Life in Heels and Flip Flops

Showing posts with label men. Show all posts

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???

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.

Men - From One Awful Extreme to Another

Yesterday I saw the most ridiculous thing - a not-so-young creature, in a shirt that was clearly picked out from the children's section, and it was so tight I wondered if the creature could breathe. Not to mention, the overly tight skinny pants which showed the "fullness" of the letter "I" shape.

The creature was a man.

Men's fashion has gone to the other end of the spectrum - from overly baggy, loose clothes - complete with pants falling off the waist - we have now evolved to men in slim to skinny fit clothes. And there is a difference - slim fit I can tolerate, cause it is not meant to be tight but instead is meant to accentuate the man's body.

Men's Slim Fit can be very sexy, if done correctly

Skinny fit in my opinion should be limited to teenagers, still finding themselves, and male models. The end.

Men's skinny fit is not it

This is not a sexy look. I don't think so anyway, so if it works for you and your man, great. The man yesterday was not a tween. This was a full grown homo sapien, with flecks of grey hair, so what were you doing, man?

Slim Fit shirt - very sexy

Like women, age appropriateness is key. The skinny fit look, while great for teenagers and angst-ridden 20-somethings, may not work if you're clockin' 50 - no matter how debonair and handsome you may be. Just don't do it.

Also, I would not wear an outfit that accentuated all the parts of my body I need to work on, so why on earth would a man, not in the best of shape, want to stuff his pudgy bits into a too-tight shirt?

Please, get some guidance on what works for you, size-wise, age-wise etc. Thank you.

A Fond Farewell to 2011, Hello and Welcome to 2012

I think 2011 was a good year. Really. It started off a bit shaky, as I had a bad flu and started the year bundled up, freezing and seething at the St George’s Circus bus stop in London – waiting for almost 2 hours for my bus.

But it was a year of successes and great people and I am happy about that. I had my fair share of stress –with exams in the very first week. Add trying to study with sinus headaches, sore throat, hacking cough and fever, in the dead of London winter, and you can imagine my ultimate joy! Semester 2, while on paper, looked like it would be a cake walk, was probably worse than the jam-packed semester 1. The assignments never stopped and then of course, the dreaded D – dissertation which was a nightmare of epic proportions! But even with all that, I managed to get it d one, with Distinction, and will be heading back to the Big Smoke in no time at all for my graduation.

I started the year as a student and end it as a grad – an employed grad no less, which is much better than many others can say. I am beyond grateful for that, on a very serious level, because so many of my friends are still job hunting and scouring the job ads, and waiting. I gripe about having to roll off my bed at 3.30 am each day and about how tired I am, but I am thankful that I have a job to get off the bed for. The car won’t pay for itself. Yes…the end of public transportation came at the end of 2011 as well – a real triumph for the high heeled princess. I do not miss running after the South Eastern, South West or Southern trains, or hopping maxis back home. Nope. Don’t miss it.

The Pavilion, Brighton

Though I did not get on a plane this year, other than between home and London, I did manage to do some adventuring. The UK, while cold and grisly, is a beautiful country and I explored other parts of London I had not yet explored (not just the cocktail bars and pubs) and also ventured to areas outside of London for a change, including Windsor, Wales, Bath, Bristol, Brighton, Rye and Hastings. If I could sneak in a trip to Edinburgh on my short escape, 2012 would have started off nicely I think – cold but pleasant.

I enjoyed a few great festivals in London as well, like Taste of London and the Wine and Cheese Festival. I miss events like those actually.

Lots of cooking as well - and now that I am back home, I am sure there will be much more.

I also made my debut as tv star, in the T-Mobile wedding ad, though you can only see the length of my dress and not much else. Still it was a fun experience. Met some great people during that experience.

But not as great as the people I met over the year in London, from classmates, some of whom will be lifelong friends, to the oddball adventures, public dating disasters and funny stories, to those who made the cut. Lol. These people brought fun, laughter, support and everythingness. A girl can only be this lucky once, right? Well, I am awesome, so I have it a hundred times over. My peeps are great!

We lost a friend this year but move forward with renewed hope because friendship is powerful and so is forgiveness.

Blog-wise, I have not always been consistent. When I was too busy with school to blog, I then became too busy with work. Balancing a real life with blogging is often challenging. Still, it is a fun outlet. I did my one and only anonymous vlog, as did Pablo. Did a photo challenge, but in the end, I blogged when I could.

So what will 2012 bring? God knows. I am praying for it to be a happy year – more happiness than sadness. Really hoping everyone, including myself, remains safe and healthy and happy over the 366 days of 2012. We can only ever take it one day at a time but I can still have a long term vision!

The lovely Grenadines, West Indies - right next door

While my movements will be restricted for a while, seeing that I have started a new job and thus have no real vacation time, I will have weekends, so there are places I can still go on a time crunch, including St Lucia, Grenada/Grenadines, Antigua, Miami (of course!), New York (not in the winter like last time) and who knows where else. 2013 will see me back in Europe but until then, gonna love my hemisphere as best as I can.

People wise – the year will undoubtedly end with some farse aunt or family friend asking if the husband will come in 2012 and my farse and bright response will probably be, “Find him and ask him”. I will again be forced to defend singledom and my right to life despite not being tied to some loser til death do us part. I have no idea what life will hold for me but guess what…life does not wait. I have learnt a lot about myself in the past year and reaffirmed what I already knew, and I will be having fun and being the fabulista that I have always been.

That being said, I want to wish you all a very Happy 2012. May all the things you wish for yourselves and your loved ones come to pass, and just have fun. Life is short and love is endless – love life.

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.

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!

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.

Men: Not the Good, not the Bad, but the UGLY

You may be sitting on a bus and your eye may land on a spectacular looking male specimen on his way to work. Hair well coiffed, perfect suit, well shined shoes. You look around and notice all the other women are lapping up the male goodness as well, under hooded eyes, or just brazenly soaking in the effortless appeal of this Adonis reading his newspaper or fiddling around on his iPhone.

Little do you know, that when he gets off the train after work and he heads home, the cleanest thing in that flat may actually be the suit he is wearing...and that's really hoping for the best.

Now, I am not saying that all women are beacons of cleanliness. Hardly!! I know some frickin' nasty women, and some male neat freaks, but for the purposes of this entry, I am bashing male nastiness. I live with a bachelor and there are some issues that are beyond my female understanding as it relates to cleanliness. Smelly socks and football gear lying around, dirty shower (I use the tub, and thank God I have that option).

Still, I was not at all prepared for what I was greeted with yesterday when I went over to my friend's flat that she shares with 2 professional men - a flat she only recently moved into (her previous accomodation was just very very strange). I will not describe it to you. Instead I will just share 2 photos of what I met yesterday as the 2 men and their friend lay around watching football.

The living room - where they were lying around watching tv

This one REALLY affected me - look at this kitchen sink!
Can you IMAGINE being offered a cup of coffee in that cup that is overturned on that filth?

I could not live here. I could not do it. She has had to be cleaning up after these guys since she moved in. They did not even have a vacuum cleaner. The downstairs toilet was littered with empty toilet paper rolls. And to see the guys, you would never believe they lived like this! I am not used to this level of physical mayhem. It makes even the mere thought of sharing a flat with random men one of sheer terror and disgust. Could you eat from anyone whose kitchen sink looked like that??

And is it a British thing to have a toilet downstairs with no sink? After using the loo, I realised there was nowhere for me to wash my hands, forcing me to wash my hands in the kitchen!!! The horror! It reminded me of a time my then boyfriend and I went with his mum to look at houses in a new development in Chaguanas and the toilet had no ensuite washing facilities. Instead the sink was outside the door, IN THE LIVING AREA!!! She did not need to see anymore...we were done!

London is expensive and most people flat share, something most Trinis who have moved out on their own are definitely not used to. But wow...having one's own place is more than a luxury. It can almost be an obsession depending on your tolerance levels and who you may have to live with. I know I would be hard pressed to room up with strangers...especially after yesterday.

And before you start imagining your next vacation or picturing your kids with train hottie, maybe you should follow him home and see how he lives. Your dream may just be a nightmare! lol

Why I'm a Great Catch

I was having a chat with a friend of the male variety last night, over some hummus (I love that I can just go to Tesco and buy any variety I want without having to make it myself), and he asked the million dollar question: Why are you single? Well, buddy, if I could give you an answer, I would have. I can probably say maybe it's my bad habit of rolling my eyes at men who try to impress me, or the fact that I don't tolerate nonsense, or the fact that I don't like bald or balding men which seems to be the norm here (snicker). But he did point out why I was a great catch, in his own funny "man" way.

The obvious - I'm cute. I won't go on too much about this for fear of being called vain. But I am.

Again, not going to expound but I am also smart and hella funny.

I love sports. I do. I love watching sports and going to watch sports. During the World Cup, if you are not a football fan, you are persona non grata in my life. Yes, I can appreciate the male form, but I also do appreciate the game. However, there has to be some balance as well. While I complain about my cousin watching football for hours on end, this is only because it interrupted productive student life. I also find something very pathetic about anyone who will sit for hours and hours and hours watching sports, or tv in general, when life is happening around them. It's the same way I feel about people married to their smartphones, Twitter etc. Go out...do something. But anyway, guys like a woman who not only loves sports but can appreciate THEIR love for sports. So when they are watching basketball or football, the woman understands why they don't want to snuggle at that exact moment. lol.

One of my many masterpieces

I'm a great cook. I love how he said this as he munched on store bought hummus. lol. There is immense truth in the saying, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I have spun my magic web around the fragile consciousness of male homosapiens just by twirling my pot spoon. I need to take greater advantage of this magic power.

I appreciate other people's space. I love having my "me" time and in the same vein, I appreciate the other person's space as well. I have seen too many girlfriends who do not give a guy a chance to breathe - always calling, nagging. My cousin had one of his typical boys' nights here and one of the girlfriends came over - uninvited. Why, honey? Don't you see there are only men here? What was even more annoying, somehow I was left to "babysit" this twit when all I wanted to do was watch my chick flick in the other room. By myself. Clinginess, on either side, is never cute.

To add to the above, I have my own interests and I am independent. Some men say they want an independent woman and then cannot deal with all that entails, but my friend pointed out that generally, the fact that I have my built a life and I am not obviously desperate to find a man is apparently attractive. My female relatives, in their sweet, old school way, would have me believe that marriage is the answer to all my problems. Getting a Master's degree and moving along in my chosen field, buying my own house, travelling - not so important to them. lol.

I am the anti-hoochie mama. Sure, I get upset and angry about stuff, but you will never see me doing a "Maury" in public or even in private. You know what a Maury is - a crazed woman who starts cussing, scratching, throwing things, having to be physically restrained from physically hurting the man. No. Or doing a Lifetime - the woman who starts crying and acting hysterical for no good reason. Yeah. That's not me. I stay pretty calm during disagreements. I think that is scarier - sitting and smiling at them, because then they go to bed with one eye open. lol. But seriously, I have crossed the threshold of teenaged behaviour. I believe there are definitely more grown-up ways of facing conflict. Yet I have seen women in my age bracket and older, who just simply act a fool, and then wonder, why the man vex!!!

All this however does not really help me at this point. But the hummus was amazing. I love hummus. Now, that's a great catch! The dude who can bring me hummus! lol.

Trini Salsa...or not

Salsa! Baila!

So last night, I went salsa dancing. Having never danced salsa in my life, I was excited and a bit anxious - because while Trinis are great at gyrating and wining, I was not that confident in my Latin dancing ability. The hip movements, I had down but I looked at the intermediate dancers and thought to myself - they expect me to be able to do all that?

In any event, I did not feel like I got a real chance to show my skills. The classes were enormous and totally oversubscribed, leaving very little room for movement. I kept bumping into people and getting my own toes stepped on. Not fun. Additionally, it seemed like some of the patrons' 24 hr deodorant protection only lasted 10 hours, and my eyes were soon glistening with tears as a result of the acrid smell of sweaty underarms. The room itself was very warm, so this did not add to my enjoyment. Needless to say, I was not a very attentive, committed pupil and the eyes of weird, tusty looking men on my form also did not help my comfort levels (although there was one stunner who kept staring at me - high five!). After 10 minutes of bruised toes, burning nostrils and the searing virtual pain from the eyes boring into my ass as I 1-2-3'ed, I stepped to the side and called it quits. It was a sad day for the men of London but a great day for my feet.

The date itself was also a bit bleh. Nice dude, but waaaaaaay too eager for my liking. I foresee a lifetime of clinginess with this one, who already wants to come to my house. Today. Ummm....no.

But as always - it's a great story for my grandkids one day. If I ever get to the point of populating my uterus.

Great Expectations - The Reasons for Dating

Dating - what is it really?

In Trinidad, I don’t think we really use the word date. I grew up on American television and got used to hearing about kids dating but no one ever asked me out on a date. We went out on date like things – to dinner, to the movies, etc, but I never dated anyone. It was very much hanging out, liming, going out – not dating.

In London, people date. It’s the same thing really (or is it?) but it takes some getting used to – dating. In any event, I don’t blog much about the dating activities here, or as I prefer the going-out activities. But it’s pretty fun – not always so much for the relationship building side but more for the entertainment value. I have been introduced to new people, new places, new things. It is a great way to discover the city and meet new people for sure. Maybe not so good for love-hunting, which typically is what dates are all about, isn’t it?

It’s pretty hard to meet people here, as I have indicated before (eyes glued to the smartphone syndrome is very real here) so when you do get thrown a bone, and after determining whether the bone is suitable enough to sniff and nibble on, you make the most of it.

Tonight, I am going salsa dancing with a cute and funny guy. Maybe he will not be Mr Trininista, but we will have a laugh, for sure, especially as neither of us has ever danced salsa in our lives. As I said, in this city, I have set my expectations for love-hunting pretty low, as people generally are so detached and dare I say, some are emotionally retarded, but when it comes to entertainment – my expectations are off the charts!!!

This may not bode well for the husband hungry relatives but it’s just dandy for me at the moment.I think that's why it's so fun for me, because I have stopped having great expectations

Single Gal Observations: Trinidad vs London

"Mums, is that your daughter? Oh gosh, like yuh take yuh time when yuh was making she".

This was a one-way conversation a random man on the street was having with my mother, as I ran ahead in my fitted jeans and platforms, to the tax office to see how many people I would need to push out of my way. In case you are confused, it was a compliment, suggesting that I was a fine specimen. lol. Trini men have special ways of saying nice things about women. This was about 5 weeks ago, when I was at home. To say I miss these random Trini man moments would be an understatement. In London, one can be virtually invisible - except to the Africans, of course. They see you in 3D, so much so they channel their inner Diana Ross and reach out and touch, much to my annoyance. Admiration - accpetable. Aggression - not so much.

But I now understand why some of these chicks don't even bother to look decent and why they wear wings on their eyelids and call them eyelashes, or pantyhose with holes, or pantyhose with no pants. Noone cares! It is clear to me now. Random strangers do not compliment you or approach you. Hell, they don't even say good morning. If they manage to pry their eyes away from their iPhones, Blackberries or Androids, they stare at you blankly, rather than in admiration. It is really very odd to me - a Trini woman used to blatant adulation and public "affection" and I admit, I loved the amusement of it all, not so much the flattery. I really miss the daily amusement and ego stroking. Thinking I am great is all well and good, but it can only go so far.

Call me spoilt, but aye...every now and then you need a little reminder that you are ON like boiled corn, especially because I am sure I have not morphed into some unsightly creature in 5 weeks! I mean, I even went on a date the other day, and while I was not expecting the dude to fall at my feet - a little recognition would not have killed him either, especially as I was rockin' a sunny look. I mean, after you take your time to choose a cute outfit, and look fab-u-lous - nada.

I just needed to get that off my chest, as I think about my life. lol.

Good Men - Falling Like Rain from the Sky...or Not

Is it raining good men where you are in the world?

My overseas Masters student partner-in-crime, Gerry and I were talking earlier about how it is somehow expected that when you go abroad you are automatically expected to meet this elusive Mr Right...or whatever. When you have a conversation with well-meaning aunts, uncles, co-workers or friends, it's always "So you pick up?" - which generally is them asking if you have met anyone.

Sure. I have met plenty guys here. I am not dead. But is that the point? To amass a bucketload of anykinda men to appease the husband hungry relatives and friends in some demented and twisted way, with no thought of compatibility, sanity and chemistry? No. The point is, it has nothing to do with geography. I realise the man recession is not limited to Trinidad and Tobago - it is indeed an international phenomenon. And I don't mean recession to mean scarce in the true sense of the word. However, these well-wishers also feel I can just get dressed and open the door and voila - compatible, good men just drop from the sky - like rain!

I should probably categorically state - it is not raining good men in London either. You still have to go out and make the effort to find them. I have met all kinds and yes, some may say I am picky but a MAN told me I am not picky enough! So what do you have to say about that?

In any event, please, well-wishers, while it may seem like fun to pounce on me everytime you get me on the phone, or via email, or in person about this man from your visions, it is not fun for me to have to hear the same questions over and over again. Furthermore, I am not singular in this man-a-thon. There are millions of me out there, so maybe you can ask them too!

The Latest Dating Hot Spots

Love and marriage?

While having drinks last weekend, and somehow spoiling a good day with talk about my dissertation, my girlfriend mentioned that her friend had actually met her husband while doing her dissertation. Yes. She too was conducting interviews in and around London, and met the man she would marry during one of these interviews.

Needless to say, my luck is never that great when it comes to single girl adventures and wedding planners around the world can breathe a sigh of relief. It ain't gonna happen here. My single girl adventures are usually heinous. However, I will admit, today's interviewee was as close to hot as I am probably going to get during this dissertation exercise. Not only was he cute and well dressed, but friendly - nothing better than that. But there was also a very large gold band on the ring finger - not that I was looking or anything. It was just rather large. :)

So where does one meet single guys anymore? It seems as though one can meet people anywhere these days - be it on the train, in the jerk chicken shop (personal story...lol), in the vegetable aisle, or online. Cosmo ranks the top 10 places women can meet men. Among them are the Apple Store, the gym, political rallies and grad school coffee shops. Hmmm...

I can cross out grad school coffee shops immediately - at least MY grad school coffee shop. FAIL.
The Apple Store? Really? While this is definitely a man hub, are the men inside an Apple store really focusing on anything other than the gadgets in the Apple store? Do women even compute while they are focused on the bright lights of iPads and the like? And personally speaking, being a non-gadgety person myself, and not a slave to every new trend, I am not sure this is the type of guy I would want in my life.
The gym. Been there, done that. No. I have found that the guys at gyms think they are hot shit and thus think they can get any girl in the place and most of the times do. Who wants a sweaty, "think he's all dat" weight room playa?
Political rallies. Unless it is a non-TT political rally, not interested. If it is a UNC or PNM rally, forget it. Not interested.

While I am enjoying the many ways of running into man candy here in London, be it over drinks, while trying to open your front door, on the bus, over carrots in the veggie aisle, or over a box of jerk chicken, the question still remains - where have you met your guy or where would you recommend for the single ladies of 2011?

The Suit Maketh The Man

So you will probably be hearing me rant about my Master's dissertation over the next several weeks. While I will not bore you with the mechanics of it, my sample is comprised of FTSE 100 companies. This means that I will probably be heading down to The City a few more times before this nightmare is over.

For the non-Brits, The City is a casual way of referring to London's financial district. It's akin to Wall Street in New York, I guess. The best part about this neck of the woods is that generally, my eyes are not assaulted by grungy fashion. Indeed, I am a sucker for a man in a suit. Sucker! So just sitting on a bench for 5 minutes, admiring the well dressed men first, and the people in general, second is a joy.

It's a huge deal. While I am wholly supportive of people expressing themselves through their clothes and so on, some of the fashion statements can be pretty darn scary. I don't get for example, why any woman would leave the house in a pair of ripped tights (pantyhose), or men wear t-shirts with obvious stains or wear their pants hanging off their asses. And worse than the pants hanging off their butts, is the yucky, grungy looking underwear which assault my optical senses. If you must participate in urban fashion statements, can you at least invest in clean, non-crusty looking underwear?

And speaking of tights, they are not pants, ladies. So unless you are wearing black boy shorts under them, please cover your ass with a skirt or dress (note, I did not say shorts - I never could wrap my head around the concept of wearing tights with shorts. It looks stupid!). I have seen too many white or coloured panties in the street under nylon hose pretending to be pants! And it was like the Daily Mail had read my mind, or just that the trend is so popular that it is everywhere!

So I sat on a bench on Tuesday and just enjoyed well dressed people, specifically the men I admit. It was like Christmas!

Kinky? Nerdy? Crazy? What's YOUR Love Niche?

I'm hoping that the sneezing and sniffles which have been plaguing me since yesterday are the result of some sort of allergy. I would hate to think that it was the cold or flu again. Not again.

So I have decided to do some fun stuff around one of the most ridiculous days in the year - Valentine's Day. And I happened to run across an iVillage slideshow about love niche sites - sites that cater for whatever your fetish may be when it comes to love.

So you may be looking for a sugar daddy, then this site is for you.
Some women love the sound of a man with an accent, specifically, the British accent. Look no further, just go here to meet the British bloke of your dreams.
Or you may be a cancer survivor whose victory over the disease scares some men off. There is an actual site for cancer survivors and the men/women who will love them no matter what.
Lately, though my personal "preference" if you may, is the sugar daddy type (lol), I seem to be unconsciously channelling my inner cougar. However, I will not be visiting this site.
Maybe you're a single mother, whose kids are a major turn off for prospective suitors. Then, visit this site, where men don't care that you come with "baggage" in the form of cute cherubs.

Photo: Pittsburgh Post Gazette

But the piece de resistance, even after seeing sites for women who want a man in uniform, or a love matches for tree huggers, the winner of them all was the site - Meet An Inmate. I kid you not. Meet An Inmate. Meet a frickin' inmate!!!!

Across America or the world for that matter, there are men and women lonely enough to register a profile to meet a convicted felon. Who does this? I mean, sure...everyone needs love, but really? The profiles on this site are great. One guy's profile photo is from when he was clearly in his 20s but his listed age is 65 - hmmm...does not sound like he's in there for grand larceny! Life sentence perhaps? Watch Law and Order much? Oh, but wait...he's eligible for parole soon. Lucky you.

But I won't even lie to you - I know someone who met a man who was in prison and planned on marrying him so she could stay in the U.S lol. This world we live in - so damn amusing. So if you're hard up and really on the brink on Monday, find your love niche! lol. You never know who may be out there in a retirement home, high school or a holding cell, waiting...for you.

Check out the complete slideshow here because there were lots more.

The Men of the World Cup, for the ladies

So the World Cup kicks off today and though I am a true football fan, I am also a woman and I have girlfriends who don't care about the game or formations or goals. Just the players. Just some hot hard body, so different from the beer bellied signifcant other next to you on the couch, and the best part is - he is too wrapped up in the game to see you drooling. So here are some of the players you ladies should look for over the next month.

Though I am NOT a USA fan, this dude is hot. Carlos Bocanegra. Sweet Lord...where can I get one?