Hopeless romantics scare me. Have you never been scarred from love? Please tell me what that is like if you are a hopeless romantic.

What does hopeless romantic even mean?

Since giving in to the love I feel for GG and accepting that I am loved and in love, I’ve been in a very sappy mood.

I’m daydreaming a bit more often, I’m seeing couples for the first time in ages and smiling at PDA’s instead of cringing. I’m lying on the sofa or in bed wishing that GG was with me on the nights I’m alone, and telling him so (I don’t ordinarily, because I’m a strong independent woman who doesn’t need a man). My independence has dive-bombed and I’m now looking ahead on how I can fill my free days with GG, planning dates and fun things to do, or just deciding to chill and eat some food before getting an early night. It is close to 8 months, yet the bedroom antics are as wild as ever.

I’m a firm believer that if a guy tells you he loves you after sex or alcohol, you have to give him the benefit of the doubt. That oxytocin has us all messed up.

GG and I have just spent the best part of a week with my son on the English coast. We’ve been camping. One night, after a particularly dirty bedroom session (I really can’t go into detail, because our sex life can be rather twisted and I am honestly ashamed of myself, but not so ashamed that I won’t do it again, you feel me?) GG says ‘ I fucking love you’.

It wasn’t immediately afterwards, and GG has been telling me he loves me for at least a month, so I allowed it. I replied ‘oh yeah? I love you more’. It was as simple and straight forward as that, but in the moment I said it, after nearly a week of watching him playing and supporting my son, hearing their laughter and seeing him nurture him, I couldn’t hold it in. It might also have been the oxytocin you see, but when I woke up the next day, I knew I’d meant it. As we packed all our stuff away and loaded the car and van up with our gear, me returning home and GG off to visit some friends to do some more camping, I did not want to say goodbye. I hugged him and I didn’t want to let go. I kissed him and I didn’t want to stop.

So, what is a hopeless romantic? Can a love cynic be turned? Because I think ya gal right here, miss independent pants who doesn’t need a man, who won’t give up her free time, who thinks the Menz are dogs and they deserve nothing, is becoming one.

Give me strength

Next Friday is going to be the biggest test of my life. All of the hard work I have put in trying to heal myself and make better choices in dating and follow the peace instead of the chaos and to not self sabotage and just go with what feels good, not with what feels exciting. It will be the ultimate finale on what feels like a long journey through self-love, self-acceptance and self-discipline. It will see me pitted against temptation and influence, the evils of sin. Like King Leonidas vs the Persian God King Xerxes, I will be leading the fight for all single women, kicking temptation into a hole, after exclaiming ‘This is Sparta’

Ok I’m getting carried away. Definitely over exaggerating. Ish.

I have a works do. An evening to finally celebrate retirements with those who have left us over the past 18 months. England has lifted almost all of its COVID measures to allow the world to start getting back to normal.

Which means laughter, dancing and booze. And Mr Big!

We have been working with each a bit over the last few weeks and all has been well. I’ve banished all romantic thoughts and feelings for him. And we have gotten along as we normally do, friendly, professional with the odd dirty joke thrown in for good measure.

So I wasn’t worried about the works do.

Until he said ‘you’re gonna be there Friday?’


‘Yeah, the leavers do’

‘Sure am’

And then he looks me up and down, maintains eye contact for just a second too long, throws me a wink and smiles!!!!!!!


Now, I’m not weak willed. In fact I’m bloody stubborn. Too stubborn.

I raised an eyebrow to him as he kicked the door open and said goodbye.

But if this mofo thinks for one minute he’s gonna be flirting with me on this evening and giving me fancy vibes and loving on me, then he has another thing coming. Let me tell ya!

But boozy me? Oh she’s not stubborn at all. She’s loving. And soft. And influential.

She’s the romancer, she’s the one who lets her guard down. She’s the chancer, the adventurer, the rebel too. She has no inhibitions, she’ll dance on tables, cuddle people, she’s touchy feely.

So for the past two days, I’ve been having an internal dialogue with myself

‘We want different things’

‘We work together’

‘He’s had his chance’

‘You have a boyfriend’

in the hope that when boozy me decides to show up, they will be firmly planted in her mind should Mr Big try anything ungentlemanly.

Of course, the easiest thing to do would be to take my boyfriend. Except, he’s on a stag do. Far away.

I could just not go? Not even an option.

I could not drink? Please.

Nope, I’m holding onto the fact I have grown and however thin that line maybe be, I’m confident I will not break it and undo all the lessons I have been learning.

I will not. I will not. I will not.

One from the archives… AD

I wrote this at the start of the new year. I didn’t post about all my dates because I’m weird, sometimes I just save drafts and go back to them to re-read. But this one is about Army Dude (AD) from Hinge who’s last parting words were ‘you still owe me a handjob’.

I got a date. Well, I got coffee. With a guy I started chatting to on t’interweb. I agreed to meet on a public car park like a misspent youth on my way home from work. Because lockdown. Because it’s public. Because I can stay in my car. Social distancing ergo keeping my distancing.

Initial thoughts Not too sure. He seems nice enough, cute. But also very forthright. I like it but if this is normal and not super excitement to meet me then I’m going to feel pressure. Soon. And I don’t do well with pressure.

My red flag radar is flapping in the cerebral wind, BUT, I’ve been out of the game so long, I could do with a refresher.

Because how am I supposed to know what looks and feels right if I don’t look and feel what’s wrong? Like trying to figure out a maths puzzle; Solid reasoning.

So off I went, my best friend armed with details in case nobody ever saw me again!

I read somewhere that two things you should consider after a date are these: if you wasn’t attracted to them, would you want them to be your friend? And do you like them or are you worrying about whether they like you.

Yes, I would want him to be my friend. And I do like him but I confess I have been wondering if he felt the same. I didn’t hear from him straight away and so I used that time to review.

The coffee lasted over 2 hours, and although there was lots of chatting, he asked very few questions. I had to offer info and tidbits about myself. He did make me laugh a lot though and I got a tour of his camper van. Which is called the fuck truck. No not a physical, physical tour, just a look round and I realise that meeting a guy on a car park in a van he calls the ‘fuck truck’ does sound a bit rapey in hindsight.

And although he was funny, I was crying with laughter at one point, he did discuss politics and religion. His 2 children also came up as did his hatred for his not-yet ex-wife. Separated but not yet divorced, I sensed some bitterness. He stated he hated her. I clarified if he meant indifferent, because we all know that is the opposite of love, and he remained resolute: hates the woman.

Bad choice for a mother then eh?

He’s in the army and spends his weeks down south, coming home at the weekends to see the children. I got a very understanding/fatherly vibe from him, although his daughter was clearly his favourite. I think first borns usually are though. No offence if you are number 2,3,4 but I’m here to tell you, mum and dad love you just as much, but nothing breaks the bond of the first born. The first born teaches you everything. Albeit a second born will challenge that.

He is definitely bangable. He’s cute, pretty fit with a full set of teeth.

Is he dateable though? Boundaries..

Investment: he was quite happy to come to me, 30 mins drive. He initiated the meet. He’s been very chatty all week, making sure he was the last person to text and the first person I wake up to. I left him a voice note because he sulked a bit that I wasn’t chatty enough, he didn’t response with one or a phone call but I did get the date. We met, he put me at ease straight away and a comfortable comfort fell over me. We sat in our cars for a bit and then I sat in his van because having the windows open in -2 was giving us both frostbite! His body language was hard to gauge, very little eye contact, he had a fairly open body stance but was rarely facing towards me and when I playfully grabbed him arm after he laughed at me, he didn’t respond, although he did hold his hand out to help me climb out of his fuck truck.

Communication: has been great all week. Asking questions, wanting to be the first and last person To text with his good night and good morning texts. Little hints at how pretty I am and pet names which have abruptly stopped so now we know there is absolutely no stock in a man giving you a pet name! Last night though, meh. Very few questions. He talked a lot which I am fine with as it took the pressure off me and I did laugh a lot as a result of it, which is like medicine for the soul, especially right now.

Friendship was more difficult to gauge. I’m not looking for my best friend, I’m looking for a partner. I want somebody who is my equal and is going to help me build as much as I want to help them build. I sensed a degree of selfishness, nothing specific I can describe, just a gut feeling. He has tried to bring up sexy time stuff twice, both times I knocked him back with my ‘you have mistaken me for somebody many more dates in’. He didn’t seem to take the hint or just ignored it, because the only compliment I got on the date was that I have a nice bum. I mean I’ll take them as compliments, but I’m also beautiful and funny. And smart.

Flirting. Zero! I touched his arm and he did not respond. This could be related to his job. I know that working in the military is full of horrors. And although I have not seen anywhere near the death and destruction he must have witnessed, I appreciate the need to cover the bad stuff with humour. Lots of dark humour and avoidance. It’s a defence mechanism for self preservation & nothing to with the poor victims. But if carries over too far into your life, you’ll never connect again.

He was definitely chivalrous. A gentleman, although most people are on their best behaviour on a date, however if chivalry is not something you practice often, then I doubt it would come as naturally as it did for him. There wasn’t much in the way of emotional resolve I felt. Again, probably from his career choice but bottling up and plastering everything with humour tape will only cover the cracks, it won’t prevent you from splitting apart.

Overall I would give the date 6/10. The humour was clearly hiding a lot of trauma on top of his divorce from his wife who he was holding a lot of hate for still. I’m sympathetic, she was unfaithful. Having your heart broken is an excellent reason for hating someone. But usually, being unfaithful is the symptom, not the cause and both parties probably need to face some harsh reality/truths. As he is laying it all squarely at her feet, I don’t feel like he has the growth mindset I am looking for.

The date ended him walking me back to my car, he opened my door and held it open, chivalrous, he suggested next time we should involve alcohol and food. I didn’t agree, but I did point out I had wine in my car which could have been put to good use although I’d had a lot of fun without it anyway. Would have totally kissed him if it wasn’t for this sodding pandemic, he lingered so I guess he was debating it himself.

The chat since our date has been quite flat and although he is totally bangable, I can’t see this having any legs long-term. I suspect I’m a 3 date challenge to him but he’s going to be sorely disappointed because we’re not even going to make it to date 2.

I’m back…I think

3 years ago, I found myself swallowed by a big black hole. I was numb. I was exhausted. I woke up one Friday morning and I could not move. It wasn’t because I was paralysed physically, but mentally and emotionally I was broken.

I’ve suffered with anxiety as far back as I can remember. I have stubby fingernails and some pretty crazy actions, borne out of overthinking, that pay testament to that fact. But after a break up, a new home, a new job, finding my feet with single parenting and the loss of my beloved dog Rosie, the cracks in my toughened exterior finally shattered into a million pieces.

I rang the doctor. I had no idea why I was feeling the way I was but after a 20 minute chat, the doctor simply said…it’s not an anxiety attack you are having. You are depressed.

For the first time in a long time I cried. I cried and cried and cried and cried. I struggled to breathe through the sobs as the reality dawned on me that my brilliant astute brain and my inner strength had finally given up on me.

Of course they hadn’t given up. Simply put, my mind and body forced me into facing my reality that I cannot lunge myself into all manner of exciting things as a way of dealing with what was going on inside.

I was hurt. I was sad. I was carrying a heavy guilt. I felt like a burden on my friends and family and rather than face that head on, I simply ignored it and went on with life. I was fixing a broken heart. I hadn’t felt loved in a long time, nor did I think I was deserving of it.

At the very same time, I had met a guy. He was nicknamed Super Mark because he had done all these incredible things. He had such an amazing life story. Things were moving rapidly, but when I woke up on that Friday morning I had no idea how I was going to tell him.

He knew I was off work. And one night on the phone he asked me if I struggled with depression. No, I answered. He responded softly saying ‘I have you know. I’ve been depressed to the point of suicide. I know from experience that the only way to start healing is to talk’.

In that moment, everything I had been holding in came tumbling out. I have no idea how long I was on the phone for. He patiently listened to me pour my little heart out. I have no idea if he was listening really, but I sensed he was from his mmm’s and aah’s and awww’s.

By the time I finished, he simply said ‘this is a chapter in your life. You won’t feel like this forever, just for now. Do you feel better?’

It dawned on me in that moment that by talking and getting everything off my chest, I felt a sense of relief. I wasn’t ‘fixed’. I had simply opened the door into healing.

And the mad thing about it, was that afterwards, Mark didn’t run a mile. He chose to love me instead and gave me a wonderful 8 months. That is until I found out he told my Dad that my mum was fit and how much fun it would be to have me and her together.

(Which is proof that even the good guys can be grade A fucking dickheads)

I digress. Back to healing.

I started therapy and working on doing things that made me happy. That’s how I got into football coaching. And how I got back to my hiking. I started budgeting properly and planning days out to the beach. I discovered hypnosis and meditation. Eventually, although it took a while, I found writing again.

Reflecting on the last two months, despite the wonderful things I have been experiencing, I have definitely fallen backwards a little. Depression isn’t ever fully resolved. It’s a constant battle of forgiving yourself. Forgiving the feels. Forgiving people. And in my case, speaking your truth. And after the year we have had, being confined to my own four walls, it’s amazing that I didn’t slip sooner.

I injured my foot and broke my big toe at the end of March, which stopped my usual exercise routine in its tracks. I was able to walk so I still hiked a little. And I managed to limp around the football field twice a week, there really isn’t much running in coaching thankfully. But it delayed my progress.

Last weekend though, I climbed 5 mountains (not as dramatic as it sounds. Actually it was, because it was hot as fucking hell in England) and since then I have been doing my 15 minute hiit or dance workouts. The result is I am happier. Less fatigued. More motivated. I’ve found myself singing again, to the point people have commented. I’m dancing as I walk and shop and talk. My mood is just way more upbeat. I don’t feel like writing is a chore (sorry for that), I’m doing the washing again. The plates are no longer stacked high.

I’m not saying that exercise alone fends of depression, but I’m a pretty good example if it does.

So next time I go AWOL, please, somebody shout at me to dance round the living room for 15 minutes and all will be well again.

Peace out mofo’s!

Crazy Train Pt2

It’s dark. GG is drunk.

I’m already reeling from the introspection of the last 3 seconds before he finally blurts out what I have been sensing and therefore trying to sabotage for the last few weeks.

I don’t respond immediately. Aside from the fact I’ve just taken a moment to reflect and accurately recognise my selfish behaviour, I’m also conscious that GG is feeling 9 beers brave.

‘Oh, you feeling brave tonight. Is that because of the beer?’ I ask.

Yeah, I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but only now do I have the courage’

‘Hmmm’ i murmur, because I don’t know what else to say. This isn’t a conversation I want to be having at nearly 2am on a Monday morning and I especially don’t want to be having it knowing he is drunk and may not remember too well when we do wake up.

So I kiss him enthusiastically, because regardless of how I feel about all this, knowing somebody loves you is incredible. He doesn’t ask me for an answer or push me for any response in kind and then we drift off, with my arms and legs wrapped around him in what I call the koala bear snuggle.

I open my eyes to the harsh sunlight coming through the windows. I take a peep across the bed and GG is awake. Before me. This is rare.

I smile. He leans over and kisses my forehead saying good morning. I know he’s hungover, so I tell him I’ll go make the tea. With extra sugar.

We spend the morning doing what young couples in love do, showered, made breakfast and watched the rabbit hole that is YouTube. He invites me stay for lunch to meet his friend. And his dad, but I realise I haven’t re-lined the kitty litter and kitty needs feeding so I need to get home.

I can’t decide if this is a brilliant stroke of luck as an excuse to get out of there or if I’ve genuinely got concerns for my cat who has survived 12 whole years, mostly fending for himself. Either way, the cat is allowing me to dodge yet another situation I’m not quite ready for.

But before I leave, I can’t not say anything. Because then I really would be THE worst.

I’ve slept on it. I’ve had all morning to think about how I feel about him.

So I ask ‘are you still feeling 9 beers brave?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, last night you told me you love me. Do you remember?’

‘Yes. And I mean it. I love you’

I smile at him. ‘I’m not very good at being vulnerable and talking about my feelings. But I’m crazy about you and I’m very happy you are in my life. It’s just gonna take me a little while longer’

Temporary Madness

I’m the worst person in the world. THE worst.

In the same week that GG gave me a key to his house (!!!) and where he had a bubble bath waiting for me with candles after the worlds longest day at work, I decided it would be a good idea to test the waters with Mr Big.

I got the reaction I was expecting, it’s a one way street to casualville. I’m learning that the sooner I speak up, the less likely I am to spiral into overthinking. So now I have my answer.

And I thought about whether it is possible to break habits? My contentment with GG is what is making me happy right now and I should chalk the feelings I have been having over the few weeks as a temporary blip.

Slowly learning to recognise and experience what is a good thing as opposed to just imagining what it should be in my head.


Let’s make this quick.

Profound levels of understanding about myself don’t happen very often. But I think, I THINK, that I have stumbled across one.

I will happily go 2, maybe 3 years living the single life, enjoying what it has to offer. But because the men I choose have similar outlooks to me, I tend not to have any deep or meaningful connection with them. Over time this leads to lowering self-esteem and I get to a point where I need validation that I’m worthy of more than sex. Or worth more than an ego boost to these men. So I get to a point where I meet people who are nice and safe who I have to build slow burns with because I’m not immediately attracted to them and therefore I know I can’t get hurt because I won’t have feelings for them.

But by doing it, I have proven myself worthy of being somebody’s girlfriend and thus builds my self-esteem. Then after a few months of re-building, I’m like ‘this isn’t for me’ because I want the passion, the crush, the desire that comes with somebody exciting.

But the exciting ones never want any form of commitment.

This is my pattern.

This is it guys and gals!

The S Word.

How do you know if you are settling for something?

Is settling OK?

Or should we be striving for the absolute best?

It’s been five months with GG, 6 if you include the talking/virtual stage before we actually went on a date.

The list of good qualities he has just pours out of me, kind, generous, laid back, funny, charming, fit, geeky.

So, you would think after 6 months, I would have met at least one friend or at least one member of the family and I would definitely have heard something along the veins of ‘I love you’. Not necessarily that direct, but things like ‘I’m crazy about you’ or ‘you make me so happy’ or ‘I can’t imagine my world without you in it’ or ‘I miss you’. None of these things have happened.

My love language is quality time, closely followed by acts of service. Physical touch and words of affirmation are sub-par to the above but that doesn’t mean I don’t need them. Because I do. I hold no value of gift-giving, albeit, I do think it has it’s place in a relationship that isn’t just directly related to birthdays, holidays and Christmas.

And I don’t think you can say one person is 100% a love language, because it’s more like a spectrum;

I’m 36% Quality Time, 30% Acts of Service, 18% Words of Affirmation 10% physical touch and 6% gift giving.

And my love language will increase or decrease depending on any given scenario I am in, but in general the above is an accurate reflection of how I give love and how I like to receive love.

I get a lot of quality time from GG. Assuming cooking or buying dinner is considered an act of service, then he tries really hard. But there’s not much else. There’s very little words of affirmation, he can choke out ‘you look pretty’ when I’ve made an effort. He’s not into PDA which is fine but he does like to gift things, either buying dinner, or bringing a bottle of wine or buying chocolate.

And I feel guilty, because as much as those things are nice, it’s not what I really need. I can buy my own things, you know?

And so, I’ve done the worst thing I can do, I’ve started drawing comparisons. Comparisons to other people, ex’s, tv, social media. I know I shouldn’t. I know. I don’t need anybody telling me why I shouldn’t draw comparisons but the other side of the coin is that we use our past experiences to develop an internal radar. We have a gut. We have instincts. We are animals after all.

My instinct is telling me that I’m settling.

Remember my boundaries post? And how I was adamant that I would not invest in somebody who wasn’t investing in me?

Well, GG has met my parents. We’ve talked about meeting my son. He’s been on the phone to my friends with me. All these things which are normal building blocks to a relationship, yes?

And while I’m trying to build my blocks, every time I look over, my metaphorical wall is always much higher than GG’s.

Now I’m not saying he doesn’t make an effort and isn’t investing. He’s just organised a weekend away, we had a lovely time and he’s organised another the end of this month.

He’s asked me to be a plus 1 for a wedding in October. OCTOBER! So there’s the future element of building going on, but it feels superficial. It’s surface level. Do you agree? Or have I started my usual of overthinking?

I need to be honest here too, because the doubt has crept in for two reasons;

1) 6 months is usually make or break time for me. It’s like I have an internal body clock telling me, here you go, 6 months in, decide if it’s worth your time/effort to continue things forward. But then I think, hang on, that’s your pattern and the whole point of the last 18 months was about recognising patterns and changing them. So then I think, no decisions need to be made now but then I think again and I don’t want to waste another couple of months if it leads me to the same conclusion.

2) After 3 months going cold turkey, managing to avoid any contact with Mr Big, we’ve done nothing but see each other or talk to each other (professionally of course) over the last two weeks.

And damn if my body doesn’t just vibrate around him. It’s like I’m on a completely different frequency with him to anybody else. Not even football dad had that effect on me when I was at the height of my crush. The babes comment? Pah!! Nothing on what I feel when Mr Big is in my midst.

And whilst I know Mr Big and I have no future unless it is to bounce each other off the bed every once in a while, I do wonder…can I find that buzz with someone else? If I can, I should probably do the kind thing and bring the pleasure that has been GG to an end. Would I even feel that buzz if things were right with GG and I? I should feel that buzz with GG, right? And if I can’t find that buzz with someone else, is that settling or is that normal? By not actively pursuing the ‘buzz’ I feel like I may just end up in something boring and unfulfilling, but I’ve only ever followed the buzz and it’s never got me anywhere. I said buzz a lot. There, I said it again. I’ll stop now.

And I know not all days, hours, minutes are constant excitement, but I’m scared that I’ll end up 13 years into another relationship being unhappy. It’s harder to start over in your when approaching 50 than it is when you are approaching 30.

So, to quote Shakespeare, ya know, if Shakespeare was a 30-something-female living in the post-Covid dating world in 2021….

‘To settle or not to settle? That is the question’

Bad Ass – The Fear

I’m a bad ass.

Or at least I’ve been reading a book called ‘You are a Bad Ass’ by Jen Sincero so that’s basically the same thing.

It a self-help book, about cutting out what drags you down in life and only seeking out high frequency opportunities. Or at least learn to recognise when to take them.

This blog has been high frequency for me over the last 12 months. Pouring out my emotions and ups and downs, my neurosis, my crazy. But I think something happened, that I did not expect or intend. By writing down all those things and looking back on them, I started to see a pattern form. My overzealousness (is that a word?), my ‘quick to flirty banter’ nature, my overthinking, they were all getting in the way of my happiness.

Jen Sincero writes that you have to go through the rough before you launch into the life you truly deserve. I can demonstrate that in my life. I think I’ve unwittingly been following her guided path for a few years: starting out with the separation from my son’s dad, buying a house that was a run-down. I got a promotion. Then I got another promotion. In the meantime I’ve met several men, all lovely in their own right, but currently the only man for me in this moment is GG. But it hasn’t always been plain sailing. I’ve had to fight bosses who are just mean/horrid people. I was off work with depression and anxiety for 6 months. I’ve never had enough money to do up my run-down house so it’s taken me 5 years to get where I am and it’s still not finished. I now have to live with my ex and my cousin being together. I’ve been hurt and humiliated by men.

My current life dilemma, is whether to give up coaching football. My son doesn’t want it anymore, and so it is a lot to commit to when you were only doing it for your son in the first place. Problem is, I love coaching. I manage the team, and although I’d quite happily live without the planning and organising, I don’t want to stop the fun stuff, kicking the ball around a field and watching my boys develop and progress. But if I stick to the principles of Jen’s ‘You are a bad ass’ then I need to trust the process and understand this is what the universe has in store for me.

And I need to recognise the time that football takes up as additional free time and therefore, an opportunity. I’ve been thinking about some ideas. My friend and I formed the basis of a business idea last year and whilst I kinda made steps to begin building it, the whole idea trailed off because it was just too hard.

Too hard? I single-handedly raise a boy, maintain a house, keep a resemblance of order, I manage a large team in a very busy police force successfully full-time and have laid down the foundations and built a football team successfully in my spare time. Renovation wise; I have tiled my bathrooms, re-laid plumbing, cut down tree’s, transformed my garden. In amongst all that, I have dated, cared for my grandparents and maintained relationships with friends, despite it being a weird year and honestly, climbing inside my cocoon was liberating!

And I suppose it is all relative. Somebody who doesn’t have children, who lives at home or two parent families or those with no responsibility other than for themselves could consider my life hard but setting up a business is easy.

Well, the business idea is my fear. I have no idea where to start. Who to approach. How to explore. What it takes to kick start it off the ground. The other stuff comes to me like second-nature. The bad-assery that Jen Sincero refers to is about pushing through the fear. The fear of failure. The fear of what people will think of you. The fear of how to get started. The fear of what people might say, your friends/family. The fear of imposter syndrome telling you you’re not good enough.

I’ve struggled with this blog over the last few weeks/months. Not because I have nothing to write about, because I have. Always. But because what I can write isn’t really in keeping with the content of this blog.

I feel like a fraud. I fear that my regular readers will be like – ‘Yo! Dis Boring man! ‘

But if blogging is something that makes me happy and tunes into my higher frequency, would should I let that fear stop me?

So…there may be a transition of sorts coming. I can’t say for certain that my blogging content will change or if it does, I can’t describe what it might be right now, but I certainly won’t be letting the fear stop me!

Get Jen Sincero’s audiobook on Spotify:

A case of the grumps…

Sorry. I’ve been awol.

I’ve lost a lot of the motivation I started out with this year. Is it the time of the year? Is it something in the air? Is it ok to lose motivation?

I’ve just finished celebrating my birthday. The guy I’m seeing has referred to himself as my boyfriend, so we’re official.

I got promoted at work. My football team are winning.

I have nothing to be grumpy about.

Maybe it’s the hormones, my period is due but that would only explain one or two days and not this incessant cloud of misery which has descended over me.

To make matters worse, my boyfriend is also grumpy because his football team lost their Europa cup final. And this is further making me grumpy. Like Pandora’s box. Has my grump created a confidence in him to be grumpy? Because that’s not how this works. I can be grumpy, he makes me feel better. He is not allowed to be grumpy because I can’t be arsed with emotional people.

I joke, kinda. I’m not insensitive, although some part of me thinks there are better things to be grumpy over than a game of football.

And I’ve been rather dutiful and asked how I can make him feel better, but I hit a dead end with ‘I dunno’.

So now I’m even more grumpy.

So I got the grumps which created the grumps which has given me the grumpy grumps.

Vicious circle.