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!

My Favourite Place

My favourite place in London is the National Portrait Gallery. Every Thursday and Friday it is open until 9pm, and on the last Thursday of each month, I go there to pay to pay homage to the beauty of its exhibits and serenity of the building that houses them.

Tonight was a special members only night, allowing cardholding members and their guests entry to the featured Gay Icons exhibition and the BP Portrait Prize.

I invited A along, who after accepting my invitation warned me that I wasn't "To wear anything cheap and flammable, natural fibres only darling!" Clearly paying me back for the polyester pants incident! (See - How Do You Mend A Broken Heart, July 2009).

I dutifully brought in an orange shift dress, black belt, houndstooth peep-toe stilettos and clutch bag to change into at the end of the day. A's response was to nip out at lunch time and pick up two shirts, 'model' them alia catwalk style in middle of the office, before deciding on the black one to compliment what I was wearing.

After stalking through the gallery for some two hours, during which time A displayed the metabolism of a a python who has missed out on a live snack, diving in every bowl of snacks dotted on the buffet tables throughout the gallery, we went to dinner.

I knew that dining with A would be hilarious and we laughed our way through two courses. We downed oysters (1 for me - which for the record I disliked, three for A who guzzled them down with the cheeky enthusiasm of a seasoned dabbler. Our mains of cod on a bed of pea mash for me, steak gratin for him. Can anyone tell me, why someone would find eating semi raw steak, topped off by a raw egg a pleasurable experience?

Walking home from the restaurant I couldn't contain myself from remarking "What a great evening it's been and here I am stuck with a beautiful gay man, instead of heading off home, to a hot man in my bed and on a promise" . A's nippy response "Well it's no picnic for me either honey" had us both in stitches! A perfect end to a fun evening.

Sad Stuff

I've always felt that Facebook was just a means of networking with your friends, family and even business contacts, but sometimes its immediacy pentrates your consciousness with the announcement of unwelcome and unexpected events that neither you or others are unprepared for.

So sorry to hear your sad news JB. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

B
-x-

Happy Thursday !

Yes, you are reading correctly. I said Happy Thursday. Which means it is a red letter day. Truly awesome and almost equal to my normal Happy Friday.

First HWMBO was on great form - yes I said this was a special day. He wasn't moody at all, in fact, he was even tempered for the whole of the day and actually said thanks on more than one occasion.....I know how bloody marvellous and random was that! Sort of like winning the lottery, but without the joy of being able to buy another pair of shoes!

Next was the day itself - seamless like moi. Everything I touched went right....at one point I checked my shoes in case I was wearing Dorothy's red ones and humming "No More Drama", all at the same time ! A emailed me from his holiday destination and make me laugh so much I nearly choked on my solo latte.

At lunch instead of wasting 10 of those precious 60 minutes, queueing for a sandwich, a checkout miraculous opened up with me as the first customer and best of all ,things are going tip-top with Mr DJ. Who? I hear you scream. Come on. Sometimes, a diva has to keep some things to herself, particularly with a run of 'bad man' luck which would drive a lessor mortal to drink.

Mr DJ is single, (result!), well adjusted (this is of course all a provisional assessement and so over his ex, again this is just a provisional finding - as I know time is the real judge of these situations!) nice in a clean cut Gap way and can flirt like a trouper. He replies to emails promptly, has a GSOH, is self depreciating which as we know I adore and you've guessed it, likes me only as a friend....damnit!

Yes I have received another polite Dear diva letter, as love's arrow had hit Mr DJ and he is even now romancing someone else! Disappointed yeah, surprised not in the least, my expectations levels from the beginning of the year to now are exactly fixed at nil. If something happens great, if it doesn't I chalk it up to another one of life's little lessons. Not worth being down hearted about !