Archives for posts with tag: love

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Ok so I have a confession to make: I have never actually broken up with anyone. Nor have I ever been broken up with. (Yet.) So, my practical experience in this area is limited. However, I do have friends. Very open friends. Very open friends with tumultuous love lives. Very tumultuous love lives. And so, having sat with several women and a fair few men, keeping them supplied with tissues,  mini-rolls and hugs as they navigate the stormy waters of heartbreak, I do feel qualified to air my opinions on break-up etiquette.

So, here they are…

The Dumper:

– If you have been on a couple of dates (less than 4) and you aren’t really feeling it, you may send a text or have a phone conversation to that effect. If you have been dating longer than that or are in a relationship, it has to be face-to-face. Anything less is just cowardly. (The only grey area I can see here is if you are having a long distance relationship. If you had been in love, then you should go and see him/her and do it face to face. If this is not possible, then I suppose it is ok to do it over the phone as making them come to you to be dumped seems a bit harsh!)

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Summersummersummertiiime! It’s here it’s here! It’ll be gone in a week but still, it’s here! And I am excited!! Can you tell?

So, the sun is finally shining, the grass is finally greening, my legs are finally, well ok they still glow in the dark but you get my drift, it’s summer! And I hadn’t realised until this latest burst of joyous warmth that summer needs an etiquette guide all of its own. It turns out that people do bizarre things in summer. Things they wouldn’t dream of doing in the bleak midwinter. And while I enjoy the easy-breezy, relaxed summer vibes as much as the next Vitamin D starved Londoner, I think it might be time to put the brakes on certain summertime habits.

So,

Summer Rule 1: Don’t listen to Nelly! Yes, it certainly is hot in herre Sir but adding unnecessary Rs is an odd response. Oh and please don’t take off all your clothes. They do actually make clothes out of lighter fabrics specifically for use in this most temperate of seasons. Fleece or nudity are not the only options. So, men- shirts are to be worn at all times when wandering around the city. At the beach you may take it off. In your garden you may take it off. The rules pertaining to the bath and shower remain unchanged, you may get as naked as you wish. But when there are no large or small bodies of water anywhere near you, please keep it covered. Showing off is not a good look and bumping into a shirtless sweaty stranger is an experience I could do without. (Trust me, it sounds better than it is.) The same goes for women, skimpy outfits are fine, underwear in public is not. I know that we here in London only get about 20 minutes of sunshine a year and it makes us all a little crazy but do remember that it’s called underwear for a reason. The clue is in the name.

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Please Don’t Already. Pretty Disgusting, Amirite? Politeness Dies Again. People Doing Allthesex.

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There’s something about train platforms, I’ve decided. Maybe it’s the cold, making us all feel just a smidge vulnerable. Maybe it’s the old-fashioned romance of taking an actual train as opposed to a tube. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m always on one at about 8:30 in the morning which is prime smooching time for the lovers out there…. Oh wait…..

So can somebody please explain to me how last week as I stumbled, bleary eyed from the wind, shoulders hunched awkwardly to bear the weight of my canvas-bag-o’-crap that I seem unable to leave the house without, on to the train platform at a time which, quite frankly, it offends me to even have to acknowledge exists, only to see love’s young dream canoodling on the bench right next to me. Oh but not just canoodling. Canoo-hoooo-dling. Now, I am not some sad, grumpy woman who hates to see displays of love. I love to see couples holding hands, nudging each other, smiling at shared jokes and even kissing goodbye. I do. I never let my boyfriend get away with saying hello or goodbye without an accompanying peck on the lips. What I object to is seeing a woman curled up on her boyfriend’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck, shoes inexplicably kicked off while her boyfriend strokes her feet (I so wish I was making this up) and kisses her ear. For at least 15 minutes (the train was delayed, what a shocker). I mean, I understand being lost in your own world but when your own world involves cradling your girlfriend like a baby whilst indulging your foot fetish, KEEP IT INDOORS!

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Now, I personally don’t believe in lying to prospective gentlemen callers. (Or lady callers, depending on your preference.) It makes no sense to me at all. It seems to me that the right man for me ought to like me as I actually am, and if he doesn’t, someone else will. Having a man who wants a fake version of me is pointless. Nothing annoys me more than movies where we have to watch the heroine humiliate herself for hours pretending to like fishing/be a vegetarian/speak Finnish/have naturally curly hair /enjoy camping all for the grand prize of ending up with a guy who doesn’t actually like her.

 However, having said that, he does not need to know your entire life story/chequered romantic history/every thought you’ve ever had within the first five minutes of meeting you. And please don’t tell a man you’ve only met on Skype that you hate shaving your legs and put it off for as long as possible like one of my friends did once, complete with visual aids. There is a world of difference between lying, and keeping a little something to yourself.

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