Tulisa : The Price of Fame

There was a definite poor me/victim slate, along with a dash of paranoia and shades of Geri Halliwell who did a truly awful documentary charting her life after her spilt from the Spice Girls :0)

Call me cynical but the fact that Tulisa took the time to enlist a film crew to chart her 'agony' and try to spin a bad situation, to help with her media and in turn sponsor...ship rehabilitation; was pretty hard-nosed and businesslike, contrasting sharply with the actions of the victim she was trying to portray to us.

Her acting audition which was apparently ruined by someone following her to her casting agents, seems to have continued at home with her tearful monologue to camera. Just a flag, who cries into a camera and then keeps ranting 'they made it happen!' ?

We've always known about leaks to the press, but when the film confirm that her right-hand man Gareth had leaked a false court location to the press, it made me wonder what else have #TeamTulisa leaked to the press during the course of the year.

So who's to blame for Tulisa's situation - she is. There's no smoke without fire, particularly when your last meltdown was over your sex tape being released on the internet.

The buck stops with her behaviour and she should take ownership of that. She put herself in a very dodgy situation driven by greed and to a degree stupidity. She believed her own hype and it's the one thing, that has destroyed many a bigger and better 'star' than she is and ever will be.

If Tulisa thought this documentary was going to put her point of view across, unfortunately she failed. Of course Twitter flamed with tweets about the show, some from #TeamTulisa, saying how strong she had been during her 'ordeal' . The rest focused on her massively changed physical appearance, particularly her lips since her N'Dubz days.

Only time will tell whether Tulisa : The Price of Fame has proved to be an own goal for its star.

Just Call Me Wing Girl !

I was lucky enough to meet one of my favourite people, via a model friend on the set of a client's commercial. She mentioned a friend who had an online boutique, that was in need of a little of my social media magic and the rest as they say is history.

L is funny, ridiculously smart, effortlessly glamourous and unbelievably, single. Unlike me, she's taken to the wonderful world of Tinder, to find a mate and regularly delights me with her dating updates over a cheeky latte or two.

"So I just had a message from my disaster dinner date tonight". I couldn't help but smile as she continued, "The poor chap had a terrible nervous twitch. So distracting! It just didn't turn me on!!", at which point we both burst out laughing.  

"So he texted me, "Can I see you again?" I replied, saying I didn't think there was enough chemistry for us to take it further and he replied,

"Crikey, that was £200 well spent then" (NICE!!!!!)

Sour grapes in dating is never a great thing, but you can't fight that old devil chemistry. I recounted my latest dating adventure and instead of the over the top response of the only other buddy I'd mentioned it to, L fired back briskly "Next!"

Less than 24 hours later she came up with the perfect salve to my bruised ego.

"I've been invited to see Snoop Dogg on Thursday. Are you free?"

I'm not the fastest texter usually but I pinged a yes back pronto. As turned out I was to be her wing girl, to shield her from the advances of a recent Tinder buddy, who unfortunately, wasn't working out. He had said she could bring along a friend, who could keep his friend company so to speak.

I didn't realise how badly things were going between them, until as I noticed a grumpy looking man, staring intently at the pair of us, as we walked towards the gig venue. It was her date and his friend ! She'd walked straight by the pair of them (she's as blind as a bat without her glasses, which she refuses to wear in public) and was on the phone actually calling him, to ask where he was !

The concert was of course off the chain. Snoop was on fire. L's date's buddy turned out to be a cool guy. I thanked L's date for inviting me along and then we hit the awkward parting moment. L's date asked which way I was going and I said to the underground.

For some reason I was looking at L as I make my declaration and seeing her panic at the thought of being left with her date, said we were going in the same direction.

Conceding he was fighting a losing battle, L's date kissed her on the cheek and started to walk away, turning briefly to gesture (in the weirdest way - tapping his fingers like he was playing on an x-box) that she should text him.

"I take it you won't be texting him then?" I asked her. "Hell no!" she said mimicking his tapping fingers :0)

 

Addicted To : Made In Chelsea

My devotion to this show is legendary. Anyone who knows me, knows that I have spent just about every series of it, tweeting wise guy comments about the increasingly ridiculous, almost incestuous activities of its bright young thing inhabitants.

 

What drives my tweeting are the cast members and their 'adventures'. I marvel at their ability to shift from one rocky relationship to another at breakneck speed, barely taking a breathe to digest what just happened, while wharfing from one sexy location to location, always immaculately dressed and if they're female always in possession of a killer wardrobe and divine arm candy.

 

The current main storyline concerns the up until now super sensible, but oh so silly named Binky and her boyfriend Alex; well actually I should ex, ex boyfriend.

 

First, because he cheated on her 3 times and then after she'd taken him back after this spell of cheating; it was revealed (two of her girlfriends at a social gathering) that while they were 'on a break', Alex had, had an orgy with several girls and his best buddy Spencer.

 

I sat google-eyed as Binky wrestled with staying true to the candle of love she still held for Alex and her increasingly exasperated group of girlfriends, pleading with her to see sense. Binky of course saw absolutely no sense and proceeding to lost it with two of her best girlfriends and in the most WTF moment of the episode, made peace with Spencer, Alex's orgy buddy in crime.

 

Honestly you couldn't make it up - of course I jest since like so much other reality TV series MIC undoubtedly has more than it's fair share of scripted moments, usually for characters who are interminably boring like Victoria 'Horse Face', who's job remains a mystery and whose biggest MIC moment to date was denouncing another cast member Cheska as being...horror or horrors...Ugly !

 

My writing has just been interrupted by a mini tribe of curly haired 'far to beautiful for words' curly haired boys taking pictures outside the Starbucks I'm writing in. It seems a timely place to end this entry.

He's Just Not Into You !

It's taken me a while, well actually several decades to conclude that my love life is almost permanently pants.

This isn't a bitter harpy speaking to you it's more a disappointed Dora, who has tried big love, fast love, casual love, heartfelt love and has finally realised that not everyone gets the love life they deserve; no matter what the songs say or however many self-help books they read.
 

I can honestly say, that having 'dated' men with varying degrees of separation, age, haircuts and success, the common denominator in my love misadventures is me and therefore after my latest "He's just not into you" non-date moment, the blame must rest firmly on my shoulders.

I haven't really dated anyone since Big B, who texted me on my birthday from NY with his standard, "Things have been crazy at work, but I'll definitely call you soon" message.

Since this has been an almost standard text or phone message from him for well over a year and should really be his answerphone message, I replied with a very definite 

 

"Lovely to hear from you, unfortunately this ship has sailed' and please don't feel you have to text or morse code me anymore".

Then, as I scurried down the street today, after a client meeting to grab some lunch, I bumped almost head on into second to last, most recent love interest, bounding down the street holding hands with his new girlfriend.

 

She looked so ridiculously glam skinny, though lacking the sense to properly blend her fake tan, all the way down her neck; that I prayed a taxi cab would take me out, as I crossed the street, so at least my almost regulation jeans, slogan t-shirt and signature shades would at least be hidden by the taxi's bonnet passing over my head !

Which brings me neatly to my latest non love interest - Mr Fox. A handsome, mature super smart, salt and pepper wily fox with a devilish smile. Add to that a razor sharp wit, alpha male aura and the ability to rock a suit old school, so well, that it makes a woman want to ditch the rules and go home with him.

 

(Before you ask, no I haven't :0)

Because of his super blunt 'no commitment' directive (which I actually found strangely 'refreshing'), issued right before the end of non-date one, I had Mr Fox in mind for a short but sweet, summer fun slot. Somerset House Film Four open air movies, Hyde Park snooze feasts, visiting galleries and museums and just generally hanging out.

 

After dinner, I walked him to his latest meeting (I'm an equal opportunities work destination companion) and established during the length of that walk, that due to work commitments and his super hectic life, that I probably wouldn't see him again face to face until mid-September.

"So I won't see you before you leave then ?", I said.
"Let's play it by ear", he replied.  In other words he was done.

 

Don't get me wrong I wasn't heartbroken by the news that there aren't going to be any more Odd Couple moments with him, but however, cool of a dating diva you may be, experiencing such a pointed "He's just not into you" moments is never a good thing for the old ego.

I had thought things would be much easier having dropped my squeeze requirements down from Mr Right, to Mr Season. The realisation that my 'dating picker' is totally off even, when it comes to choosing Mr Season, drove me to a serious sugar overload - a packet of Haribo Starmix, was rapidly consumed.

This sugar-filled frenzy that was only reined in by a Skype call with Q, who's back on with Mr Recycled (a guy it didn't work out with first time around, but who you leave enough distance between dating to justify going back for another go, when all other love interests have been exhausted).

 

She reminded me that I do have a lot going on - family stuff, keeping a business afloat, clients happy, barely sleeping and a sweet and sour addiction to rocket salad and Haribos. By the end of her 'prep talk' my dating ego was marginally re-inflated.

Diva Recap

So here we are, my first post of 2014, and how much has changed since last year. 

This time last year I was loved up with Big B (more of him later), working as a EA for a Anne Wintour Canadian clone by day (she was as wintry as her worksake and possessed an ice pike, where her heart should have been!); while working by night and at the weekends as a social media smarty pants.

By Nov, I'd been canned by Ms Canada for not fulfilling her 'commands' and I ended the year as it had started, haunted by Mum's cancer, which thankfully is currently in remission; but has made such a determined effort to kill her, that it hit her immune system so hard, it's left her struggling to recover her full health.

I returned to the UK from Miami in January jobless and after a week of tears and tantrums, decided I was going to turn my second job being social media guru into my own business. Three short months later, things are ticking over nicely and I'm cautiously happy. Also annoyingly, for my family and friends, I've got into the habit of randomly saying "Love what I do" - I told you I was annoying !

The love front is officially KO'd and I have to say I'm not sorry. Right now if you're a player, a commitment phobe or just don't know what you want, please don't waste my time :0)

Big B and I hit the wall in May last year, when his work life disintegrated in the kind of black hole meltdown I experienced a few years back. Being an alpha male sadly Big B's NY job was a massive part of his confidence and when it went, another side of him emerged.

I defaulted into auto Superwoman mode, albeit a long distance one (him in New York, me in London) rock, supporter, cheer squad etc. I did everything I possibly could to get back the alpha I hooked up with; but the shutters had already came down and he ended it with the classic 'I need time to sort myself out'.

I told him to take his time. Then we entered that familiar run of text table tennis, that some guys resort to if they don't want to talk to you. He'd say he'd call so we could talk and somehow it would always never happen.  It took me right back to the bad old days of Hottie, who I'm sure had a degree in avoiding conflict, by just not being around :0)

I brought things to a head with the kind of direct text that called him out on his behaviour not just towards me, but to other people in his life.  His response was another text saying he call me for the umpteenth time and that's where I ended it.

There's only so many times you can read a message in hope and the respect I used to have for him (which was huge) had been eroded by his inability to talk to me, which I didn't think was a massive ask.

And there you have it the complete 2013 to 2014 recap on all things Divalicious.

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Be Careful What You Wish For, Because You Just Might Get It !

So I'm just going put it out there - after hearing about this much vaulted 'friends with benefits gig', it's definitely not for me. Especially after swapping tales with the girls, over several glasses of wine this evening.  

 

There were varying points of view around the sofa, but my favourite came from J. Her much younger booty call texted her to say, she's off his bedtime menu at the moment, because he's just started seeing someone.

 

This is the same booty call who spent the best part of 40 mins on one of their earliest non-dates saying he didn't want a relationship, because of work, his ambitions, his life and pretty much every reason, ever expressed by any man who's ever wanted a booty call without any commitment or comeback.

 

Being older and infinitely more chilled out, she of course laughed her socks off, at such a heavy moment so early on, and told all of us about it. When she got the thanks but no thanks text, as she'd had her suspicions for awhile that he'd started seeing someone, due to the infrequency of the booty calls, she took it in her stride.

But for whatever reason she actually thought, he would extend her the courtesy of  a text or call her sooner, rather than later to say so, instead descending into the cowardly lion world, of ignoring her text messages.

 

She asked my advice and I was suitably candid with her.

 

First be nice - you got what you asked for - no strings, no drama booty calls.
 

Next - don't take it personally because after all, he had been upfront about what 'it' was from the get go. 

Always reply to the initial 'I'm seeing someone' text message, with general pleasantry such as a 'how's work' and remember to end things on a 'take care' - a quiet way of saying this chapter has ended in a civil way and you wish him or her well. Should you ever bump into them, you can happily say hi, without any 'Made in Chelsea awkwardness.

 

And finally, learn the lesson no strings, means that on emotional level as well. Don't think for a moment that you're actually 'friends', you're mere acquaintances, which means you should expect absolutely nothing from the other party.

 

Arr the delights, perils and mysteries of modern non-dating.