Today…I threw a party for 58 kids.
FIFTY EIGHT KIDS.
IN MY HOME.
Not at a VENUE.
OLD SCHOOL. A PARTY “AT HOME?!!”
Most parents commented…
”WOW…YOURE BRAVE!”. I’m “brave”?
Im “brave” because I’m at home? In my own house?
Because I’m doing what our parents did for years while we grew up? Its not about saving money, when you throw a party at home. It costs MORE to do it. It’s more work. It’s harder. It’s a huge HUGE responsibility. All those kids in my care.
It’s about personal preference, tradition, involvement, seeing who’s going to stick around (adults that is) and who disappears, always collecting their child an hour later than they should have. It’s about old school parenting and union. I actually enjoy this part of all my kids parties. I get to know a lot of the parents well during this process. Those who stick around, simply to “help out”? They have generally been the parents I’ve remained friends with for years at my childrens school. Good people. Sympathetic. Helpful. We all laugh together, help each other, and we all get it. I recently held a 2 week old baby and fed her, winded her and then changed her nappy, at a kids birthday party….while her mother ran around (I know that feeling well) sorting and managing the celebrations. When she came back to check baby was ok and also to apologise (a few times, bless), I saw her relief. She had her back covered. She had extra hands there, and I’m a Mum. You help each other. It comes so naturally to those who do this hourly. It’s like oxygen.
We all come together at parties thrown “at home”.
When you hire a room somewhere, or venue in a “play zone”? It’s not the same. You’re constantly managing children running in numerous directions in a space you don’t trust. If other strangers are also having parties in the same space ie. soft play centres or paint balling? Well…..that creates more due diligence, but also, less personal interaction for the kids. They simply RUN/fight/scream….
This will involve us, the parents, helping each other with anything from the joyous toilet duties, to serving the sandwiches, managing the children being bullied or left out, even the entertainment. It’s OLD SCHOOL. I love it. It’s personal.
The mess/aftermath from a child’s party at home is normally carnage. All of the balloons, random clothes left behind, cake stuck on walls, fingerprints on the walls, extra clothing that’s somehow been removed…including socks, kids who have managed to wee on my cloakroom floor? No. Not so fun when you have to clean up after. The cleaning up process is never great. Child or adult party is not that different in levels of mess.
But …… those adults (the insane parents), who join me, in helping out at these things (we had 12 adults hang around, to help oversee over 55 kids)…. are legends. Proper old school parents.
The last party was exhausting. Hard. We actually had a “Parents Survivors after party photo” to prove us parents had survived the 3 hour hellish process. If you saw how exhausted we looked, you’d know, I didnt decide to throw a party at home to save “money”, or for “ease”.
We had entertainment, balloons, tattoos, dancing, more food, toilet trips (& accidents involving the “toilet”), food, the whole shebang……
WE, the crew, the old school of 1980’s (now) grown parents (who appear terrified of their children’s expectations and guilt trips), who grew up in an era where our parents didn’t have to do ANY OF THIS “MINDFUL PARENTING” crap…. we all clubbed together….and naturally got stuck in.
We “parented”. Properly. The kids all behaved too (to an extent). The “mean, bully type” kids didn’t mess around as much either (hey…my Mum was there ffs….. if they got past me…they had her to deal with).
We all kinda “owed” our adulthood. There’s never any pretence at my kids parties simply because, those parents who chose to stay? They’ve got to get involved, engage with the kids, and also relax. We do not work for these mini people we created. They don’t work for us either. But …. I hate the whole competitive “yes Dave’s in maths Monday, chess Tuesday, football, Wednesday, swimming Thursday and Friday he has Spanish and French private tuition after his piano lesson before dinner…”. Yep…. Dave’s a bloke who sounds like a winner at work. What days are his therapy sessions fitted in this rigid joyous childhood of a timetable?
In 1984, I was aged 8 years old. Parties were thrown by my school friends parents at HOME. Parties were thrown by MY Parents, AT HOME.
Words like “play dates” didn’t exist, parents left us to “play” without constant “do ou want to paint, make a pizza, build a puppet, Learn Japanese, do pottery, go online and bully a fellow student…”. Parents basically didn’t get into our “world”. Hence, we grew up. This era of “over child management” is destroying our kids. Too many after school activity clubs , too much psychoanalysis, micro management, creating problems in a child’s life when none existed before, hours of over consumption by parents being guilted into indulging in some form of parental competition which is generally about “how many classes their child takes a week, how many play dates they have, if they eat a kale/avocado /broccoli/quinoa….is it organic. Does it have naturaL sugars? Is it all vegan, organic, blessed by a rainbow in Cambodia before consumption ?” Really?
The shocking parental dialogue, that is a normal daily conversation for some parents is almost amusing, if it wasn’t taken soo literally. And you know the ones (parents) I mean.
They normally talk very loudly when chatting at school drop off/collections. They show off. Normally about “Henry’s chess classes on Thursday,, yoga on Friday…..”, over indulging their child and talking about it to make other parents feel guilty for not doing the same crap. These parents can NOT be genuinely themselves. There are many parents actually, like this. But they pretend and follow the herd, to avoid being ostracised. They think this is good. Maybe I’m wrong. Yet too much of anything is never good practice.
Parents, like those who raised us, didn’t do all this stuff. Ever. Your claiming your parents back in the day, did ALL this crap? You’re lying if you do.
My ex told me stories where he saw his dad at the weekend and used to run around a restaurant aquarium looking at the fish while his Dad (rightly so), ate his lunch.
In this day? A child would call the local Council and be taken away for lack of “mental stimulation “. It’s bad parenting if we are not engaging or indulging our kids CONSTANTLY.
THAT, for me….is bad parenting.
Since when, did we have to answer to our kids for not stopping at a “playzone” en route home, from school, or a birthday party, so they could have a logged additional “activity” before agreeing we CAN go home? Im also being dictated to at the moment about what they have for dinner? They’re being brainwashed externally to dictate to me, their MOTHER, as to what I must give them. I’m a single mum of three. I like ok after my kids, alone, 24/7. When my child TELLS ME I “HAVE TO” do something? Hmmmm….errrr….NO.
Mans “NO”…..Not to “save money”. I am “old school”…I remember the days of shared parties with siblings, parents actually having to “get involved” instead of standing around with glasses of “wine” (vodka, I bet), while they grimace at their Nannies lack of party etiquette.
I have never thrown a party (even when “Nannies were enforced” in SE Asia), unless “I” manage the hell/stress/jubilation…that is a given.
i HATE NANNIES. Sorry. But I do.
they cut a stay at home Mums “eggs” off the minute they take over your normal role as a parent. Yep. I said it. Nannies, Au pairs, helpers, a “girl that helps me on Thursday”?…..I HATE this random help. Call family. Call friends. Even call Mums you know if your genuinely stuck in traffic and can’t get to school on time to collect those ungrateful, wonderful, heartbreaking, children. But call a person you pay ie. the Nanny? You’re giving yourself an open floor for arguments with your partner, free judgement to those in your environment ie. “oh, Petranakiv collected the children from football today because you were caught in traffic and couldn’t park the Range Tover?”
If this “Mummy job”….is going to be one we all defend (and it’s the most shocking role ever…”)….surely you need to own it? I work from 5am until 11-30pm, 12.30am and if one of my three children are ill? Then I’m working from 5am until approx 4am, on and off. Will holding hair, administering Calpol, opening bedroom windows, closing bedroom windows, then having to call the EX (& explain to him, “yep she’s been sick. Temperature? Approx 38.9/39…” what’s she wearing? Cotton and yes window open”…drop be the other two children to school while she vomits in a carrier bag? Sure.” But apparently my role should be handed to a Nanny. That would really help our children who are trying to cope with the divorce.
ir as my daughter told me….
”So Daddy left and now you are too? A nanny will be here to look after us every day?”
i tried to make it more “personal”. Stupidly I forgot…HELL would still greet us. A melting pot of “happy, crazy, freewilled, no consequence liberated unknowing mini people!” Fuck it. If I was in their bodies I’d be robbing banks and crapping everywhere. Then crying and shouting “wipe my ass!! I’m only 3! Get me chocolate beeeyatch!!!” Sound familiar?
Yep I also just described a male banker.
The photos above?
They literally terrify me. And most parents. I just voice this. Others prefer to pretend this scenario with balloons and a guzillion children is “great”. Freaks. And MASSIVE LIARS. MASSIVE.
Whi the fuck enjoys headaches screaming toilet runs when you are about to eat or general HELL? NO ONE.
But you all pretend. I don’t. I like children. But like grown men let loose in Vegas or a Strip Club…? They can’t control themselves in an environment with soft play and fellow nutters their age.
FIFTY EIGHT human children under 7 years old. Some adults came along too….because they clearly LOVE torture/pain/had a fight at home/had no idea what they were walking into?
FIFTY EIGHT KIDS…just in case you didn’t read that the first one, or two times.
A few things were brought to light within 15/20 minutes among the dozen parents who stayed.
(1) We had 2 kids among our MASSIVE group who were VILE.
(2) we also had a FIT STUNNING EDUCUCATED WITTY DAD (GEORGE CLOONEY/BRAD PITT/Thomas Hardy (hes my kinda fella) to flirt with…. we all got slightly confused as he was also super “vanilla” but HANDSOME. Us starved of Male normality…Mums/Women…?
We were thrown by this GEM of a man…he was involved, handsome, explaining why HE was there instead of his lovely wife (also stunning)….I said handsome right?….it was simply MEAN!! Cruel.
Showing us all that men like this EXIST. Men who do this. Who are cool. Don’t punish us with their “moods” because they did something they consider our “job”. He wasn’t grumpy. He was involved, polite, nice. His wife collected them that afternoon and he SMILED AT HER when she arrived in their car to collect their two children. I couldn’t believe the shit I witnessed. She didn’t arrive looking worried or stressed in case he was about to argue with her….for doing “her job”.
He simply cracked on.
He is one of those urban myths….
Men who take their daughters to a birthday party surrounded by Mums, gets involved, acts “fake awkward” but is generally OK (he knows he’s handsome)….
And…. my WORD…..attractive is an understatement. He was the epitome of “dream man”. On the surface.
HE WAS/IS….FIT. We all watched him eat a ham sandwich in slow motion. He helped our children put party hats on. He chatted away to everyone. He asked me if i was “OK”.
He ran into the “soft play zone” to grab kids when it was lunchtime. We replayed the party video over and over….just to see his face ….OK…Grandma did….we couldn’t argue with dementia…or her clear good taste.
And YES, in video…this stunning man, helped kids, fed the poor and healed the wounded. After a bottle of vino (fuck the cake!) we were ruined….we just wanted to experience a “NORMAL MAN”. Who and where is he from?!
A guy who didn’t/doesn’t undermine you because HE attended your child’s birthday party. A handsome bastard who didn’t tear his Wife/Partner apart (or her character) should you win a “Coin toss” and it’s was his “turn” that weekend to “do the kids parties”. This handsome bugger told me, he and stunning his wife, flipped a “coin” every Saturday morning and whoever landed “tails did a party”.
No judgement or Power struggle- his words were (this felt like a knife to my soul)….he “worked all week, but so does she with the children. It’s only fair”.
He didn’t have a go about how many hours he spent in the office, he didn’t rip apart her role as a mother who also had a NANNY…
He said the party alone was “hardcore”.
Yep…try this ALONE AS A SINGLE MUM WITH THREE children MATE!
So stay at home Mums “work” in his eyes?
He was literally one of 4 men at the party, and all the women reacted to this stunner in ways I’ve not witnessed since I was 15.
Screw the kids….WHO IS THIS MAN?! This new age, cool guy, not slagging his wife off for making him come to this kids party?! In fact, chatting normally, He wasn’t some “grumpy, I can’t be fkd face” wanker his wife had to tiptoe around once he was home, this bastard was genuinely handsome/nice/not a control freak. He was asking if I needed “help”, apologising for not bringing a gift, being all ”helpful”…mesmerising, confusing as hell when you’ve only know. “I WILL CONTROL YOUR MOOD BECAUSE YOU ARE AT FAULT FOR EVERYTHING WOMAN”… I’ve not seen this nice guy shit since the 1980’s films…..yep…..FITTT. I opened a shirt button. I’m not going to lie. I opened 8 by the time he left. He was all…weird!!!! Loyal. Nice. Sweet. Helpful. It caused confusion.
We all loved him.
Even the Grandma who spent the weekend in London to babysit her Grandkids and was roped into coming to the party with her Grandchild?! Even she, at 78 yrs old…!!! Even GRANDMA SAID “Oh…he’s easy on the eye…”….even SHE COMMENTED ON THIS handsome fellows face. FIT. WE DIDNT CARE ABOUT THE ENTERTAINMENT. We wanted to absorb and understand HOW we too, can find this man type?!
Us? We didn’t care about anything. He entertained us mums. Handsome. Preppy/sexy/I’m filthy/handsome/tanned/6ft 3inch….friendly, acts awkward “Hello I’m here this time. Where do I put Penelope’s shoes? Can I help you with anything?” All of us turned when he arrived, starved of handsome interaction from years of dealing with “Absolute wanker syndrome/aren’t you lucky I married you?” Men folk, that this GEM strolled in, handsome, new age, moisturised, loving to his wife (yep that lucky beautiful girl dat on his LAP at the school play while they watch their daughter dance on stage), and our mouths gaped with wonder….WHERE ARE THE “OTHERS”????’ There MUST BE OTHERS LIKE HIM!!!?
Even my 66 year old Mum didn’t know whether to scream at the horrifying 7yr old boys, terrorising everyone (the Entertainer, to be fair, had a go at these 2 hooligans, when they attempted to steal his balloons), OR, just stop…and flirt with this bloody lovely man…a lot… THE MOST HANDSOME BRAD PIT KINDA GUY any of us has ever physically met (alive and NOT on a TV screen). Plus friendly, slightly awkward as in “hi, I’m fucking handsome but pretending I’m not, where do I put this gift and yep this is soo not fun ladies!!”. We all “swooned”. I’ve never ever used that word.”Swoon”. He made us “swoon”.
I saw woman at this party, giggle, run, jump, tip toe, attempt to brush their hair and apply make-up, once they saw this vision. Lipstick was applied. Mothers acted more friendly to their annoying kids. This BEAUT was with his two kids…wandering around, aimlessly throwing his handsomness at everyone….and BELIEVE ME….EVERY single person was sucked in. We all stared at this man like an alien had walked in, and yet, he doesn’t seem to realise (or is bloody good at pretending), that he is STUNNING. Every time we see this man.
I didn’t get any warning this was happening the first time. In my own home. Ie.”hey!!! Pls note someone is arriving on a George Clooney/Brad Pitt/geek attempt/seriously handsome bloke”.
I was busy dealing with Hell on Earth Day AKA “my 3 kids birthday party”. Good times.
Anyhow…what I have noticed, in these horrific party/contained/adult versions of “Hell”, is why the fuck am I in this situation?” moments, are that men and women….well, they kinda morph into one for me. I’m still numb from a divorce. Nothing touches the sides yet. Mad.considering.
I stopped noticing men when I met my ex husband. I’m awake now…but it took a while. Not because he was some Adonis. But because, I am a believer in loyalty. I never noticed anything or anyone, but him. When DECREE NISI was official? Screw it. I’ve got not argument nor shame in saying, I was loyal. And I’ve got morals.
However…It does seem, that since that period in my life ended, I’ve seen, and rejected, “Male madness.”
This era, with Men, who feel entitled and free to undermine women? These guys don’t work for me. I grew up in a house with three sexist brothers and a VERY Old School Dad. Women cooked, washed clothes, ironed. Suffice it to say….the boys, my father and I? We argued forever. Yet these BOYS (Dad included) stood and shouted and screamed when I walked across a stage to get my Law Degree at University. They said “stuff”….but f a man said that crap to me?! He’s be buried somewhere in Walthamstow under a Kebab shop. I understand the old school generation. But I HATE THE NEW MAN, pretending to be “old school”. Old school Men? They are nourished differently. Men today? All about themselves. All about them.
AND YET…this WONDERFUL LOVELY MAN? I was handed this mans number as he left my childrens party. He handed ME his number. He’s married.
The bellend who almost set my shirt on fire when “helping” light the candles on my kids birthday cake? The guy we all “oooh’ed and ahhhhhed!!” at?! Yep. Bellend. Like the rest.
Handsome Dad came back to my front door approximately 7 minutes after leaving the party I threw, for my kids, where I felt shattered, vulnerable, awful, hair tied up, sweating like a bastad….and he said “Can I take you out for dinner? If youre free?!” Genuinely.
My response? “ Eh?! Is the class having another thing?!” I assumed he was talking about the WhatsApp group “dinners” everyone wasted energy on by message….and also assumed he meant with his Mrs too.
it would seem “Wanker syndrome” has spread to all parts of NW London.
Gebuinely. I thought I’d missed some fountain of “nice blokes who are fit”…but NO.
I grew up around 4 very old school men. NEVER HAD AN ISSUE. But this generation? Euwwwww.
So euwww and self important, it’s embarrassing. Obsessed with themselves. Women are considered “lucky” to be entertained.* If you read the dating apps…you’ll see all the men’s comments/photos are bizarrely juvenile.
If it’s me and my own thought process?! Then fine. But I’m out of this game right now…. until the Gentleman return, I’m out.
I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE MEAT THE BEST FRENCH TRIMMED HOMEMADE PARMESAN ROSEMARY HONEY BUTTER BREADCRUMB LAMB RACK – IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE
Lamb chops for dinner, dinner party, selfish night in for one…or simply to show off to your new fella if you’re single/ready to sell yourself
LEVEL OF SKILL
Normally, I have ZERO sympathy for the “I DONT FUCKING COOK ANYTHING” types…but I have to be honest. This recipe involves love, patience, a certain “weird desire”, to make it “work”. There is also a certain level of “not-quite-a-beginner” cooking skill required. BUT….if you can bloody read and want to do this because you like/love food, or simply to demonstrate to your other half/family/dog, that you ARE capable of cooking a FUCKING DELICIOUS EDIBLE NON FOOD POISONING MEAL? Then read on and allow me to educate and guide you Grasshopper, on a dish for Lamb Lovers everywhere (clearly not Vegetarians/people who simply don’t enjoy food/life/happiness).
Suuuuuuuper Cute isn’t he? Oh well….Lets get cooking!
- Bottle of wine. This isn’t actually essential to the recipe, but, for the experienced cooks, Im certain this is already part of your cooking ritual. Unless, its a Monday night and you’re knackered.
REAL INGREDIENTS (Give or take a spoon here n there)
- For sauce
3 tablespoons butter
2 cups finely chopped white onions & shallots (mixed)
3 cups of broth made with a mix of lamb juice and beef stock gel cubs
2 cups dry red wine
1 tablespoon of chopped rosemary (fresh is always better but dry works fine)
- For lamb
1 cup of Organic clear honeyRosemary (fresh or dry)1 1/2 spoons of Mint sauce (shop bought)
4 cups of Home made breadcrumbs (or shop bought)
3 tablespoons soy sauce
4 tablespoons Dijon mustard
1/2 a brick of melted butter (30 seconds in the microwave or boil over the stove until creamy yellow not burnt like syrup)
4 trimmed racks of lamb (approx 6 chops on each trim) – Ask your butcher to French Trim the racks, or buy in a store at the counter
Roast Potatoes OR Fat Chips
Honey glazed carrots – oven roasted for approx 40 mins until caramelised and gooey
Long Green beans – steamed
Bung it all in the over and hope for the best.
Get a timer/use your iPhone and ensure you know the actual weight/size and National Insurance Number along with Bank details of this lamb. IF you over cook this, and its not “slightly pink”, YOU ARE A LOSER AND RUINED A MEAL YOU SPENT HOURS COOKING. Im not being mean. This is a fact and something Ive experienced once with lamb and once (stupidly) with steak. Believe me when I tell you, I was gutted and needed “TIME OUT” to stop apologising for the “overcooked meat”.
Timing with lamb and steak are ESSENTIAL. Otherwise, its simply ruined. Ever eaten Steak in Paris (or anywhere with an arrogant/overly food conscientious/yet annoyingly correct) French Chef preparing everything in the kitchen)? Your meat normally WALKS out of a French restaurant kitchen, semi alive with “jus” all over it. Your Waiter hands you your food with a look of complete disgust that you’re even in his country and you then cut into what resembles a LIVE ANIMAL CARCAS. That tastes FUCKING AMAZING.
Order a “Medium/well done” Steak in Paris, and I think the Head Chef actually walks out of the kitchen personally to slap you in the face, before retiring to the kitchen to shag his Mistress and cook.
Let me demonstrate with free online photos what happens with OVERCOOKED MEAT:
OVERCOOKED LAMB – Looks like this…
NOT MY COOKING!!
THIS IS BAD. If you ever serve lamb like this, your guests will leave, or need medical assistance from chocking or food poisoning.
It hurts just to show this….
The above two FOOD “CRIMEWATCH” PHOTOS are shocking.
Yes….however…. this is HOW your Lamb and steak SHOULD look (BELOW) before you serve it.
PROPER MEAT “AFTER COOKING” PHOTOS:
A Beef tenderloin….
Chateau Briand is my personal favourite to be fair… dripping in meat “jus”, and crispy triple cooked sauted potatoes, with creamed spinach and lashings of heavy red wine….ideally a solid Malbec.
If Lamb? Ensure it is slightly pink.
A good Steak? Rare/Medium rare….. Although….this depends on your own preference. I like it rare….but not crazy rare. I like Pink Rare, with a darker marbling…..and saucy, The fatty (marbling) juicy streaks needs SOME colour (i can taste the “fat” otherwise), BUT, with sauté potatoes, or heavy fat “triple fried” chips and a strong Béarnaise sauce (* Main ingredients egg yolk, clarified butter, white wine vinegar…happiness/angiogram)? Winner.
Im starting the food blog in October.
Summer salads are a fun one for me, but I LOVE the Winter MEAT palettes….I used to have a whole Sunday routine when cooking for just myself and The Captain. Im beginning this again soon. Farmer Markets, Cheese, selection of wine on a single Mums budget…All coming soon.
IT MEANS PLEASURE, TIME, JOY….ENJOYMENT….
People who genuinely LOVE food….?
And …..NO. Not the fake “I love food, write about it” types….
Im talking, real food lovers, who can smell food like oxygen?…..These people are different. We can’t help how we feel about food. We can’t help how we feel about every aspect of it. We get happy when its done properly. We get very annoyed when its not done correctly. We cant help it…. we ADORE food.
I LOVE and ENJOY every part of an industry, a profession, a celebration, an experience, I feel i have lost my joy in.
I LOVE and enjoy writing. I feel the same about food. How long has it been, since I indulged in either pleasure? Properly?
A Long looooong time…… I loved these beautiful, important, art forms, hugely.
I used to wake up at 5am, 2 days before a dinner party, just to sort and reeducate myself, on the Menu, before the whole “shopping experience & prep” began.
Yes…..before “food prep” and even “trial dessert run” (“fuck up dessert moment” is OK 2 days before, if trying something “new”)… I absorbed and read about the Ingredients. I added to certain dishes. They always worked. Why?
Why did an additional fresh Vanilla pod, a simple component with Ground Cinnamon, work on a dessert, that a leading Chef hadn’t thought to add to his recipe? But I added to mine?? And it worked. I love the art and pleasure, and taste of food. I see what matches and works. JUST to ensure, i HIT that perfect bullseye EVERY TIME I dished up for anyone, Id try and test before any huge party the Captain asked me to Cater for.
I prepared (and tried my hardest) for an important dinner. For who? Aside from myself? I wanted the Captain to relish in my ability and sheer necessity to cook and feed a huge group of his friends, or work colleagues. But not just “OK”….I wanted “WOW!! She was EXCEPTIONAL!”. I Loved to cook. Loved to….
That feeling? its starting to reignite….It ONLY took 3 years…. 🙂 When you love something so much, in my life? Im all, or nothing.
Im now turning my ship around, or the “Tanker” as my ex called it, and Im starting to cook again…..
I love it…. Im hitting it out the ballpark again.
The Recipes are about to flow. I want to absorb the flavours of the Mediterranean before I begin the next batch of new recipes and new Life.
GREAT PHOTO ABOVE FOR SPEARMINT RINO, RIGHT?
EVEN AS A STRAIGHT WOMAN….I’D FUCKING GO IN THERE FOR A COCKTAIL AND VISUAL SPECTACLE.
All Strip clubs?
ALL? Anywhere in the world? They are an “Institution”.
A STRIP CLUB?…..
WELL……..IT IS accepted, like someone’s popping down to the local “Costa Coffee” to catch up with a mate.
To meet some random client, simply to discuss “work”. Wives and girlfriends can’t even possibly be precious about this “client dinner”.
THIS IS A JOKE RIGHT?
WOMEN CAN NOT SAY TO THEIR PARTNERS “BABE…..I MEAN IT. DONT GO TO SPEARMINTS TONIGHTS AND STARE AT SOME TITS”!!
WHY CANT WOMEN SAY THIS?
If a woman attempts to engage in a “You’re going to a strip club conversation!”, with their Fella…In this day and age?!
You look uncool, a wierdo, religion/family gets dragged in (if married), and you then THEN, have to pretend you are SOOOOOO cool, that you end up GOING TO THIS ESTABLISHMENT WITH YOUR HUSBAND WHILE HE STARES AT ANOTHER WOMANS BREASTS SIMPLYBTO DEMONSTRATE YOU ARE COOL.
I have never done this by the way…but I know many women who have.
You are basically (I’m sorry, so sooooooo sorry to say it…) attempting to show, the working girls that you are “OK” with it, telling everyone around you that your partner/husband is trustworthy by being WITH him, trying to educate your Mummy playdate friends on what they should allegedly be doing, and bottom line……..??????
You just sold your morals and yourself.
WHY? Why would you allow this shit to happen ever?
Does he do this in front of you?
Why are you showing off by being all….”Yes……I go with him….!” What the fuck for?
Even when my marriage was ending, we “played” until the divorce was final.
Not for an audience.
Not to show everyone anything.
Even when I write this…..I know the Captain and I remained intimidate….no strip clubs ever.
Especially not at this age. what for!?
Damaged? Have jealousy issues? Are Broken? You’re a “wrong ‘un” later on down the line when your name is mentioned?
WOMEN ARE PERCEIVED AS THE ISSUE.
To be fair…..
I LOVE MEN. I LOVE THEIR ABILITY TO BE FREE.
I LOVE THEIR ABILITY TO MAKE US WOMEN feel romantic. Us straight ones love a “good guy/bad one turned good.”
The sex industry, which is HUGE, is not, by any means, looked down on by me, nor many. Nor is the profession of prostitution. Not that strippers or prostitutes are the same by profession. They ARE NOT.
I’m not ever going to fuel, an archaic bullshit old school hypocritical, fire, as it is what it is.
IF, YOU GENUINELY…..WANT TO KNOW THE reality of what MEN are about?
Please read this, get angry, claim I am wrong, your man is “never ever” how I claim…..
They are wired/broken/ill. If…..IFFFFFFFF women can get this shit in their heads…..and understand, its nothing we did or didn’t do. We would all be ok. BUT….WOMEN….we can’t do this.
Let me kick you ladies, right now, to explain what is going on.
THE TRUTH ABOUT MEN
ARE YOU REALLY READY? REALLY?
That LOVELY GUY….YOUR HUSBAND, PARTNER….whatever…. is ALLLLLLLL ABOUT YOU? CLLLLLL ABOUT YOUR LIFE?! You are THAT insane you think, NO MATTER WHAT I GIVE AND DO AT HOME, HE WILL ONLY WANT ME?”
WHAT ARE YOU? THAT YOU THINK THIS (NON CHOSEN TO HAVE Hi there, thanks for your text / email. Please note that I will only respond to you if it is about my children. Thanks Shaz RACE, DECIDED, HE WOULD BE FAITHFUL ONLY TO YOU, AND YOU, YOU, BELIEVED HIM?}.
THIS IS THE REALITY
- you are amazing, cute, sexy, for approx 3-4 weeks.
- you may MAY be MORE interesting than his normal type (and he is labelled as a “good ‘un”) for 4 -6 weeks. He tells you often he doesn’t “do relationships”. Makes you feel “special”. Like you are “lucky” you caught this idiot selfish narciissits attention”.
- You, fall in love. With a complete, cheap, “I don’t pay for drinks”, “its all about me”, “cold”, “its your fault Im a complete arsehole….” guy. You see husband patches, you see he is on Twitter, never acknowledging you, you see, he picks and choses when he is kind. You STUPIDY allow this verbal abuseer to dictate your air, happiness and think YOU are the “wrong un” for his disgusting boring, rude, vile, ignorant, seamless, behaviour”.
- You need to WAKE UP!!
- HE IS A VERBAL ABUSER. HE SAYS HE IS NOT. THAT YOU ARE “WRONG”.
- Wake up. This is a bad baaaaad egg. He dies nothing nice for you. Makes you feel shit constantly. You can’t talk to him as a boyfriend. He thinks he runs your house and he is SHITTTTTTTTT IN BED. WAKE UP.
- BUUUUUT. He is addicted to dating websites…. WHY?!
- Illl explain…… Any man shit in bed, incapable of holding an erection, who undermines their girlfriends, claims he’s amazing ONLINE to everyone on TWITTER, Pictogram, Facebook…….? Give them this idiot. He’s vile. He’s unkind. He’s not generous. He cries. He is shit in bed. His cock is small…..He IS A LIAR AND A CHEAT AND HE DOESNT THINK HE IS. HES SAD. SAD. SAD.
- He had moments of insecurity and you helped him through THIS SHIT (like no one else). Did he THANK YOU??? Nope. He went online to a Z List Big Breasted “Model” and then told YOU OFF for his bad doings. SHAME ON YOU.
- THIS IS A DAMAGED IDIOT. SOMEONE WHO GREW UP AROUND PAIN. FACT.
- You got sucked in,.
- THEY personally?…. never ever ever ever, have felt OK with any man I was married to, or seeing. THESE are guys you are apparently meant to accept … just “popping into a strip club, for tits and a “happy ending” before heading home. I lose all respect for a man IM seeing, immediately. Not just because of this.
Unfortunately…..I assume now…..they are all damaged like this. Shame.
I also know, having spoken or been involved in conversations about this, that some wives, girlfriends, will “go with him” to the strip club, so they are there and also to show they are comfortable and confident in themselves….WHILE HES STARING AT ANOTHER BIRDS TITS.
Your fella is doing this openly, in front of you. IN FRONT OF YOU. He’s respecting you? For being, what? Cool?
This is OK behaviour now? Erm…..Since when? Would he do this in a bar in front of you? Nope.
Or around your friends and family? Nope. Because its disrespectful. Its not cool. Strip club is irrelevant. You could be at a bus stop and the same jealous argument would arise “WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT HER!?!”
But ….. men can go to a strip club and be given Witness Protection Immunity, and a Hall Pass to do what the fuck they want. Why? How? Do we get this freedom to act like stupid pathetic insecure “oh she’s just being a girl” behaviour? The Male populations response to strip club drinks?? Your partners answer to your 4am “where the fuck have you been while I’ve been breastfeeding our newborn child?!!!”??….
A mans standard deflectice response is…”It was for WORK babe. What the fuck is your issue woman?? You’re clearly tired. You’re also being really insecure lately since the baby was born 2 days ago. I’ve told you YOURE NOT FAT but you push me to go to these places after work. I don’t even like it there… To be honest, i don’t even notice the tits and clit in my mouth. I’m there FOR WORK. End of! Stop being crazy and babe….make sure you pick up my Ascot Suit from the dry cleaners tomorrow….I’ve got a busy week with clients from NYC”.
Hmmmm…..ok……because we are modern educated, smart women…we are actually trying to be ok with this whole stupid joke of a situation? Some women go along to the strip clubs with their fellas, to show they are “one of the guys”. They think this will increase their worth in their mens eyes.
Really? And what? He wont leave you? Cheat on you? Think youre soo amazing compared to those “insecure friends of yours” because you went to a Strip club with him? Because he had a BJ in front of you, while you popped a Xanax and downed a bottle of Grey Goose (through a fucking straw)? Even I wouldn’t respect you if I was your man.
Sooo… let me get this straight…as we are all being so “sexually equal”….
Instead of going out for a nice dinner, with a lovely steak, maybe some good cheese to finish, and a strong Malbec, to chat over with your man? You decided to go to a STRIP CLUB SO YOUR MAN COULD STARE AT A NAKED BIRD, IN FRONT OF YOU, and claim, this made you “closer”? CLOSER?!?!??! HOWWWW?!??
Lets now reverse this situation then…
Your (prick of a) man and you, head out for a night, and you say “babe! For a laugh, let’s go to “Spearmintdickno”….I fancy looking at a cock and balls with some fit young blokes!!!”
Do you, for one minute, think your man, is going to say “yes babe Spearmintdickno” it is!!! Ill call us an Uber…FINISH YOUR DRINK YOU SIREN YOU!”??
Let’s say, even IF that conversation passed the first hurdle and he actually came to a Male strip club witch you….what then??….
You arrive at Speamintdickno (copyrighted now btw as I think this is my next business venture)…He hands your coats in, you grab a booth…then, erm….what?! You sit there, while you chat to your man, and stare at Male strippers on stage, walking around serving drinks and happily doing lap dances for Hen parties (from up North OBV), while spending your money and perving over some gyrating 6 packed, 18 year old bloke….All in front of your man. Or is he “insecure” because he doesn’t want to do that? What is the difference? Oh…yes….we are WOMEN. Its different.
Ive spoken to some ladies recently who have mentioned their husbands “are sooo funny!!! They always end up at a strip club with their mates”, at school drop off in the morning. They say this, whole laughing and acting comfortable with this hugely private information. My reaction?
These women are normally, off to an exercise class (yes, Im generalising…BUT THEY ALL ARE…these are the only self preserved women Ive seen who talk about this stuff, act ok with it….then divorce minutes later. I FUCKING HATE, HATE, HATE, those Mums at school drop off who wear gym clothes, ALL THE TIME. Hate that. Its just soooo “yah, I’m off to the gym…..” brazen…and it makes us mortal Mums (especially those of us who are single parents, with no nannies etc, running around food shopping, washing clothes, fighting over bills, dealing with constant illness in our lives due to unwell parent…..).
These Yummy Healthy gym wearing, skinny legged, pony tailed, smiley, non make-up wearing, Mums irritate THE SHIT OUT OF ME. So…..Strippers, Prostritutes, Traffic wardens and those annoying dickhead neighbours that complain about you because you parked one inch out of your required parking space…..hey don’t upset me.
These constantly smiley Mums at school? Who mention “strip clubs” their husbands/partners (too cool to marry), often frequent….are very easy to spot.
A) They wear hugely expensive gym kit…while carrying a Chanel/YSL bag (thrown over their shoulder as if its rubbish).. This gym kit normally looks spray painted on these long skinny, bony kneed legs with super skinny achilles heels that just look pink.
These mums are known by me as the “fucking annoying gym pushing guilt activists”.
They’re always dolled up with “non-makeup’ (but don’t be fooled….theyre fucking wearing “makeup”). But…as they wear their daily uniform of posh, expensive, trying to look casual, gym wear (ready for yet another Charity fundraiser Walk with some Mum they “met in an organic underwater birth class when they had Gwilliam”, you don’t think they’re a threat.
2) They normally turn up looking “rosy cheeked”, irritate you on the “Class Whassapp” group messages, simply due to their bodies being overloaded with bloody endorphins from their gym classes (or prob yoga) and therefore feel whatsaap “trigger happy” when they provide suggestions about the Xmas School fundraiser. They also always know people who run organic book shops, bakeries, farms, private tutors and homemade placemat makers……They are the women who used to smile at you when you were in school, pretend to be friendly, slag you off, and then be caught giving all the boys blow jobs behind the sheds at lunchtime. Those overly correct women, are the ones I avoid. Its the closest I will ever get to the notion of a Devil. They are snipers from the side. Smile to your face. Bitch behind your back. And I just don’t like them because I am obviously now judging them. Anyway…
3) They always wear a beautifully blow dried ponytail, that swings from side to side while they drop Gwilliam, Gweneth and Geronimo off at the school shuttle. They always arrive in a high end Range Rover, with some dumb affected private licence plate. I HATE PRIVATE LICENCE PLATES MORE THAN I HATE DONALD TRUMP, TRAFFIC WARDENS, OR THE IRA.
I also hate “self righteous groupie cliquey school mums” who blatantly bully you (without “bullying”you) by leaving you out in a conversation, when they can see you are stood there alone, surrounded by a group they know, but their rudeness fails to involve you or introduce you. I hate those passive aggressive chip-on-their-shoulder- Mums. I hate rudeness and I have always shared my hatred for bullies. The private licence platedriving gym wearing rich Hampstead Mum? AKA idiot Ranger Rover Hampstead Mums (only the mean ones, as Ive got mates who drive these gorgeous cars) all have private licence plates which states “Im FUKCING RICH BITCHES”
This annoying breed of Mother, is overly chatty to everyone….while sipping her homemade green tea (organic of course) from her personal flask (prob from Selfridges/Harrods/some dickhead rich shop) at 7am. She will complain that her Staff didn’t make her morning tea correctly but didn’t feel she could “complain”. She is the HAMPSTEAD YUMMY/CRUMMY, Mum.
I HATE THESE WOMEN.
I don’t hate them out of spite. And also….Not because they’re rich.Nor do I hate them because I’m a single Mum and they’re married for the 8th time, or because they have nannies strapped to the roof and bumper of their Range Rovers….
I don’t even hate them because they are happy (or pretend to be while their husbands are shagging their Nannies), not because of any social class divide (i went to private school, yet Im to a cunt)….this TYPE of Mum…..they just scream Self importance but PRETEND they are one of you. They are not. They are wankers. They are fucking gym wearing (daily) show offs. To tell the world, “Yes, I drop my children at school and then I have SOOOOOO much free time, I get to go to the gym immediately after…Im FUCKING LOADED & TRYING TO ENSURE MY HUSBAND DOESNT RUN OFF WITH HIS NEW French “Assistant” he keeps mentioning when our Butler serves us dinner”.
THEY PISS ME OFF.
They cannot be doing what I do daily. I woke last night, 9 times, BECAUSE i HAD AN UNWELL VOMITTING COUGHING IRRITATED CHILD. The poor baby started being sick approx 45mins after my household went into “bedtime lockdown” at 9.45pm.
NINE FOURTY FIVE PM IS NOW A LATE “CRAZY NIGHT” FOR ME AS IT IS….AND yes, that’s WHEN I ACTUALLY HAVE TO GO TO BED IN ORDER TO SURVIVE THE NEXT DAY. Being divorced and a single mum of 3 very young kids, I never ever know what is going to happen the following day. Can you imagine living like this constantly, without your family being nearby, friends are all living the same “normality”, and its only getting harsher as winter approaches. The kids actually thought I had woken them “at night-time” for school, two weeks ago. It was dark, cold, miserable. It was the fucking UK. I’m a born and bred Londoner to the core. I know the winters here are harsh but the Summers and energy of London, makes up for a lot of things.
I don’t mind winter. I was born in December 1976, when it was snowing, freezing, and my Dad sat in his car for 2 hours (TWO ONLY!!!) while Mum popped me out the birth canal. Cold weather isn’t my favourite, but I DO love what winter brings with it. Heavy soups, Stews, Beefs, Malbec, and aside from my birthday, theres the Elf on the Shelf and Christmas. I don’t mind it…..
And it takes all kinds to make the world work. I dont feel any judgement about anything to do with this profession, nor do I feel anything OTHER than respect for the women who have to manage the clientel.
I DO however, judge my partner, if they fuck around because of this profession. Strip Clubs though….yes, they’re bloody genius…and money on tap (although not that easy to earn, considering the DICKS who frequent the establishments). I wish women had “Womens clubs” that are not the boring “Business Development, Old school networking, shitty non-dirty, members-only” clubs. I wish we could go out for our girls nights thinking…..
“YEHHHHHH!!!! TURN MY MOBILE OFFFFFFFF!!! NO SIGNAL!!!!
IM GOING TO GET ARSEHOLED AND HAVE SOME BLOKE DANGLE HIS COCK & STD’D BALLS IN MY FACE….!!!!!!
BUT I DONT TOUCH HIM SO ITS ALRIGHT, BITCHES!!!!”
You know?! Those kinda “blokey” unhinged, black/white/Im a man therefore what is the problem with this barbaric behaviour… nights?
I think us girls, need an environment full of fit, fucking attractive (lets face it, there are not many good looking men out there), well built, able-to-speak-in-sentences-men, for our viewing and orgasmic pleasure.
Us women need Men, that we too can perve over, before going home, and climbing into our warm marital/couply/whatever-your-relationship-is, beds. We too, need to feel zero guilt. Its never quite taken off though for us ladies though.
We have a Venus/Mars dynamic that is obvious and accepted.
Women? We dont always NEED that visual “COME FUCK/SUCK ME” situation, to “get off/turned on”, sexually. We are actually more evolved than men (yes, in most ways) but ESPECIALLY when it comes to sex. I would love to say “babe, I’m off with the girls for dinner, we’ll possibly pop to Rhinoladyspearmints, then home before 1am”. Bottom line? We don’t NEED that instant gratification like men do. We, after all, are the ones who bring life into the world. If it wasn’t for US? Like dinosaurs, we’d be extinct.
Women are able to live, without men, in this day and age. We procreate. We are strong. We are the strength that makes life spin. We can have multiple orgasms, with or without a man present, procreate with/without a man present, and we are sexually (possibly more so) just as in need as men are, when it comes to sex. But men dont realise that. And women are not freely able to communicate that. Otherwise we would be called “‘slags”, or “loose”, or “wrong ‘uns”.
Women are actually filthier, more able to have sex for numerous hours day (with orgasms and no blue pill AKA “Viagra”), than any man ever could. Unless hes some friggin LEGEND…and those men only existed pre 1979.
Women also need a place to go and chill. Possibly not on the sexual scale that men do…and our “place” would probably involve having our feet massaged, hair brushed, possibly some “back room hidden action by a master tongue licker” (yes…naughty eh?) and we too, can go home and cuddle our fellas and state we were “faithful”. Because WE did not “touch” the male strippers giving us pleasure. Plus “paying for it” means e are innocent… “They touched US after all“. Same thing, surely? Not according to a man. Nope.
The first, last & only time I went to a Strip Club, surprising, for someone with my openness, was in Bangkok. This eye opener of an experience, where Ping Pongs were, literally, aimed at the Captain and I from a womans Vagina….was FUCKING BRILLIANT.
I couldn’t stop laughing and ordering more beer.
I COLDNT STOP LAGHING. THESE WERE WOMEN WITH TALENT, ZERO SHAME AND EDUCATING ME, ON SHIT IVE NEVER EVER SEEN. EVER.
I was sooo engrossed in the “show”… that even when I noticed couples walking in (the woman always clingling to her partners arm as if to say “WHAT THE FUCK AM I HERE FOR!?” I didnt care. I felt bad for these ladies, coming into the strip club, worried and afraid….and their fellas looked like they were comfortable and almost embarrassed by their partners discomfort.
I, on the other hand? Having never been to ANY strip club….took a view of….”LETS GET FUCKING INVOLVED!!!” My husband (number 1) was so stunned at my sheer “OK’ness” that HE started to unravel while I screamed and laughed and chatted to the girls working at the club. I wanted to know how the FUCK did they throw darts out of their “noonies”?! HOW!!!???? When do you practice this? WHat if you have an accident at home? Who has Arnica in these situations?! (I always have it in my bag in case one of the kids has an accident).
I wanted to see how a woman blew birthday cake candles out, with her fucking, incredible….vagina. I was SOOOOO amazed that I HAD to order another Tiger Beer (the Captain was being harassed by a Lady Boy at the time, despite being sat right next to me) as I find women amazing….
PING PONGS??! BEING HURLED OUT OF A VAGINA?!!! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING?! HOW DO YOU PRACTICE THIS SHIT?!
AND……..WITHOUT USING ONES HANDS!!!? WTF!!!!?
Anyway….where was I?
Ah yes, men are dicks, women are amazing, life online is shit….and Ive yet to pay my Council Tax bill this month. Good times all round.
Ah…..and the dark nights are fast approaching as Winter is here. Its this time of year that reminds me of an old life I once had, pre kids and marriage, in a NW6 loft apartment with my then fiancé, where Beef, fine cheese, sex and Malbec were divulged in guilt free abundance, as was sleeping, selfishness (as in, it was about the two of us only) and being very, very content. The Captain once told me he felt something had been missing, until I came along. I miss those days. Those were my happiest days (until the children came along, but dynamics and life changed…very swiftly). I hope those wont be the only days, I experienced, on this mortal coil, where I felt genuinely fulfilled. But, right now (and being open like this I know is dangerous online) without fear, I am still not hitting that level of genuine happiness. Yes, divorce has impacted my view on the world, life, men and general beliefs I once held so dearly. However, Love does that to people. It did it to me. I hope, one day, I get to experience that real, happy, certain, “given”, safe place again.
OK…SO….ONLINE DATING? CHEATING? WHATS YOUR TAKE?
You know whats recently become my new aggravation? My new IRRITATION? And this works alongside my hatred of bullies, driving/parking in NW London during school runs where WANKER TRAFFIC WARDENS wait behind trees/cars/cats to give you a parking ticket first thing in the moring (despite knowing full well us parents HAVE to slow down and drop our kids off at school ….although id love it if mine could jump out while the car was still moving), lost school uniforms (especially expensive Blazers and winter jackets), the monthly bills, irritating drivers who have no idea about the width of their cars, Bankers, Smart Car drivers etc?
Ok, this issue is not a “recent” global issue (as lets face it, people cheat if they want to) but, as I am an innocent, still trusting newbie to the dating game, after years of marriage,….I’ve been STUNNED, MORTIFIED, SILENCED (sheer shock affect) by the stories I’ve heard, things Ive witnessed/experienced with how the world now works with online dating relationships….AKA “THE ONLINE HIDDEN DATING ADDICTION”.
Now most of you ladies who are out there online dating, will meet someone you think “yeh….hes alright. He can speak without spitting. Doesn’t smell. Looks presentable. Doesn’t hurt kids or animals and can eat his food properly”…
However, we have ALLLLLLLL experienced, that absolute insecure total idiot, who you’ve assumed you were exclusive with, until you randomly discover, they’re STILL onine dating and “keeping their options open”. This hidden online life, that this man youve been seeing, may have carried on for months, or even YEARS in your healthy relationship. Why? Its always going to be your “fault”.
Why???? Because they are selfish, cheating, self absorbed twats with zero confidence or trust ability. Walk away now ladies/men….a cheat is a cheat is a cheat.
INTERNET DATING. AND cheating emotionally via online dating.
I know numerous, countless, people, who have been involved in the INTERNET DATING world. And also, dozens of people, burned by the phenomenon of “emotional online cheating”.
if youre online, but not “touching them”…its not cheating.
Cheating is cheating is cheating is cheating.
EMOTIONAL ONLINE CHEATING?
This IS cheating.
If you wouldn’t do this in front of your other half, it means you’re fucking cheating. How hard is this to comprehend? Seriously? If youre hiding your online activity….you are CHEATING. If you are caught out and claim its your partners fault you HAD to go surfing for a new partner online, despite being happy in your relationship? Its cheating. Cheating.
I love witnessing the sudden amnesia that arises (men are geniuses at this), when this conversation is brought up with your other half, after discovering their online (hidden alias) on some dating website. The piece of shit, cheating scum lord shouldn’t have been on any website but BUT….he then admits it…. but their respons?
“BUT I WASNT DOING ANYTHING! I never saw them….I didn’t really cheatttttttttt!! Youre crazy and NEEDY for saying these mad things! WHY ARE YOU CHECKING UP ON ME?!?! YOURE A NUTTER!!!”
Err…yeh. Its me. I’m the “damaged one”…you fucking freakoid. My partner is cheating on me because he claims he cant “trust me and needs to feel happy”…..Look in the mirror. And by that comment, I mean YOU not him. HE is a piece of cheap shit. Worthless. He willmake any woman miserable. Any man who cheats and claims YOU are to blame? YOU need to WAKE UP AND WALK AWAY. IMMEDIATELY. Even if he was “changeable”, would you really want someone THAT damaged? No. He will always be a wrong ‘un. ALWAYS. He cheated on you. He WILL do it again. And again. And again. Why? Its not you. Its him. Hes an absolute dickhead. Simple.
You are in a relationship. RELATIONSHIP. BUT….online verbal communication which includes sexting, flirting, photos, constant whatsapps or “Kiks”…etc….all, ALL, are communication that should NOT be happening if youre in a monogamous relationship. They know this, otherwise, they wouldnt hide it. They need egos stroked. You need a grown up. Yet this is NOT being unfaithful? Since when? Seriously? Since when did chatting up other women/men, in an online capacity, when youre in a RELATIONSHIP (or in a bar/club) become OK?
“BUT IT WAS ONLY TALKING! I touched her arse/arm/mouth/pussy…to put her in a cab as she wouldn’t leave me alone babe!!? Why are you acting so CRAZY!? You’ve got issues!!!” . My response? (not that this conversations ever happened, nor has a bloke got the balls to even say that shit…but it has HAPPENED to women I know!!)
Me: “Errr, sorry, DICK…did you say you were being “helpful/friendly/old school mate/cousin youre clearly incestuous with?”
Him: “YES!!! WHYARE YOU SOOO INSECURE?? WHATS WRONG WITH YOU? I WENT OUT WITH MY MATES BILL AND BEN AND BUMPED INTO KELLY AND SHE WAS BEING REALLY FRIENDLY BUT WAS WELL DRUNK. I WAS BEING A GENTLEMAN BABY. STOP BEING BIPOLAR AND CAUSING PROBLEMS. THE FACEBOOK IMAGE OF ME SHAGGING HER AGAINST THE TESCO EXPRESS AT 2AM WAS NOT ME!!! YOURE FUCKING MAD WOMAN. A REAL WRONG ‘UN!!!!”
Me: “Yes. ok. Whatever. Im broken. Youre sane. Its me.
Now fuck off…..oh and BABE………I fucked your brother last night”.
Educate me boys? Ive got 3 brothers. I have a Handful of good male friends and no one, NO ONE, can argue, the facts. You go online, no matter what the emotional or physical outcome is, your INTENT was to cheat and your INTENT damaged/ruined/created new issues within your relationship with your partner/husband/wife/fuckbuddy/girlfriend/boyfriend/its ok friend. FUCK OFF AND GROW UP.
People are not stupid. In this day and age, we have all learned more, from life, our own 80’s tastic parents (now newly open to all forms of honest discussions) and we ALL know, what is right. Its easy. But, the internet, has made idiot/vile/think they-are-something men, feel invincible and able to act anyway they like ie. LIARS/PLAYERS/SCUM. And NONE of them, especially the “attempted players” have any kudos to carry through with something properly legitimate. By this I mean….In the old days (1970’s….ish era) , a real player, was someone handsome (a given), well off (or looking for a “sugar-Mummy”) educated (or at least pretended to be), and usually able to carry any situation…and fucking sharp. This day and age….? You haven’t got anyone who has that old school ability.
That’s why I love older men. and by older I mean 50+. Theyre a different generation and they hold doors open (THIS IS A HUGE DEAL IN OUR DAY & AGE), they give you their hand when you’re walking (anywhere) and they ASK you if youre “ok”.
Simple, right? Not with the idiots of this day and era. Its surprising but I cant remember what my ex husband used to do, but I assume, he was cut from the old school cloth, of real men (or I’m a fool for giving him 3 kids. And I’m no fool. I was in love with a good man for a while. He set the benchmark). This new generation of “its all about the new male idiot syndrome”…the men of today? This generation of inexcusable broken, demanding men, where they immediately insist you buy them a “drink” to be “equal” are, in my opinion (and its not about money, its about class)….but these boys/man-child weirdos….they are to be avoided. They need counselling and a penis extension/circumcision/STD tests, before you even broach them. And if you still, STILL, want to go there….more fool you.
You all know what’s right and wrong in relationships. That is, until you’re caught out, online, flirting with someone else. Writing to someone else….someone who is NOT your partner/lover/wife/girlfriend. Being suggestive and flirtatious? If its hidden, its WRONG. FACT. BUT, we all know this. WE ALL KNOW THIS.
Online hidden aliases, profiles, hidden emails, hidden mobiles, different photos, hidden facebook profiles, random names/date of births/addresses/VPNS, hidden agendas. Its bullshit scumbag behaviour. WE ALL KNOW THIS, SURELY?
ASHLEYMADISON.COM (may you all burn in hell you unfaithful cheating scum…ps. LOVE THIS SITE IN PARTICULAR…Ill explain why next week :))
Something which is NOW, after 15+ years old, and considered the “norm” today. Also, the norm in the sense that MEN cant even consider being faithful, simply because they cant HELP but be online. Theres too much on offer. They are “Hidden”. Profiles hidden. You are “blocked” wihout even knowing it from websites because hes already preempted you looking him up. WANKERS. The whole lot of ’em.
Normal, acceptable, people nod knowingly (usually still “married”, without any idea their marriage will end in approx 5-10 years…if theyre lucky) and go “oh, yes….which website are you on? Tinder? Elite.com? friendfinder.com? localfuck.com? immeidateshagmenoquestionsasked.com? I’macheatingscumbagsoareyou.com? Match.com? okCupid? Ashley Madison (youre a cunt if you did)?!”
Firstly, id like to begin by stating….
I met the “Captain” of my household ship (yes, as in, my EX HUSBAND) online…. via “speeddater.co.uk”. The man wouldn’t leave me alone until I “granted” a date….and later, happiness, travel, love, marriage, 3 kids, and then a very painful divorce which to this day, I am still, STILL, recovering from. I fell in love. Once and only once. Regardless of the details, I was lucky to have felt happiness even for a year on the level I did. I know he misses that. I know I miss him for so many moments when, in those days, our “tight team” (his words not mine), meant we laughed a lot. I was often “managed” because of my humour and more relaxed manner, but also, I felt love for a long time, before that ended. He did too.
Now? NOW!? Fuck me….we hate each other and cant even breath in the same aura. But divorce is another story/article…. ongoing painful conversation, I’m certain he doesn’t want to endure anymore than I do.
It wasn’t anyones fault, the divorce….but…before “speedater.co.uk” kicked off in my life, I’ve always believed in the “online” relationship gig. It does truly work. It genuinely gives you the chance to chat and negotiate with a potential partner, before meeting them somewhere random. Normally near a train station. FYI….Avoid East Croydon overland station and anywhere remotely “remote”. Don’t open yourself up for problems with people you know are already unhinged. Also, fuck the crazies. If theyre not right on the phone, or via text, or sending photos of their erections or photos where they state ex girlfriends wont leave them alone and are “fucking nutters”….avoid them immediately. Respect yourself.
Know your own worth and have a hot bath, dinner for one and let the universe provide the right “sort” for you. Its not worth your time or heartache, being mistreated by an absolute piece of shit (that you want to change). The men today, have got far too cocky for my liking. I want to punch numerous men in the face, just for stating a woman was “needy” because she asked when she’d see them again. “Needy”? You wish. Keep the thought in mind. I’d rather be alone, than unhappy with a cheating, STD breeding, uneducated, alpha male, who brings nothing to your front door, but sadness, guilt and manipulation. End that shit.
You find out what youre actually “dealing with” on an online date before you meet. Is that attractive fella in the photo going to deliver as a human being ,when you meet? OR, is he going to arrive, emotionally angry/wasted and a “wrong un” right away?
Women know immediately. Its why we have the children. Its why we procreate. Its why we are WOMEN. We know and feel everything.
The biggest mistake we are genetically known to make? HEY, PLEASE REMEMBER IM ON YOUR SIDE (AS IN WOMEN….MEN CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF)….WE…WOMEN…WE Try and fix the piece of shit staring at us and trying to communicate with us over a glass of Pinot Grigio (which you probably paid for), like a badger out of hibernation. That’s our fault. We want it all. Apparently that’s wrong.
When they’re damaged (MEN, NOT US), theyre friggin beyond “fixable status”, as lets face it….he’s already arrived with his best clothes/shoes on, hopefully showered and still, STILL, with some bullshit idiot attitude…which screams “aren’t you lucky I’m here?!” If you already know he’s broken, mean, unfaithful, a complete idiot….
…..fucking run, forget “Uber taxis” and go bull market & large it with a black London Cab to escape. You are worth more than that. YOU ARE ALWAYS WORTH MORE THAN ANYTHING THAT ARRIVES IN THAT CAPACITY. Anyone who makes you feel you should be grateful they turned up? Seriously….. check yourself and your own mindset. Go home, laugh en route to your house….and think “I’m going to be a lesbian. Id probably be happier, more fulfilled and find someone stunning, kind and engaging. FUCK THIS ATTITUDE”.
Sooo…again…internet dating. I met my ex husband, nearly 14 years ago when online dating was considered “taboo”. The ex, to be fair, didn’t want anyone knowing that someone like him (or, Me), was looking online for, well….a marriage, a life, happiness. We were the real deal for a very very long time. But those questions that arose from online dating novices? “What’s wrong with you?!” and “why online?!” He didn’t want those questions. There was nothing wrong with either of us. The same being now, with the whole universe doing what we did all those years ago. We wanted clarity, a bit of honesty, some insight into what we were going to meet for dinner that first time….and also….banter. I BLOODY LOVE BANTER. It turns your man into your best friend within seconds when you can talk and joke and be YOU.
The ex Captain? He had legitimate social concerns about peoples perceptions of someone online dating, when clearly, he was physically and verbally capable of pulling what is the now, nasty, old fashioned way… ie. in a bar, club, taxi queue…
I on the other hand, have always been a firm supporter of the online “meet, greet, merge and/or, disappear” way. Why? Firstly, you can find out if someone can actually read/spell/punctuate (super important for me) and secondly, I’m lazy. I don’t want to speak to someone in the middle of a noisy bar, restaurant, road….without knowing some background knowledge about them first. In addition, now I’m a parent (yes….7 years later), Ive got a responsibility to my children, but I also, cant be arsed with dickheads.
So….here lies the new conundrum.
You go “online” dating. and to be honest, I’m a friggin BALL PARK, HIT A HOME RUN, genius, with my words. I’m not being an aggressive, arrogant male banker here. This is FACT. I can write any man into my bed. You want to pull someone ladies….seriously? Drop me an email and Ill show you how easily its done. EASY. Yes boys. EASY. Take that you cheating WANK CREW.
Ive had over 2500 responses on Tinder alone, and “likes” (lucky me) are beyond normal….simply by stating in a round about way “I’m fit, single, have 3 kids, if youre a muppet FO and if you want to play, I suggest Ashley Madison”. In addition, I MAY have mentioned I’m sensual and have decent boobs (theyre friggin beautiful people….BEAUTIFUL!)
“Herro…you like coffee. we meet in Dagenham bus station, yes lady?”
“Hi, I’m a farmer from Teddington. Do you drink tea?”
“How was your day beautiful?” That comment in particular is probably a template for over 100000000 Online daters and beyond pathetic. I hate that question more than I hate bullies, racism and Donald Trump (all the same thing really). How weak and empty is anyone, to have their first opening line as “how are you?!” FUCK OFF. Boring. Probably in a jail cell or married. Vile either way. If youre keen, pick up the phone immediately and show YOUR WORTH. IDIOT. Sorry….I like men. I’m just beyond stunned at the level of quality these past few years. Rude. Dismissive. Vulgar. and they cant understand why I give them a slap, the £2 bill for my “water with ice” and block them for eternity. EUWWWW.
The general uptake was “ ARE YOU A FUCKING BLOKE, or, a very cool bird?” Erm….my response?
A) “well done from using an apostrophe”?!
B) Hello, desperado….no I’m a woman disgusted by the male race and hoping someone will eventually return me to planet “relationships with good men do exist once you wheedle through the bullshit, unwanted nude erection photos (seriously, STOP this!!!) and basically desire to meet someone, which I hate to say, is NORMAL”.
As it turns out….there are some very good men out there….albeit, broken, divorced, single (“I never found the right one after I punched her dad in the caravan that day”…or, “she doesn’t love my Cat “Nancy/Mum” as much as I do”) men. There are some crazies out there.
Even the smart, attractive, educated ones….they’re more damaged than the jail boys in Wormwood Scrubs (although at least those boys are faithful to women, ONLINE DATING ISNT BEING “UNFAITHFUL” AFTERALL). I’m confused as to what’s happened since I got married in 2007. Something broke with the men I grew up surrounded by….the good guys I knew… ruined. Weird. Awful. Disgusting.
There are some “keepers”, some “growers”, and some “what the fuck am I doing this for?!!!!” moments. Ive never ever shunned online dating as ive always been a genius at this shit.
Until now. 2017. Crazy alert.
CRAZY ALERT AND BROKEN 2017 MAN SYNDROME HAS HIT.
These are men with issues and sexual madness on a level I feel sorry for, disturbed by, and also, yes, he may read this, has caused some form of “I miss my ex husband” syndrome. I am not writing that before Trolls get stuck in, to state, I want my Ex Captain back….but fuck me…..there are some odd men out there. And BOY DO THEY LOVE SLAGGING WOMEN OFF.
Nut bag Male 2017 Syndrome on a level I now encounter almost daily (not even online….!!). Ive left a grown man crying in a bar after telling him to “fucking get a life, get some emotion, grow a penis, and stop driving a car that requires being plugged in to recharge….. also fucking stop being a judgemental prick AND ASKING ME WHAT i GOT IN MY “DIVORCE SETTLEMENT”. Ballsy men, with zero appeal, ugly, not attractive in the slightest, driving cars that need to be plugged in every 3 hours (theyre clearly crusing the London roads for women and running out of battrey) because they don’t want to pay for fuel, and rude too. RUDE. OMG….RUDE. Its actually funny.
Euwwwwww…..Euwwww…..IM CONSIDERING BEING A LESBIAN….IF i EVEN HAVE A LOOK IN WITH THE Muff Bunch.
I miss being with someone who connected with me immediately. On every fucking level mentally, and socially. I never ever experienced this random, unknown, non-understanding, of normal social etiquette…ever. You go out, you laugh, you flirt, you have dinner, you chat again…NORMAL!??? SURELY!!!!? But weirdos galore? They are out there now by the bucket load.
SOOOO WHYYYYYY WHYYYYYY WHYYYYY are men being weird. Like, NUTBAG WIERD. EUWWWWW. I got approached by a very attractive man last week at the Costa Coffee in Tescos (yes, I’m Rock n ROll people) and immediately, I had to LINKEDIN the dumbass before I even smiled and paid for my triple macchiato. Turns out, he was 15 and not 47. Not a CEO but a GBH’er. EUWWWWWWWW.
Am I, as a woman supposed to sit around, wait for some legend to step in and fill my own emotional and sexual boots/needs…..when clearly….there is an issue/shortage/lack of obvious proper supply, of men….fitting a normal, female, happy, divorced need? OR
They are dating you and still online.
Still online but in their dumb empty vessel like minds, thinking….”I’m not being unfaithful”….”I’m online…not physical…”
Errrrrm…”mate. If youre cheating emotionally? Youre fucking cheating and being a shady snake too. FUCK OFF. Really. FUCK OFF”.
Ive had THAT “moment”….when, as a “grown up” …..you actually realise (the penny dropped) …
“You’ve been played…” 🖕Not just “played”….but PLAYED on a level, your “over 40” radar was not ready for.
That moment, as a single woman, once happily content as a “duo”, shows a new light on the after 40’s “dregs”. DREGS.
i don’t want “DREGS”. I don’t want “seconds”. No one does!!!
i don’t WANT an online “dating life” and trust me, I can pull many a man by writing frivolous “banter” alone. I DONT WANT THIS!!! I LOGGED OFF in 2007. When I hung up those long black suede boots and got married.
Ive got an idea…. Ladies….
Of everyone from eharmony, to Ashley Madison, to ecupid….can set up some website….where you’ve no control…
what happens when someone like, me?
Someone whose been used to being IN LOVE….starts “online empty vessel-like, going for an audition, yet more ruthless” dating?
While I seem to have forgotten )although recently reminded often by the Ex, and any other arsehole trying to knock me)…I am no longer 27…but 40 years old. I HAVE aged, but I don’t see it. I see my potential. My new found experience. My STILL incredible figure. My openness to accept wankers, despite everything.
So why…why? Why is this process, called “ageing”….easier on men, than us women? WHy are they bloody looking BETTER as we get older? Not all of them. But the divorced male crew….fucking hell. There are some HOT single men out there now, walking around like Peacocks….proud as hell, sleeping well as their ex’s are looking after their kids every night without them having a moments broken sleep. Why are they ok?
Men? Age very WELL. Women….?i look at photos from 2 years ago and it’s like I’m seeing another person in those memories. Age creeps up A LOT QUICKER, on the female form. Why? We have the babies. Surely we should get rewarded, not cast aside, because we are no longer “taught & young”.
why do they get to look BETTER WHEN THEY AGE??
Why, as a Mum and woman, have I changed soooo dramatically in my physical appearance that I barely know who I am some days, should I attempt to look in a mirror.
I WANT TO COME BACK AS A BLOKE IN MY NEXT LIFE.
I TOLD THE EX CAPTAIN THIS OFTEN.
And NOOO…I’m not some closet lesbian, keep to be an arrogant penis swinging, ugly ball sacked, bloke.
NO. I want to experience the world of a Man.
I’ve got a “if I woke with a penis” list of “To Do’s”:-
1) shave my balls.
2) make sure arse and ball sack are properly shaved after original “ball shave”.
4) buy a stupid crazy expensive, noisy car, with loud exhaust, racetrack tyres, cock envy road appeal, to piss everyone off at 6am when I sped off to work in the city (or my real cover, “escort agency”).
5) grow a pair and after shagging over 309999 women in my first trial week as a temp bloke, I decide…“enough is enough….!!!! I’m going to find love, happiness, and charity. BUT…not until I’ve had one, ONE (c’mon!!) NIGHT AT THE INFAMOUS STRIP CLUB, “SPEARMINT RHINO”...
To be fair…”Spearmint Rhino” is like Starbucks…
IF I WOKE UP AS A MAN/FELLA/GEEZER, WHAT WOULD I DO? Being a woman. Knowing what Men are like (ish).
Hmmmm…..I’d stand in front of a full length mirror. Observe all the body hair, ugly testicals, MASSIVE penis (c’mon!) and then? Well….THEN….I hit a strip club….I mean….if there’s a huge sign with a finger pointing to a lap dancing club. Being OLD SCHOOL, Id probably go underground and fid the filthy strip clubs, but, being LAZY….”fuck it” ….SPEARMINT RHI it is.
What happens once I arrive? After a 15 minute £350 lap dance. I go home to my non suspecting Mrs (whose been up nursing our newborn), and sleep soundly because “hey I FUCKING WORK ALL DAY AND DESERVE IT!!!STOP BEING A NUTTER!!! IM NOT DOING ANYTHING”
IF your man, goes there, after he’s smashedollowing a few drinks? He then stares randomly at some girls tits, arse etc while shes dancing, possibly goes into the “no touching” private room…. but hey?!
If YOU, as a modern woman, attempt to even mention this?!! His response? “It was a night out with the fellas YOU NUTTER!!!” situation. Youre the “nutter” for mentioning it. Youre “insecure” for commenting and youre a typical “bird” for being “sooooo pathetic” over this stuff. His brazen response normally is “sorry, what’s the problem with me getting a lap dance?”
Yours? “oh nothing wrong baby. Did you get a receipt to claim for your cab home babe? Did they all have massive lils?”
How do you, as a grown up (keep reminding myself, that I AM one)….respond to this blatant, exceptionally disrespectful, open, visual, not-allowed-to-argue-about-it-discussion regarding strippers? Is it cheating?
It IS cheating. However you chose to look at it. Would your partner do this shit in front of you? Unless hes a total imbecile, then NO. Your MAN would never ever sit in front of you while a bird is rubbing her tits and arse across his body and hes talking to YOU about the next days food shop in Tescos and what time your 1 year old slept yesterday. FUCK OFF.
WOULD HE be sat there, in front of you doing this? No. ….therefore….its blatanty still wrong. And for someone like me?
This “yeh, we had a few drinks and wanted a pair of tits in our faces”…scenario/conversation/apparently acceptable “norm”?? Nope.
When I was married? This conversation never even occurred. The Captain would call me, mid dinner/nightclub/Ibiza/Vega/Miami/local Greek taverna, to update me on the latest gossip…. but ALWAYS, came home to me (without any hidden agenda/lifestyle I was stupid or innocently thinking didn’t exist) in those first 9 years-TWELVE YEARS. Not bad for a banker. Not bad for any couple, when we had death, IVF, illness, moving home/country/etc etc etc, to contend with.
After having lived for 9-12 years of open iPhones, mac computers, answering each others texts, sharing Dropbox accounts and Instagram…..honesty. Trust. NORMALCY.
People cover their screens, take their mobiles to the loo… to ensure their random shag from the night before doesn’t flash up at 2am while you’re asleep….together.
Fine. But thats not for ME. EVER.
i don’t want this single set up if it involves mad men calling women “Nutters” without looking at themselves in the mirror first. Id rather abstain from dating all together, until the steroids (or whatever crap theyre pumping into their veins) has worn off. I need someone chilled. Kind. Relaxed. Capable of being nice…..and engaging. SImple really.
i don’t want marriage either (it took a while for me to get my head around it after escaping 2 previous engagements)….I NEVER asked for a ring the last time. But this time round….nope. Never ever again. It ruins everything. That circle on your finger…that symbolism. Something I was always reluctant to have. Never again.
No one gets to “own” me again. I wont take your name. I wont sign on the dotted line for you over legalities. I WILL however, be a partner and friend. I will be there and remain loyal, without the paperwork to ensure the deal is finalised. Ive always been that type of girl anyway.
To find my next “chapter”…I need a smart, yet sweet (& happily kind/non judgemental) Man “friend/lover/buddy”.
I can only wish for a best friend I will grow old with (one day, as this shit is never easy)…but…. I need my next “Clyde”.
Yes…the wonderful, endless, painful, exceptional, school holidays are soon coming to an end.
Nearly 1000000 weeks off school (although, to be fair, those Teachers must need it)…looong. My trio. The mini me entourage? Damn…. they’ve been busy, washing, cleaning and losing socks at home is beyond crazy, and yet….still…I get the same old question…EVERY 10 MINUTES:-
MUMMMMMMMMMMM???!! WHAT ARE WE DOING TODAY!? NOW? RIGHT NOW?! MUUUUUUUMMMMM!!??”
These kids of mine, are very lucky, and fortunate, erm….”people” (I didn’t want to be harsh with my own crew).
I am beyond stunned, that they are “BORED” from ONE (ONNNNNNEEEEE!!!!!!!!) day inside the padded cell known as our non permanent “rental home”.
Now, I have spent WEEEEEEEKS, yes, WEEEEEKS, alone, with my trio keeping them busy, travelling, going out, spending an absolute fortune, to keep these little meanies “busy”. BUSY ON A LEVEL LIKE BANKERS FEEL “BUSY” TAKING THEIR CLIENTS TO STRIP CLUBS”…. that’s how “BUSY” these under 7’s have kept me. And before you all forget…. IM FUCKING ALONE!!! Single Mum. To be fair. It’s much easier when it’s just me…”Iron fist, velvet glove” Mum that I am.
This is normal for the mini entourage and I ….however… if even ONE day is spent being a 1980’s Mum ie. “For fucks sake, entertain yourself and leave the adults alone!? Why are you even asking me for a bloody sandwich? Do I look like I work for you??’!!”
I’m ridden with “this 2017 judgemental parenting” guilt. Instilled by the media, NW Hampstead joggers you throw your fags at while doing the school run (they are normally rosey cheeked raahs , being all “healthy”), Lycra/legging/shirt in winter wearing “sporty” Mums at school (you know the ones…they’re all cliquey….speak to everyone (except you, the antichrist antimum outsider) and yet…their hair and nails are still (STILL) immaculate, and the ex husband who feels I should be tap dancing daily for the children to ensure I’m doing a good job to earn my monthly maintenance.
Seriously? For those of us who grew up in the “real” world…especially the 1980’s generation…I don’t recall THIS level of “parental” involvement and play date hell with some boring 7yr old who bullies my child (but hey, it’s a play date, so they’re “mentally growing”). This is BULLSHIT.
This is “adult mummy parental peer pressure”. Ive been “shunned” from some Mummy groups, towards the end of last year, because I blatantly rejected (politely) certain (hugely pointless and unnecessary coffee mornings/emails), constant messages for money to give “spa gifts” for the school staff (at an expensive private school), or to once again fill the mummy money kitty for yet another school fair.
Shunned why? I asked questions. OH….and I may have cracked a few unPC (possibly anti-marriage) jokes. Yes, I’m a “wrong ‘un.”
Damn my big gob. Ie. My daughter had no girls attend her birthday (despite attending all theirs) last year. She was devastated. I emailed the Mummy “WhatsApp bullshit hypocrite group” and literally said “why are NONE of your girls attending my child’s birthday?” Response. Nothing. Blanked. I’ve never been blanked. I’m the cool one at school. So what did I do. I created a new group. One called “I fucking hate affected Mummy dicks” (yes, childish…but still…we were cool). So far there are, erm, 4 of us. 2 are currently on probation for a DUI. Great girls though and our nights in Camden are legendary 😉
*That said. adult bullying is actually something I will write about next…as I can’t believe what I’ve witnessed daily with school “cliques” amoung Mums. It’s sooo blatant. Rude. Spiteful. Boring as you don’t ACTUALLY WANT to hang around these people (but ego wants you to be involved) but I will never ever bother with these vulgar socially inadequate people again. Anyway… Today is about the return to hell/heaven after the longest school holidays known to man kind.
My mini entourage have spent weeks on holiday ( weeks!!), at expensive tennis summer camps, with friends, family, outings that cost a minimum of £200 a day….basically “busy” as hell. Busy busy busy. Educating and broadening their minds…
BUT….today, they spent 6 hours IN DOORS (YES, IN DOORS, as in “inside the house”, WHILE IT RAINED) and complained that I wasn’t “entertaining” them. 🙂
Entertaining “them”…? Entertaining them….?
Erm…. Are you for fucking real?
What happened to us parents owning our own lives and households? Everyone I know complains about this shit but we all still torture ourselves and our kids, forcing too much social and physical activity to prove to those around us that we are “doing a great job”. Nb. If a parent isn’t happy, or is tired…do you not think this may potentially rub off on their children? Outside peer pressure for adults, who are full time parents (apparently this is not a “job” but more a joyous “lifestyle choice”….) we too, at times, need to call the shots in our own home. We can gauge what our children need.
And my worry when they (my mini trio) complained they were “bored?”… my concern, aside from “oh for fucks sake…!” Was…”What will people think?”
What the HELL have we done as a generation that I HAVE TO STOP HOUSEWORK…. TO SING …..AND DANCE …..AND GOOGLE ……ENTERTAINMENT?!! This makes me a good parent. This makes me a good parent? Not the Mother who runs around like a dog daily for her children, sleeps on floors (sometimes without even a blanket or glass of vino) when one is ill, drives 12 hours a days to collect/drop off/take to play dates…) nope.
I’m a shit mum if my children are bored for one single minute. We’ve ruined this generation. We have taught them nothing about morals, respect, manners, character…its them who apparently run the show. But….No…nope. No way. Not happening. I’m done with this polite “adorable, organic, support their desires” display. It’s not for the kids, this bullshit show…the one of exhausted Master Mummy…it’s to show off to other parents. It’s about displaying your abilities. You’re all bored. I’m not. I’ve got a life. I’m busy. I’m normal.
Children, should be able to cope, as us adults do, with time at home. And “time” doesn’t mean “jail time”….but in the old days, there were no “play areas” in my Parents flat. There were no friggin “playdates with Jane” from across the road. This is how the 1980’s worked in my era….
“Mum, can Jane come over today?”
Mum: “Yes fine. Stay in your room. Have fun.”
End of conversation. Jane and I would ring numerous restaurants for prank calls, watch TV, listen to the “Radio” (yes, “Radio”” and keep the fuck out of my parents way….WHY? BECAUSE IT WAS THEIR HOUSE!!!!
“Listen Mum Beeeeyatch! Dad said you need to fucking entertain our arses. Jane and her crew are coming over (theyre 7 yrs old btw), and if we ask you for Organic treats, youre not only going to hand them over, but take photos of our wonderous time together and post it via Whatssapp to demonstrate what a great NEW AGE DICK YOU ARE”
ME Internally….”Benadryl laced pasta lunch then, you manipulative wankers?!”
WHY are we doing this stupid crap??
My generation grew up in a time when serious shit happened. Yet, we all happiliy got on with stuff and I never ever recall my parents going “ooohhh, she has a playdate….we cant make that important event today!”
My Parents were, great, and also…very normal. ” You live here kid. You eat when we do. This is your 5ft by 5ft play zone in your OWN bedroom. Crack on and don’t answer back”. Simple.
This is how things roll in this day and stupid boring, miserable age:-
Me..: “We have to leave the house immediately to get to your 8.30am, (on a Saturday) playdate. Where are your Pink Fairy wings and gift for your friend “RainbowJuliabellscarlett?”
All one name FYI. Because the parents are affected twats. Who live in a posh area but are very “down to earth”.
On arriving at some lush palace in Nottinghill, the host, AKA “Posh Mummy” states:
“Oh she (referring to my Super cute, totally unaware & NORMAL CHILD, who was wearing her older brothers Batman costume with My Little Pony trainers & neon orange leggings from “Mummy’s 80’s fancy dress box”) needs a “magic costume from this years Sundance kids Film Festival in our cellar”. This? Errrr….to attend a tea party at 8.30am on a Saturday morning… and then this lycra, thin haired, thin bodied, Sloaney pony, states her “E-invite” was very clear that you “please dont arrive with Nuts, sugar, happiness or a rainbow….” as her baby, little Jim, is allergic to all and we don’t encourage Happiness in our home”. My child, one of my three favourites, handed me her bag of honey coated bits, candy floss, medium sized rainbow, and smile, over to me at the door. When I hugged her “goodbye”, she whispered “please come get me in 1O….minutes. I’ll pretend I have a bad tummy ache”. My daughter is FIVE YEARS old. I literally walked to my car, parked 12 streets away in NOTTINGHILL as no one can park outside their house in London, and sure enough….I had a phone call from Lycra Mum stating “your daughter has just said she did the biggest shit in my 4th bathroom and needs to i home immediately before she Explodes in my Persian rug”. To be honest…I couldn’t have been prouder. She would have been beyond bored for those 3 hours. 2 nannies, 4 children, a overly medicated “rahhh” Mum….it was too much. She told me when I collected her, after giving me a little wink “Mum…let’s go to E&O…I need to tell you what those crazies were like. They even had “Nannies”….
FUCK OFF!!! You encourage the idiot to wear a fairy costume though?! At 8.30am while you open the door wearing gym clothes to demonstrate how miserably healthy you are while your “friend”, a 20 year old exhausted Aupair…
called Tania …
frm Switzerland,is running around after 4 posh, irritating kids dressed as total wankers for a wierd playdate. Wow. What an amazing parent you are. Let me take notes.
The new term is about to start in Septmeber. I am more, now than ever, determined…to NOT do this bullshit. DETERMINED. I WILL NOT GIVE IN TO THIS CRAZY SHIT.
I run a home.
I love my kids.
I want them to be normal and happy.
I AM NOT doing this bullshit playdate, “do what the kids want” crap anymore.
I’m divorced. I live by my own moral codes and conduct. I’m free. THANK FK.
You want a playdate at mine?
Get ready to be an actual kid.
That involves actually hanging out with your mates, not bothering adults and no personal staff to assist you when you want a glass of water. Otherwise, youre a freak and I don’t want my children around you. You are NOT NORMAL. My trio ARE. Yes, now IM judging. Back off cracky lycra wearing NW Hampstead Mummies. I’m appalled at your elitism, lack of manners, zero personality, and ability to be YOU. Yes…..I AM JUDGING NOW. IVE BEEN LOCKED INTO THIS AREA AGAINST MY WILL…. NOW….I BEG YOU TO PICK A FIGHT OR STUPID MINDLESS PLAYDATE. I don’t WANT frivolous conversation. I don’t want coffee mornings. I HAVE friends and a life. We all do. This DOES NOT MAKE US BETTER PARENTS.
WHY IS NO ONE ACKNOWLEDING THIS ??
As for the parents…..ughhhh…..Im dreading the new term already.
Ive recently been going through old photos, letters and talking with my Mum about the “old days”. It was recently my Dads 4 year anniversary since he died and we’d been talking about the days (1980’s) when he had quite a well known, NW London Resturant on the Finchley Road, an old client of mine referred to as an “Institution”….due to all the 1980’s popstars that used to frequent it and all the stories my Dad would tell us about some of the things that took place there throughout the night. His restaurant was one of very few in London to hold a Licence to remain open until 6am. So you could say, it was a party place in those days.
While chatting to my Mum about some of my Dads stories from his restaurant in the 1980’s (“Emmanuel”), my brother walked in and we then began a 6 hour conversation, while reminiscing and laughing, through albums about our childhood. The clothes were beyond ugly. Yet we all felt great in them! But we also noted, how different parenting, in the 80’s was compared to now. For example, the word “playdate” never existed in those days. You’d often be expected to do what the adults did, ie. the kids had to pretty much have a flexible (non “Gina Ford”) routine, where we lived as the adults did…not the other way around where the adults lives were dictated by the kids. I don’t recall ever seeing “play areas” in my friends houses (no matter how big they were) as we were expected to bugger off to our bedrooms to play and hangout …..often making prank calls to local shops and restaurants for cheap kicks, playing with our Cindy or Barbies, Cabbage Patches, My Little Pony, dolls, and going to sleep with our “Glow Worms” under our arms. Oh….and the AMSTRAD computer…which my older brother got for Xmas one year, while I sat holding a carrot and bag of coal (second child).
Calling anyone under the title of a 1980’s raised n’ bred, London child? The 1980’s (for me), is always filled with happiness, bankruptcy (not mine), The ‘A’ Team, The “Young Ones”, PEZ dispensers, WHAM, Madonna, Duran Duran, Sony Walkman (one of my favourites!), “NOW THAT’S WHAT I CALL MUSIC”, Top of the Pops, “Wide Awake Club” with Timmy Mallet, Gordon The Gopher with Philip Schofield (now a British Institution in his own right),
Sunday Roasts, playing outside in the middle of the high street (& cars would slow down to let you kick a football), BMX “THE bike” to have, roller skating constantly (with neon leggings) which ended up with me in Ealing hospital with a broken arm, 1980’s Music (BLOODY BRILLIANT), 4 TV channels only in the UK which (from what I recall….although this could just be nostalgia taking over, were TV shows we all loved.
BUT, aside from those warm fuzzy moments, probably due to neon green/orange leg warmers….full fat chips, full fat coke (Coke Cola you freaks), sausage rolls, pies, chocolate, crisps, angiogram waiting to happen moments….The 1980’s is STILL the era I MISS….
I don’t know an 80’s child who doesn’t miss the 1980’s. And THE MUSIC of that time….there was some good stuff out there. I don’t know an 80’s child who doesn’t know most of those old famous songs.
It was FILLED with potential for us. The films of that generaion alone provided us with a backdrop and guideline for how we should be living our lives. I recall the Giletter Contour Plus Razor adverts (yes, adverts for men shaving their faves, not pubes)…where Father and Son were shown with son being a baby to the day of his wedding….I cried…I believed….we all did….the 1980’s DID that to our generation. We were BELIEVERS.
“Footloose” (Kevin Bacon provided numerous day dreams for me in Catholic School), Patrick Dempsey holding a MAHOOOOSIVE Cassette player demonstrating “true love” to his 15 year old girlfriend, or knowing EVERY SINGLE WORD to the songs of that time. GREAT songs. Songs even now, you hear, smile at, recall what you were doing at the time ….usually riding on your BMX, out in the streets of “Lunden”….in a time when paedophiles were still free to roam, waiting for the “A Team” to come on the telly while you ate sausages, chips, sugar loaded anything (well we did, you judgemental wankers) and felt oddly “happy” (and NO….kids were not taking drugs openly then)…. And a Film (or two, when I think about it) that will always remind me of that time.
- American Werewolf in London. I STILL HATE THE FUCKING TUBE NOW. Despite no werewolves..on the tube…as they always run late…especially the District line to SW London (where happy people live…due to the amount of foliage/trees)…
- The Exorcist.
Even Hearing that familiar “Tubular bells” theme tune……makes me run to a safe corner with a crucifix and garlic while reciting the “Hail Mary” a zillion times. Yes, this does confuse the SHIT out of my Jewish kids and neighbours (if during a daytime walk) but honestly, if it does stop my bed flying in the air due to Devils possessing people…well…that and Grey Goose.
Anyway….all my “happy memories” are from the 1980’s….Music, food, shockingly disgusting neon Acid House T Shirts, Margaret Thatcher (I’m Pro so F OFF now if you wanna go all Labour on me)….I JUST LOVED THE 80’s era. Sooo much badness, as it turns out for the adults, but SUCH a happy, free time/mind/era of love, for me.
Mum/Parent/Foster Carer/Grandparent/Dad/Guardian/Aunt/Uncle/Friend/Siblings/God Parent/Child carer of any name or sort……..”
I have become a little aware, that my actions, or those of ANYONE around my children, DO actually carry consequences for them in later life.
Certain things I see parents/carers do, or now NEED to do, were not the norm when I was growing up in SW London in the 1980’s.
Just this past week, I have had to attend Maths and Literacy lessons at my 4 year olds schools, in order to equip us imbeciles, of how to do this “educating malarkey”, at home. To be fair, I assumed it would be a pointless exercise and not worth the £6.60 I paid to park outside the school, in Hampstead, at peak time. Oh….and I waited 13 minutes for a parking space to be free too. With a growling, frothing, Camden Parking Attendant (Wanker) stood there observing not only my EXCELLENT Parking skills (hey, fuck off, I grew up with 3 brothers and have seen some horrific YouTube “anti-female/all in jest/check this bird out/parking” shit). I park my car quicker than any man. If I ruin my alloys….? Well….fuck it. You cant have beauty, big boobs, incredible body, single angry Mum of 3 (the list of pros are endless)….AND a great “non car park-curbing” woman.
That said, my little, gorgeous, 4 year old “Pookey”, AKA “Mrs Chan” has 5, FIVE, Parent/Child/Teacher led classes, all us Parents are “recommended to attend” otherwise the world will fall apart and life for your child will mean a jobless, emotionless, void, due to ones lack of obvious care. And btw….calling my youngest “Mrs Chan” is not a form of being racist because we refer to her with a common Chinese name due to her simply being born in Hong Kong. That’s it. I grew up in the 80s, so I’m now pleading ignorance if a comment like this is considered soooo UN PC, I should burn in purgatory for a good while. I felt I should flag this up, before some obnoxious troll attempts another half arsed attempt to undermine me….simply because they’ve nothing else to do during their lunch break (possible?)/Job Centre app (doubtful)/sat in their office somewhere/at home parent feeling pissed off…teenager (?!) …who cares.
I am (just to be clear here), a SW London born girl/woman/oxymoron, raised by Iranian parents, with a slight “exotic dusting” to my appearance (this comment BTW was made by a Heathrow airport staff member, circa 1987,while trying to find “anything” in my shitty brown (non wheely) suitcase…(my grandmas suitcase to be fair). My tiny suitcase, which had a HUGE photo of”Michael Jackson” laminated on the front of it (cut out from “Just Seventeen” magazine two weeks before) and full of “duty-free” fags, had already passed all customs checks thanks to a “white” blond guy with blue eyes standing next to it and picking it up by accident…. Now…THAT would be racist, no? I’m of course joking. I was 9 years old. therefore not breaking the law, nor am I telling the truth now.
However….if one were to discuss racism in the airports….well….lets just say…The EX Captain experienced some
Anyway….as we all know by now…I was educated in a Twickenham Catholic School run by REAL Irish Nuns (in case you thought they were “Fake”), where daily “Mass” before lessons was an “optional” requirement… I’m not being childish. I will refer to my youngest as “Pookey” or “Mrs Chan” from time to time. We all do. This is because she was a) born in Hong Kong b) Reacts to NUMEROUS daily social situations like a Chinese citizen would (not a Hong Kong Islander, I’m talking local Chinese mainlander….spitting/fighting to get through an open door before ANYONE/being rude JUST for the hell of it….oh…and assuming the Playground is hers, simply because the air in China CLEARLY affected her social skills…..something we are still trying to “reset”… I’m not generalising or anything….just stating facts in playgrounds I’ve LIVED in for 4 years before we returned to London. The local kids were super aggressive, had zero appreciation of anyone else in their immediate surroundings, and generally assumed the playground/air, was theirs alone. You could usually spot some poor Filipino Helper sat there with 4 mobile phones (as well as head phones) talking vigorously to family/friends/anyone….just to avoid minding this horrific child.
Anyway…. I have a Jewish ex husband (you recall my stories) after I converted to Judaism after 18 months of Monday night sessions at a Rabbis house, learning Hebrew?! I have THREE Jewish children FFS.
SOOO, again, just to cover all legal/non legal/potential claims of racism….when I call my youngest, “Mrs Chan”….its because she was born in Hong Kong. It makes us giggle. End of. Plus she is totally HK in her aggressive, spitting, burping, lack of consideration for any Westerner, “get the fuck out of my way you Gweilo” mannerisms. OK….that was RACIST. I’m not racist at all though. I HATE racists as much as I hate bullies. Same shit, different pot, both just as ugly as each other.
Now in the 1980’s, do you recall…
Drinking Coca Cola from GLASS bottles
Kiora – the drink, not some date rape drug…
Michael Jackson was a King.
Tiffany … “Running just as fast as we can…holding onto one anothers hand…”
Dressing like a neon lightbulb with permed hair and a huge crucifix…hoping no one would notice you were not (a) Madonna (b) in need of a perm with crazy curly hair already and (c) Why leggings and lace gloves with pompom skirts and crucifixes?
“The Garage” on the Kings Road in Chelsea where I got my second ear piecing (in same ear) before my Dad turned up to collect me in a Gold Mercedez Benz (Iranian Stylie, with Iranian Music blaring out the window….because he didn’t give a crap about racist haters), calling my name (using EVERY SINGLE SYLABLE in the strongest Iranian accent known to anyone from London). This was usually with 800 relatives crammed into the back of his car as well (we never leave home without the tribe).
Kensignton Market for my Gothic fix of black tassled skirts and DM boots (ok more 1990’s for me)….
Sorry….to be continued….Part 2 80’s next article.
BREAKING NEWS ON 25 DECEMBER 2016
GEORGE MICHAEL….died. What a year SHIT 2016 was.
What an AMAZING singer, songwriter, person. My Dad used to throw him out of his restaurant, Emmanuel (Swiss Cottage) “all the time” back in the 1980’s for being “cheeky”….I felt winded when on Christmas day… George Michael, THE George Michael, died.
I grew up on his music. Loved him. My thoughts are with his family. What a LEGEND.
I love this photo of him x
So…. I am a HUGE hater of bullying.
I have always, ALWAYS, considered myself to be kind and decent to people. I can’t even stomach witnessing someone being verbally bullied in an adult environment, let alone kids playground (same thing to be fair).
Bullies are (in my opinion before you comment/go mad & attempt to sue me for a comment “Bullies Not R Us”) weak, struggling personally, and allow their own insecurities to lash out at others. They don’t appear capable of accepting other peoples happiness and lives. They like to “put you down” and upset your emotional confidence.
Therefore…I have done something, I’ve never, ever, done since starting this site.
I reacted to an Internet troll who attacked the Ex-pat way of life. Yes, I DEFENDED EX PAT LIFE. Madness.
I apologise in advance, before you read this, for sounding like a complete hypocrite. I just cant help but get infuriated at comments that are made, simply to antagonise, get a reaction (this one did), and…to be fair… if people can pass judgement on who I am, why the hell can’t I fight back?!
FYI – HK ID card from Wikipedia added above to make my barrage of words look less “wordy” and more visual too. NB. There is NO WAY the bird in the photo above is born in 1968!?
Anyway….going back to Interet Trolls and random, unknowing, judgemental comments that I’m sure more Bloggers are used to by now. I however, am not. I like to be “liked”! Its nice to be thought of in a good way. However, I dont like to be “judged” or “bullied”. Nope, never happening.
Sooo….please see a charming “internet trolls” comment below.
“Cheri’s Comment” (again, below!)….was one, and only one, brief, pathetic, sentence. While I’m almost sorry for acting like a sanctimonious bellend, sometimes its necessary to verbally slap a bully. AND, I just couldn’t help myself this time. I tried to leave it….honest!
Comment made by Cheri…. “CHEER THE FUCK UP AND BE GRATEFUL”.
MY RESPONSE BELOW:
“Dear CHERI (your name screams Vegas stripper btw)…
The fact you’ve, somehow, in your troll-like state of mind, stumbled through the maze of internet search engines (shocking you can spell) to get to my blog…surprises me.
Normally I encourage those less able, yet you’ve excelled in finding my site, AND passing comment. Not only have you unfortunately attempted to undermine me, but your comment, which I’ve actually accidentally overlooked for a while (due to the amount of NICE comments I filter through) was, I have to admit, amusing as hell! Its almost like being attacked in the playground by a 6 year old boy (normally with a “Mohawk” haircut), keen to get a response, and out of pity, I’ve now decided to give you one (a response that is).
I’m guessing you were a lonely (despite “trying soo hard to have friends”), heavily moustached, possibly thin/thick set, lone, bully at school, no friends, experiencing issues with social inadequacy, lack of confidence and probably some form of body dysmorphic disorder (google it luv).
You may also have had Middle child syndrome (although you’re probably an only child, lets face it as I’m a “middle child” and LOVE that excuse alone to guilt my family into doing stuff for me!)? You are generally internally angry due to your possible, open, vile, toxic internal contempt, and disgusting inability to connect with other human beings? You HAVE tried to make good friends but people just seem to….hmmm….DISLIKE you for some reason? Your family pets probably recoil and hid behind furniture whenever you walked in the front door…they already knew the tragedy you were/would inevitably become. I bet you attempted to be good at maths (or chess) due to the solitude that gave you, away from socialising with people in general, therefore making you unattractive in all other areas of your life because you lacked anything remotely kind within yourself. I’m also guessing any form of human interaction that’s fun or involves laughter breaks you out in an uncomfortable sweat? Whatever your very clear personal lack of mind-set is/was/will always be….I HATE BULLIES SOO MUCH and I’m soooo grateful, you sent me such a trivial, albeit, quite disappointing, remark.
YOU have taken the time, in your obviously important nirvana like state/life, to comment in a vacuous, undercut, insolent manner (google the words as I cant possibly imagine you appreciate the meaning of anything Ive said). You have read a few segments, of a strangers blog, then judged all of us Hong Kong ex-pats on our lives.
WHO TOLD YOU TO KEEP READING?? Why didn’t you just flick onto your normal bestiality website and leave normal discussion, to like-minded, good people?
Your plain, meaningless (attacking) comment means what? Exactly? We should be ashamed we don’t/didn’t enjoy the luxurious, tax haven we lived in? Are we not allowed to comment on anything, in case we appear ungrateful and elitist?
Do you think your brief rude, attempt to patronise, will have ANY lasting impact? Which, yes, I know its ironic that I’ve taken the time to respond now…. BUT…the only reason being…you’ve just demonstrated a massive component in why ex-pats are struggling (especially stay-at-home parents) with their new lives abroad. YOUR judgement, and “CHEER THE FUCK UP” mentality, is a clear issue in the ex-pat community and has created an obvious divide in peoples thoughts when talking about the “Gweilo” way of life.
You’re a “hater”.
A pissed of human either:-
(a) working and annoyed your spouse isn’t…yet still hitting Wan Chai nightly for copious amounts of booze, lap dances and ego stroking.
(b) Not working, and just trying to create conversation as you’ve got no friends aside from your helper (& lets be honest, she’s plotting her escape back to the Philippines/an Chai/Half Way House/Your husbands “Lock Up”, as I write).
(c) You don’t even live in SE Asia but like to antagonise and pass judgement simply because you’ve got nothing better to do as youre out in the countryside somewhere milking cows, or catching buses and feeling angered by our blatant disregard for what should be “happiness”.
(d) You’re a Helper…. kicking off with verbal abuse simply because “Maam” asked you why you were having a swim (in her swimsuit & 5 carat diamond earrings) at 11am, when clearly an 8 month old child had been left alone, to fend for themselves on the 80th floor of their block. But as you feel, shes such a RICH BITCH Ex-pat, you turn her frustration into Middle Class guilt, and blatantly pretend you don’t understand “what the problem is M’aam”. Therefore, alas, your employer lets you have a swim while she rushes off to make you lunch to show how “cool and unaffected” she is/hoping a real trusting friendship will finally begin….since you do look after her child ‘n all. You already have decided all Gweilos are “spoilt” and will punish anyone who crosses your path.
(e) You’re a man AKA you posses a Penis, pretending to be called “Cheri”…in which case…genius, and thanks for the content in any event.
This site has, and was, started, simply to express my take on life in Hong Kong. You do KNOW that people who write books, talk, teach, preach, and follow a religion, ALL HAVE A RIGHT to do that? This site has an open approach to like-minded, NORMAL, people who are free to feel as they chose.
Your attempt…albeit sooo pathetically put in a childish attack to disparage what ex-pats are feeling, just because YOU feel we should “CHEER THE FUCK UP AND BE GRATEFUL”, illustrates SO CLEARLY, what a closed-minded idiot you are. ITS YOUR KIND THAT IS CREATING ISSUES FOR HUMBLE, NICE PEOPLE, trying to get some form of real perspective on Ex-pat life.
Who made you the Preacher of what Ex-pats should/shouldn’t feel? And who gave YOU permission to judge me, or ANY ex-pat on how we are living?? It is YOUR sort, with your pre-judgement, sat in your tower, spewing shit, who are creating a “Cheer the fuck up” hostility.
If more than a few hundred people feel unsettled in a new environment, in a new country, like normal ex-pats are currently struggling with, then its a FACT. We are here to support each other. To express natural concern and thought. Your sort is NOT WELCOME ON MY SITE AGAIN.
I don’t know a single person in Hong Kong who ORDINARILY lived in the lifestyle they were suddenly thrown into living. Our open issues with it, are possibly a plethora (look it up you dumb fuck) of feelings and guilt for “larging it”. I grew up in a small flat. I couldn’t and still can’t, get past having “help”. Nor do I want to. My choice.
I’m bored of attempts by people like you, with judgemental messages that seem to be written simply for a reaction. The reason I HAVE reacted this time is because youve proven a point. Its people like you, Western and local HK residents, who attempt to undermine anyone who complains about missing home, or not enjoying what seems like “paradise”. Hong Kong is NOT paradise. Fact.
Get a life and get the FUCK OFF MY SITE.
What I write, in jest, or truth, is my choice.
You’re clearly a controlling, incapable, emotionally cold human (if that). Trolls who attack for no apparent reason don’t affect me. I’m assuming you’ve got zero friends, a dog that hates you ( you probably kick it when you walk in the front door), and family that had to move miles away from you, just to get some normality, without feeling guilty for showing any signs of happiness.
My blog has always been written in jest (you freak), and is something I suggest you think about in your own padded cell, judgemental, bitter world.
I wouldn’t ordinarily give someone like you (with limited vocab/lack of empathy/clear wind-up merchant) the time of day. BUT subjects like yourself, who feel sooooo important, that you felt the need to attack ANY ex-pat, struggling to settle in, for whatever reason)…. get a life. Who CARES what you all like to judge and feel? We don’t judge people like you all the time as we have LIVES to moan about. Like NORMAL people do.
Next time, I’ll reveal your IP address just so your neighbours know the ignorant bully living next door, is full of contemptible BS.
Any questions? Drop me a line. I’M DYING TO KNOW WHAT YOUR THOUGHTS ARE.”
ALAS……IT HAS BEGUN.
POSH SCHOOLS HAVE STARTED THEIR NEW TERM (finally!!!)
After what, may I just say, was the loooooongest summer holiday EVER. Those lovable, relentless, cheeky, sweet, rude, thankless, cuddly, adorable, tug-at-your heart, mean, hideous, gorgeous creatures we created (I was THAT desperate I had IVF for FFS!) returned to a daily day care, known as a wonderful Institution I thoroughly hated, and was kicked out of TWICE, called “School”.
Just hearing those words now makes me feel sooo incredibly elated/ill/nauseous/thankful. I sometimes need to restrain myself from hugging their Teachers when I see them after a school break. How Teachers do their jobs, day in day out, without becoming seriously mentally ill, is beyond me. I know, these are children they eventually hand back to us at the end of the day (probably a reassuring thought, unless one taught at Boarding school), yet…HOW DO THEY KEEP THEIR SHIT TOGETHER when dealing with not one, two or even three kids, but 20-25!? HOW??? How are they staying grounded? Seriously, some MUST be on some form of medication, or at least “Rescue Remedy” by the gallon. I mean, I AM A PARENT. THREE HUMANS CAME OUT OF MY BODY. YET….I’m more than willing to hand those “beings” over to an adult I know zero personal info about, daily….why/ BECAUSE I NEED A FUCKING BREAK OK!!!?? I NEED TO SHOWER WITHOUT INTERRUPTION!!! I NEED TO SIT DOWN WITHOUT BEING “BECKOND” TO SOMEO^ OR $ YEAR OLDS NEEDS. I NEED TIME ALONE. ON PURPOSE. Yes, say it. IM A SELFISH WOMAN/MOTHER.
Do you know, I get soooo selfish now about my own personal time, that I literally turn all avenues of communication off when I know the children are safe. That may be for 1 hour, or 24….but MY GOD…how liberating was life before email and friggin mobile fucking phones. Both of which have caused more damage than good ie. how many marriages/relationships/careers, have been busted over social media leaks!? Keep Big Brother out your life, and you would actually be FREE of all the “why didn’t you respond to my wassap?!!” bullshit.
Anyway….back to what is my present happiest/saddest moment this past week…..yes, I just shared a rare “vulnerable” insight. Get over it. It wont happen for another fucking year if I can help it….unless I win the lottery.
So….Schools are now open. Parents are now able to eat without indigestion. Life has resumed, as us stay at home parents know it.
What happens when the kids return to school (aside from reducing your dose of Vodka/Xanax/”quiet moment in the loo”)?
Here are some of the emotions a parent will feel when the kids return to school after any holiday/break/Parent-home-jail:-
- Initially, ELATION. You’re thinking, “Brilliant. Once I drop those monkies off, I can get back to doing what actually needs to be done!!” Now….”what needs to be done”, in your mind, will probably involve things like: a) having a cup of tea, without someone screaming “MUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMM, SHES ANNOYING ME AGAIN WITH HER BALLOON/GERBIL/FOOT/FACE!!!!!” b) eating a slice of toast and actually reading the newspaper to find out how normal people are living their lives…c) dealing with dreaded admin (endless emails that needed “URGENT” attention 1 week ago.
- The second thing you think you’ll do is get the house sorted finally. Have a proper tidy up, get rid of old school work/endless pictures of Princesses or stickers being removed from walls or floors/get organised and give to charity old clothes (millions). You are convinced, no matter what, that you will NOT MISS THEM.
- You will have time to make calls and organise diaries, meet Mummys from the school for “Coffee Mornings”, return to your beloved Pilates classes with a vengeance, eat uninterrupted, maybe even smile…
- You think you will clean out your fridge, organise the shelves, sort all the shoes maiming people as they trip up when walking in at your front door. You think you will be able to GET SORTED.
- REST – AKA “Really earned sitting time”… as in, not being called to do something the minute you think you can have a gulp of water and sit down to eat the left over scraps (because you cant be arsed to cook for yourself anymore).
ALL OF THE ABOVE WONT HAPPEN.
The sad, shameless, harsh, reality is this.
You will drop the kids off, do a food shop, wash a million clothes, rush home to tidy up after the morning rush getting out the front door, was dishes, bleach and disinfect everything, read emails, pay bills…. You will make a zillion calls on behalf of the kids, you, your life, your home sale (I’m trying to sell up and move ASAP. Living in my old “Marital home” is hell on earth), you Mum will ring and want an hour long chat about what you “need to do to make things easier” (yet never once saying, “Go travelling and ask their Dad to do this horrendous monotonous, sleepless, daily routine, without going absolutely insane”.
Single parents, what can I say to you!?
Before I became one, I had NO IDEA, how stressful and incredibly challenging, this role can be. You are both good cop and bad cop, you are Mum AND Dad, you are friend then foe…you are, to your children, their everything in daily life. You matter. You have huge responsibilities. You are forever, and ever, on your own with the daily parenting routine. Mornings are busy getting ready for school, rush hour/school clubs/playdates/endless birthday parties, collections and drop offs, Doctors/dentists/therapy appointments, bath times and bed times, happy/sad moments….all being done by one (exceptionally strong) person.
When I collapse into bed at night, and think “hmmm….maybe Ill read my book” you know what happens? One of my three children WILL wake (I think they sense my mind/body relaxing) and ask for water, the loo, a cuddle, to kiss their pet Rabbit “Jimmy”, to stroke their hair, to sleep with me… If I’m lucky to have a full nights sleep, I still wake to check on them…
This non-paying, (apparently not really “hard”) “job”, its not easy. People who comment, judge, claim you do “nothing all day but drop the kids off & (ALLEGEDLY) “SLEEP“…they have NO IDEA what is mentally, physically, emotionally, involved. What level of responsibility is on your shoulders, and yours…. alone. I used to be a lawyer. I thought that was a hard, thankless, underpaid, job. It is NOTHING compared to what I have been doing alone for the last 2 years. Stupid, mindless snipes/comments and judgements, from the side-lines, that used to infuriate me, now, make me judge AND comment back. For those wonderful strong, sometimes exhausted single parents, remember, those stone throwers in your glass house can FUCK OFF. YOU ARE DOING THE BEST YOU CAN WITH WHAT YOU HAVE & KNOW.
As tired as I have been, juggling this daily human rearing/emotionally challenging daily role, I still would never ever ever again, have a nanny or Au pair in my home. My past experience with Filippino nannies in Hong Kong have left a horrible taste in my mouth/heart. People you trusted who turn on you, or worse yet, your child.
Plus, my personal space and freedom means too much now. I like not having someone pottering around my house. Unless you’re blood…get the fuck out! I didn’t grow up being raised by someone else. Only family members were allowed to babysit us. Never an outsider. I now understand why my Mum was so strict on this. My Mum has never had a cleaner in her her house let alone another woman to help out with her children. Mum would often tell me, “A woman, in my house? Why? What for!? Never. I AM THE ONLY LADY OF THIS HOUSE”. She never liked the Hong Kong “Maid” culture and hated the Helpers being there when she came to stay. She felt them constantly watching and judging and didn’t trust my home situation at all. “Get rid of them and have someone come for a few hours during the day” she would often say. “Never have another woman living in your home”.
Anyhow….back to the kids and school.
So, on the first day back…
I suddenly had that horrible “Ground Hog Day”moment. I’d forgotten how HORRIBLE the school run is. WHY CAN’T WE HAVE SCHOOL BUSES LIKE THE AMERICANS?!! It cuts traffic and makes stressful situations with the kids, just that little bit easier.
Doing that 25-50 minute journey, sometimes up to 1.2 hours, in traffic/road closures/car breakdowns (not mine)/accidents/life being a bastard, with 3 kids questioning you constantly about “why the sun has clouds” that particular day, or “can’t we get there faster Mummy? Cant you tell everyone we have school??”, “can penguins live in Space?”, “did you remember to pack my Dinosaur?” or “he’s/shes staring at me again Mummy. Its freaking me out!!!”.…I felt incredibly claustrophobic on day one. Trapped in my Ambulance sized 7 seater vehicle, with 3 mini Me’s, who were apprehensive about a new term, tired due to all the Balvanie 12 year Whisky from the night before, and irritated by the “school shoes that are not comfortable like flipflops”.
The main reason for my discomfort, considering I have done this journey over a zillion times?
My youngest, who has a rare Chromosome Disorder started school, alongside her siblings, for the first time. And I felt ill at the thought of being parted from her. Tearful and ill.
As it transpries, we arrived, I dropped the twins off in their buiding first, then walked to my youngests first day, in uniform (which she soooo loves) in the building a road away. On arriving at her new school, fully uniformed up, she walked in, picked her name off the desk and dropped it into a little pretend post box (I kept praying “Please pick your name…please pick your name!!!”) and she then sat down at a desk. Once sat, my youngest child/best friend/shadow for the last 4 years, who I am overly protective of, looked at me and said “I’m ok Mummy, bye“. My 4 year old daughter, who has a rare Chromosome disorder, gave ME perimission to leave, because she could tell, I was broken hearted knowing my youngest baby was no longer “a baby” anymore. She let ME go. I held back tears (I was in a classroom FFS!), told the Ex-Captain (who was there) I “had to leave” and walked out to breathe fresh air and gather my shit. I felt proud, broken, proud, worried for her, and elated she had been strong enough to not cry when I left, was keen to settle in, and appeared confident & independent. I had done my job. Too well.
I’m a Mum. I’m a parent. The biggest most understated job in the world, yet the most important. Surely?
Bloody hell…..its only the first week…..I’m fucked.
Letting go of them (“your heart walking around outside your body”)….is harder than I ever imagined.
Yes, I know…I’ve said it now. I ADORE THEM . Shoot me.
You still cant make me go to some shitty playdate…..I love them but theres a fine line & I’m not quite ready for the dark side of bullshit peer pressure, fake “in your face” paenting where I have to attend a French “Art & Crafts” playdate, just to prove Im a good parent.
I know I fucking am. I hate how this generation of parents (and probably the last?!) feel the need to keep their children constantly busy with clubs, playdates, classes, after school/club extra classes, music, dance, art, pottery, karate, etc etc etc. If you do ALLLLL this crap, apparently, youre a good parent.
Dont tell me my number of playdates equates to who I am as a Mother!?
Im there for every minute of their lives. They understand that sitting down for a moment, spending time as a family, laughing (we laugh A LOT & dance!), being relaxed and comfortable, as a person, is just as important as being surrounded by numerous strangers/people, that dont justify your existence. You can be surrounded by dozens of people and yet, feel lonely. OR surrounded by love, and feel safe, confident, appreciated. I agree, in life, we need/must have good, solid friends. I have had a crew of friends for 30 plus years. We are so solid, that our conversations are similar to an imaginary (rock solid) “vault”.
I know I’m blessed to have such a good group of friends I have known since school. A group sooo close to being my sisters, that we do, pretty much, anything for each other. We all turn 40 this/early part of next year (together – same school year). I appreciate good friendships.
However, I also respect and feel independent alone, without them. No one justifies my existence but me. Of course, having my amazing crew of friends with me is brilliant (& sometimes dangerous!). But children also need to learn to be comfortable within their own skin. To understand who they are WITHOUT peer pressure. To be solid and stand alone means you can do whatever you want in life with confidence. You can also make the right choices (hopefully, but not always) in friends, in relationships, in life. Your friends and family are there to support you, laugh with you, love you. But you need to learn to do that for yourself, to appreciate yourself, before you share your wonderfulness with everyone else.
Kids need to go back to “Old School values” and appreciate that sometimes, “playing in your room” without a thousand posh playmates, is OK. Youre being normal. You’re being relaxed, and youre being, most importantly, independent and confident.
My parenting, with the children I adore and love, I am going to do, my way. And in my opinion, a solid way. “OLD SCHOOL“.
Let them understand, and appreciate, who they are as people.
You can be at numerous playdates weekly, sipping coffe and talking shit to some random parent, bored out of our mind, t pretending you give a shit. Yet, not notice your child is having zero connection with anyone in that playdate, or worse yet, being passively bullied (past experience with my daughter who dreaded one particular forced upon us both, playdate.
Everything in life should be in balance? That works better.
Independence, appreciation of who you are, and an understanding that “you count” (I tell my kids nightly how “important and valued” they are). Lead them down the path of freedom to be themselves, and hopefully, satisfaction, confidence and a knack for being kind to everyone. Their future respect, freedom to be themselves and happiness, lies in that. Knowing, no mater what you do, or achieve, you are “important”.
Playdates? What fucking difference is that going to make in the long run?! They play all day at school together. And they’re only 6 and 4 years old. Everyone needs to get a grip, call their parents and recall how we lived in the ’80’s.
Now the 80’s….those were some bloody brilliant fucking days (not that many parents slept with all the coke flying around in £50 notes)….:)