Awkward things.

Is it Possible to be Single and Happy?

So this happened to me:

Mum: Has Rosie got a boyfriend yet?

Me: Rosie’s had a boyfriend for years, Mum.

Mum: Oh, well can’t you ask her to help you keep a man?

Ouch. Wow. Ok. Rub some aloe vera into my tomato-tinged face because that hurt. I have not expressed an interest in getting (or keeping) a man recently, so this one came totally out of left field. But it got me thinking, why is this relationship malarkey so important to everyone? Why is MY relationship so important to someone that isn’t living my life? And what am I missing out on that’s so great? The last time I had a boyfriend, I remember it vividly as being something like Hell. It was torture and I couldn’t leave, well, until I did. Thank God for that.

It’s not that I have a problem keeping men, (thank you Mother!) it’s just that I have a problem attracting the kind of guy that I want to keep around. My taste in men is bad, really bad, like, I might as well shop for boyfriends in prisons or mental hospitals, because they definitely cater to my screwed-up needs. I wander into love with my eyes shut and my hands behind my back; then I wonder why it hurts. In short, love, for me, is hard work.

So here I am in singletown. I am living life to the full; well, I would be if the definition of living life to the full was less about sky-diving and elephant riding, and more about working harder than I’ve ever worked in my whole life and reaping the sleepless benefits of it. I am single and I am happy. That sentence in itself was enough to make me shudder. It sounds like something that I would type if I was caked in cats and had a rather impressive collection of tin cans. But I AM single, and I AM happy. Aren’t I? The truth is that I don’t even know anymore.

My mum is pretty sure that I’m miserable. I could break my face with a smile and run off to join the circus, but if there’s no man on my arm, I am not happy. It’s not possible in her mind. If you don’t have a boyfriend, every other piece of your life pie is just glitter and sequins, decoration to woo some testosterone your way.

Her attitude kinda makes me paranoid. I mean, a moment ago, I was feeling pretty good. I was doing well in my career, (got a lot of things going on right now,) I haven’t felt like murdering my friends lately and I just ate. There was absolutely no reason at all for me to be anything but annoyingly cheery. I was even singing (badly, but still). Then:

Mum: Why are you so happy?

Me: Um, because life is awesome? (N.B. See the question mark? I know where this is headed…)

Mum: Got a boyfriend yet?

Crash bang, back to earth again. No Mum, I don’t have a boyfriend. I didn’t want one five minutes ago; I had a million reasons why I was better off being single right now, but suddenly they’re gone, leaving a man-shaped hole in their place. How can I possibly be happy? My life sucks! I have no cuddles, no weekend boxset marathons, no love letters, no making someone ingest my cooking, no heart-shaped tat cluttering up my bedroom, no constant bickering, no compromise- Wait! I AM happy!

But it’s not just my mother leading the crusade against single life. It seems as if we all think the same way. My coupled-up peers look at me with a mixture of distaste and pity. It’s like they could catch my single if I sneezed. If you don’t have someone that wants to be with you, then you must be an unbearable person, right? Um, no, actually. Anyone can find someone, but it’s hard work to find THE one. Think armour that needs to be shined, towers that need to be climbed, not to mention the horse-riding lessons. But seriously, finding someone that you can still stand after the two year mark is tough.

You are not a bad person if you have standards. If you can’t put up with: drug addiction, laziness, physical and mental abuse, moodiness and a guy that hates your mum, there’s nothing wrong with you at all. These are all sensible things to avoid, no matter how good the beard is. It’s not worth it. You can’t just lower your standards because you feel sorry for someone, less still if you feel sorry for yourself. There are worse things than being single, like being eaten by a shark or made to eat olives. You can get past this. I can get past this.

There are a million options out there for people that want someone. Online dating anyone? But what if you don’t want someone? Single people are not losers, they’re not lepers, they’re just people. If you’re single right now or single forever, you don’t have to feel bad about it. Your life is no-one else’s business. You make your own goals and live your own dreams. And hey, at least us singletons miss out on all the life-bullying that comes with actually being in a relationship. ‘So when are you getting married?’ Ha! Single life is looking better already.

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Totally Inappropriate Crushes That I Am Not Ashamed Of…



So I will say right now that I am odd, out there and downright masochistic in my crush choices. I don’t like to make it too easy on myself. My admiring glances are usually divided neatly between potential serial killers and ogres. Think the lizard guy from Spiderman, except not him, but you get the idea. Here are my top nine oddities and my reasons why they are totally marriage material, (or maybe just stare-at-them-for-a-bit-but-don’t-get-too-close-to-the-sun material).

  • Philip Quast in Les Miserables (Stage Version)

The voice. It’s the voice. Oh my God, and those sideburns. Also the evil glint in his eye makes me swoon so hard. I’m a real sucker for a man that looks as if he may kill me, which obviously has led to very poor boyfriend choices, but excellent movie rentals. Swings and roundabouts. And you know with Javert that if he took a shine to you, he’d stalk you until you gave in, in a sexy way, there’d be no ambiguity there, he’d fight for you whether you wanted him to or not. Ok, I’m weird.

  • Tim Curry in The Rocky Horror Picture Show

There is something about a man with thicker makeup than me that makes me go gooey. Also suspenders. Suspenders are sexy on anyone, I don’t care what you say, give me a highly unattractive example and I will say yes, yes that person is sexy in suspenders. It’s undeniable. And Tim Curry is hot to start with, so stick him in a corset and lippy and I’m there. I will do the Time Warp until I die just for a piece of the action. “Give yourself over to absolute pleasure.” Thanks Tim Curry, don’t mind if I do.

  • Jack Davenport in Pirates Of The Caribbean

When you were all ogling Jack Sparrow, my eyes were keenly focused on the wonderful that was Mr Davenport, with his snide glances and his snippy lines. Keira Knightley is barking. I mean, look at him! He’s old, he’s moody, but he’s very English and very proper. You just know he’s hiding something, perhaps a piratical past that out-awesomes Jack Sparrow, but no-one’s bothering to find out, because they’re all like, ‘Ooh, you have shiny things in your hair and an alcohol problem, that’s hot!’ Tut, sigh.

  • Christian Slater in Heathers

I know, I know, he’s a school exploding psychopath, but ohmygosh is he convincing about it. And he’s Christian Slater, let us not forget that vital fact as we judge him. Those eyebrows alone could get him an innocent verdict in any upstanding court of law, (perhaps this is why I’m not a judge…) Any boy that manages to murder my frenemies without getting caught is a total shoe-in for boyfriend of the year. I’m not even joking. Who needs friends when you have bleach, croquet and suicide notes? Exactly.

  • Michael Fassbender in Prometheus.

Yes, he’s a robot. I know this. Only, he’s a really good looking robot. And he’s so sweet, (kinda,) he’d totally watch The Notebook with you whilst massaging your feet, and he wouldn’t even talk during it, or make those annoying sniffy sounds when he cries. He would. He WOULD. I’m not even gonna argue with you, Prometheus fans, because we are total mechanical soulmates, so there.

  • Alan Rickman in Harry Potter.

Ok, so I’ve always been a false teeth thief, so I know that even if I hadn’t been an alleged adult when HP was the big thing, but instead a pimply Hufflepuff, I would’ve still gone a bit gooey over my potions master. I know I would have brewed up a love potion and spiked his coffee. Stalk much? But he’s just so brooding and miserable and… Yes I have a problem. How long will I have a crush on him? Always, that’s how long. Magic is one hell of a drug.

  • Jonathan Rhys Meyers in The Tudors.

He’s mad, bad and dangerous to know, but he’s THE KING. You’ve got to give him some slack or he’d totally chop off your head without thinking twice, because that’s what he does. Even when he’s skirt lifting and bed hopping, I’d still be there, crying into my jewel-encrusted outfit, careful not to damage the silk, because, hey, that stuff’s expensive. It might be the eyes, or maybe the Irish, but it’s probably the power, which we all know is the hotness.

  • Zachary Quinto in Star Trek: Into Darkness

I am definitely a Spock girl. It’s the eyebrows. I’m coming across as a bit of an eyebrow fetishist and I will hold my hands up to that. I’m loud and I’m proud. Spock and Kirk’s bromance adds a little somethin’ somethin’ to the mix, I don’t even know what, just that it’s hot in a wrong way. And I’ve just found out that Mr Quinto directed an episode of Lizzie McGuire, so there we are, my future husband everyone.

  • Darth Vader.

I know, I know, it’s just… He’s hot, ok? He’s bad and he just doesn’t give a damn. He’s all like ‘I’m gonna blow up this planet now,’ ‘I’m gonna kill that guy now.’ Why want Luke when you could have his sexy dad who has a cape and a deep voice and everything? Alright, I’m strange, but at least that means that no-one will fight me for him. Score!

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Girls Don’t Like Diamonds, Girls Like Cars and Mud.

When I was little, I wanted to be a boy. Not, as my parents would say because I ‘wanted a willy,’ although peeing standing up would be pretty freaking sweet. No, I wanted to be a boy because they had it all and I wanted some. Boys got the best clothes, the best toys and the best jobs when they grew up. I knew that if I wanted a Power Ranger costume or a toy that came with projectile weapons and transformy things, (I mean, who doesn’t?! Even now I drool whenever a Hot Wheels commercial comes on the TV. Though truthfully, that only happens when I’m accidentally on purpose watching iCarly and I’m drooling at ALL the toys.) and to be allowed to be a bricklayer, I would have to get icky boy parts.

Of course, being a semi-functioning adult, I can now see that everything I knew was a load of crap, (well, almost everything. Fairies DO exist and Santa is cheap.) girls can have it all. Girls are able to play with Transformers and Action man without the toy spontaneously combusting, it is possible, though I’m still sulking with my parents for all this misinformation. I grew up a while ago and I thought that everything had changed, I thought little girls could be just as awesome as little boys. Like, Brave exists, and now I’m desperately racking my brains to find more role models. Hmm… And you dare mention the Black Widow and I will show you a film whose female parts comprise solely of Scarlett Johansson’s butt. Also Avengers is rated 12, (PG-13 if you’re American) so that totally doesn’t count.

This is the part where I FINALLY get to the point of this meandering rant fest, (this is what happens when I’m hungry, I don’t get mean, I get simple.) a certain internet retailer, (I’m not gonna give them any more clicks, if you care enough, you’ll find it.) is selling sexist clothing to children. Their clothing proudly proclaims that little girls are bad at maths and boys are awesome at surfing and everything else that’s ever existed, ‘cause boys rule and girls rule, so there! Sorry! I got a bit carried away there. Basically, girls are dumb and vacuous and boys are cool and active, in t-shirt form. Obviously it’s sexist and obviously it’s lame, and obviously some people aren’t gonna care and will buy this rubbish anyways, because they want their daughters vague and pretty. They probably shop at Abercrombie and hate fat people too. Ugh.

I’m in the minority on this one anyway, ‘cause I hate the pink and blue that are so eagerly thrust on babies from the moment they arrive. You are a girl, therefore you will wear pink and love horses and dowsing yourself in glitter. You are a boy, therefore you will wear blue and love football and eating inedible things. It just seems so silly, like, you don’t know this tiny person yet, they’re just a screeching, red-faced alien until they’re, what? Like two? You can’t inflict your ideas of gender on this helpless little blob, it’s not fair. Just swaddle them in yellow or green and wait to see what they like and who they are when they actually like things and are someone. And then, then, and this is a crazy idea, if they ask for a Transformer, (specifically Bumblebee, OF COURSE) don’t go buying them a Barbie kitchen. That is unreasonable behaviour.

                I don’t know how a society that in some ways seems so open, intelligent and cool, (same sex marriage, woop woop!) can be so obtuse and deliberately difficult. Owning girly bits does not give you a predisposition towards shiny things, just like owning boy parts does not make you some sort of gnarly warrior. People are people, regardless of their accessories. Little boys should be taught that they can wear pink and play with dolls and little girls need to be taught that they can cake themselves in mud and have the shooty toys. Luckily I somehow managed to start liking glitter and butterflies and so-called ‘girly’ stuff, but that was my choice, and I still like butchering zombies on the Xbox and watching Fast and the Furious more than is reasonable and sane. It’s all about balance, and maybe if I’d been given Bumblebee rather than a Barbie kitchen, I might have some!


7 Reasons We Need To Invent a Time Machine Like Now

Ok, just a disclaimer first up. Obviously this is just for the shiggles, so I’m not going to time travel to 1939 and undo Hitler. I agree that it would be a jolly good idea and when I get my DeLorean repaired, I’m all over it, but for now, in fantasy land, I have other priorities. Here they are…

  • To prove that dinosaurs are not dinosaurs, but are, in fact, dragons.

I don’t care what archaeological evidence you throw at me, I am not buying it. I have a complex, fantastical ideology netted out in my brain and one small crack could bring it tumbling down. You know what that means? No unicorns. Do you wanna be responsible for that? Good. Dragons it is then.

  • To teach cavemen Klingon.

How freaking cool would that be? Then we’d all be Klingons without the facial problem. Imagine returning to the present and everyone’s roaming around in starships, being all fighty and stuff. It’d be like being in a movie, except death would be highly likely and probably involve phasers. This is all hypothetical of course, but I’m totally right.

  • To mess around with the canopic jars.

Those Ancient Egyptians were a cheery lot, weren’t they? I joke. Ok, they were a bit cursey and veeery serious, so wouldn’t it be a giggle to fool around a bit? Everybody loves a prank. Well, everybody apart from that guy on youtube, who jumped out of a trashcan to scare his friend and now has a massive hole where his face used to be. But yeah, jokes. Maybe stick some pot pourri in with the organs. What harm could it do?

  • To save Natalie Dormer (a.k.a Anne Boleyn) from being decapitated.

Alright, yes, I know that Anne Boleyn and Natalie Dormer aren’t the same person, I mean, I kinda know that… But when Natalie’s about to have her head chopped off, I can’t, I just can’t watch, I must do something to save her. Plus Henry got waaay too big for his stupid, Tudor boots. Someone needs to teach him about feminism and equality and stuff, that’ll sort him out.

  • To sail alongside Blackbeard and his merry men, (or something).

Oh to sail the seven seas, spending all day drinking rum, singing songs about drinking rum, and then complaining about the rum being gone after I’ve drunk the rum. I could totally pull off the piratical maiden thing as well as Keira Knightley. Ok, maybe not as well as Keira Knightley, but as well as a dumpy, goofy, inexplicably scruffy version of Keira Knightley, and that’s good enough for me.

  • To add a little something to the Greek myths

Ok, I know that the Greek myths are pretty, I don’t know, pretty random. I mean, Zeus was a randy dude, getting up to all sorts of nonsense in every which way. Come on, swan sex? Even I couldn’t come up with that. But we could take it even further. There needs to be more giants and talking trees and Hobbits and, aw screw it, just add the entire LOTR plot and that’ll do nicely. Gollum would look great in a toga.

  • To fashion police the Victorians.

The Victorians were a straight-laced bunch, which is all fine and dandy, but if they invent a time machine before we do, (paradox, argh!) then they’re gonna have freaking heart attacks when they see our fashion choices. Sooo, to prevent that from happening, (or, you know, just totally make that happen, whatever,) why don’t we stick Rihanna in the DeLorean, sans clothes and inhibitions, and have her strut her stuff? Victoria would FREAK. OUT. And maybe, just maybe, we’d speed up the decline of clothing and return to a present where everyone is butt naked. It would save time having to decide on an outfit. And no more uniforms too. Woop woop.

I think you’ll all agree that if a time machine becomes available, I’m definitely the woman for the job. I mean, I have absolutely no knowledge of history and terrible social skills, but I’m amazing at reversing a car and have seen Back To The Future approximately once, which is really all you need, let’s be honest.

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