Friday 13th is a breeze

Today is Friday the 13th. Unlucky for some? Well, I have no problem with today what so ever because tomorrow – Valentine’s Day – is so much worse.

I’m not gonna start ranting on about smug couples, lack of spontanaety, commercialism, expectations, disappointment, pressure and status labels… whoops, too late. Think I’ve made my point.

Wedding belles

It was my mate Bloater’s wedding on Saturday (there’s a story behind why I call her Bloater, but it’s a long one. Her real name is Laura) and I was privileged enough to be one of her four bridesmaids.

Friday night was a bride/bridesmaid bonding session, catching up over a three course meal in the hotel and finding out exactly what was happening at this wedding ‘cos we were a bit clueless.

Now the wedding wasn’t until 4pm on the Saturday and it was a long wait. Two of us bridesmaids sloped off to a tanning lounge and had a mooch round Asda to kill some time, and we tried to leave it as late as possible to get ready so the make-up didn’t slide off our faces by ceremony-time.

It was a lovely day and Bloater made a beautiful bride, as expected, and I hope the happy couple are enjoying themselves on their honeymoon in Ireland as I write this.

In summary, here are my wedding highs and lows:

Highs

• Looking fab in our gorgeous dresses. Bloater was very kind to us bridesmaids as our dresses were wicked and can defo be worn to black tie dos in the future without actually looking like a bridesmaid.
• Catching up with friends I haven’t seen for a while.
• Having lots of drinks bought for me. Bridesmaids don’t have pockets – cunning plan! Although my fellow bridesmaid did manage to keep cigarettes and a lighter in her bouquet of flowers.
• Dancing with Bloater’s dad – even though I did tread on his feet about 20 times. Poor chap.
• Taking the piss out of bridesmaid Lindsay. She’s now worked out that constant abuse from me means I like her. It’s when I’m nice to people that they have to worry.
• Watching Bloater’s face over breakfast on her first day of married life – as she struggled not to throw up in her cornflakes.
• Loved the fact that Bloater’s dad’s speech involved a lot of sick. And how the groom once had to pull Bloater’s house keys from her handbag – the one she’d just been sick in on a taxi ride home – which promptly made him throw up in Bloater’s mum’s shrubbery. Hilarious!
• The groom’s mum, starting the night before the wedding, kept telling us bridesmaids that we needed to behave ourselves. We weren’t 100 per cent sure if she was joking or not. What had she heard?
• Fellow bridesmaid Alice waking up at 6am in total panic because she had no idea why she was in her pyjamas and was convinced she’d lost her bridesmaids dress. Drunken bum.

Lows

• Bloater deciding she needed the loo just after we’d squeezed her into her dress. I proved myself a true friend by bundling her into the loo, holding her dress up over her head and passing her the loo roll. very undignified.
• Doing up the buttons on the back of Bloater’s dress, very tricky, especially with freshly painted nails. But the groom had the worst bit – having to undo them at the end of the night.
• The photographer taking piccies of us while we were getting ready. Pyjamas and no make-up is not a good look for me.
• Lack of single people. Apart from three single bridesmaids there was one single man in the building and he’d already made approaches to the two other single bridesmaids on previous occasions. And he’s short. Serious lack of available talent.
• Couples everywhere, yuk. Yes, it’s a happy occasion but a bit of a depressing reminder for us single folk that we’re not even close to getting our own special day.
• Driving away from the hotel on Sunday knowing that it was all over. Maybe I should hire myself out as a professional bridesmaid?

28 and still single?

This advert constantly appears on my Facebook pages and it’s starting to piss me off. I think it’s the use of the word “still”. Why don’t they just add the words “shelf”, “gathering dust” and “desperate” while they’re at it?!

28 and Still Single?

Why not meet some hot guys on Dating Direct?

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Singleton city

My mates and I have decided that if we reach old age and still don’t have a boyfriend we’ll all move to Singleborough and live happily ever after – together! I’m fortunate enough to have a healthy gaggle of single female mates to share dating (horror) stories with but we each live in fear that we’ll be the last one to settle down.

It’s not that we all hate our single status (well, only when people look at us as if we have a disease) but more that we’ve had so many dating disasters that we’re not sure getting married and settling down will ever be part of our equation.

Inspired by this blog post on the single saga, I’ve tried to ask myself why I’m single, a question us singletons are often asked. Well, the answer is ‘cos we won’t just settle for anyone. I guess, between us, there are plenty of offers, but not many that you’d actually want to accept.

There seems to be a dearth of cute, intelligent, sporty men with good jobs, a bit of ambition and a sense of humour. And that’s all we’re asking for! And the ones we actually fall for tend to be commitment-phobes of the highest order – or “emotional fuckwits” to quote the immortal words of Bridget Jones.

So, what’s a girl to do in the meantime? My advice would be to enjoy yourself; fill your life with all the things that make you happy – handbags, hairdressers and shoes maybe? and don’t be afraid to pretend you’re one of the Sex and the City gals. Men? Easy come, easy go.

Does your face fit?

My mate – another member of the SIngle Brigade – emailed yesterday, directing me to a BBC news story which prompted her to experience a “eureka” moment. “I’m single because I’ve got the wrong face,” she said. How depressing.

This news story suggests you can tell if a person wants a one night stand/bit of fun or a more sustained relationship – just by looking at their face! Research shows, apparently, that men are more interested in the women who look like they want a bit of fun. No shit Sherlock!

So, for us girlies who haven’t had much luck in the “lovin” department lately, does it mean we have the wrong sort of face? Great.

Now, not only am I an overweight binge drinker (see previous blog entry) I am single, the big 3-0 is drawing ever nearer and I also have the wrong face. What’s a girl to do eh?

Another friend, who’s just joined an internet dating site did confess to me: “You know, I don’t usually go out with total lookers but when flicking through this site I’m disregarding the ugs and looking at the guys who look like players.” Maybe there is something in this “face fits” theory, and it works on both sides.

Dating is hard enough, whether you have the face for it or not.

My brother, who’s two-and-a-half years younger than me, once fed me the line: “The trouble with women your age is that you know they’re desperate to settle down.” Hmmm. Newsflash guys – just because we want to go for a drink with you doesn’t mean we’ve planned the wedding and started reading babay magazines. It just means we want to go for a drink with you.

Oh, gone are the days when a guy walked you home from the dance at the village hall, started courting you and married you a few months later. How simple it was back then. Now, with the likes of text messages, email, social networking, speed dating and online dating, the dreaded “D” word has become a bit of a minefield.

One of my single mates is having her third date in as many weeks tonight, bless her. They both play sport and he handed his number over after watching her fall over a courtside sports bag while she struggled to put her hoodie on. He thought it was cute. If that happened to me, people would be inspecting the Robyn-shaped hole left in the ground.