Got To Try A Little Tenderness....

I turned down a sure thing last night. I was in his lap, I kissed him, I was attracted to him, he was smart, made me laugh and he was leaving in a month, so no further carry on required.

So why did I not wake up today in a strange bed worrying about the walk of shame?

Because I think guys have stopped making an effort now. He expected that I would immediately leave my friends to go back with him. He did not even offer to buy me a drink but instead drank mine. (I do realise that sounds quite outdated, but I think thats the least you can do if you intend to get into my pants.)

Have I, and my fellow females, been making it too easy for our male counterparts? Is there no longer the thrill of the chase? I don't mean that we are having too many one night stands. No no no no no, thats something that will always exist whether it be in my life or any body elses. What I'm growing concerned with now is the ease with which we are hopping into bed with them.

So even though I may be promiscuous, even though I like the physical gratification of one night stands, even though I have no qualms about going sleeping with someone with no intention of ever seeing them again, I think I'm going to make them work a little bit harder now.

It seems beggars can be choosers ☺

Good luck in life and love,

Honey xx

Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

I'm sorry.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry i'm sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry.
I'm useless at sticking to anything. Even if its just something for myself to do. Utterly useless.
I suppose thats the story of my life. I am destined to be a failure. I have the best of intentions and then just my ambition just trickles away until all there is left is the self flagellation that goes on in my own head about how pathetic I am.
Can you tell I'm having a bad day?
I want to run away. I want to leave everyone who knows me behind and just start all over again. No more lies. No more cover ups. No more hiding things that I'm not even responsible for, but I feel so ashamed for them that I hide their secrets side by side with my own.
I want to laugh and have it be genuine. I want to smile with my eyes and my face, not just my mouth. I want to be confident in who I am, not overdose on bravado and constantly trying to save face.
I want my mum.
My faith is slowly being shattered in my friendships around me. I don't feel that anyone is genuine anymore, from daily acquaintances to my best friends. Am I too trusting? Or am I too cynical? Does anyone really have good friends who they can rely on for anything and everything? Sure, you have have a great time with your girls/mates but would you take a bullet for them? Who would take a bullet for me? No one, thats who. And I'm getting to that point where I dont think I'd take one for them any more.
I'm so tired of being disappointed. Im so tired of being a disappointment to others.
I think I need to be alone for a while.

Good luck in life and love,

Honey xx

That Time Of The Month.

Blanduary - The first month of the year where every one is fresh and hoping to fulfill their drunkenly made New years resolutions. This means limited parties, drunken binges are out of the question and diets kick into gear. Boring for those who think NYE should be every night.

Furbuary - Similar to Movember, but this one is for the ladies...nuff said.

Marky March - Props for everyone's favourite Wahlberg. I mean, who likes Donnie? This month we pay salute to Dirk Diggler by getting down and dirty with whats 'down there'. Time to channel your inner Rollergirl - or Phillip Seymour Hoffmans for those a little creepier. I may still have my cassingle copy of Good Vibrations somewhere!

Capril - My attempt at getting everyone to wear capes for the month. Those who loved Get This with Tony Martin, Ed Kavalee and Richard Marsland will know exactly what I mean. I have always loved the idea of capes, and long for the days of yore when you wore a cape and a bodice to get the mail.

Dismay - How I feel after Capril falls to the wayside and the only person wearing them is me.

Balloon June - Mid year and winter has come, as has my winter coat. Its ok to put on a few kilos this month - man doth not survive on corn chips alone.

Awry July - Leos everywhere rejoice because our birthdays have come. Known to others as Dry July, which really, just means more alcohol left for me. Party Party Party is the keyword here, and those who do not join in will be pushed over and laughed at.

Smorgast - As in smorgasboard dining. Yes, the lure of the buffet must be succumbed to - all month. Its still bloody cold, so go and eat a vat of Sizzlers Homestyle Pumpkin soup, with croutons the size of Cheesy Toast. In fact, just drop some cheesy toast in the soup.

Reptember - a month to be kind to crocodiles. Preferable to Heptember, which is a month to be kind to Pamela and Tommy Lee.

Rocktober - Every chance you get, you must summon your inner rock star. Whether this be atop a table in a japanese karaoke room, or solo in undies and socks Risky Business style, this is a chance to let loose and have fun. Warble away your worries and enjoy the last few months of the year that has flown by.

Jon Bon Jovember - An effortless flow on from Rocktober, but this month is a salute to big hair, the tight leather pant and the sex bomb that is JBJ. FYI, playing the bass part on Rock Band for Livin On A Prayer? Better than an orgasm. Maybe more fingering.

In-decentber - Its the last month of the year! Where Christmas, Boxing Day, New Years, festivals and summer barbecues are things to look forward to. Laugh at the tourists with the 2nd degree sunburn. Queue up to buy those last minute Christmas presents because you were so busy air guitaring to Bed Of Roses the previous month. But most of all - be INDECENT. Snog that co-worker. Make those photocopies. Spike that office party punch. Go sans underpants to a party. Keep eye contact for longer than necessary. Why? Because this is the month where everyone allows for slip ups. Consider it a leave pass of morals.

Actually lets make December last the whole year ☺

Good luck in life and love,

Honey xx

Flip The Peace Sign Around - V Day.

Valentines Day.
The day where singles are made to cringe slightly under their formerly confident skin, where there is not so much a direct message but an awareness that smug marrieds and those living in coupledom are passing onto their single counterparts that they are happy and you are not.
You might be getting a rose this Sunday, you might be eating breakfast in bed, you may be strolling hand in hand down to the waterside to your seafood platter for two, you may have him brush that strand of hair out of your eyes, you may be having sex.
You MAY.
And as much bravado as we put on under our fabulous clothes and our well shod feet, the voice of a singleton will falter just that tiny bit when asked if we have a boyfriend. "No, no" we assert, "I much prefer the single life. No one to tell you what to do, meals when I like, I can always go out with the girls, no hairy fat slob on the couch when i get home."
Its true.
To a point.
Yes, I like being single. But singledom can get lonely sometimes, especially when the celebration of coupledom is being smashed right into your face like a cream pie.
Love should be easy, but it isnt. Liken it to a see saw in the playground, the ups and downs are obvious. You got to balance it perfectly and ensure that each person is taking the weight carefully so that you are both having fun. When one person leaves unexpectedly, you go smashing to the ground, left with an emotionally bruised bottom.
I havent been riding the seesaw in the playground for a while now, to use the literal term. When my ex partner got off the seesaw, I fell to the ground and sat in the dust, waiting for him to get back on so I could play again.
Maybe I just need to meet some new playdates.
All I need to remember is that on Valentines Day everyone was single at one point in their life. We may not have all shared the same experiences or emotions but we all like to go to the playground.
In the meantime I'll see if I can find someone to share my swing ☺

Good luck in life and love,

Honey xx

Dry February.

I'm not doing too well so far, and its only the fourth day of the month. But last night was a one off - I went to a gig and had to have a beer or 5.

Why February?

Because I believe my body needs a break from the constant partying I inflict on it.

Because I cant do Dry July - my birthday is in July.

Because I overspent the fun budget in January and need to build up the coffers again for Mad March.

Because its the shortest month of the year.

Good luck in life and love,

Honey xx

The Boogie Monster.

I wish I could bottle the smell of Friday afternoons. It would be a heady mix of relief and anticipation, coupled with hints of drama, passion and fun. Oh, and we mustn't forget, liberal doses of alcohol.

I'm really looking forward to this weekend. Manic diarising has meant i am attending two barbecues, a night out on the town and then the lovely anticipation of 'whatever goes". But first, there is work to attend to.

A massive generalisation that is probably true - the minutes seem to tick over more slowly when you can't wait to get out of there. I'm doing all of my little tricks - refusing to look at the time until I think 5 minutes has passed, holding my breath for two minutes, taking a sip of water every 30 seconds. How did the time go from 5.29 to 5.28?

Finally, as I stare at the time in the bottom corner of my computer screen, in slow motion the digits change from 5.59 to 6.00. "I'm done", I say as I stand up, log off my computer, grab my handbag and push my chair in, all in one easy motion.

Barbecue # 1 is a casual affair, simply a few drinks between workmates over the wafting scent of sausages. Its a chance to toil down over the working week, bitching about issues to people who actually can relate to them, and understand the jargon and acronyms. Its always better to moan and gripe here, rather than be that messy one who bitches later on at people who barely move to emit bodily gas, let alone have a full time job. A few quick drinks here and then a slightly wobbly dash hailing a cab, and I'm off to the next one.

Sydney has an amazing harbour, and this barbecue has been plonked perfectly on the shores of our idyllic harbour. Add to that a dusky evening where the mosquitos have not yet begun to bite and I feel more and more relaxed as the hours while away. This is one situation where I would be happy for the minutes to go backwards.

But no rest for the wicked. After a few hours of becoming one with a picnic blanket and some bottles of wine, its time for the night to turn the bass up...I am going dancing.

Preparations are slightly messy, to say the least. Downing tumblers full of wine (we gave up on the wine glasses way back when we discovered they didn't hold enough) there is lots of singing, jostling for mirror space, frequent cigarette breaks and I do believe there was even a dance rendition to the Spice Girls song "Stop". Perhaps we should have taken heed from the words of the song - a neighbour politely knocked on the door and asked us to turn it down a smidgen.

Into a cab we pile, a merry duo off to meet like minded party goers. We meet up with my friends, some of whom I was having beers with only that afternoon, and immediately hit the bar for vodka doubles.

Don't judge me - it saves time lining up later on.

The place is trading as an R&B funk joint tonight, so there is plenty of bounce bounce baby bounce factor. Lots of gorgeous men too, I muse, roving an expert eye over the talent out tonight. But plenty of time for that later - I'm here to shake a tail feather. So dance, we do. We drop it like its hot. We raise the roof. We like big butts and we cannot lie. We ain't no Hollaback Girl. We never knew a love like, love like this before. You get the idea.

I duck outside for some fresh air (read : my eighteen millionth cigarette for the night) and in my drunken state manage to smash a glass all over some poor girls exposed foot. I apologise profusely, and the apology is taken with poor grace. Never mind. She had ugly shoes on anyway.

Eventually we tire of dancing and decide to get a meal from one of the late night chinese establishments. Into the place we tumble, our shiny eye makeup and high heels at odds with the lino flooring and chinese warbling coming from the karaoke on the screens. Meals are ordered, drinks are ordered and finally a little bit of order is in place.

Easy conversation is flung from table side to table side, but I am restless. I feel there is still so much to the night and pray the others are of a similar frame of mind. No such luck, to my disappointment. So I cast my nets wider and the following phone conversation ensues.

"Hello darlings, what are you up to tonight?"
"OMG, come out! We are at a foam party and completely off our faces."
"Lovely, I shall see you in a bit. Meet me out the front."
"Its a lesbian foam party!!"
"A lesbian foam party?"
"Yah, and there are hot lesbians everywhere. I slipped in the foam and fell off the stage!!"
"Hmm, ok. I will see you soon."

I share a taxi with one of my mates as we are going the same way, and I can kind of sense he wants to come too, he just needs some very strong arm twisting. I'm not sure how long I'll stay though so I leave it for this time, leaving a mental memo for another day.

My friend meets me at the door with a flaming great big kiss. I suspect this is due to the door bitches at the club turning away a lot of men, due to it being, as you know, a lesbian affair. I have no troubles getting in (hmmmm...) and once past the velvet rope I stop in shock for a second.

There is foam everywhere.

I can barely see some peoples faces, they are covered from head to toe in bubbles. Immediately I regret coming in open toed heels and a satin dress. I am absurdly over dressed for such an event, however I am feeling slightly mollified by the appreciative looks being thrown my way by the women in the area.

I traipse downstairs to the lower dance floor, where the foam abates slightly and order drinks at the bar. Double vodkas again, yes. In for a penny, in for a pound, I say.

After some very tentative dancing (the floor is slippery) we manage to get outside to the smoking area, where I am immediately abandoned by my companion with promises to return in one second.

I'm not too fussed and lean against the wall, drink in hand. After a few minutes, I'm approached by two good looking males and small chit chat is made. While this occurs, I spot a gorgeous specimen of an man leaning on the opposite wall, casting a glance in my direction every now and again. What would I do here? I've started talking to these two other guys, it would be unfeasibly rude to turn away and start a conversation with another?

I head back inside and the night, as they tend to do, passes in a blur. Nothing much of note happens, except I have a great time, which is something in itself, I suppose. As I leave the club I notice I don't have any more cash in my wallet and so a call to the ATM is necessary. I walk down the street, in the midst of drunks, junkies, police, rowdy boys, slutty girls - if you live in Sydney you will know I'm referring to Oxford St ...

Before I reach the cashpoint though, I hear someone behind me trying to get my attention. I turn around and I swear you could have knocked me over with a feather - it was the boy from the alleyway. He saw me leave and had left his friends to come and speak to me. Now, I would never let an effort like that be for nothing so I went and had some drinks with me in the nearest pub.

He was lovely to speak to and spend time with, opening doors, pulling out my chair (??) and I enjoyed a nice easy banter with him. Until he spoke about his ex girlfriend. I asked him when they had broken up, as it seemed to me it must have been recent. He said a few hours ago. I thanked him for the drinks and then left.

Did I overreact? I think not. I would have just rather been on my way home then spending time with someone who obviously was out for a revenge/spite shag. In another world, maybe.

On my way home, I drink dial. I ring my Go To Guy, the boy down the road. He was thankfully awake and so instead of going straight home I get dropped off at the boys house. I'll not divulge too many details, but lets just say itches got scratched, cuddles were given, and a few hours later with the sun high up in the sky I got dropped at my front door, high heels in my hand.

What an utterly fabulous night.

Good luck in life and love,

Honey xx

Out Of The Mouth Of Babes...

My 5 year old cousin told me today that she has a boyfriend.

I didnt know whether to laugh or cry.