The Agony and the Ecstasy: Roman adventures continue

Yesterday I was a tourist on speed. By the time I got home, I could barely walk, so much so I took the elevator to my room, rather than climb 10 steps. My feet are really suffering on this trip. Being flat footed means my feet are usually problematic. Having poor circulation adds to that. Add mucho walking and intense heat to an already bad situation and it has been the worst part of my vacation. I packed a few different pairs of tourist-appropriate shoes, which in the past worked fine but after trying, swapping and failing,  today I left the hotel wearing my shower flip flops. Between wearing those and really taking it easy today with the walking, it was a much more enjoyable day today.

I also did not want to get back to my hotel looking like roadkill, and scaring the staff and guests, so really relaxed today.  Sometimes I go on vacation and want to see everything but it is just not possible. Today, I sat on terraces, strolled, met people, and most importantly, my hair held up, and I did not look like a shiny blob. Lol.

Spent part of the morning in the Colosseum. Roman architecture never fails to amaze me. I walk through this city and everything is larger than life, and breathtaking.  Today was the day for all my expectations to be surpassed. Noone told me the Trevi Fountain was so fantastic. I mean, sure you see it in mags or movies but what an incredible piece of work. But it was the Pantheon which just did it for me today. Larger than life, and stunning. I sat inside and just took it all in for half hour, from the incredible dome, to Raphael's tomb - beautiful.

I think I have had all the water in Italy by now. The heat is intense, and water and Jesus continue to deliver me, for at every chance, I ducked into a church, an oasis of coolness and a good spot to take a load off, refer to one's map and not be scared that someone will nick your wallet. Like every European city I have been to so far, there are the guys who sell knock offs on the street, or souvenirs, or beg, or try to scam you or rob you. My breakfast mate yesterday told  me she was pickpocketed on the bus - a common thing here in Rome. I make no apologies for suspecting anyone who looks at me too hard. Then there are the guys who try to scam you with flattery or as we say in Trinidad,  mamaguy. They walk up to you, flatter flatter flatter - you are so beautiful. Take this rose, no charge. But of course when you take the rose, they ask for just one coin...just one. Yeah right.

The eye candy is better for sure though it is a mixed bag of Italians and tourists. I had a glass of wine on the Piazza Navona, then another at a Pantheon tourist trap, before making my way to Piazza di Pasquino and all in the name of people watching. Eventually had dinner with a lovely German couple, and a yummy dinner at that at Terra di Siena. I know it may have been a bit sacrilegious to dine at a Tuscan restaurant in Rome, but it was close, was not part of the tourist fare around the monuments    large squares, and it was recommended. Dinner was lovely. Lovely smoked salmon and arugula, followed by ricotta and spinach ravioli in sage and butter sauce, and tiramisu. I know...tiramisu again.  I can't help myself. Lol.

Tomorrow, an even easier day spent in Borghese, and a relaxing stroll through the city so as not to wear myself out as my penpal, the one I used to write 20 odd years ago, and whom I have never met, will be my "date" tomorrow evening. Roman rendezvous.


Next - The Final Moments of La Dolce Vita

Inside the Colosseum

The stunning, breathtaking Trevi Fountain

The Pantheon

Fountain of the Four Rivers in Piazza Navona

The view from the bottom of the Spanish Steps

Smoked salmon and arugula salad

Spinach and ricotta ravioli in butter and sage sauce

The best tiramisu ever

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"Me" is not a dirty word

Love your aloneness

Do you have a problem dining alone?

Today, on my day off, I decided to have lunch at a new restaurant I had not yet tried. The original plan was to meet the girls later this evening, but one by one, they bailed on the plan. I could have just rescheduled and met up with them to try this place out next week or whenever, or I could have gotten out of bed and trussed up for a lunch for one. I ended up choosing the latter, which is my usual course of action when I really want to do something. And with it being International Women's Day, I was even more empowered, especially with the lure of complimentary wine in honour of the occasion. So I got dressed, got myself cutesified, grabbed my Kindle and had a very lovely lunch on my day off.

But this is something I do regularly, and not just with lunch, but with life. If I were to wait for others to step in before I decided to do anything, I would be stuck at home, on this island, for all eternity.

But it is more than being brave enough to "be alone" in a grouped up, coupled up world.

I sent my girlfriend a text to tell her I liked the place in general (the staff were very surly but my waitress saved the entire experience), and her response was "Well, I need to get someone to take me there".

My response was "Take yourself".

It's about just doing things for yourself sometimes. Sure we are programmed for social connections, and I am not this man-hater. Hardly. But at the same time, why can't we enjoy who we are sometimes, without the extra trappings? Why does a man have to take you somewhere in order for you to go? Can't you just "take yourself"?  Can't you set aside a monthly "me" allowance to just do something? Whether you're single or in a relationship, I think everyone needs some "me" time every once in a while. And there's nothing wrong with that. Why do we sometimes make "me" a dirty word?

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ABC's Scandal: Fixing the Tragic Life of Singles

Single politician Will Caldwell
and his fixee on ABC's Scandal
Photo credit: Danny Feld/ABC

So like a lot of people nowadays, I sat down with a wafer after Grey's Anatomy, and watched ABC's Scandal. While I am not about to start any arguments about the show, I do want to comment on one thing.

So one of the sub-plots last night was around a Kennedy-esque type candidate for Governor. A driven and committed guy, from the right family background, with the media darling looks. Only one problem - he's single!

So I chuckled throughout the storyline.

1. He's educated, rich, good looking, from one of those families you apparently want to marry into, but the only thing WRONG with him, is he is single. lol. Referring to yesterday's blog post, he is a male leftover, and in political circles, that is a sin! While it was good to see the single man getting abused last night, I am still in the corner of all single people, advocating that it is not a tragedy! Is it??

2. So he's educated, rich, good looking etc, with no wife, no girlfriend, no signs of a woman anywhere - just single and moving along with his little politics hobby, so guess what? He MUST be gay! Yep. Single and with no obvious signs of a relationship, so clearly, you're gay and in the closet. This is real though. This does not only play out on tv! Turns out the guy was not gay but instead just creeping with his sister-in-law for the past decade.

3. Olivia insists that if given ten years, she can get a gay president elected. A gay president with a partner! But not a SINGLE president - gay or otherwise. ROFL. I mean, is there no hope for the singleton?

In the end, things were so bad for this very openly single dude, that they resorted to finding him a fake wife. Yes...a fake wife! So not only does Olivia Pope fix political messes, but she fixes the tragic life of the singleton. The DC matchmaker if you will.

Do you need an Olivia Pope for your tragic single life?

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Leftover Syndrome: The Last Single Woman Standing

A fridge full of leftovers. A society of leftovers?

I read this article this morning, and in my "It's 6am and I am already at my desk, sour and annoyed" state of mind, it elicited a bitter laugh.

It refers to the single, educated, urban woman - that woman over the geriatric age of 27 - and whom the Chinese society describes as "leftover women". You know, like that leftover turkey from Thanksgiving, or a leftover roti skin from the weekend get-together.

Well hear what - leftovers rock! Ask anyone who has made a good pelau this question - when is the best time to eat pelau? The answer: The day after. Leftover pelau. Hey, microwaves have made leftovers a Godsend, so China - bite me!

This whole notion of there being an age limit to marriage for WOMEN really grinds me. The Trini parlance is that you, the unmarried woman age 25 and up, are on the shelf, while all the other kids have been placed in the trolley and have been checked out by the cashier. Is there an expiration date guiding singledom? Is there a cut off date before you need to go buy knitting needles and adopt some shelter cats and get a t-shirt that says "Gnarly, Bitter Spinster"? And why are there no leftover men? Why this bias?

This is stupid. Okay, just stupid.

This part of the article was interesting and funny though.

Some local governments in China have taken to organising matchmaking events where educated young women can meet eligible bachelors.

How bizarre. Is there a Minister of Matchmaking? Ministry of Cupid? Can you imagine? Social programmes to ensure the best men and women get together and make some cute, bright kids. This is apparently as a result of the government actually wanting the leftover women - the creme de la creme of the society - to procreate. So we have come full circle, where the women being maligned are the women in demand to ensure the bright future of the society. Leftovers are awesome!

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Of Love and Lent

No Men Allowed - 40 Day Rule!

So I have failed already at my 2013 commitment to be a better blogger. I will admit to you fine people that 2013 has not been a happy, shiny time so far. I did not have a stellar end to 2012 and 2013 started with that yucky after taste which for some reason, I have yet to properly rinse out. But I won't be trolling through that bog here in the blog. Instead...

Let's talk about two "significant" observances. Firstly, Valentine's Day. Though it has come and gone (thankfully), I feel I must state my annoyance with this day and how it tends to isolate single people. As if planning a vacation as a single person is not bad enough, with their lack of specials for single travellers, thus forcing one to pay for that useless double occupancy special offer, the annual promotion of love, and sweet nothingness can also be a real ball buster.

Then there's Lent. As you should know, Lent is that period observed by many Christian denominations as a time for prayer and fasting, leading up to Good Friday. A lot of the die-hards fast from meat, and/or all animal products. Others give up vices such as alcohol - I tend to give up alcohol though I seem to have fallen off the Lenten wagon, and again, this is part of my lack of focus so far for the year. Other vices listed by friends include

• Chocolate - how is this ever a vice?? 
• The internet - good luck with that Facebook stalkers 
• Mobile/smartphones - a direct follow on from the above. Good luck Whatsappers and Instagrammers
• Cussing - road ragers will be fun to watch with this one

And then one bright girlfriend decided that the only way to really purge her soul was to give up men for the 40-day fasting period. Men.

• Men - definitely in the "vice" category; maddening and often toxic; at the same time, can be almost (almost) as good as chocolate (but always a bridesmaid, never a bride)

Her fast will cover abstinence from male admirers, dates, including group dates, flirting, Facebook stalking.

What do you think? Do you think she will be saved??

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LinkedIn or Link Up?: Woes of the Single Professional

LinkedIn Dating? Really?
Photo credit: Business Insider

Two entries in one day - how lucky you are!

I am sure many of you, at one time or another, have been virtually accosted by strange men or women on social networking sites, whether it is Facebook, or to a lesser extent Twitter (if you have a Twitter hook up story, please share). I have had friends of friends hit me up for dates and stuff on Facebook, though why they feel Facebook is a dating site is a bit beyond me.

However, I did not think that I would get date requests and be hit up on freakin' LinkedIn. LinkedIn - the social networking site for business. The site where you clean up well, with a nice professional looking photo, and you talk shop with your peers, try to make connections, and look for new opportunities. That was what I thought it was for. So imagine my dismay to find a connection request from some random guy, and a note that was anything but business-driven, unless the business he is in is matchmaking, pimping or soft porn. To make matters worse, he listed his actual job, and has a photo - though the photo itself was more Facebook party time, than business.

Is this what we have come to? Trolling any and every site for a hook up? Maybe he felt that he can find a good wife - employed and possibly a sugar mama type. But I was totally unimpressed. Totally.

Then I remembered this.




There is a REAL market out there for people looking for professionals as matches and I am not disagreeing with this, and this service does not open up all of LinkedIn for the lonely hearts out there which is good. I would then suggest people like Mr Wonderful sign up for this, and not use general LinkedIn as a meat market. Most of us are really not using it for that. Or are we???

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The Day Before December

December approacheth...

I cannot believe we are closing in on the end of 2012 already. With the last day of November coming to a close, and with bad memories thanks to JC Penney and their crap service, I look towards December with a mixture of hope and intense dread.

December is my birthday month, to start, and who does not like their birthday? Sure, there will be the nosy relatives who will remind me that I am one year older and still unmarried and childless, and that irritates me to no end. Still, it's my birthday so I always aim to make it a happy time, always grateful for making it to another year when so many people have not.

There are all these Christmas events I find myself having to go to - like children's parties (shoot me now) and hob nobbing events, which require dresses and self-restraint at all levels. Thankfully dresses are out of the way this time around but the events are still there and I will try my darndest to avoid half, if not all of them.

Christmas. Ugh. Even in searching for a Google image for December,all the images were of Santa, or some reindeer or an elf or some shit. I am trying to be a good soldier with the Christmas thing. I actually looked at...wait for it...Christmas trees today. I feel like I owe it to my nephew to make Christmas bright and happy, especially as my brother will not be home for Christmas. So I saw this little tree -a few feet high - and considered buying it and some decorations so we could have some fun putting that together and make some memories. I will get the tree next weekend when I go back.

But Christmas can be annoying and it can also be very lonely and it's a big MEH for me. I don't look forward to it. It's one of those holidays that seems to isolate single people, or people without kids. It's just another day for me and until such time as that changes, these day before December posts will be pretty much in this tone and with these sentiments.

Santa can go bite himself!

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Find God's Match For You

Christian love. All kinda love.

So when I see this Christian Mingle ad, I always have a laugh. The people who came up with this marketing campaign are pretty bold, pretty out there. To confidently promote this online dating service for Christians, with the tagline – Find God’s match for you – well, that takes some balls.

It always conjures up this image of God relaxing on the patio, in his robe and warm slippers, with a cappuccino, maybe a croissant or a Danish, maybe a cigar (hey, they started it), with his iPad or Galaxy Tab, going through his list of Christians looking for love and matching Joe with Jill, Brad with Melanie – all before he gets to the real work of blessing people, curing the sick, etc.

I mean – seriously, people. Find God’s match for you? Who came up with this? Who approved this marketing campaign?

I am curious as to the algorithm that matches the ones seeking love on this site. I mean, did an Archbishop somewhere get a memo from God which he then shared with IT developers? What if the love-seeker is not a Christian? Does the person get zapped while trying to sign up?

God's message in your inbox?

I have absolutely no problem with a niche-specific dating site – black singles, gay singles, Caribbean singles, etc. You want what you want, and if you can trim the fat and get to the meat of the matter, right down to brass tax, right down to your target niche, whether it is a black guy, Caribbean girl or Christian single, then great. However, I just found the advertising for this to be a bit ludicrous. Find God’s match for you. I wonder if they got God’s okay to use his name in these ads! It’s almost as stupid as God’s and Jesus’ Facebook and Twitter profiles. Who does these things?

But more importantly, and for all the non-Christian minglers out there - does this mean that Match and e-Harmony are the other guy’s sites? I mean, as if dating was not traumatic enough!

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Ladies - Are you suffering from the "It All Belongs to Me" Dilemma?

So I am under self-imposed exile this weekend - from the universe. It's been a harrowing week and I am also a bit social-life weary so made the conscious decision to just stay at home ALL weekend and not do anything. I have been excelling at this.

So it has been just me, my book, my laptop and my DVD player, the occasional muffin, a tempting Magnum ice cream bar in the freezer, and my pillow,  and it's been awesome.

And I have been listening to some tunes, like this one.





Now, I love this song. These ladies are so talented and so gorgeous and I love when they collaborate. Monica is a star, believe it. Love her voice, her sass.

However, the song has me a bit perplexed. lol.

In the first place, the song is in a nutshell asking the guy - the now ex - to leave all the stuff bought for him during the relationship. The car, the bling, the macbook. I mean...why buy him this in the first place? And there is no mention of what he has bought for the chick. None. Zero. Nil. Not even a pair of underwear!

Which brings me to my next point -

All you do is talk
Never knew you to do nothing else
You ain't good for nothing baby

So WHY are you with this no-profit, no-contribution (emotional, financial or otherwise) man? And on top of that, you STILL buying him the car and the Macbook!! You an ass!

Am I losing it here? Is it just me or is this woman a damn idiot too? I mean, if I were the man I would say, "Baby, I worked for this Macbook. I chain up your head so bad that you still loved me and bought me stuff even though I was a good for nothing!"

Ladies, ladies - don't do this! Just don't do it. This is why being single can sometimes be edifying and liberating and just plain better! lol.

No sympathy from me, ladies. But the song is still beautifully done.

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Cosmopolitan Love...or Single Gal Stalking

Cosmopolitan love....the nice kind

So of course, no weekend away for the single gal would be complete without some single gal adventures.

First of all, I must admit that the quality of the man candy in Miami was really sub-par. I was really not impressed. I mean, sure it had been a while since my last visit, but where did all the semi-cute guys go? What I did see bordered on “America’s Most Wanted” and “Redneck Rehab” (thanks to my girlfriend, for exposing me to such amazing American pop culture as Redneck Rehab). I mean…wow. It was bad.

What I can easily say now with much confidence is that my stalkers are international. I mean, yes…I am a cosmopolitan stalker magnet. On this trip, I had my first Guyanese stalker (he had to have been Guyanese!!) and my very first Israeli stalker. The Israeli stalker was special. Not only was he mesmerized by the Trini hotness, but he was so gobsmacked that he scribbled his number on a piece of paper and urged me to call him. I have the number in the back pocket of my jeans – a souvenir of my international prowess – but no call was ever made. Not sure where ashy ankle, old guy stalker was from, but he kept staring at me in the store with this hungry, rabid look that made me feel like I was covered in honey barbecue sauce. Oh and let's not forget the Hispanic-American TSA dude who felt it would be remiss of him to not subtly or not so subtly "invite" himself to my hotel while he checked my landing card.

There were also some very strange social rituals brought on either by alcoholic overindulgence (God, I hope so) or just by simple insanity/lasciviousness. We went to the Clevelander at Marlins Park on Saturday night and wow, these girls were really high on life (insert sarcasm here). One girl was the obvious “star” with her antics which included dancing in-between the legs of the moko jumbie, then falling to the floor and thrusting her pelvis upwards in what is a dance only she knows. She also coupled this with some girl-on-girl action with another scantily clad psycho, who proceeded to grab pelvic girl’s rump, gyrate on it, and then when pelvic girl was on the floor doing the pelvic thrust dance, this one raised the already short skirt to gyrate over her. God only knows what this was about, but it was disturbing and only slightly entertaining. There was a bit too much of a Sodom and Gomorrah vibe going on here. Lol. Needless to say, in as much as the deejaying was a mess, this sideshow was the best entertainment for the evening.

Rest assured though, I was a mere bystander and spectator and your girl was nowhere in the fracas. Not sure where my passport will take me next but God, let’s hope the single gal adventures are more smurfy, and less Gargamel.

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Call Me...Maybe: Dating has gone Beserk

Forza Italia! Forza Azzurri!

Of course it is football time in Trininista land (where we do NOT say "soccer") with the European Cup, or Euro 2012, on.

These are the times a girl - well, this girl - looks forward to in life. Being a long time fan of the Azzurri, and for the non-footballing heathens, that's the Italy national squad, I will be plotting some sort of plan to be able to see that do-or-die game tomorrow, as I sit in a meeting for 3 hours!!!

But in other more disturbing news, and I felt I needed to bring this to the fore...the Call Me Maybe card.

The Call Me Maybe Card - sad

Isn't this a tad bit desperate? On the flip side, one may say this is ingenious and proactive. But I am not sure how I would react if some guy came up to me in a bar and gave me one of these. It is too obvious and too orchestrated. This guy is walking around my bar, with a card holder full of these things. Is he just passing them out like candy to anything female that moves? Am I supposed to feel special after receiving one of these ? Then he has his Facebook page listed - maybe with all his glamour shots, and what else? Testimonials? What's wrong with saying hello? Okay, maybe the girl will roll her eyes and walk away. Maybe she will laugh at you with her friends. But isn't that part of the game? lol. This just took the game from sport to creepy activity. Sorry. I mean it's bad enough that when you meet a guy these days, he does not even call. He wants to BBM you or IM you - total lack of proper communication skills. Now we have to put up with dating call cards? Really?

p.s. I don't roll my eyes unless you have gold teeth, cannot construct a sentence or you refer to me by some body part, or by my complexion. Take that as a hint as to what NOT to do.

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Flirting World Championships

The Three Bears...of Flirting??

Girls' night last Friday reminded me of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

Enter our bartender/waiter aka Goldilocks - although he was a tall, chocolate, bald brother. He  started as just the bartender, which he is, but the allure of the Three Bears before him had him doing double duty.

Ahhh...the bears...

...three swanky and stunning bears -  J Bear, K Bear and Trininista Bear.

On the one hand, you had J Bear who has no real appreciation or grasp of the power...the art...the science of flirting. She does not flirt. She is very left brained; very analytical; very matter of fact. The guy brings a drink and she says thanks. lol. Even if he is waiting for a hint that he can do that thing bartenders do - to get you to spend more money - small talk, flattery, smiles, etc. Nope. She does not tease, she does not twirl the straw coyly, she does not give a little pepper and wit in her responses. No hooded eyes, no pouts. No tracing the glass with a manicured finger. Nope. She picks that drink up and ...drinks it. lol. She comes dead last in the heat.

Then you have K-Bear - a flirting maniac. I mean, she would flirt with Jesus. She takes flirting to a whole other level - where there are no boundaries and as she describes it, where it is simply "light entertainment". It is fun seeing her in action, but in the case of Goldilocks, she cast the bait, reeled him in and just when he thought he would be plopped onto the boat, she threw him back in the water. I felt really bad for the poor guy. lol. He really had high hopes. She comes first in the heat, but may be disqualified for a false start, and does not care that she is.

Then you have me - T-Bear. I flirt for fun, yes, but I still have some guidelines. I will not flirt with the old, obviously hard up 60-something expat, all alone at the end of a week-long conference, sitting next to me at the bar, maybe looking for some tropical action. K-Bear would. I think that's mean, especially if the guy has high hopes! I flirted with Goldilocks as far as was rational and kind. Poor kid - he did not need the heartbreak. However, if the prey is to my liking, my standards and fitting my criteria - well, let the games begin. I don't always see flirting as sport. Sometimes it can be, but sometimes you want it to have a purpose besides making some poor boy cry at the end of the evening. Or cultivating the beginnings of a stalker. lol. In the race, I am not last, not first, but running a comfortable race, deciding whether I want to chase down the next round of heats.

In the end, we had loads of fun. A true Sex and the City evening. Long overdue and after a tough week, well deserved.

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Flirting 1.0 in a 2.0 world

I have on occasion on this blog described the Trini courting methods - maybe not in great detail but I have, like I did here. In case you needed a reminder, one such encounter went like this -

Scene: Trininista walking down the streets of Port of Spain, during her lunch break, looking cute as always, albeit a little aggravated cause the Third World pavements are destroying my Manhattan bought shoes, and threatening to give me a sprained ankle. A man is walking in the opposite direction, towards the 'nista. He is leering in that Trini way. Smiling. His lips curve as he prepares to speak, no doubt about to utter some lame line about my figure or my complexion. I roll my eyes behind my sunglasses and ready my lips, tongue and teeth to release the loud sucking sound Trinis call a "steups".

Man: Baby, you look good. I wanna ride you like Seabiscuit.

Steups averted. It was so funny I made sure I was out of his sight before I laughed aloud. It is a line that I have placed as my #1 pickup line ever!

Fast-forward to the technology age. Now I have weird men offering to chat me up on Facebook, as I have complained on countless occasions on my wall, and to friends whose "thirsty" friends spot my cuteness on a comment or a "like" and feel it is a free-for-all on the friend requests. Now I also have random men stalking me even on Twitter. How do you stalk someone on Twitter? I am not sure but it must take a special (idle) type of person. In any event, a few weeks ago, on my other handle - my professional handle - a young man sent me a DM, not just chatting me up, but extending the cyber assault by offering his BBM pin.

BBM fever

Two problems with this, Mr Twitterati-Flex:

1. I love the sound of the human voice. I mean, what is it now with people and all these gadgets and texting and BBMing and malarkey? Does anyone even know how to make a phone call anymore? Call me old fashioned, but I love a good old phone call. A few months ago, a guy, who should have known better cause he knew me well enough by then, tried to plan a date with me via text and email. He did not hear from me and never once thought, maybe I should call. Nope. He was depending solely on this email which I could not, or would not access cause I was out. Sorry but I only access emails on my laptop. I spend enough time on this as it is. I am not going to sit online via my phone as well. So he waited and waited, getting no answer from me, and then sent me a text. "What's happening later? I sent an email". A phone call would have solved all his dating problems. I thought maybe this was an English thing but I know it is becoming a global communication phenomenon. It irks me.

As for Mr BBM, I mean, if he had asked me for my Skype, he may have had a chance (.0000001 of a chance), but my BBM pin? Really? Which brings me to point #2.

2. I do not currently own a Blackberry or any type of smartphone. I know this makes me a social and technological pariah, but I don't want to be one of those hamsters on the platform, with eyes glued to the screens of a phone. While I can access all things internet on my piece of crap Samsung, I don't. Trinis love the art of maccoing aka minding other people's business. Being in London, the city of the seemingly indifferent, has not changed that. I always on the lookout for something interesting from homosapiens. That's the fun part of life.

I feel like all these gadgets, while great on many levels, also retard socialisation and I must admit, I resent it.

Needless to say, the young man never got a response. I do not respond to Facebook, Twitter or BBM flirting. Fun fact for today. I cannot believe I am saying this, but I much prefer random men in the street and their Seabiscuit analogies. At least it is in 3D and live surround sound.

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Bedroom Do's and Don'ts

A hamster is a fancy rat, in case you did not know

It's been a crap day but not going to talk about that. I will tell you what made me laugh out loud at the end of my crap day while talking to my girl. When you think your job is crazy, there is always someone else with a weirder experience.

And as a single woman, still exploring the minefield that is dating, I have to encourage other single people to really not take anything for granted when looking for a love match. So, when next you think your love life and/or your sex life is dull and could use some passion, DO ask some serious questions about your date's sexual habits and decide whether they are relevant to your tastes.

Now while I am all about freedom of choice, in and out of the bedroom, there are certain limits I think. Talking to my friend, I was shocked to learn that some people are using animals as part of their bedroom trysts. Very few things shock me, but I am regularly disgusted by the habits of mankind. So what would you tell a guy who comes into your emergency room with a hamster up his ass? What do you say when after you ask the all important question - how did the hamster get there? - he says, it was part of our...ummm...bedroom activities?

And when I asked how on earth this hamster got into such a...tight space...and was told that the hamster was positioned face first near the "door" and then a fire lit at its back end, which ensured frantic burrowing to get up there...well, there were no words really. A fire! This is not what The Doors had in mind when they sang "Light My Fire".

What is the sexual attraction of sending a rat up one's back door? Can't a vibrator do the job?

DON'T engage innocent animals in your sex life. I am not a lover of rodents, but this is horrible! Both for the rodent and the human.
DON'T be cruel to animals for your sexual gratification. Seriously.

Additionally, DO use websites or local sex shops to acquire toys and other such paraphernalia to enhance your sexual experience.
DON'T use lightbulbs. Yes, another person came into the ER with lightbulb filaments up there. Who thinks this is normal? Again, "Light Up My Life" was a big hit, but this was not the original concept!

DON'T assume your date is normal. DO ask these questions and spare yourself the trauma!
DO contact your local PETA or RSPCA/TTSPCA/ASPCA if you encounter such psychos.
DO save the hamsters of the world.
DO spare yourself from animal borne diseases!
DO think long and hard about your sexual behaviour during the dating process! Celibacy may be an option.

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The Anti-Dating Spot: The Nightclub

Now that I have ended academic life, I am having a life. lol. Sorry for the lack of posts, but between mental and physical exhaustion, and socialising, I just was not in the mood for social media. Hope everyone is well though.

Anyway, I wrote a post about the so-called best places to pick up guys, according to one magazine. I don't think there are many people though who would argue with me that one of the worst places to go man-hunting is a nightclub, if not THE WORST. 

As an aside, I wondered if I am getting too old for nightclubs. Besides screwing up my face at near sexual acts on the dancefloor, like an old grandmother, the patrons are younger and younger. Don't these kids have parents? lol.

But I digress. In the past couple weeks, I have taken my lovely female self to two different clubs here in good ole London and the experience was generally the same - bad. Sure I had fun in a "I love to dance and release" kinda way, but do men really think their approach in nightclubs will work? Of course they do - cause they are drunk, stupid and overconfident (because of drinks and other substances).

Exhibit A - The half-Trini, as he called himself. Probably the most successful last weekend, cause he got a phone number. But it was not mine. He had his eye on my girlfriend. So why does he make my list? 

Dude, if you want to talk, dance, screw or whatever with my girlfriend, be my guest. However, dude was really spoiling my good time. I mean, we had an initial conversation when I realised he was a bonafide member of the flock (Trini) and we high-fived etc, but okay, you're not interested, I'm not interested and you are scoping out my friend. Great for you but don't come to ruin my good time with idle, slurred conversation when you really want to talk to my friend. Is this frickin' high school? Am I the intermediary? At a night club? Your "game" is ruining my night. Boy, please. Move along. He was - an-noy-ing.

Exhibit B - The Nigerian. You already know where this is going if you have been a loyal reader of my blog. No? Stellar encounters like this one. So I am in the club, and the deejay is putting down some wicked urban beats, and then to my amazement, dropped some Machel, and I am shaking what my mama and Haagen Dazs gave me, and this guy is looking at me. Not even close to my type - short, round head, looking like a bowling ball in a t-shirt. He raises his glass, I dunno, in appreciation, solidarity...whatever and I willed myself not to roll my eyes so instead I nod and avert my gaze back to my drink. Bad move. Worst move ever - don't do it ladies. Rule #1 - never acknowledge them, because in warp speed this dude was in front of me, grabbing my hand like it was his to grab, and trying to pull me on the dancefloor with him. Darling...no. I was like, wtf! 

After much pulling and tugging, I managed to rescue my hand from the vice-like grip and he then engages in more club conversation. Dudes, clubs are not for, as the hood rats would say, "conversating" (lol). I don't wanna talk to you - about your life, your career, your mama. I just wanna dance. If I find you attractive, I will dance with you. If I feel like you need a charity grind, I will dance with you. But I am not interested in screaming at the top of my lungs about my hopes and dreams for the future. Why do they do this?

Anyway, during this shouting match he tells me where he is from (no, made me guess, cause I was privileged enough to have a Nigerian wanting me...my luck) and wants my number. No chance in hell. What's even worse, if you want to be a Grade A nuisance, can you ensure you smell good at least? The guy stank. His 24 hour underarm protection clocked out after maybe 16 hrs, and after hunting high and low yesterday for my regular brand of mouthwash with no luck, I understand why his breath was also as sweet as a city dump. I had to get away. And I did.

I came back from my sweet escape to find him gone and I started shaking again. Within 5 minutes, he materialised like a la diablesse beside me again. And grabs my phone which I had in my hand. Grabs my so and so phone! This guy had his chance to escape without unleashing the brute force of my disgusting Trini mouth, but enough was enough. Needless to say, he spent the rest of the evening on the lower level of the dancefloor looking up at me, like a kicked dog, while I continued shaking my ass - alone.

Exhibit C - Last night. Do you think approaching a group of beautiful black women and going  "I like black girls" will really get you a date, buddy? I mean, he was a cute Scandinavian type and before he opened his mouth I thought, nice. But really?? He left with his love for black women still intact I am sure, cause my friends were not too harsh, but he left without a phone number or a dance.

Exhibit D - The dude who stepped on my foot by accident causing me to physically push him away. He was very apologetic but his brand of apology I could do without. "I am sorry" still works. I did not need the hand holding and the kiss. I don't know you, buddy. WTH!

These were the major highlights, but it is an important reminder to single women everywhere. 

If you are looking for sex - nightclub.

If you are looking for a practice ground to perfect your eyeroll, your fluency in profanity and your dissing mechanisms - nightclub. 

If you are looking for the man of your dreams, you might be better off with Cosmo's picks like the Apple Store and my personal "favourites" - the cocktail bar and the supermarket.

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Are you a 30-something Geriatric?

Disclaimer: This is by no means a sweeping indictment of all 20-somethings. I mean, I used to be one and I was pretty awesome then too! And if you ARE a 30-something geriatric, we need to talk, Dr Phil style!

I left the house yesterday to wander through London, ending up at Haagen Dazs for a bit of chocolate orgasm and having the misfortune to sit next to a young lady who apparently had parrot's bottom for breakfast cause God...the girl talked and talked and talked...and talked. I looked over at her friend to see if there were any tell-tale signs of wear and tear on her ears and saw none that were visible but I am sure she was traumatised. While I tried my darndest to ignore her conversation - about her upcoming wedding, her job as an events assistant, her fiance, Canada, who's coming to the wedding, what she had for dinner the night before, the rehearsal dinner - it was really hard not to feel like I was at her table. But one comment that stuck with me was when she was describing some guy named Anthony (??) and she said

"It's incredible. He's 32 and has soooo much energy."

I almost choked on my whipped cream - if that is even possible.

The girl is clearly young, and a bit daft, but when did 32 become geriatric? Energy at 32? OMG. The horror! I felt my insides shrivel up and die at that moment - my 30-something year old insides. I should not even be talking about heels and flip flops. I should be reviewing wheelchairs and walkers!

Cheers to 30!

I'm not sure who the 30-somethings in her life are, but 30 is awesome, baby! After this postgrad experience, being around undergrads and just-out-of-undergrad 20-somethings, I honestly have no desire to go back to being 22, 23, 24. Maybe 27 - cause that was an awesome year for me, and I remember my birthday party - I was smokin', but I am pretty okay being a ravishing 30-something, with all the wear and tear of experience on my face (though I am not feeling the grey hairs, Mother Nature), in my smile and on my wisdom and outlook - which for the most part is as as sunny as London is today and it is pretty damn sunny outside.

And just as an FYI, 20-something year old motor mouth - sure you might have a few things up on your 30-something counterparts, like perkier boobs, fewer laugh lines, higher metabolism, but if you want to talk about energy:

When we hit 30, certain things get worse -- our boobs, ability to pull all-nighters, and energy levels -- but our sex life is not one of them - Yahoo! (read more)

Sleep with one eye open if the woman next to you and your hubby at the breakfast buffet on your honeymoon is over 30. lol.

Anyway, the evening ended being surrounded by other London geriatrics, who all seemed very alive, and enjoying life, and many many cocktails and then today started with some soca in New York - Kes The Band on Good Day New York, representing my beautiful country, Trinidad and Tobago - a land known for its energy, joie de vivre and resilience.

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No Awesome Week is Complete Without a Date Chase

Much better time this week!

It feels like I have not been here in quite a while. Well, that's how it goes when you try to have a life. lol. And when you're a student. And all sorts of other reasons. I don't live to blog. I love blogging but I also love not blogging.

Where last week was really awful - even inducing tears - this week was much better, thanks for asking.

Firstly, my supervisor FINALLY emailed me back with feedback on my dissertation, or to be more accurate, the draft I sent her. Needless to say, the "A" on my chest is flashing in neon lights, buddy. She was very impressed with what I sent her so far and the road to completion is now seemingly short. Of course, I am anal and a bit of a perfectionist so what another person may view as a major victory, and I do agree it is a major victory, I will find some way to make it a chore. lol. To make sure it is PERFECT!

Anyway, with the disso news, I felt a bit less pressured and stressed and took some down time. I love London but I always enjoy being out of London for a few days as well. I am a bit miffed I did not take my camera with me as I should really know better. I think it never occurred to me to take it cause when I left the house it was pouring down, cold, grey, blech and my expectations for the rest of the week were probably very low.

However, there were some beautiful weather moments and we took advantage. The English countryside is truly beautiful, when it's sunny, I hasten to add. I spent one lovely afternoon at Virginia Water. Beautiful lakeside park. Lots of dog walking, which usually means lots of me going "awww...doggie". Sorry, I stole these photos but just had to let you know what I experienced.

The Cascade at Virgina Water. Absolutely stunning
Photo Credit: The Royal Landscape - Virgina Water

The Five Arch Bridge at Virginia Water. It is a beautiful view actually. Gorgeous
Photo credit: The Royal Landscape - Virginia Water

Also there was some kitchen love. I always love cooking, but it's always better when it's not just for myself. I think I am an awesome cook so being able to share the love is always great. And having the kitchen love reciprocated is even better, so the apple and blackberry pie - very good, much appreciated, totally consumed. lol. And when it's a man doing the reciprocating in the kitchen, it is a big deal!

I must also take you back to this entry and share a funny story with you, dear readers. Go on, read this entry...I will wait.

Okay, so I always moan and groan about the men-bots in London. Basically, the men here are not very responsive to eye tag, cause well...they never look away from the screens of their smartphones, iPads or Kindles. It's a total waste of time trying to look cute cause noone cares!! Anyway, I was coming back from a lovely evening, complete with drinks at Claridge's (yes, had to drop that in cause I may never go there again) with a long lost friend, and walking through Victoria station, waiting for my train. Of course, I had pulled off student gear and was looking rather cute - and thankfully so, cause Claridge's was not the original plan!

Date chase - who woulda thunk it?

Suddenly (cue dramatic music), this guy runs up to me, breathless, yet eager (too eager??) and introduces himself. To say I was confused would be the understatement of the year. The expression on my face had to have been a combination of fear, shock, and confusion. Was this guy high? Was I about to be mugged, I asked myself, as I clutched my handbag tighter, very much aware that all I had in it was 5quid and lipgloss. But hey, I bought that bag in a very nice store in Manhattan. You don't mess with a girl and her swanky handbag!

Anyway...back to the train station dude.Yeah...chasing after me. What the hell? I have been in this country way too long cause the mere fact that a man, a Londoner no less, would even speak to a strange woman, much less, chase her down in a train station to talk to her, was mind boggling to me. In any event, after I asked him a few times whether he was sober and why he was chasing me, he said he saw me walking past, thought I was incredibly stunning, beautiful, gorgeous etc etc, and wanted to ask me out. As "luck" would have it, we were even going the same way and he followed me on to the train. Stalker or just enthusiastic? Well, you can rest assured, I am alive today as me typing this entry clearly indicates, so I would say "enthusiastic". We did have quite a nice chat on the train and the dude is quite normal, as far as I could tell. How did the story end? Wouldn't you like to know! lol.

Yes. The fun never stops here!

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Hoppilicious Saturday!!

I love sleep!

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this blog entry are mine and are not meant to be offensive. I just like a good laugh on a Saturday morning. If you are, or know anyone to whom this post may directly refer, please don't hate me. Well, you can, but I won't really care.

The past couple days I have been totally busted. I had not slept for 2 days straight and was focused on my dissertation, trying to make a serious dent in it so I could enjoy my weekend without regret. When my head touched down on the pillow this morning, it was like God himself had tucked me in.

So I passed through my friend's house-warming party last night (on no sleep...talk about fun times!) and let me just say, she should have a house-warming party every week, not because it was a slammin' party but because they cleaned the house for the event. Or maybe I should say, she had to clean the house for the event. You remember....THE HOUSE.

Though I did not stay long, one highlight of the evening was this dude I met. Now, don't get excited - it's nothing like that. But while having casual conversation with this dude, I asked him what he did for a living. The answer he gave me prompted to ask whether he was kidding me about 20 times within the next 60 minutes, cause I could not believe what this dude was telling me.

He plays hopscotch for a living.

I kid you not. The dude plays HOPSCOTCH for a living. In case you need a reminder or a lesson in what hopscotch is - click here.

Hopscotch - traditionally a girl's game

It is an actual sport, and there are actual tournaments. I had to ask him to break it down for me. His day. I mean, in a previous life, I would wake up, get showered and dressed in work clothes, sit in an office or go to meetings, aka work, from 8-4. This dude does the waking up and showering part, but goes to train for hopscotch and participates in hopscotch tournaments. How does one train to play a game that kids play in the street? I have not played hopscotch in eons but from what I remember, it was not that hard. I asked him if he was a hopscotch champion and he said he wasn't...but he is training to get there. I kept a straight face, I swear. It's good to have a goal!!! But I mean, if you're going to chat up girls, at least be a frickin' hopscotch champion or world record holder or something. (snicker)

I thought after this post, that I had heard and seen it all but this one really won me over. I wonder how many girls he wins over with that one? Not that I am that shallow...okay, I am...but having a boyfriend that hops in and out of chalk boxes for a living really creeps me out. lol. But just to be fair,  and I am being really genuine and honest now, because I know you are probably saying horrible things about me (she's mean, she's shallow...what a turd!) the guy was really super nice and had a warm personality, and was good fun. And seriously, the guy is doing what he wants. He is not slaving over a hot computer at some job he hates, is he? So there is something to it, I guess. So I guess I can recommend hopscotch players as prospective dates? Not for me, of course.

Oh, the things I share with you readers. I am sure you sometimes think I make this stuff up!

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When Dating Fun Becomes a Public Disaster

Take Me Out Game Show

So I went out with the girls on Sunday - dissertation break - and part of the evening was a customised version of the game show, Take Me Out. Now I had never heard of this thing, so when the young lady asked me whether I wanted to participate I politely declined. I have no desire to be a public sensation. 


I wiki'ed the concept for your benefit. 

One single man has to try to impress thirty single women. Each woman has a (white) light which she can turn off (red) if she is unimpressed by the man. His aim is to convince as many women as possible to keep their lights on so that he can then pick, from the women remaining, the one that he wishes to take on a date. If there is one woman left, the man and woman will go on a date. If no lights are left on - what is referred to as a "blackout" - then the man must leave the show without a date. - Wikipedia

In this case, there were about 7-8 single men, and the lights did not turn red when "switched off". They just switched off. They also selected women who had signed up - me, not included!!! Boy, did I dodge a bullet with this thing. Why?


1. The man candy was extremely stale. I mean, I am not sure where they found these princes but they were not happening. From the unemployed to the pants falling off the waist, to the babies (22 is not for me!!), I surely would not have wanted to date any of them. With that being said, I did not and could not understand the way they behaved later, cause any woman who dated them, was going to be doing them a favour, which leads me to point #2...


2. The embarrassment factor. The first young lady called up on stage - man, did I feel bad for this chick. I was not really paying attention to her "sales pitch" but I do recall she was American. Maybe she thought the accent would have won them over but she needed more than a Yankee accent, lemme tell ya. 


The look...the aesthetic did not win her any points with the guys I am sure. I mean, she was cute, and while her ensemble was not at all hurting my eyes, we must remember, men are shallow, visually stimulated beings. lol. The little house dress looking thing she was wearing with the ballet flats - a no go, especially if you sign yourself up for what is essentially a meat market, starring meatheaded men. And looking at the nimrods on stage, they were clearly looking for T&A. They wanted Nicki Minaj. Not Ma Kettle.

Nicki vs Ma - who would you choose?

Still, I did not expect the men to behave in the manner in which they did (or maybe I did) when the MC asked them to keep their lights on if they wanted to date her. 


Lights out. 


Crickets.


Let's just say, if the lights around their necks were the only light source in the room, we would have been in complete darkness, fumbling and groping strange people. And it was the no-hesitation, semi scramble, childish "not me, not me" antics to take their lights off, almost as if the last man standing would be sentenced to death that really got me. Poor. Add the "ooohs" and "damnnnnnn"s and laughter from the audience and I am sure this girl wanted to roll up in a ball, roll away and die. She did not die, at least not there, but she did roll away - taking her friend and hustling out of the room out of sheer embarassment no doubt. Lord, I feel shame for the chick.


Why would anyone put themselves through that though? I would not do it! Dating is hard enough! The private rejection is mind numbing, so why would you want to share that with the world, if even for "fun". I am sure she did not think it was fun in the end. 


As I said, the girl was cute and I am sure there is some guy out there who would love her and her house dress...umm...casual style. While I am confident in my hotness, I am not in any way fooling myself that I am THE ANSWER, and that all men will grovel at my feet. My hotness - it's not for everybody and being made a public spectacle is not my idea of a good Sunday night. I hope she has sufficiently recovered and learnt her lesson. Sit in your chair, drink your mojito and relax yourself.

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Mastering Aloneness

The Eiffel Tower, Paris, France

I remember when I decided I was going to Paris. It had always been my girlish dream. I had studied French for 7 years at high school, studied the greats like Camus, Mauriac and Sartre, studied European History and just had an overall lusting to visit Paris and  bring to life all these amazing moments I had so far only experienced in books.

I was young, had no major commitments, had a good job and could afford to plan this trip of a lifetime on my own. It was my single girl adventure. I bought a French CD to brush up on what was then my horrible French - the result of neglect and lack of practice after high school. I would plop it into my CD player in my car and while baking in rush hour traffic, I would perfect my accent and have conversations with Claude on the CD. I booked my hotel, my ticket on the Eurostar, bought my guidebooks, my maps. I was so ready! I was excited.

I told friends and family about my trip. The responses were not dripping with excitement. Instead I got a lot of this:

"What? You going Paris by yourself??"

Ummm...yes. What was wrong with that? Apparently, plenty!

On my mum's side, she was more concerned about my safety. This would have been my first trip to anywhere without a buddy, or a family member or friend as host. She had already conjured up these images of me being robbed, kidnapped, and worse.

Musee d'Orsay, Paris, France

"And what about the language? You can speak French?"

This is the lady who supported me throughout my academic life, bought all my textbooks and should have known better. lol.

But the others were not as concerned by my safety as they were by the idea that it was simply unheard of to go anywhere alone, and worse yet, a city like Paris. Travel? Alone? What kinda thing is that? None of your friends can go with you? This is why you need a mister.

And I do admit, Paris is a romantic city and it's the kind of place you want to experience with a loved one, but if I had to wait for Mr Right to make that trip, I still would not have made it to Paris. I would still be sitting here, dreaming of all that could be, could have been and never may be.

Le Sacre Coeur, Montmartre, Paris

So when I ran across the book, Solemate: Mastering the Art of Aloneness, I thought, that is a great title and I am sure it is also a great read.

The book:

Mastering the art of aloneness is about having a good relationship with yourself. It’s about becoming the person you were meant to be, treating yourself well, and shedding the old beliefs and behaviors that limit your ability to live a healthy, happy, satisfying life – with or without a partner...(read more)

My life:

I think I have been very successful to date at mastering my aloneness, i.e. having a life without the burdens of what if, I wish, why me and so on. I think my family and friends have also come to terms with this and some are actually quite envious that I can just pick up myself and just go, without feeling self conscious or pathetic or without feeling the weight of any social conventions on my shoulders. My uncle always tells me each time I announce some new adventure, that I am so brave. I'm not really, but I am not willing to sit around feeling sorry for myself either.

Sure, I would love even more to have someone to share all these experiences with, but in mastering my aloneness, I also feel pretty secure in doing things by myself. If I want to do something, I don't wait...I just do it. I go to the movies alone when I really want to see a movie and noone else wants to, though some people look at me in horror when I say that -like, how could you do that?

If I am hungry, I have no qualms about asking for a table for one. I mean, convention would probably prefer that I catspraddle, dry-mouthed, in the middle of the road from starvation rather than enjoy a great meal by myself.

I have been witness to many nightmarish relationships, born out of fear of being alone...fear of not having someone else to "complete" one's being. That is one of the lines they peddle to single people to make them buy into bad relationships, stress and unhappiness, instead of enjoying life while waiting or looking for a good relationship, bliss and contentment - this "complete me" dotishness. It is very possible to be complete without the mister.

My glass is pretty full...and extremely good.

There are so many experiences I have enjoyed because I decided I would enjoy them, no matter what anyone thought. It's not about being fearless, but it's about loving yourself and taking care of yourself - treating yourself to...well, life. It has changed me in a lot of ways as well. I've learnt to be more outgoing, I talk to more strangers (shhh....don't tell my mother) and thus meet new people. I walk into pubs here and just talk to people...though in London, that can sometimes be like the kiss of death, or at least a reason for them to call the madhouse for you. But, I am more self-sufficient, braver, more outgoing and pretty much a solo superstar.

I don't feel I need to buy a book at this point of my life. It may be a good read, but I have lived as well. I really try to look at it now, not as a glass that is half full rather than half empty, but it's a pretty damn full glass. A daiquiri glass at that...with yummy strawberry daiquiri and 2 plump strawberries, waiting to be loved and devoured. Mmmmm.

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