I’m back. I had a momentary lapse and I fell right off track but I am back and I feel excited again. Whenever I fall off track I always really neglect myself, not in terms of hygiene, gym, or beauty treatments, that stuff always stays on track because if it doesn’t I start to feel emotionally unstable, the gym especially; but in terms of not eating well, not drinking enough water, smoking too much, feeling anxious and then struggling to sleep as a result. Every now and then, a couple of times a year (coincidentally usually around my period), I get a bit low. It’s usually caused by something happening, often man, family or job related, I guess you would call it reactive depression, it’s never full on depression though, which I feel very grateful about. Just lowness. And I always make it worse by getting into this unhealthy cycle of eating shit and over smoking. After a couple of weeks I have to stop and really look at myself like urghhhh, pull yourself out of this. It’s like I start making myself physically ill because I’m feeling emotionally unwell. Maybe subconsciously it’s a cry for help, because people can’t see what’s going on inside. They only ask you if you’re OK when they can see that something is wrong, so I start getting all chubby, spotty, tired and sallow looking and it just fucks up my head even more.
I have never struggled with proper depression, anxiety or any other diagnosed mental illness, but I think we all get a little bit under the weather mentally at times. Sometimes it’s hard not to fall into a bit of a cloudy place. I am grateful that for me it’s never been a very dark place, just cloudy, and when the cloud comes I know that I have to fight to get out. I think most of us have felt this way at some point in our lives, and many people have gone beyond the clouds to the depths of darkness and are constantly fighting to stay out. I cannot imagine how hard that must be. I guess the dark days make us more appreciative of the light, maybe we need that balance.
In the last blog I spoke about everything that happened that has caused me to feel a bit out of sorts. I’ve been having a bit of anxiety, thoughts about things that I have done that I regret kept popping into my head, random things, but then I would carry on doing more things that I regretted, like, I would spend nights lying in bed feeling anxious about my health followed by mornings waking up and having a bacon sandwich and a coffee followed by a cigarette, and then feeling instantly shit. I have really been having to convince myself to feel positive and to not constantly beat myself up in my head for making the wrong choices about men, or food, or smoking. For about a fortnight I’ve been having to actively fight to have happy thoughts in my head, I have repeatedly had to tell myself to own it and just enjoy everything I do. It’s been a struggle, but I’m over it. I’m trying to channel my inner Cardi B and just push on through regardless of anything.
I have taken back control now and I feel good again. I gave up smoking on Tuesday, I have managed not to smoke for the whole day for the past two days but the evenings are more challenging. It’s 10pm now and I have had a bit of a relapse, I needed something to get me off to sleep. I’m not going to do that again though. I regret it. I have re-organised my room too because I think decluttering your surroundings is a good way to declutter your mind. It has worked, I feel way better. It really is mind over matter. When I was feeling anxious I listened to this mindfulness meditation by Michael Sealey at night and it really helped. You should try listening to it if you are someone who starts over thinking in bed. But enough about anxiety, because I’m back on positive thinking and feeling good and the more you speak about something that feels shitty, the more you bring it into existence.
I always just start the blogs with where I’m currently at in my life, as if you guys are my therapists (you sort of are), and my recovery from a brief low period is about exciting as it gets. Which is a good thing. I think I got a bit over excited at 51st State Festival and I carried my enthusiasm on for a bit too long by hanging about with a 25 year old hunk of waste which is over now, and so I have no interesting updates for you. So instead I want to talk about something that came up in the comments on one of my pictures on Instagram. I posted a picture of a Twitter post that said:
‘Men get cheated on once in 8th grade and be dogs until they in their late 30s. Seek Therapy you fucking nutcase’
Rebecca – @La_GotTheJUICE
Along with the caption:
Good afternoon everybody except EVERYBODY because I’ve given up smoking and I don’t even care whether you all are having a good day right now tbh. I kid, I’m still in a good mood 😐 Anyway, back to the meme. I think Rebecca should be Prime Minister because she speaks an awful lot of sense. I’m sure some triggered men will disagree with me but this is one of their biggest problems, a lot of men (not all) don’t actually deal with their problems, they just get all angry and hate filled. They don’t talk to their friends as openly as we do so they don’t have an outlet. Instead of processing and then healing the hurt they have faced, they tend to bottle it up or they begin actively disrespecting women because they feel that we’re all going to hurt them. They lose all respect and become massive fuckboys. We don’t do that, we do this weird thing where we decide that we are too hurt and broken to trust other men and then we go running head first towards exactly the same type of men who hurt us before. But at least we let it out instead of keeping it in and then exploding. If it was more acceptable for men to be emotional and to talk about their feelings then maybe this insane behaviour would stop. Rebecca is right, they’ll allow one minor heartbreak to turn them into full on sexual maniacs and she said it better than I ever could – seek therapy you fucking nut cases – for all our sakes 🙏
And then I received a comment that made me think. Here is the comment (grammatical errors are his not mine):
‘I feel what you are trying to tell, but don’t forget that a lot of guys whom not have bad intentions with womens feelings get fcked over by a girl whom leaves them for a guy who has bad intentions to so called bad guys, so summarized you gotta understand that most of the time we see girls ending up with jerks so the reaction of a lot of guys is to become a jerk too get girls (which leaves them with more girls) so it’s a cycle kept intact because of man that start to become jerks and women that want to fix bad guys to actually fix there own self esteem it’s a very toxic eco system that comes from both sides and we both have to work on it’
I hear this argument a lot. Men trying to justify treating women badly by saying we prefer bad guys, as though it is reasonable to say ‘I’ve been left in the past by women for men, who I have thought were pricks, this means I have the right to treat all future partners badly because all women clearly like it’. Women often get left for other women who we might think are bitches or whores, does that mean we should then suddenly become bitches or whores because that’s what men like? Or as some form of revenge against the whole male race just because one man hurt us? It is unacceptable to say that you are being nasty to women because you believe that is the way to get women interested in you. If you were a genuinely nice person you would not even contemplate pretending to be a horrible person to win a woman’s heart. It’s illogical.
I’ve encountered many bitter men who use this as their excuse as to why they can’t get women, they complain that they are too nice and that women only like fuckboys, but actually what I have noticed is that a lot of these self-proclaimed nice guys are often not really that nice at all. They exude bitterness and they harbour negativity towards women because of women who have hurt them in the past, they lack self-awareness, and the ability to take responsibility for their own failings, they blame women being emotionally flawed as the reason that they struggle to attract women instead of looking at themselves. I do not believe it’s acceptable for men to say ‘All women are into bad men’, because they’re not. It’s a myth created to blame victims for their abuser’s behaviour, it’s a misogynistic theory that wants us to believe that women are abused and mistreated because they are asking for it, we want it. It’s a grotesque get out clause used by fuckboy men. Nice guys do get women very easily, most of my friends are married to seriously nice men, but not every guy gets every woman he wants and that is not because of his niceness levels, it’s because the woman is just not feeling him. These bitter ‘nice guys’ cannot accept the rejection and so instead of looking at how maybe he might be doing or saying things that put her off, he instantly puts the rejection back on her ‘It’s not me, it’s because she likes being treated like shit’.
Fuckboys are never total pricks from the start. We don’t come back from first dates with Fuckboys going:
‘Urgh it was awful, he ordered me around and then put me in a headlock. I’m seeing him again on Sunday’
We come back with tales of how lovely, and sweet and thoughtful he was. We ignore the red flags that beam out at us because Fuckboys are usually charming at first, dangerously charming, and although we know what could happen in the future he hasn’t done anything wrong yet so we stick around, because our wombs are hooked we don’t run when we should. Women do not choose men specifically because they are bad. We are magnetically drawn to a particular man, chemically usually, and we get so blinded by our attraction to him that we overlook all the red flags. If the same guy was really sweet we wouldn’t reject him. Alpha males can be gentlemen too, the very best ones are. Those men draw us in, they know how to keep us on our toes, but that does not have to involve treating us badly. We don’t like fuckboys. We fall for fuckboys masquerading as nice men and then when the fuckboy fuckbuggery begins we stick around too long taking their shit because we are desperately hoping that they will start behaving like they did at the beginning again.
There are a lot of ‘nice guys’ who actually get pissed off with us for not liking them, as though them being consistently nice means that we owe them a relationship, or sex, ‘I’ve been so good to you though’ they will say when we tell them we don’t want to have sex, or we are not romantically interested in them. To me, this attitude means that they are not nice guys at all. Be nice to us because you are nice and because you like us, not because it’s a means to an end. We are not obliged to get into a relationship with everyone who is nice. Everyone should be nice to us (if we are nice to them), everyone should be nice to everyone for fucks sake. It’s a basic concept. Nice guys shouldn’t be praised for being nice, it should just come as standard. It grates on me.
Genuinely nice guys should never stop being nice in order to attract a woman. That’s living a lie, how could you develop a relationship while acting completely out of character? Any ‘nice guys’ who are on this vibe need to deal with any lasting hurt left by previous partners before jumping into a relationship again. They ain’t ready. A man who believes that all women are going to leave him for a bad guy is not ready to date, he is harbouring hurt and he has trust and self-esteem issues. He has to work through the damage, and hold out until he meets his soul mate match, someone who loves him for everything that he is. He has to stop taking every rejection so personally and he needs to stop comparing himself to other men who he sees as being more successful with women.
I will be telling my son that he must never aspire to be a fuckboy just because they seem to get all the girls. I will explain that they have a horrible mentally draining time with all the girls. Being a fuckboy is not fun, it’s hard work. Lying, cheating, being shouted at constantly, having to keep your phone on airplane mode, repeatedly saying wow every time you are confronted, finding the time to entertain multiple women, feeling burning when you pee. It’s not a desirable lifestyle.
These nice guys need to stay in their lane and own it, they need to look at women who left them for arseholes with pity, not jealousy. This rape culture attitude needs to change, urgently. We need to stop teaching our sons and daughters that boys are mean to girls when they like them and reinforce the fact that boys are extremely kind and loving to girls when they like them. Because that’s the truth.
We also need to stop making our daughters feel as though nice guys are so rare that we should settle down with the first one we meet. Some people believe that the only thing that matters is finding a man who will treat you right, and of course that is an essential quality in any potential partner, but we need to look deeper than that. We need to find a man who treats us right but who also shares our values, drives us, is on the same wavelength, is an intellectual match, and we should also find him attractive. Otherwise you end up unfulfilled and longing for something more. I hate meeting nice guys who I don’t fancy. It really fucks up my head. It has happened a number of times in my life. I always feel so torn, I feel like I should be with them because they are so nice but I’m just not that into them and I don’t want to fake my feelings just because they are good guys. I once met a really nice guy. His name was Simon and he was just lovely.
Simon was a diamond trader from Notting Hill. I met him on Tinder, he was the same age as me, his bio showed that we had lots in common, music, left wing political views, food, festivals etc. He was easy on the eye but not really my type. He was chubby, more than chubby actually. I’m not a fattist but it’s just not to my taste. I find chubby women attractive, but not men. That’s just my preference, my best friend loves big guys, they’re just not for me. Simon had a nice face though, he looked like a larger version of Aston from JLS, although that wasn’t particularly driving me wild either, but he dressed well and his pictures were good. I wasn’t going to rule him out because I didn’t fancy him from his photos, it’s not about looks, it’s about whether you have got that chemistry when you are face to face and his personality was so bang on that I was more than up for meeting.
We spoke for a while before arranging our first date and I was absolutely certain that I liked him. He made me laugh constantly and I was excited to see where things could go. He arranged the date, we went to Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park. It was a perfect December evening in London, the air was crisp but not too cutting and it was dry and clear. London is lovely at Christmas, it’s vibrant and busy with lights everywhere, and you can hear carollers alongside a background of sirens. Roadmen sell Christmas trees on street corners, it’s beautiful, the perfect first date setting. I met him under Marble Arch and we hugged like old friends but I knew straight away that I did not fancy him at all.
He was wearing a leather jacket zipped all the way up to the neck, it was very tight and it looked like it was going to burst at the seams. He was wearing a Burberry scarf that he had tied so snugly that he looked like he was suffocating. He was also wearing really tight jeans. He looked uncomfortable. When he spoke he had this habit of rolling his eyes high in his head every time he thought hard about something, so quite often you could just see the whites of his eyeballs, it was very off putting. The chemistry just was not there. It wasn’t just to do with his tight clothes it was a lot of things, his mannerisms, the eyeball thing, the lack of a spark. That thing that I needed to be there to make it work was just not there. I was not chemically drawn to him in any way but I absolutely loved his personality.
We had the best date, we went on rides, we drank German beer and I laughed until my sides hurt. He made me feel fantastic and he was just adorable. Someone who I felt like I really wanted to love. His best friend was a woman, they were very close and spent a lot of time together. He had told me that their friendship had often been a problem for other women who he had dated, which he said he hated because there was nothing romantic between them at all. It really didn’t bother me. I think it’s great when men have platonic female friends, they get to see the effects of fuckboys from our perspective, it can make them respect us more, men with close female friends tend to be more in tune with women in my experience. Anyway, he was a nice, gentle, respectful man and we had an absolute blast so we went on to Chinatown after we left Hyde Park and had a meal.
Simon’s eating habits jarred me. He would talk with his mouth full and he kept getting bits of food stuck on his top lip and in his moustache. He had big lips and his noodles were making them greasy, and he ate quite fast and manically, dropping bits all over the table around him. I persevered nonetheless. When he went to kiss me at the end of the night I declined. I didn’t want to. I told him that we should wait and he completely understood. He paid for my cab home and he messaged me as soon as he got in to tell me how much he had enjoyed spending time with me. I felt the same, I really did, but I did not have any desire to kiss him, let alone sleep with him, the thought of it made me feel a bit ill. I felt awful. I knew that he was everything I needed in a man, he would be a fantastic, non-fuckboy boyfriend and I didn’t want to lose him. I wanted everything that he would have been able to give me in a relationship but just not from him.
I so desperately did not want to let go of a good one though. They don’t come along that often and I did not want to throw away something that would have potential if only I could start fancying Simon. We continued talking day and night and getting on famously and we saw each other twice more for dinner over the next week and a half. Both dinner dates were much the same as the Chinatown noodle massacre and I was torn between loving the conversation and feeling as though I could not bear to watch him eat another morsel again in my life. I decided that the fourth date should not involve food so we went to the cinema and to a bar, I was finding the whole thing really quite stressful because we were falling into a relationship and I was allowing it to happen because I felt like I should even though I was dreading being intimate with him. My friends kept telling me that I would be mad to let such a good man go. He had a lot going for him and I really tried to force it. People told me that one day I would just end up fancying him, and that if I didn’t, it wouldn’t matter because Simon would be a great Husband and a great Dad.
One morning Simon didn’t text me, I was used to hearing from him first thing and so I was a bit puzzled, slightly worried for his safety in fact. I didn’t hear from him until 7pm that night when he voice noted me to tell me the hilarious story of him and his best friend Sara’s night out on the town. They ended up taking a mountain of coke together and they didn’t fall asleep until midday the following day. He stayed at hers and had only just left. I felt a pang of jealousy. Like OK, so you couldn’t text me because you were with her? He said that his battery died and he reassured me that I had nothing to worry about, she had a boyfriend and he absolutely did not fancy her. I believed him and I doubted that she would have fancied him either so I dropped it. We saw each other a couple more times and by about the third date we had started kissing, goodbye snogs at the end of the night. It wasn’t that bad, I could tolerate it although I had no desire to sleep with him. The same could not be said for Simon and it was clear that he wanted things to progress.
I convinced myself that maybe it was a good idea, that maybe having sex with him would change things for me. He invited me to a comedy night at a club near to where he lived on a Friday night and he asked me if I wanted to stay over at his so that I could drink and not have to drive my car home until the morning. I agreed. I knew what time it was. Awkward sex time. The comedy club was brilliant, except Simon kept laughing REALLY loudly in a very guffawing manner and it was driving me mad. I rarely drink wine because it makes me wildly drunk really quickly but that was what I needed and so I knocked back half a bottle. We had another brilliant night of laughter and friendship, and then we took a short walk back to his house. Simon’s place was beautiful and sexy, I did not feel the same about him, but I was ready to grin and bear it. I wanted Simon to be my boyfriend because he was such a nice guy and I was willing to put everything else to one side because I did not want to risk losing someone who I felt so connected to. We kissed passionately on the sofa before he led me to his bedroom. He kicked his shoes off and I was immediately hit with the most almighty cheesy stench that has ever existed. It was like someone opened a million bags of Cheetos in a macaroni cheese factory. It was bad.
I was feeling slightly sicky from the wine (I always feel sick from wine which is why I never drink it) and the nuclear toes were not helping at all. But it got worse. Then he took off his shirt to reveal THE hairiest back I have ever seen in my life. It was like a carpet. It was literally as though some carpet fitters had come in and laid 3 square feet of afro-turf from his neck to his buttocks. Initially I thought that he had a black t-shirt on under his shirt and I had to take and double take before my eyes would believe what they were seeing. There were patchy tufts of thick hair sticking up on his shoulders and more patchy tufts smattered across his large chest. His stomach protruded and his nipples rested on the top of it. He was not in good shape, he smelt awful, and he had world record breaking amounts of body hair. I couldn’t do it. There was no way that I could force myself to go through with having sex with him, or contemplate having sex with him three times a week for the rest of my life. We kissed a bit more but I told him that I felt queasy and that I needed to stop. He was really understanding about it all and he made me comfortable in his bed and got me a bucket and a glass of water. He looked after me but I think he knew. Things were a bit awkward and I think I made him feel self-conscious. I hated myself for that. I cannot bear the thought of hurting anyone’s feelings. I did not want to do that to him. I never wanted to make him feel shit.
Anyway, needless to say, I told him the following day that I didn’t think that anything was going to happen romantically but that I really enjoyed his company blah, blah, blah…….. and that was that. We didn’t speak again for a long time but every now and then, especially after accidentally dating a Fuckboy, I would think about him and I would feel regretful that I hadn’t continued to try to make it work. I always felt sad when I thought about him, like he was a real loss, he was such a good guy, I felt guilty for breaking his heart. A year or two ago he posted a Snapchat, which he never does, he looked great, healthy and fresh and he’d lost a ton of weight, I messaged him to say hi and we exchanged a few pleasantries but he wasn’t really showing much interest. This made me want to stalk his social media to find out why, and lo and behold, I discovered the reason. He was now married to his best friend Sara. The one that I was always told not to worry about. In their wedding picture caption he wrote something like ‘She has always been my soul mate, my best friend, I knew I was going to marry her from the moment I laid eyes on her. I am the luckiest man alive, good things come to those who wait’.
Well whaddya know, I didn’t fancy him because we were not meant to be. That nice guy who I would have compromised myself for would have probably ended up breaking my heart. He was in love with somebody else the whole time, and he probably just wanted to make things work with me because it was breaking his heart to not be able to be with her. He was not my soul mate, if he was then there would have been more than just niceness holding us together. Simon will definitely make an amazing husband to Sara and he is proof that there are lovely men out there, but he is also proof that you should always listen to your gut and you should never try to force it on the basis that he’s a good guy. Hold out for the perfect good guy, you’ll know it when he comes along.