Girl meets boy. Girl likes boy. Girl kisses boy. Boy kisses girl. Girl and boy spend a few nights together in which a connection is established.
Now for reasons I wont go into here, girl had to halt proceedings with boy and events come to a standstill. Now years later boy sees phone number of girl and sends a tentative text. Girl responds and the connection is re-established. Girl and boy arrange to meet up a few days later.
Would this classify as a date? I'm not sure. Girl certainly has butterfly like jitters in her stomach.
So I am the girl. And I have a rendezvous with the boy. For reasons far beyond the realm of understanding, I'm terrified. Why? Because its during the day.
As you don't know me well enough, it's fair to say that its a simple chemical reaction to putting myself out there and taking a dip into that icy pool of dating again. But if I were to throw in the fact that most of my romantic liaisons occur when I'm a little braver - that is to say, when I've had a bit to drink and I'm far more courageous. Dutch courage, you might call it. Courage, the Dutch might call it.
I'm sure I'm not the only person to have ever been in this same situation. The things you want to say to that handsome stranger on the other side of the pub,the bold glances thrown their way, the not so subtle flick of the hair - it's all easier when you've had a drink or 10. Alcohol is a social lubricant by which the cogs of my social skills are heavily greased.
So this date is taking place late morning tomorrow. Luckily we live in a city in which there is always something to do, somewhere to go, people to see, music to listen to and BARS TO DRINK IN. But, fellow muser, where the hesitation lies is that will it be a suitable situation in which I can reach for the bottle, so to speak. Midday is the grudgingly accepted time in which social imbibement can begin, but do I want to look like I endorse this?
Our initial encounter occurred in such a situation where alcohol emboldened the both of us enough to skip the niceties of courtship. I imagine in that state I was fun, witty, daring and had something to offer in the avenue of enjoyment. Or am i wont to view my own reflection with beer goggles?
Either way, can I be that same girl that attracted him in the first place without the help of alcohol? The only way to find out is to go to this rendezvous with all the self confidence I can muster and simply enjoy the day with him. I certainly don't want to go there expecting to have a bad time, and I presume he would be of the same opinion.
Could he be experiencing the same kind of angst I am? Will he struggle for things to say in the glaring light of day? Will it be awkward, stilted conversation? Have I been out of the dating game for too long? Do I even remember what it is like to have the attention of another male who is single, clever, gorgeous and, from what I have fathomed so far, free of emotional baggage?
So many questions. I think I need a drink.
Good luck in life and love,
Honey xx
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Plotting away...
Hello again.
So this blog I thought would be about me and some of the things I plan to do - the mischief I plan to cause, mixed in with the achievements I hope to be able to list. As you will soon learn, my constant dithering between the angel and devil on my shoulder is one of my defining traits.
I'm also very open to suggestions about what new experiences I could have, should you have any ideas. Anything within reason, however the more I imbibe alcoholically, the broader my horizons will stretch. In fact they may broaden so much I end up horizontal. I speak from experience.
Since at this stage I wanted the Honey Pot tales to focus on matters of the heart (and the libido) my initial ideas were ones of internet dating, speed dating, possibly even same sex dating. I will, however, avoid married or attached partners. I mean, there are plenty of fish in the sea - is there really any point in going after a tin of tuna?
Allow me at this point to give you a brief synopsis of myself. Perhaps one day, I will be brave enough to post a photo, but for now my timidity shall reign and you must be content with a description.
I am a female in my late 20's who has not yet fallen prey to the monsters of mortgages and rolling over super. I live to love. I love to live. I have more shoes in my wardrobe than weeks in a year. I wear less of those shoes than days in a week. I love them all the same. I swear and drink like a sailor. I graze all day on small meals - this way i don't have to choose chicken or beef? I just have them both. I only eat green frogs and it annoys me when I buy a mixed bag of lollies to see both red and green in there. I dance to the beat of other peoples drums but that is only because I adore music and am always listening to something or other. I hear they have changed the formula for Milo, and this makes me extremely sad. I dance like no one is watching but am secretly thrilled when someone is. I have secret aspirations to be a Pussy Cat Doll. I do realise it will take a little more than strutting in time to a beat, lookinhg sultry and flicking an impossibly long ponytail. I wear false eyelashes as a shield of power and confidence. I wear outfits that boost me up and strap me in. I think the best way to combat low self esteem is to pretend you have too much of it. I have long black hair and dark brown eyes. I secretly love that my friends envy my skin colour but I would never let them know that. I count my fingernails as one of my positives. I love sex. I love Oreos. I would fuck for Oreos. I have an asian background which dictates I should be meek and somewhat submissive but I'm happy to smash that concept the fuck outta here. I have been seen to run through a crowded pub shouting "two dorrah, two dorrah". I was once told I was the most beautiful girl in the world, by somebody I had no reason not to believe, and I hold that away for those days where my eyes are reluctant to meet my reflection in the mirror. I have also been told that while I am a cup of tea, I'm not everybody's cup of tea. I wasn't too sure how to take that. I will always prefer the book to the movie. I get really lonely sometimes, but there is never anyone to tell. I can be very gullible. I am taking it one day at a time. I will fall in love again, one day.
Good luck in life and love,
Honey xx
So this blog I thought would be about me and some of the things I plan to do - the mischief I plan to cause, mixed in with the achievements I hope to be able to list. As you will soon learn, my constant dithering between the angel and devil on my shoulder is one of my defining traits.
I'm also very open to suggestions about what new experiences I could have, should you have any ideas. Anything within reason, however the more I imbibe alcoholically, the broader my horizons will stretch. In fact they may broaden so much I end up horizontal. I speak from experience.
Since at this stage I wanted the Honey Pot tales to focus on matters of the heart (and the libido) my initial ideas were ones of internet dating, speed dating, possibly even same sex dating. I will, however, avoid married or attached partners. I mean, there are plenty of fish in the sea - is there really any point in going after a tin of tuna?
Allow me at this point to give you a brief synopsis of myself. Perhaps one day, I will be brave enough to post a photo, but for now my timidity shall reign and you must be content with a description.
I am a female in my late 20's who has not yet fallen prey to the monsters of mortgages and rolling over super. I live to love. I love to live. I have more shoes in my wardrobe than weeks in a year. I wear less of those shoes than days in a week. I love them all the same. I swear and drink like a sailor. I graze all day on small meals - this way i don't have to choose chicken or beef? I just have them both. I only eat green frogs and it annoys me when I buy a mixed bag of lollies to see both red and green in there. I dance to the beat of other peoples drums but that is only because I adore music and am always listening to something or other. I hear they have changed the formula for Milo, and this makes me extremely sad. I dance like no one is watching but am secretly thrilled when someone is. I have secret aspirations to be a Pussy Cat Doll. I do realise it will take a little more than strutting in time to a beat, lookinhg sultry and flicking an impossibly long ponytail. I wear false eyelashes as a shield of power and confidence. I wear outfits that boost me up and strap me in. I think the best way to combat low self esteem is to pretend you have too much of it. I have long black hair and dark brown eyes. I secretly love that my friends envy my skin colour but I would never let them know that. I count my fingernails as one of my positives. I love sex. I love Oreos. I would fuck for Oreos. I have an asian background which dictates I should be meek and somewhat submissive but I'm happy to smash that concept the fuck outta here. I have been seen to run through a crowded pub shouting "two dorrah, two dorrah". I was once told I was the most beautiful girl in the world, by somebody I had no reason not to believe, and I hold that away for those days where my eyes are reluctant to meet my reflection in the mirror. I have also been told that while I am a cup of tea, I'm not everybody's cup of tea. I wasn't too sure how to take that. I will always prefer the book to the movie. I get really lonely sometimes, but there is never anyone to tell. I can be very gullible. I am taking it one day at a time. I will fall in love again, one day.
Good luck in life and love,
Honey xx
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
A word of warning.
A new year traditionally dictates a new start, a leaf begging to be turned over. By past experience I begin the year with grand resolutions, only to falter within the first month, unable to keep the momentum going.
Be honest. How many times have you tried to give up smoking?
So this year I decided to mix it up a little. Instead of doing one huge thing all year, I would try little things through the year. As luck would have it, the year is naturally divided into 12 components, so thus the number of challenges was established. I loathe to call them challenges actually, perhaps these shall be put more positively as GOALS. And as with goals celebrated on the football field, they shall be celebrated by ripping shirts off and guzzling champagne.
This is my first goal. To establish a blog and keep up with it regularly. Even though it terrifies me to have so much out there for all to see. Open to scrutiny and criticism and, I hope, encouragement and ideas. I aim to be completely honest in my adventures of the upcoming months. I hope you enjoy my adventures as much as I hope to enjoy having them.
Good luck in life and love xx
Honey
Building the mystery.
The connection has been made. Introductions have passed and I've made enough of an impression to warrant a second glance, a fleeting thought. So here we are.
Its lovely to see you back, wanting to read a little more. I'll try to make it interesting for you - would you like to know how?
Inevitably this idea stemmed from a New Years resolution. In those final boozy moments of the year when the smell of fireworks had not yet permeated the air, I ruminated over the mistakes and speed humps of 2009. I realised the one thing keeping me back from happiness was my stubborn refusal to let go of my ex, or rather the thought of him. I decided that enough was enough and that the only ex in 2010 would be a triple xxx factor.
So as the roman candles and palms exploded around me, amidst the cheers and whistles from my overly inebriated chums, I allowed one moment to say farewell to him. That smile. Those hugs. That knee trembling kiss. The sex. The make up sex. The fights that led to make up sex. The fights. The breakup. The make up. The break up. The pain of learning he has someone new.
History repeats itself because we werent listening in the first place.
So this is a documentation of my move from heartbreak to happiness, from down in the dumps to dizzy with delerium, from listlessness to lust, from sleeplessness to smiles. Im flattered you have read this far - there is so much more of a tale to unfold. And so you find yourself at The Honey Pot Tales.
Good luck in life and love,
Honey xx
Its lovely to see you back, wanting to read a little more. I'll try to make it interesting for you - would you like to know how?
Inevitably this idea stemmed from a New Years resolution. In those final boozy moments of the year when the smell of fireworks had not yet permeated the air, I ruminated over the mistakes and speed humps of 2009. I realised the one thing keeping me back from happiness was my stubborn refusal to let go of my ex, or rather the thought of him. I decided that enough was enough and that the only ex in 2010 would be a triple xxx factor.
So as the roman candles and palms exploded around me, amidst the cheers and whistles from my overly inebriated chums, I allowed one moment to say farewell to him. That smile. Those hugs. That knee trembling kiss. The sex. The make up sex. The fights that led to make up sex. The fights. The breakup. The make up. The break up. The pain of learning he has someone new.
History repeats itself because we werent listening in the first place.
So this is a documentation of my move from heartbreak to happiness, from down in the dumps to dizzy with delerium, from listlessness to lust, from sleeplessness to smiles. Im flattered you have read this far - there is so much more of a tale to unfold. And so you find yourself at The Honey Pot Tales.
Good luck in life and love,
Honey xx
Ooh Honey Honey
Hullo.
This is quite odd, isn't it? You don't know me. I have no clue who you are. Yet here we sit, almost face to face in a way, and I'm going to let you in on some of the deepest darkest secrets I hold.
It won't all be doom and gloom though, who wants to read that? I just have to turn on the news for that now. No, thank you, I shall aim to keep my life light and fluffy - just like a honeycomb.
Aah, now we come to the name of the blog. The Honey Pot Tales. Are you curious at all to know why this is called what it is? Surely you must be. I would. And since technically, Im writing for no one else but me at the moment, Im going to satisfy my own curiousity. I love a good resolution.
Honey, as a condiment is rather strange. Its produced almost entirely by nature, and more impressively, the humble bee. Determined. hard working, single minded, fashionably concious yet apt to follow a trend- and they always are inevitably are drawn back to that one woman in their life - The Queen Bee. Who doesnt love that kind of devotion?
Honey is sweet. Honey is a luscious colour with different shades determining how sweet it is, how thick it is. Honey used to be hard to handle until those ingenious twist top squeeze bottles came out. But the one trait I admire most about honey is that no matter how careful you are, how delicately you wind the spoon, how gingerly you twist that spout....you will always get honey somewhere. On your hands, in your hair, dabbed on the chin - it is inevitable. What a wonderful trait to have.
My name is Honey, and welcome to my blog.
Good luck in life and love
Honey xx
This is quite odd, isn't it? You don't know me. I have no clue who you are. Yet here we sit, almost face to face in a way, and I'm going to let you in on some of the deepest darkest secrets I hold.
It won't all be doom and gloom though, who wants to read that? I just have to turn on the news for that now. No, thank you, I shall aim to keep my life light and fluffy - just like a honeycomb.
Aah, now we come to the name of the blog. The Honey Pot Tales. Are you curious at all to know why this is called what it is? Surely you must be. I would. And since technically, Im writing for no one else but me at the moment, Im going to satisfy my own curiousity. I love a good resolution.
Honey, as a condiment is rather strange. Its produced almost entirely by nature, and more impressively, the humble bee. Determined. hard working, single minded, fashionably concious yet apt to follow a trend- and they always are inevitably are drawn back to that one woman in their life - The Queen Bee. Who doesnt love that kind of devotion?
Honey is sweet. Honey is a luscious colour with different shades determining how sweet it is, how thick it is. Honey used to be hard to handle until those ingenious twist top squeeze bottles came out. But the one trait I admire most about honey is that no matter how careful you are, how delicately you wind the spoon, how gingerly you twist that spout....you will always get honey somewhere. On your hands, in your hair, dabbed on the chin - it is inevitable. What a wonderful trait to have.
My name is Honey, and welcome to my blog.
Good luck in life and love
Honey xx
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