Laughter - There's Nothing Sexier!

One guy once told me that he wanted a cook in the kitchen, a lady in the parlour and a whore in the bedroom. He wanted a woman with principles and manners, someone ladylike and presentable, yet sexy and provocative behind closed doors. As women, we’re expected to be alluring and slutty in secret, yet demure and successful in public. Men want to have their cake and eat it, and, it seems - we’re programmed to give them what they want.

I met a guy months ago – from that dating site I was a member of. He gave me his number pretty much straight off, which admittedly unnerved me a little, but I was pacified by the fact that he told me he wasn’t really sure what the “on-line dating etiquette” with regards to number swapping was, but figured if I wanted to chat to him when we were offline, that was the best way to do it... A week or so, and several e-mail conversations later I decided he didn’t appear to be a serial killer, so I dropped him a text, and our conversations continued. He seemed as cute as a button – always knowing the right thing to say to make a girl feel at ease, so it was a no-brainer when we decided to meet up. I really wasn’t expecting much – I’d been on dates with sweet guys, and whilst they were always pleasant, they never really rocked my world. I always worked on the principle though, that the worst thing that could happen was that you could make a new friend.

We arranged to meet at a pub near me (what? – it’s my prerogative as a woman to ask that the date takes place in my territory – a guy who wants you to travel to him clearly doesn’t have a chivalrous bone in his body!) and by sheer fluke we both pulled into the carpark at the same time. When he stepped out of the car I was surprised by how tall he was. Even with a sizeable heel he towered over me – which admittedly sent me a little weak at the knees right from the off. I was instantly attracted to him, but I don’t think it was necessarily his looks that attracted me in the first instance...in fact I know it wasn’t... The first thing he did when he got out of the car was take the piss out of me....and that’s what did it. He laughed at my mardy driving face (in all fairness he did nick the parking space I was attempting to occupy, and at this stage I didn’t know he was in the car!) and told me he'd nearly turned around and driven off! It made me laugh, and ladies and gentlemen...there is nothing sexier than a guy who can make me laugh.

I’m a bit of a joker – my friends and colleagues will testify to this – it’s not something I’m always aware I’m doing - in fact sometimes I make sarky and somewhat distasteful gags in the most inappropriate situations. I very clearly remember the phone call I received from the hospital asking me to gather my brothers together to come and see my Dad after his heart bypass surgery, and the comment I made directly after putting the phone down. I was at work, so had to explain why I was suddenly leaving. I turned to a colleague, knowing that the only reason they’d be calling us in was because he was either already dead or about to die, and said;

“Well it would be just like the melodramatic old git to die on us!”

Appropriate or not, humour acts as a band aid, an ice breaker and a conversational tool for me. I use it to put people at ease and diffuse awkward situations (even if ultimately the situation affects me in the most negative way) and more often than not, I just like people to enjoy themselves when they’re around me. The problem with being the one who’s always cracking the jokes, is that it’s very rare that someone comes along who genuinely tickles me, so when they do, it completely takes me by surprise. This guy got me hook line and sinker, just by being funny...by being brave enough to take the piss out of someone he’d only just met, and having the balls to bare his personality right from the off...oh okay...it kinda helped that he was cute too...but I’d like to think his sense of humour would have kept me interested, even if he’d looked like the elephant man!

Now do guys secretly want the same thing? Someone who can make them giggle? Sure they love the sexy seductress thing (and we kinda love being that for them), but ultimately, if they were given the choice, would they go for someone who looks hot and is a “whore in the bedroom”, or will they go for someone who’s genuine and can make them laugh? I’ve always believed that if you find someone’s soul attractive, the way they look to you will always be sexy...which is why some of us (erm yes...me included) wouldn’t kick Simon Cowell out of bed for farting, and yet others would dry heave at the prospect of having to get close enough to his high waisted trousers to unzip them!

I guess we’re all after different things – some people are driven by looks, others by intelligence and the ability to stimulate them cerebrally. Some people are driven by lust and physical attraction, others by feeling secure and protected. Some of us have had enough hardship in their lives that they just want to laugh. They want to laugh so hard that their sides ache, and they genuinely feel joy again. Whatever the attraction though, I know what I want, and perhaps just knowing your own mind is the most important thing...so what do I want you ask?

I want laughter...and an older man...a much older man with a big bank balance...and a nasty cough!!

Can Girls Suffer From "Man-Flu"??

It’s no secret that I’m not very good at being ill. I actually think this is because I don’t get ill very often. It’s normally a once (maybe twice) a year event, and so unfortunately I don’t handle it very well.

If you could all take a moment to visualise me now. I’m sat here up to my ears in used tissues. I am probably single handedly responsible for the destruction of a mile wide section of the rainforest, which has been used to keep me well stocked in mansize Ultrabalm tissues. Over the course of the day, the whole world, has literally fallen out of my nose. Seriously, on one blow I swear to God I evicted a small family of Armenians and a Whirlpool washing machine (circa 1994) from my nasal cavities...I could have been mistaken, obviously...I mean it’s not like I spent ages dissecting the contents in the manner of Gillian McKeith or anything weird like that...it’s just that’s what it looked like!

I have been dosed up on max strength cold and flu capsules, throat sprays, mucus friendly cough mixtures (to aid a productive cough, I’ll have you know!) and lemon flavoured menthol drinks since yesterday. Quite frankly, I’m smacked off my tits on cold remedies and I’m not 100% sure I should be taking them all with the glass of red wine that I’m currently enjoying...but I like to fly by the seat of my pants, so I’m gonna roll with it.

How come some people can handle being poorly better than others? Some people deal with flu like it’s a walk in the park...me...I’m like a man with man-flu. I’m convinced I’m actually about to shuffle off this mortal coil. It’s not just because I’m a drama queen (which I am a little, I’ll admit) but genuinely, because I don’t get ill very often it feels like I’m dying. God only knows what I’d be like with something like child birth. My problem is though, is that I’m not at all gracious about being poorly. I complain mercilessly about it, and I know that I sound like a whiney cow, but if I don’t verbalise how miserable I feel, I’m likely to just curl up in a corner and sob to myself...which on the whole would be far more disconcerting for my work colleagues I’m sure!

The only person (sort of) that seems to want to give me sympathy in my time of need however, is the pooch. Reliable as always he has stationed himself at my side, since this rotten lurgey first set in. He dutifully fusses around me when I’m struggling with a coughing fit...which basically just means when I start coughing he sits up, cocks his head to one side and looks at me in a worried manner, as if to say;

“Ooh ‘eck mum....that doesn’t sound right!”

Understandably everyone else feels I should really just be getting on with it! I get it...I’m a disgrace to my sex, I should be able to handle illness better than this...But the way I see it...hopefully one day, I’ll have kids of my own, who will get poorly and need looking after, and so I won’t be able to be this self indulgent. Until then, I plan to let everyone know when I’m not feeling 100%...and maybe (just maybe), someone might feel inclined to look after me a little....someone other than the pooch that is!

One Man and Three Little Ladies

It’s a well known fact (amongst girls) that women behave slightly differently when we’re in the company of other girls, to when we’re in the company of men. When you’re in the company of men, you are generally mindful that your language should be ladylike, that you should maintain a certain level of decorum, and the conversation choice is carefully selected to ensure you don’t bore men to death. When you’re with your girlfriends, it’s entirely acceptable to spend up to an hour talking about shoes, and the perfect heel height. If you’re bitching about other people, you’re not afraid to use coarser language, and (especially after a couple of glasses of vino) the behaviours seen within a gaggle of girls can be raucous, giggly, loud and very often screechy.

So what happens when you find you’ve let a heterosexual red blooded male into your female circle of friends? I was wondering this earlier as Gaga and I sat in our friend Gareth’s flat gossiping like the girls we are. I’m quite certain that Gareth feels he’s gathering a great deal of intel on the enemy by spending so much time with us. He’s in the enviable position of having myself, Gaga and Princess there to learn from, as he observes us in our natural habitat... But I wonder, as a man...what must he think of us??? In all fairness, I was mainly wondering this after announcing that I was;

“wearing a £15 pair of knickers, and had at least £8’s worth stuck up my bum”

I then proceeded to adjust the wedgie situation in one quick (but not-so-elegant) manoeuvre. Sometimes I forget he’s not actually one of the girls, and often end up mortified by my behaviour when I remember he’s there! I’m not the only one to do things like this however. Last week on our usual Saturday trip to the coffee house - our very own Central Perk, Princess, (who to be fair to her, was suffering from the mother of all hangovers) forgot whose company she was in and announced;

“Shit... I completely forgot to put a bra on today”

It was hilarious to watch poor Gareth’s face as that mental image flashed up in his head, and he battled with the urge to say something blokey and smutty. The thing is he’s integrated so fully into our little gang that he hears everything, and has an “access all areas” pass to the daft, neurotic, inane and ridiculous world of my female group of friends. He sits and listens while we discuss our dating disasters, he humours us by not complaining when we talk about shoes/make-up/clothes etc, and always tuts in a suitably “don’t be ridiculous” manner when we complain about our weight, the size of our ankles/arse etc. He also does a really good job of controlling his gag reflex when we talk about our period pains or our preferred methods of birth control, and doesn’t appear to judge us when we say absolutely awful things about people we don’t like. But what I’m wondering is...what does he do with all this information? Is he sharing it with his guy friends? He’s gone out with his guy mates this evening, and all I can imagine him doing is taking them to one side and saying;

“Geez guys, trust me, these chicks are NUTS!...Did you know that it only takes an average of seven minutes after sending a text before they start complaining about the fact they haven’t had a reply?!”

Or maybe he’s storing up all this insider information, so that when he meets Miss Right in the future, he better understands the female mind, and can therefore be a better Mr Right for her? (I’d like to think it’s the latter, but I suspect it’s probably the former!)

Much to the incredulity of his male friends, Gareth has developed his own little harem, who unquestioningly entertain him with silliness on nights out, cook for him, pick up his dry cleaning and give him lifts whenever he needs them...in fact all the things we’d automatically do for our girly mates - courtesies that aren’t usually extended to members of the opposite sex...and why do we do this? Well to be fair, it’s because men are simple creatures, and as a result they simplify things for you. If you’ve been wronged by a friend and bitch about them, girls will intensify the witch hunt by goading the bitchfest....a guy will become confused and point out;

“but didn’t you do something similar to so’n’so the other week?”

thus highlighting your double standards, bringing you back to reality with a bump. Likewise if a guy doesn’t text you for a day, and you complain to a girlfriend, between the two of you, you can blow everything out of proportion, and before you know it, you’ve got visions that the reason behind the delayed reply is because he’s secretly got a wife and kids tucked away somewhere, and can only text when they’re not around. If you complain to a guy friend like Gareth, you get a non-committal shrug of the shoulders and a simple;

“He was probably busy when you texted him, and now he’s forgotten to reply”

Guy friends take the drama out of every situation, which truth be told makes life refreshingly easy sometimes. Of course, we’re girls so we enjoy a bit of drama, but every now and then it’s nice to be brought back down to earth and reminded that life doesn’t have to be crazy to be fun. Besides, it’s nice to have someone to mother a little... we haven’t got kids of our own yet, and as Gareth has the mental age of a six year old, it’s kind of like having a child!