The perils of blogging

I've been blogging now for about 2 months, and have really enjoyed the responses all the posts have received.

As a blogger it is quite normal to just blast out a post in 10 minutes while you're 'in the moment' and it quickly gets posted onto various social networks for all to read.  The thing about that is, I often don't think about who is actually reading my stuff.

With a blog of this nature (quite personal) you make a decision to effectively publicise your life to the world, and now I'm on a proverbial roll I don't want to (nor think I should) stop.  My life, chaotic as it may be, is 'out there' for anyone to read.  So what have I learnt so far in my short blogging career thus far?

1.  People find it quite amusing to read.  I'm still not sure if the people I know who make these commets laugh at me or with me (!) but I like to think they're enjoying the writing none-the-less.

2.  Ex boyfriends are actively reading my blog.  A fact I am now used to, but found quite bizzarre when confronted with an ex a few weeks ago on a night out.  he asked me if the 'commitment phobe' post was about him?!  (NO, was the answer of course!)  I dated this guy briefly about 10,000 years ago and to his dis-credit he was a commitment phobe, but it's all so far in the past that I wouldn't have even related the two!
(Feel at this point I should do a shout out to this guy, who I hope enjoys this post and doesn't take my comments to heart!)

3. Ex boyfriends whom I DO write about often read too much into the content and don't appreciate the humour of the situation!  For my first ever post I wrote about a more recent ex whom I have been doing the 'are we aren't we' dance with for the past few months.  It was only a small thing, and in no way offensive or angry, yet I received a message off him saying 'I read your blog (just curious) and saw a few things that made me think you may be p****d at me?"

4.  Potential new dates read my blog.  A fact I thought I was comfortable with (and largely I am), but recently I've received a few strange, out of the blue messages from guys who I thought were relatively classy.

A real life example is as follows:
Guy:  Hey commitment phobe ;)   - a nod to my post about me being a commitment phobe also!
Me: So I see you read my blog.  What do you think?
Guy: I think it's great, very funny.  
Me: Thanks, I enjoy writing it!
Guy:  Can I ask you a personal question?
Me: Go on...
Guy:  How sexually adventurous are you?
Me: I've never even met you before...that's a little bit forward really!!

So you see, this guy felt he already knew me just through way of reading my blog.
Trouble is, his perception of me was misplaced.  Yes.  I blog about dating, my lovelife and the many many car crash encounters I have with the opposite sex.
The only difference between me and lots of single girls is the fact I blog about my expereinces (good and bad!) but that doesn't make me any more adventurous in the bedroom, or some kind of maneater!

5.  I will contine to blog EVEN if I do get into a relationship.  And whoever I finally end up with will just have to deal with that!  Besides, the right guy will love me and my writing!

So here's to a very merry Christmas and may the New Year bring with it lots of interesting things to write about!

Enjoy yourselves!

Scarlett
xoxo

Christmas Do's (and don'ts!)

It's been a while since I've written a blog post.  This has been partly down to it being the busy festive season, and partly because it has taken me this long to actually recover from the shameful event that was My Works Christmas Do.

Now, people who know me know I am nothing if not a massive advocate of the festive season.  So far you've heard about my adult advent, christmas jumper love and, more recently defending Christmas spirit to a very narrow minded bah humbug!  So it will probably come as no surprise to learn that I was a teensy bit excited about my works do this year.

Rather than go through the whole sordid affair in it's shameful entirety, I thought it more practical (and helpful) to put out my words of wisdom and warning to you, my lovely readers, and hope and pray that you take heed of the message:

10 Christmas Don'ts of the works Christmas Do.

1. Don't pre drink before the party even starts.  Yes, it is cold outside.  Yes, alcohol doubles up as an invisible blanket...but seriously; in the long run it can only do bad things.

2. Don't wear a strapless dress that doesn't quite fit you 'just because it's gorgeous.'  I had a cute sparkly number (see below) but by the end of the night it was round my waist (or so I am told - oh the shame).

3. Don't make 'an executive decision' to replace food with table wine.  Yes, the bar may be expensive but the food is kinda there to help line your stomach (and yes I know I sound like your mother).

4. Don't sit next to your boss at the dinner table (especially if you've been enjoying a mild flirtation with him the past few months).  Your colleagues will only make snide comments the next morning, fuelled by....

5.  The fact you start holding hands on the table, and then decide to walk to the bar in this manner also (for the entire workplace to see).  Major don't.

6. Don't assume that 'just because you're leaving' it's ok to behave in this way.  This is meant to be your swansong...not an apoloclypse of embarrasment.  Nobody wants to see you busting a move to One Direction or twerking very badly to Lady Gaga.

7. On that note, don't get over confident about your dancing 'abilities.'  I vaguely recall (and of course was reminded) how I continued to buy glasses of wine only to drop them minutes later whilst mid-way through one of my many dance routines.  Twerking over smashed glass is not a good look.

8.  Don't take advantage of any of the 'novelties' the party may have to offer.  My work put on fairground amusements.  Once I had got past the point of no return, I (was told I) was 'found' by work colleagues in a dodgem car and, unable to move forward due to wine intake I was spinning in a drunken circle (with a bottle of table wine between my legs and a crushed cigarette behind my ear).  Absolutley. Mortifying.

9. Don't become a 3 o clock princess.  As the old saying goes:  You wouldn't leave the house looking like sh**, so why go home looking like sh**?   These words have been haunting me ever since.

10.  Don't ask people to help you out with your memory of the night.  Ok, so you dialled your ex a few times.  Big deal.  Don't bother asking him 'exactly what occured' because you'll probably get an exaggerated truth.
Similary, don't have an overtly gay and nosy best friend from work who waits for you to get into the office the next day (only 3 hours late) and pounces on you with a barrage of information to piece together the entire evening in its awfulness.  It will quickly transpire that, atcually you were a LOT worse than you thought.

So, by now you will probably have reached your own conclusion that I am a maniac at Christmas.  You wouldn't be wrong.
But as shameful as my behaviour was; if it saves just one poor soul from suffering like I have, it will be worth the angst it took to write it!

Merry Christmas Beauts

Scarlett

xoxox

The Dating Ex-ercise begins

So, I never did find out exactly what I said to my ex in that 'creepy voicemail' as he so tactfully tweeted....but as my mother always says; some things are better not knowing.

Anyway, I've been feeling fragile and a little bit disconnected from my peers lately.  (I'm not a total misery, but my broken phone is making it difficult to be invited to anything!)

Starting to wonder if this has forced me into becoming one of those saddos who just spend their nights on social networks & doesn't have any real conversations??

Hmm...saddo by default.  Not sure I fancy that on my gravestone.

As I am on a mission to get over said ex (and have been rather unsuccessful this past 3 years) I decided to get onto this online dating malarkey.  Shuddering at the thought of yet another Xmas of mother dropping in various men's names, (along with bank balance and attractive capital assets) into EVERY conversation:

"I know he's grey, and his daughter is your age...but he DOES have a boat!"

...whilst over at my fathers for Boxing Day, he repeatedly uses his favourite line to shame me into settling down:

"Nobody wants to marry Marilyn Monroe."

What does that even mean?  I'm sure Marilyn was married?!  

As with creepy voicemail-gate situation, I fear it is better not asking the question (I can only assume father thinks his eldest daughter is into flashing panties over air vents).

Anyhow;  I digress.  So I got persuaded into online dating by a few older and 'wiser' colleagues a few days ago.  I'm nothing if not a massive sceptic and a hopeless romantic; so online dating seemed the most rubbish idea in the world since voting Conservative that year I decided I was a yuppie :-/.

As it turned out, I became wanted property and actually had a healthy pick of some normal looking men.  I've even agreed to go on a date with one who lives not far from me (but not before lots of much needed Google detective work!).

Really REALLY need to speak to Cassie about this MAJOR BREAKTHROUGH in my life......

The only trouble is, my god damn phone keeps cancelling her calls :-(  

Looks like I'll be going for girly advice elsewhere this time, so if you've got any dating tips for an old amateur please let me have em!

Love much

Scarlett xoxo

Oops...I did it again. The ex-cruciating hangover

"So; how was your weekend?"

When esteemed colleagues <with normal lives and existences> ask me that v.general question on Monday morning, I shall give them one of 2 possible answers.

1) It was relatively chilled yet productive.  I caught up on my correspondance (yes, I DO have correspondance...don't look so surprised!) and painted my toenails whilst wearing a relaxing mud mask with Xfactor on in the background.

2) I got unashamedly drunk on a bottle of cheap Australian wine from the local shop and accidentelly on purpose left my ex a 'creepy voicemail.' 

NB: One of the above is a lie.

Nobody knows I commited such a heinous act on Friday night (well, nobody except said ex ... until now).  After I woke in a still-drunken haze the following morning, I got a familiar sick feeling which I usually associate with having done something cringeworthy but not yet having the brain functionality to recall it.

I stayed away from all manner of social media, knowing instinctively that this would give clues to path of destruction caused by the Australian Rose.   In fact, up until about an hour ago, I was happily living in blissful ignorance and meandering through remainder of the weekend.

Twitter log in commenced.

Timeline:  Nothing too bad.  Just me and Cassie talking guyliner and waxing (standard).
DM:  Here sat a message from the ex.  Very direct, very 'to the point' - rather like my mascara wand slipping and poking me in the iris:  "What's with the creepy voicemail? X"

Sh** sh** sh**!!! Checked phone: No record of a call.  Vaguely remember Cassie talking me out of sending him a DM...but I obviously did what I do best and rebelled against my straight talking (always right!) friend.
Took action of sorts by tweeting the only thing I could: 
 "Voicemail? Call?  I truthfully don't know what you are talking about??" 

Now I'm playing the waiting game...waiting for ex to kick me into touch & for Cassie to read this and spit feathers about me ignoring her 'brilliant advice' AGAIN! (Though honestly, I think the ex will be an easier one to handle!)

Till next time

Scarlett xoxo