Yep, you read it right. Last week I drove to work in my thongs and it ended in disaster.
For those of you from the USA who read my blog, I know, I know… and yes, I was driving to work in my thongs – two of them – and when I got there I realized I had no shoes on!
Confused? Don’t worry, so was I!
As everyone in my life knows all too well – I am a complete shambles at the best of times. I fall over, run into things, accidentally tell strangers that I love them, forget how to get home and vomit regularly. However, in recent months, I had been reaching all new levels of coordination and things were going swimmingly.
No longer was I the bitter, sarcastic blogger who dated psychopaths and had an unreasonable fear of fake hair… As I said to another blogger several months ago, it’s hard to blog sarcastically when you’re happy with life… (and yes, contrary to popular belief, I had been getting out of the house at that point in time!)
Alas, it all came unraveled when I wore my thongs on the drive to work on Thursday. I had stayed at my boyfriend’s house, which sends me on a total different route to work and it was one of the first really warm days of the year, so I had just thrown my thongs on at the last minute as I ran out the door, not thinking much of it. I’m someone who avoids shoes at all costs, so I always keep a pair of work flats on the car floor for everyday use.
Unfortunately I didn’t think much of the fact that I had sent my car in to be serviced either, and the car that I had borrowed (strangely) did not come with a pair of emergency shoes on the passenger side floor. So, to cut a long, dramatic morning short, I turned up to work with no shoes, frantically yelling out to a colleague across the carpark something along the lines of ‘My shoes! My shoes! No shoes! No shoes! OMG! Shambles! HELP! HELP!’ while waving both arms frantically in the air…
Ah, you know that look of panic people get as they desperately think of a way they can pretend they don’t know you? Yep, that look is ALLLL too familiar for me!
So half an hour and one trip to Kmart later, I had a pair of $8 shoes making my feet sweat and I was back on track. Or so I thought…
This morning, I took the same route to work. I was back in my own car (spare shoes and all) and for a Monday, the day was looking fine. About half way through my drive, I switched my handsfree thingemy on in case I got a call, as I’d thrown my bag somewhere in the back of the car and had no chance of reaching my phone if I needed it.
Beep… Beeep… attempting to connect… no phone found… attempting to connect… no phone found…
After a small panic, I ran into the office, waving my arms in the air like a madwoman. My colleagues have come to await the daily drama that tends to signify my arrival, so there was an air of anticipation as I ran into the office yelling ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got my shoes! I DON’T have my mobile phone but it’s going to be OKAY!’
Being a Gen Y girl and lacking the ability to memorise a single phone number since about 1999, I had no idea what my boyfriends phone number is. So I called myself. No answer. Redial…
Yep, oh shizz indeed! But we had a plan, boyfriend would drop phone to my office at lunchtime and I would buy him lunch, which I did. I was all ‘sit down, get comfortable, let me buy your lunch and drink and prove my gratitude for you driving halfway across Melbourne for me…’
And then it fell apart…
In an effort to be super helpful and after I was clearly told the squeezy ketchup sachet wasn’t opening, I insisted on having a crack at it and with all my strength, attempted to outsmart what was, I swear, the most complicated condiment packaging ever made.
Unfortunately… the ketchup won…
We were both covered. As was our table, my bag, the entire pile of napkins on the table, the chair next to me… and the random stranger sitting no less than two metres away from me.
I spent the entire afternoon pulling pieces of dry, crusty ketchup from my ponytail and fringe while randomly bursting out in fits of giggles.
I took it as a sign I had been neglecting my blog.
The universe has spoken. I will blog more.
I will also stop wearing thongs in the car… Except on weekends and public holidays.
And possibly also eating ketchup.
Also – I’m still scared of fake hair.
So today I was nominated for the Beautiful Blogger Award by the lovely Jennifaye. Yay! Although this reminded me that I had also been tagged by nosugarjustspice WEEKS ago and I totally forgot! So, I’m starting with the earlier tag and, if I have time, will roll right on through to the more recent one!
First up, the one I am going to refer to as ‘Blog Tag’, has the following rules:
1. You must post the rules
2. Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post
3. Create eleven new questions to ask the people you’ve tagged
4. Tag eleven people with a link to your post
5. Let them know you tagged them
And the questions posted by nosugarjustspice and my answers are:
1. What’s the most exciting thing you’ve done in the last year?
Ooohhhh, quit my job, which I did just a few weeks ago! Exciting times are ahead!
2. Favourite 80’s movie?
Girls Just Want to Have Fun!
3. Do you still have toys from when you were a child?
Yes, and sadly some are still in my bedroom. I just can’t let them go and keep telling myself that they’ll mean so much to my kids when I pass them on (note – I have no kids and don’t expect to have any for quite a while still!)… except Sealy Lorne, who is my number 1!
4. You’re being sent to Biosphere 2 for a year and can only take one person, who would it be?
Hmmm… only for a year? Would I have any means of communication with other people? Argh, I can’t decide!
5. If you could be a member of the opposite sex for a day, would you?
No way! Haha!
6. Is there anything in the area surrounding you right now that could be used to fight zombies in the apocalypse?
Yep, a MASSIVE aerosol can of Fudge Skyscraper hairspray.
7. How many alarms does it take to wake you up of a morning? (It takes me 5)
Two alarms, which start at 7.15 and 7.20 and keep getting snoozed until about 7.50-8am. I HATE mornings!
8. Hollywood is remaking your favourite movie ever and wants you to play your favourite character from that movie, which movie is it and who are you playing?
Amelie and Amelie!
9. What are 5 terms/names/etc you wish you had never heard and could be removed history?
The first thing to come to mind is too horrid to share, but I had to ask blogger Lyndon Keane to translate and we both regret googling as soon as we had done so… no further comment on that.
Second, third, fourth and fifth would be babe (as in people refer to each other as this), moist, Hugh (as in the name, because I can’t pronounce it) and… Mash (just the mention of it makes me feel sick)!
10. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve done when drunk?
Oh, there’s way too many to narrow it down… In recent months projectile vomiting all over my luggage and the hotel room floor would probably be the worst of it.
11. If you could wake up tomorrow and walk into your dream job what would it be?
Professional world traveller and gazillionaire 🙂
And eleven new questions:
- What’s one city in the world that you’ve always wanted to visit and why?
- What is your biggest fear?
- Have you ever seen a ghost?
- What is your guilty pleasure?
- If you could have any animal in the world as a pet, what animal would it be?
- Are you a dog or a cat person?
- If you could have one superpower, what would it be?
- What’s your favourite song of all time?
- When you were young, what did you plan to be when you grew up?
- Chips and salad or roast potatoes and vegetables?
- If you won a million dollars, what would you do/buy first?
And the eleven blogs that I tag are…
- www.frugalistablog.com (for her great Kristen Stewart impersonation)
- www.simonandfinn.com (the baby mouse deer made me cry :()
I hope you enjoy these blogs as much as I do!
Okay, having just done this one and with seven more blogs to nominate, I’m going to take a few days to complete the Beautiful Blogger Award! Phew!
I have always been told that when you receive flowers from a man for no apparent reason, it’s a sign that he is cheating on you. I don’t exactly agree with this theory, but I do find the whole flower-giving thing fascinating.
I remember being younger and always wanting a nice boy to give me flowers. Not some crummy bunch of roses or, even worse, a single rose, but a pretty, well-planned and thoughtful bunch of flowers, which may or may not feature lilies or something similar.
But the flowers I envisaged and the flowers I actually got back then were vastly different. The lilies were replaced by god-awful weed-like flowers and the beautiful, ribbon-bound box was replaced by clear and white flowery glad-wrap that screamed of having been bought in a hospital foyer or stolen from a cemetery.
As I got a bit older, I completely lost interest in flowers. I never expected them and never really got them, but when I was about 25, I started to notice that they were making a comeback. Gone were the days, however, of flowers bringing joy and happiness.
First, there was the bunch that arrived with the statement ‘I might have an STD…’ (please note that the might turned out to be a definitely did not) and then there were the ones that came shriveled up after being hidden behind the heater in the lounge room for an indeterminate period of time, resulting in me arriving late for work after being ordered to go to the florist to exchange them…
Yep, flowers weren’t so glamorous anymore. They brought disease scares, anger and embarrassing encounters with florists. But I am a girl and don’t we all, deep down, dream of one day receiving flowers from a secret admirer declaring their undying love for us?
What we don’t realise though, is that this is actually the behavior of sociopaths and serial killers… and holiday crashers… yep, holiday crashers!
I mean, if you really think about it, if a person has the ability to interact with people, hold a conversation and enter into a real-life relationship, why wouldn’t they just mosey on over and ask you out? Alas, hindsight is a wonderful thing…
Back in 2009, I was a few months into my current (recently resigned from) job. Part of my role back then was to do presentations to young people about living and working overseas. Me being me, this involved lots of goofiness, many bad jokes and technical disasters.
My main problem with these presentations was that if I told a joke or a story that should get a laugh didn’t, I would just keep on pushing… bad joke after bad joke… higher pitch… faster talking… and it would start getting just plain awkward.
For example, I was once talking about San Francisco and started telling the story about riding a bike over the Golden Gate Bridge, taking a wrong turn (can you even take a wrong turn?) and ending up going overland to Sausalito all the while turning right involuntarily because I get balance issues when riding in the wind…
Alas, after being met by dead silence, this story led to the one about getting lost on a ‘quick drive’ before returning the hire car, the one about accidentally offending a group of dutch backpackers after telling one that his friend smelt like cabbage and finally wrapping it up with a declaration that I love San Fran because the hills made me feel like I was in Full House…
You know, FULL HOUSE?
It must be my lisp, audience does not comprehend… Cue terrible attempt at singing the Full House theme song:
Everywhere you look… everywhere you go (there’s a heart)… There’s a heart, a hand to hold onto.
Silence… crickets chirping… tumble weeds rolling through the room… you get the idea.
To this day I tell myself the crowd were just too young. They clearly didn’t know Mary-Kate and Ashley when they were knee-high to a grasshopper!
But back to my story, I was having one of these HORRIBLE evenings where the crowd was giving me absolutely nothing. No number of cheesy jokes, funny stories or even crowd interaction was saving it and besides one over enthusiastic guy in the second row, whose fake laugh was way too elaborate to be genuine, the audience were having none of it.
So you can imagine my complete shock when a massive bunch of roses turned up at my office two days later with a card that read:
I saw your presentation the other night and have been thinking about you ever since. Do you want to go for a drink sometime?
My colleagues and I tried to think of who it could be, with one suggesting it was ‘probably that one person who was laughing at your jokes!’ and after some crafty investigation, I had a full name and an email address.
Looking back, I should have read between the lines, seen the unwritten references to kidney stealing and paid attention to the music that started repeating in my head.
But really, the guy had made a pretty big effort and as someone who cannot even remember having asked anyone on a date before, who was I to reject someone without even meeting them?
So, I went on a date with him and despite there being no chemistry whatsoever and him judging me for liking Simon and Garfunkel while saying his favourite type of music was ‘anything they play on Triple J’… I didn’t regret it. I told him I wasn’t interested, we agreed we would be friends, added each other on Facebook and caught up a few more times before he went overseas.
Fast-forward to early 2011 when I was planning a work trip to Canada, followed by a week of Tennizzlle-time in New York City on the way home. I was contacting a few business partners and customers who were over there to catch up, one of whom was this guy. He wasn’t going to be in the cities I was visiting in Canada, but was going to NY with some friends around that time. I sent him my dates and said we’d have a drink if we crossed paths.
A week before I left, he emailed saying he had great news, it turns out we were going to be in NYC at the same time, so we agreed to have a drink. It all seemed so normal…
We met at a bar downtown before dinner and had a quick beer. We had the quick catch up, how’s life, blah blah blah, and then I asked him ‘So, what are you even doing in New York?’
His response: ‘I came to New York to spend the week with you’
This guy had driven from Montreal to New York to holiday with me… without me knowing.
After a few deep breathes, I talked myself into it. I’m the queen of miscommunication and I probably misunderstood something along the way. I’m sure it’s fine, when he says SPEND the week with me, he doesn’t mean SPEND the week with me. Nervous laugh, nervous laugh…
That was Thursday night.
By Friday, it was clear that he did actually mean spend the entire week with me…. Every single second of it…
‘Oh, you want to go to Forever 21 and try on seventy dresses? I’ll come!’
‘Oh, you want to purchase outfits for your dogs? That sounds like great fun!’
‘Should we plan out all our evenings in advance and buy tickets to everything?’
‘Let’s go to the farmers market and buy some food to cook in the luxury Soho apartment I have rented for us to hang out in’
By Saturday, I had lost my shit. Somewhere between Canal Street and Union Square, after being dragged around by his know-it-all self all afternoon trying to find ‘the best coffee in New York’, I had had enough. I hadn’t spoken to him for at least an hour when I made my escape, yelling something along the lines of ‘Space! Tennizzlle time! Forever 21!’ before throwing myself into the midst of a crowd of fast moving locals and running for my life.
A few months later, I was at work one afternoon and received a text message from a US number.
‘Hey, are you free to catch up?’
Assuming it was someone from our US office, I responded ‘Yeah, sure, but I have no idea who this is!’
‘Oh, sorry, it’s Michelangelo*, I’m in Melbourne but still using my Canadian number’
These days, if I want flowers, I just go buy myself some damn flowers. They’ll always be tasteful, they won’t be on the verge of death, they won’t die overnight and I will be able to sleep soundly in the knowledge that my kidneys will still be attached when I wake up in the morning.
NB – In doing a little Google research for this post, I typed ‘Flowers from a man’ into the search bar. I love the predictions Google comes up with and where they lead you. This time, I got ‘flowers from a man who shot your cousin’… as you do!
Also, if you were thinking about sending me flowers, feel free! I like lilies (just in case you didn’t get that) and I will accept them graciously. Just don’t be expecting me to go on a date with you afterwards!
*names and numbers have been changed, though not very well
Last week I quit my job.
Most people who know me saw it coming, but for the many people I know through work, it was completely unexpected. So far, everyone has reacted with ‘Omg, what’s happened?’ and I suspect, knowing my tendency for dramatics, they are assuming that I cracked without warning, slamming the manual lift door while screaming ‘I QUIT!’ and storming off down La Trobe Street.
Alas, it was not so exciting and unlike the time someone put spag bol all over the bin in the midst of a bug infestation or the time I realised someone was stealing the toilet paper (I still have my suspicions, but no proof), there was absolutely no hysterics.
Resigning was a massive relief and although I had a TINY panic attack in between being offered my new job and quitting my current one, it wasn’t long before I was getting excited about taking a huge step off my current career path and throwing caution to the wind.
There’s something liberating about having absolutely no idea what the heck you will be doing a year from now, and, to quote my ever-unreliable Fortune Telling Fairy Cards, I am moving forward fearlessly!
Gone are the days of work-related panic attacks and swatting bugs as I sit at my desk – it’s time for freedom, creativity and full, uninterrupted nights of sleep! Woo hoo!
As mentioned above, I do have a new job lined up, which I am very excited about, but leaving my current role will also allow me to look into new opportunities, to focus on my blog and what I really want to do – to DANCE!
Okay, that was totally a joke, but I have spent a fair chunk of the past few days thinking about the future. Now is the time to work out exactly what I want to do and how to do it… But in typical Tennizzle-style, I have become overwhelmed by the decision.
Ideally I would win lotto and spend the next few years jetting around the world, renovating my house and volunteering my time to the greater good… however accepting that this is not going to happen and that the chances of anyone paying me to hang out with my dogs for a living are just as low, I am going to need a more realistic plan.
I have decided to focus on copywriting, but without it being part of my everyday work.
So far, I have taken the massive steps of purchasing my blog domain (check it out, I’ve dropped the ‘wordpress’ from my site, la di da!) AND getting my own personal domain for the future… I haven’t quite worked out how to set up a website or get it hosted, but I’m on my way! I can feel success in the air!
I’m starting with a bit of blatant self-promotion to people I know professionally and am hoping to start putting a portfolio together in the coming months. As a result, my blog will be growing and although my regular, neurotic posts will continue, I will also be using this page as a means of collating writing until I have a proper website.
In the meantime, if you see someone with a sandwich board reading ‘Will Write for Food’ standing outside Flinders St station next month… please stop by and say hi!
I accept that grammatically, either way is acceptable, but I just don’t think it’s right.
Having said that, I was recently re-reading one of my blog posts which I had published in a hurry and I realised that I had unknowingly finished two bullet points with full stops and one with an exclamation mark. After hyperventilating for a short moment, I pulled myself together long enough to deal with it.
In fairness to myself, I had used the full stop when adding a final word or two to the point. For example:
– Pugs are awesome. Fact.
Totally necessary. But by using two full stops and one exclamation point, I had unintentionally thrown my entire post off balance.
There was only one solution – go back through and add a full stop to every bullet point… all the while accepting that this would result in me not sleeping that night.
I started thinking about what other totally minor things have threatened to tip me over the edge in recent months and fairly quickly realised that I might actually be insane. But hey, who is judging? These are just a few:
USING CAPITALS FOR A HEADING OR IN AN EMAIL
I’m not even joking, people actually do this. In reports, people like to use capitals all over the shop and it has, on occasion, very nearly killed me. If you need a heading, there’s this wonderful thing called bold which is designed for adding emphasis without screaming.
Excessive capitalising in email is particularly unpleasant at work when customers, or people associated with customers think they’ll get a better response from me by CAPITALISING all the AGRESSIVE words in their EMAIL… well, guess what? When I read the third misspelt and capitalised word you included, I lost all interest in helping you in any way. Instead, I have made it my mission to ruin your life!
If you’re reading this and you have a tendency to capitalise unnecessarily, please do not ever make me aware of this. It won’t go well. Capital letters should be reserved for the occasional emphasis of a single word and nothing else. For example -Pugs are AWESOME.
txt spk n emails (Text speak in emails)
Last year, I received the following one-line email from our IT guy at work:
“ok np.. ‘only’ looks a bit stupid in the comparison popup though imo”
After staring blankly at my screen for a good twenty seconds, I called a colleague into my office and said ‘I think IT Guy might be having a seizure!’
Apparently I’m just not down with the lingo. Mucho awkwardo.
I am the first to accept that I overuse the acronyms OMG and WTF and maybe it’s a double standard, but under no circumstances should lol, lmfao, np, imo, fml, ffs, ftw or ttfn be used in an email. It takes me more time to Google what it means that it would take you to just write in English!
And don’t even get me started on ‘totes’!
Using the space bar instead of tab
If you reeeeaaallly want to piss me off, put together a nicely aligned and spaced document which has been formatted without using the tab button. Go on, do it. I dare you…
I guarantee I will squeal, hyperventilate and not speak to you for at least two hours.
Even better, put the header content on the main page, the page number at the top centre and don’t bother with columns, just split all the text into two and put spaces between everything…. EVERYWHERE*!
Times New Roman
Do I need to elaborate? Why does this font still exist?!?
So now you’re starting to grasp how challenging my life is and you’re no doubt wondering how I cope…
I take a deep breath, open a new window in Google Chrome and search Google Images using two magical words ‘Awesome Pug’…
And just for you, my lovely blog readers, I am letting you into my world for a moment. This is the wall above my work desk, I call it The Wall of Pug Inspiration**!
*Please note totally appropriate use of capital letters
** Yes, that is Jacob on the top left. Yes, he has a speech bubble saying ‘I love you… see you tonight!’ but just hold your judgement, I am 100% Team Edward!
People often ask me stupid questions and accuse me of doing ridiculous things. I have no idea why.
I admit, I have been known to sticky tape my colleagues chairs to their desks in moments of extreme boredom while in the office out of hours… and put Christmas decorations all over someone’s computer screen in April… I might have also stuck a photo of a random person on another colleague’s backpack right before he got on the train home (I thought it’d be nice for him to have some company)… however I absolutely hate practical jokes and have no interest of hiding something that belongs to someone else, jumping out at someone or ruining someone’s food (I’ve had salt in my beer and it is not fun, and yes, I count beer as food, sheesh)!
I’m also incredibly bad at keeping a straight face in funny situations, am always the first to crack when trying to go along with a joke and am a terrible liar.
The other day, I was in the kitchen at work, making my lunch and a colleague came in to check on his sandwich, which he’d left in the sandwich press. He walked up to it, stopped, turned to me suspiciously and said ‘Did you turn the sandwich maker off while my sandwich was cooking?!?’
I started laughing, which I don’t think helped the situation, but denied any involvement. He eyed me suspiciously, switched the press on and watched me as he walked away, hesitant to leave his sandwich unsupervised in the kitchen with me.
This got me thinking about how often these wild accusations are thrown my way and why. The next time I saw him, I asked why I am always the suspect when something happens… his response: ‘It’s probably because you’re small’… fair enough.
So, to share a few of the highlights with you, these situations have occurred with family, friends, colleagues, boyfriends and randoms. I’m convinced it’s because of my openness and warmth that people feel comfortable saying these things to me… that, or I’m just plain sneaky-looking…
Q: Did you hide my ipod? (Work colleague)
A: Huh? You have an ipod?
Q: Did you hide my wallet? (Work colleague)
A: No. Has it been stolen or did you leave it at home? (turns out he left it at home, although this question was asked at least five more times that day!)
Q: Did you pay for that jug of Sangria? (girl working at a bar)
A: No, I stole a whole jug of sangria without you noticing, you fool (sarcastic). Did you LOSE a jug of sangria?
Q: Did you just suggest that my boyfriend is autistic? (a friend)
A: Ok, maybe… It was a miscommunication. But it was very, very funny.
Q: Did you delete the company’s entire website? (IT guy at work)
A: Erm… nope, can’t say that I did. If I had any urge to delete the whole site, resulting in massive problems for no one but myself, I’d probably suggest I should be committed.
Q: Did you intentionally lock me out of the house? (an ex-boyfriend)
A: No, the door locks itself, you moron. I’ll bet you’re feeling bad about punching the glass door in now, aren’t you?
Q: Did you just put the dog on the barbeque? (my mother)
Q: Did you break the front door? (My mother)
A: I TOLD you when I opened it that it was broken and you said it had been like that for months!
Q: Are you arranging for me to meet up with the guy I like when I visit you and not telling me? (A friend)
A: Huh? I am too confused to even try to answer that question.
Q: Did you pick up my friend The Albino?
A: No comment.
Q: Where’s my plate? Did you take it? (Work Colleague)
A: Of course I did, I put it in the fridge. That’s what you get for suggesting I sabotaged your sandwich!
I was reading a crock of sh*t article a few weeks ago about the dating ‘rules’ and the growing trend amongst women to revert back to strategies of old to snag a husband.
You know, the standard stuff like a woman should always ignore three phone calls before answering one, she should practice kissing on a mirror to avoid disappointment and she should always wear pantyhose, or some other equally ridiculous crap.
This is all well and good and if you’ve had success following this rubbish, good for you! However, there seems to be a lack of quality advice aimed at men.
Honestly, I suspect one or two of my previous flings might have been attempting to follow the female-oriented rules… I’ve had the experience of someone feigning being busy just to inconvenience my schedule, I also suspect I may have dated one or two who learnt to kiss (and god knows what else) with a mirror… then there was the guy with the pantyhose… I joke, I JOKE!
Alas, when I looked back on the various men I have dated over the past few years, I had a shocking realisation… I am actually sitting on a goldmine of dating advice. So, good blog readers, I have decided to share this with you. Based on my own dating experience, I feel that I can assist all of you semi-psychotic bachelors out there, by providing some great advice that I have learnt from the men who have come and gone in my life.
So here are my top ten rules for dating women:
1. If your mobile phone is running out of battery in the hours leading up to your first date, sending a text to the person you’re meeting is a great idea. Turning up to a busy meeting place and sitting at the bar waiting to be discovered is not. If you asked her out, there’s a good chance she can’t remember what you look like!
2. If you forget your wallet or don’t have enough money to cover your half of dinner, do not wait until the bill arrives to advise your date of this. If you’ve managed to scrape your gold coins together and split the bill, do not invite your date back to your place to ‘hang out’ if your next request is going to be that she cover the cab (or bus) fare for both of you.
3. If you have an aversion to washing your clothes, try to at least remove the obvious marks from them before your date. If your date notices them or questions whether you are, in fact, wearing the exact same pants for the fourth time, try lying. Do not admit that you don’t EVER actually wash your pants because they’re dry clean only and you only have one pair.
4. Despite how awesome you think you are, try to avoid telling your date (repeatedly) of how certain you are that she really likes you. Similarly, comments such as ‘I knew you liked me the second I walked into that bar’ and ‘I know you’ve already thought about having kids with me’ do not lead to the assumption that you are boyfriend material.
5. Even if it is prefaced with ‘Don’t take this personally, but…’ the comment ‘can you just stop asking me questions?’ is not the way to impress a girl and is always going to kill the conversation.
6. If you end up dating someone to the point where you’re sharing a bed, try to avoid sleep talking as much as possible. Sure, talking about breakfast or your job while deep asleep can seem funny enough, but talking about how you are ‘going to have lots of sex and beat the sh*t out of them all’ is only going to scare the crap out of your date.
7. If you ride a bike, try to avoid bringing it on a date. If you must, do not then proceed to talk on your phone for the first 5 or so minutes after meeting, while your date walks beside you… Sure, you’re giving off the impression that you’re cool and that you want to make a speedy exit, but you’re also confusing the crap out of your date, who will spend the rest of the evening wishing that she took that 5 minute window of opportunity to get the hell out of there.
8. Emotional stories such as how your parents divorced when you were seventeen, resulting in you still hating them for humiliating you, may seem like a big deal to you, but sharing them on your first date, or any date for that matter, should be avoided. It was TEN YEARS AGO, for God’s sake, get over it!
9. As much as you may love them, eating two salad sandwiches a day does not make you a foodie by any measure. The people you work with may find it hard to believe that you eat TWO salad sandwiches every day without fail, but for your date who was talking about her passion for food, you just became really freaking boring.
10. Whatever you do, and no matter how emotional you get while out with a girl – DO NOT CRY. Do not cry when discussing your failed relationship, do not cry when talking about sport and no matter how extreme the circumstances, do not cry over dinner!
In writing this post, I’ve not only revisited and cleansed my soul of some of the more negative dating experiences I’ve had, but I’ve also decided that in the vein of He’s Just Not That Into You and The Rules, I’m going to write a book. It will be titled She Thinks You’re a Raving Lunatic.