three course meal Anna ! Trust me you need one! For those of you who think that this diva is living up to her name - and being a jealous bitch, consider this - what type of message is Ms Friel sending to her four year daughter, as she sees Mummy slipping into 8 year olds clothes and chasing a lettuce leaf around a plate. Eating next to nothing means you can look just like Mummy.....I rest my case !

Not What I Ordered, But Possibly Better!

Sometimes a diva is surprised at how the underdog rises to the top of the dating pile. M2 continues to amuse me with vaguely dodgy sense of humour, which in the right side silly. He isn't my normal city boy arsehole, but is just as smart - runs two businesses and has the work ethic of a man in a hurry to retire sooner rather than later.

He is also exhibiting all the positive behaviours of Mr DJ - namely the ability to consistently talk and communicate with you, unhindered by time delays caused by work, life or the need to wait for his wife or girlfriend to leave the room before talking to me.

Come on, things might be going ok, but it will take more than a small sustained period of 'good behaviour' from any man I'm interested in, for me to believe in his sincerity or more importantly honesty.

I will continue to do what all single women should remember to do - 'wait and see' - he'll either turn out to be a gem or yet another f..k up for me to chalk up to experience !

That Friday Feeling !

Well another one of my favorite partners in crime is deserting the good ship E. Fast on the heels of N and S , it was DA's turn to hand in a neatly worded statement of his attention to exit the company stage left.

DA has decided after reaching the grand old age of....(well he's such a woman he won't actually confess how old he is after his recent birthday, but by my estimate I'd say he is mid-to late 30's!) - that he is going to jack in his job (after a traumatic few years in his personal life) and go off travelling.

I am happy for him, but I'm gonna miss my cheeky Italian Stallion, not just because of his ice blue eyes (crystal clear and deadly to any woman who has had more than one glass of wine!), he's super smart, tells really dodgy jokes and inappropriate stories, but because he is part of the small honourable clan of 'Tell It Like It Is Men' - not as you or they for that matter, might want things to actually be.

He is of course a randy dog of the highest order, because he wants to be and partly for protective purposes; if you act like you don't care, then you don't get hurt!. He cheerfully admits to making up for all that shagging ........I mean dating time, he missed out while he was married to the ex.

The funny thing is once he finishes his one man assault on bedding as many attractive 20 - 30 somethings in London and the Home Counties, he will like an uncut diamond, make the perfect partner for the right woman.

Any woman other than his much despised ex who waltzed out of the divorce court, into the sunset with his house, half his earnings and shared custody of his much loved son; after cheating on him. It was only a matter of time before karma bit the arse of that trollop.

The irony of DA's soon to be reduced wallet contents and the impact of this on his ex's standard of living, via his generous maintenance cheques, brought a gleeful glint to DA's eyes when he said he couldn't wait to tell her the 'good news' !!

While divorce is sad, massively painful and let's be honest downright fucking, expensive, sometimes a wronged party who has made it through the crappy realisation that the person they married is actually toxic.

When that wronged against party has managed to pull themselves together to give that outward semblance of normality, they can be forgiven for deriving a hint of pleaure at the pain of the wrongdoer. Oh to be a fly on the wall for that conversation between DA and the ex...meow !

The New Mr Right Now

The departure of Mr DJ (off into the sunset with a better prospect - the fool! No not G's boyfriend the Fool, just referring to the foolish behaviour of Mr DJ), has left a vacancy in the role of my virtual suitor.

Enter M2. Not really a newcomer . I have been keeping him on the side, on a lukewarm engine alongside Mr DJ and one other. In short behaving like so many of the men (single or married!) in the virtual and real world behave. M2 is shaven headed (yes!), single (yes, an essential ingredient for any candidates hoping to fill the role long-term, lives in Ashford (there are some things a diva can let slide by her otherwise high standards) and is very chatty (rare for a man unless they are super keen on you or just just plain gossips).

So far the emails exchanged between us have been clean, wholesome and chasten in their content. The type of conversation you would have at the hairdressers, covering such staple dating openers as "What's your idea of a fun day?" "What do you do for a living?" and "Have you been on holiday this year and if yes where?". The fact that these gems have featured in his emails, betrays him as a being an internet virgin. A man who's used to gentle probing - perhaps?

Well in the interests of keeping myself amused and introducing him to the mad, bad, totally fickle world of online dating, this diva has decided to deflower him!...Metaphorically speaking of course!

Mediocrity Really Does Breed Discontent !

It's been one of those hit and miss days, that good columnists can never quite bring themselves to write about. As an amateur hack (I only climb the dizzy heights of columnists' when in full ranty mode or recounting sizeable pieces of girlie gossip), I am happy to exploit this level mediocrity in the hope of making some sense of an otherwise crappy day !

Deciding to leave a job is a bit like a step-by-step rehab programme. You reach rock bottom. For me that means a bad day with HWMBO ! You acknowledge your problem (apart from Haribo Blue Starmix, an obsessional love of my hair extensions ( I haven't had a bad hair day since about 1998); my rock bottom is my appallingly crap taste in men and somehow finding myself lost in a spiral of unfufilling jobs, which I invest far too much time and energy in.

Next comes the detox or the realisation that you hate your job so much,that your only option is to leave it, fast. And so you enter the recovery zone. Re-doing your cv after securing the missing ingredient which you suspect has always kept your cv in the 'maybe' pile, is strangely satisfying.

However, the prospect that in less than two months, I will be ascending the stairs of a stage in an echo strewn hall, trying my best not to trip arse over tit in ridculously high heels to pick up my degree, is both exciting and terrifying. As any diva knows whenever she finds herself clad in an undesirable cloak of indeterminate fabric, the only way she can ensure she stands out from the crowd is to sport some totally fierce heels and a big smile!