How I Failed At Being A Manic Pixie Dream Girl (MPDG)

I've been contemplating the MPDG. That's Manic Pixie Dream Girl to you. Who or what is she? Think Zooey Deschanel, think, Natalie Portman, think Holly Golightly. Yes folks, she's that crazy but seriously lovable, impossibly pretty breath of fresh air and bringer of light and hope to all those lovely Lost Boys.

Read more about the MPDG ...HERE

I've been thinking about her a lot. In fact, I've been thinking about her my whole life and I've figured that my whole life has led up to my failing at being the MPDG.

How I failed at becoming an MPDG...a step by step analysis:

STEP 1: I was ugly. I didn't start off being this impossibly pretty thing (well actually I did, I was a really pretty child if I do say so myself) but then braces, bad eyesight and a butch haircut happened. Also, there was a brief period where I did actually look like an old Chinese/Bhutanese peasant lady complete with permed frizz, scarf wrapped around my face and really pale reddish skin. Not good to the ego and certainly not good to be made acutely aware of your ugliness when you are supposed to be an unaffectedly beautiful MPDG. 

STEP 2: I got emo. When I sorted my 'petty pretty' troubles out (ie. straightened hair, learned the use of eye makeup & contact lenses), I decided to revamp myself into being a Grunge/Goth Chick and got all existential and emo and decided to stay indoors writing my own eulogies. 

STEP 3: I got too dreamy. I actually got really cool at one point and pretty much as close to a MPDG as I possibly could. I lived for nothing in a really cool really posh apartment with a big cat, I partied in all the cool places, I was quite artsy and frequented little record stores, went out with a DJ boy, I even had a cool hobby like writing poetry about people I saw on trains. Yeah! But...being so cool, I started to believe I was a MPDG a little bit TOO MUCH. To the point, I became so oblivious to the real world and decided that I was in fact a character in a film. In other words, the dream girl started to live IN the dream...not good.

STEP 4: I got busy. See, what happened was, I got a job. It was an impossibly cool one at that, but the thing about really cool jobs? You actually have to work to keep 'em. So I started to wake up from the dream and get practical. I didn't have much time to be flighty and carefree and was too tired to be manic.

STEP 5: I met a boy. Then obviously, I had to meet the Dream Boy. Oh you know, that boy lost girls dream about. Tall, beardy, funny, rode a bicycle, read books and played the guitar. So I became the boring girl who had the Dream Boy breath life into my boring life. Figures.

STEP 6: I got angry. Yeah, MPDGs are happy, fun loving people. I on the other hand, wanted very much to put my fist through a wall at any given moment. MPDG + Anger management issues = Plain ol' crazy bitch. 

STEP 7: I got real. Decidedly, I sort of realised that I couldn't ever compete with an MPDG nor could I be one. So I decided that if I couldn't be any boy's dream girl, then I had to be my own dream girl. As in, I'd take steps to becoming the sort of girl I dreamt about becoming. And I realised that that girl, wasn't some flighty, manic ingenue...she was someone who wanted very much to do more with her life. A girl with a plan. A girl who actually helped the people that needed help... So I worked and am working on becoming that instead.

And there you have it. How I failed at being the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. Failing though, made me realise I didn't want to be some sad writer boy's fantasy. I wanted to be my own dream girl. The girl who lives her OWN dreams, becomes somebody SHE wants to be.

So to all you fabulous women who have failed at being an MPDG or are in competition with one, don't you worry. You can be a dream girl. It just depends on whose dreams you want to live/be. And hey, being a Real Girl just means you've got more chances with REAL Men. Heehee. ;)

On How It Was Supposed To Be & Thereafter

Well, it's been freakin' 27 years and the way I reckon it should be hasn't happened. The way I thought it worked was, you grow up, you make friends and then one day, some really nice, decent, intelligent person bumps into you on a street and you realise that your whole life led up to him anyway. He'd get you, you'd get him, you'd have fun together, and one day, he'd ask you to marry him. 

 

You buy a house, you have children with him and your life would entail seeing your children grow up, making sure they become good people, having a laugh with him and growing old together. You'd start bickering and fighting of course, you'd even resent him sometimes and need your time outs from each other...you'd seek comfort in your work and your friends. But at the end of the day, you and he have built a home together, the two of you would be what your children see as 'home'. At the end of the day, you'd see him through to the end and so will he. That's how it's supposed to be. It's how I've been raised to believe it will be.

You're supposed to have one big love. Well, at least, I am. And I'm supposed to have met him by now. It was in the plan. I was supposed to know when I met him.

But then I met you. And you were kind and decent, smart, you made me laugh and, you were my friend. And I thought, this would be easy...if I knew, then you'd know too. We'd know that our lives led up to one another. We were supposed to fall in love. Have a laugh together. And one day, you would've married me and there was this bright beautiful future that we were supposed to have together. Yeah, that would've been nice.

Anyway, you didn't love me back. You couldn't. Why? Your life didn't lead you up to me. It wasn't fated. It was simple. How I knew was that when you looked into my eyes, you looked past me. At someone else, who would be waiting for you. You didn't love me. It was simple and cruel of course. How could the person I was meant to be with not love me?  I wasn't prepared for that. It was supposed to be easy.

So what now? It's been awhile...I ran away when I knew fate had dealt me a cruel hand. My gripe is, I didn't even believe in The One. I thought there'd be a few...THREE at least! But since you, I've been waiting around. I've been waiting for someone whom my life really led up to. But yet another night of waiting around ensues and I've lost what little hope I had left in me to keep waiting. So I don't hope anymore. And I try not to be bitter because of you. I try to imagine you happy and I try to be the bigger person to be happy for you. And sometimes, when I hear or see you laugh, I genuinely can be happy for you.

And to answer the question of how you get over the one person whom you thought would finally make you whole? Well, you don't really. You never really get over that person. But what you can do is move past them. There's a sort of joyous numb you feel when you wake up one day and they aren't the first thing you think about. It takes time of course, it takes other people too. People who act as distractions. People who make you happy in other ways. A pet maybe.A dog you love so unconditionally and irrevocably because she loves you unquestionably and makes you laugh again.

You work toward becoming the person you want to be. You travel and you watch the way the world works. You wish happiness on others. You live out of yourself because the person inside has been so sad it's best if you kept her away for awhile. But you live. You be free. You start to breath again. And after awhile, you're sort of okay.

But that's just me. I've stopped waiting. He will come if he's meant to come along...that next person. And if not, I think it's okay to be the way that I am. I am less whole, less hopeful, less of what I thought I would be, but I am also here. And that's something you know, that I'm still here.

Papa Don't Preach

So yesterday, in case you didn't know, was Father's Day. We were hit with a barrage of public service announcements on how we should go up to our Dads and thank him, for whatever it is he has done for us, for the sake of love and for being well, our fathers. Following that, I found many a disgruntled woman who decided that they didn't have much to be thankful for when it came to their Dads. It got me thinking, when it comes to our relationships or future relationships with men, are we all ruled by the relationship we have with that first man in our lives? Are our fathers the fore-bearers of all our man-related problems? And after all these years of wisdom and soul searching, I wonder, isn't it time we give Daddy a break?

I might be talking outta my arse here if you've ever had a father who's abused or mistreated or has never met you, but as for us who have fathers who didn't do any of the above I'd like to advocate that if we at any time decided that our singledom or our misguided relationships stemmed from our father-daughter relationships and blame our Dads for it, it's time for us to stop pointing fingers and try at least give our Dads a chance.

Okay, so I'm lucky enough to be one of those rare people whose parents are still together which means I see my father often and he is by all necessary means, a good Dad. Still, I'd be lying if I said that my father-daughter relationship has been a great one. I am part of the millions of women who grow up not really being able to talk to their father and vice versa. He is of the that era of men who don't seem to think that building a communicative relationship with their children is of much importance.

I have also been angry at my father for most of my life, albeit if you ask me, I can't really say why other than perhaps, he is a difficult man to 'handle'. My father is also not one of those men who bend backwards to the whims and fancies of their beloved daughters. Though I am his only daughter, I have never felt like a Daddy's Girl. My father is strict and is not prone to showing or revealing his affections. I have never hugged my father nor has my father ever said that he loved or even liked me.

Still, after years of trying to understand my father and at the same time, trying to get him to understand me, I've decided that we should give each other a break. When you think about it, the relationship between a father and a daughter is one that contains the most levels of understanding to break through. A grown man and a little girl - there is virtually nothing that they have in common. Yet, they are expected to suddenly form this intense, unbreakable bond. Fathers don't have 9 months of pregnancy to form a bond from birth. They are virtually introduced to this baby one day and expected to look after this girl till she grows into a woman and all her life, he is expected to provide for her. Generally, men don't have nurturing instincts...what if they don't like the baby or the little girl that has suddenly come into their lives? What if they feel disconnected from them? What if they generally just don't really make friends with women? How do they cope with this one woman who suddenly expects them to provide the world? Somehow, we expect our fathers to love us despite all this, and they should but sometimes, I can't help but feel that we should cut them some slack.

There ARE things we can be thankful to our fathers for. Personally, I am glad my Dad never beat me (my Mom wielded the cane). I am also grateful to my Dad for passing me his love of books (if he had not stepped in when I was 14 and on a trashy romance novel binge and handed me instead The End of the Affair by Graham Greene, I think things might've turned out badly). The other thing I suspect I can be happy about is that all this time, my own father has cut ME some slack. As much as I'd like to think of myself as this golden child who grew up to be this fabulously perfect woman...I know I was and can be a nightmare. Who carried me between the ages of 2-4 when I refused to walk? Who gave me money when I sent begging letters after shopping binges in Paris? (ok, he didn't know about Paris and my begging strategy was to include subtly the line 'I don't feel like living anymore' for added effect- haha!) Who made me Milo every day when I used to be a bitch about the temperature? Ah yes, the list is long when it comes to the amount of slack he has had to cut me.

So in this post Father's Day post, whereby I didn't bother wishing my own Dad a Happy Father's Day (oh, because I had a fight with him like a month back and I'm trying to prove a point...hawhaw)(More slack cutting on his part there!) I am instead going to honour my father by cutting him the slack he deserves and imploring all my fellow single girls out there who blame their fathers for any number of reasons for their general failures (with men or otherwise) to try at least to start looking on the bright side and stop being angry with them. I know, I know, your father might have left you to fend for yourself, your father might have only said 2 words to you in the last 5 years, your father might not have liked your last boyfriend or your father might not have wanted to give you the crucial support you needed but for all our sakes, let it go. Even if it's just in your head, let it go.

If we don't start to mend (literally or mentally) this first relationship with the first man in our lives, what hope do we have of starting and building subsequent relationships with all the next men out there?

Everything Is Opposite

You know they say that given enough time, you can recover from anything. And when you're in love...or at least when you THINK you're in love, you think this is impossible. You tell yourself you will never be the same, you've changed, the shift in your universe is too huge...that person has made your whole future, past and present a different shade.

HAH.

You CAN forget. You can become exactly the person you were before THAT one person who damaged you forever.

How? Here's how:

Lose yourself. Lose everything that you knew... and when everything is lost, only collect back the pieces that don't contain scars of him/her.

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I came across a remnant of you by chance today and I guess, today of all days, I should've been thinking about you. But today was just like any other day... I laughed, I relaxed, I played with my hair..Today I even watched a love story and you weren't there at all. I tried though, when I held that remnant of you in my palm...I tried to conjure you up in my mind. I tried to feel some pang of regret, or pain even. I tried to remember your laugh,your voice, the way you made it so much better just by being there. I tried to capture that image of you that always made my insides twist. I tried...I really tried. But, nothing. There is nothing left of you in me...so HAH.

Someone To Make Jja Jang Myun

What I've learnt about love from Korean dramas:

1) Love almost always starts off as hate in the beginning.

2) Love is waiting around a lot for the other person.

3) Love involves a lot of fighting over Jja jang myun or Bibimbak.

4) Love is not wanting to hurt the other person.

5) Love is wanting to protect someone from other idiots or hos.

6) Love often blooms from a sticky situation you can't get out of.

These Koreans are so smat.

Meow Schmeow

I know I may be too young to be a cougar (hey, I'm still on the bright side of 30...at least I like to think so) but I really think, when it comes down to it, cougars may have it completely right after all. 

THIS ARTICLE asserts why you shouldn't be ashamed should you be tempted to sample the delights of the younger man(hood). 

Yes. I say this because I found myself consoling a freaked out FSG the other day over her attraction toward a young man over 10 years her junior. I thought to myself, why the hell should she be freaked out? He's nice and he's legal and he likes her. Had this been a 20 yr old woman lusting over a 30 year old man, there would be no problems there. 

Perhaps we are all viewing the cougar analogy wrongly. Perhaps instead of a mean, predatory cat, we should celebrate the cougar for being a majestic, confident and a helluva sexy pussy...

Meowrrr :)

In The Sky With Diamonds

One of the reasons I started this blog was to remind myself, and others like yourself, that maybe being single isn't so bad. Saying that, I would still like the picket fence and that whole soulmate thing, if it's there for the taking. Unfortunately, with prospects looking bleak, that isn't much of an option at the moment.

In all seriousness, due to the sudden realisation of how old I am getting, I've started wondering about what I would settle for in a bid to not be alone for the rest of my life.

And the answer is this: I wouldn't.

People in all shapes and sizes have encouraged me, at the start of this year to be open to options. "Don't be the stuck up closed off weirdo you always are, Happsgirl...", "Give people a chance Happsgirl." "Please stop having all these high expectations, Happsgirl"...
and I tried...I really did. I started exploring my options. I even tried to give up my crushes in a bid to be open to new prospects. I went to a fortune teller. I started wondering about existing male acquaintances...I questioned myself and what I would want a LOT.

Then it hit me one night while I was reading a magazine and stumbled across a picture I couldn't tear my eyes away from. It was this incredibly normal looking man who painted flowers...and he seemed like the most beautiful thing I've ever come across. What I realised is this:

I'd rather be alone than end up settling on my dreams.

I don't want just anybody. I've made it thus far alright living and being alone. If I can't have what I want, I don't want anything (or anybody) at all.
Call me an idiot but I believe in that one time violent thing that happens to you. I believe in Fate and Serendipity. I believe that Love is supposed to come along and sweep you away. I believe in a beautiful boy who may save me. I believe in someone who will see me completely. I believe in a fantasy.

And people used to be able to say, "Oh, that will never happen...He doesn't exist...You're dreaming of a character"...
And I used to believe them. I used to think that someone who blurred the lines between fantasy and reality didn't exist.

But then I met him.
And sure, he wasn't everything I conjured up in my fantasies. But he was beautiful. And meeting him was sheer chance. And for a splendid moment there, he saw me.

I knew that if he could exist, so could all my other ideals of Love.

So I think I'll pass. Pass on the people who aren't meant for me. Pass on all the people who just
'aren't'. They aren't what I want. It's as simple as.
And if I have to settle for what I don't want, I think I would be happier having nothing.

Turn Your Head Now Baby

Repost from Potsie:

So apparently not all relationships start with a “will you be my girlfriend?” followed by a hug. How do you know its the starting point if no one pops the question? It’s important cos you’re supposed to get presents every anniversary. Personally, I prefer the type of relationship where you celebrate every month. More presents.

Here are some hints:

1) After the first kiss - Michelle Douglas (2007). His Christmas Angel. Chatswood Aus: Harlequin Mills & Boons

2) After falling into bed (cos they so lustful for each other) – Susan Donovan (2002). Knock Me Off My Feet. New York USA: St Martin’s Press

3) After reading stories to his grandmother - Julia Quinn (2006). It’s In His Kiss. Great Britain: Piatkus Books Ltd

4) After ‘accidentally’ putting his mouth on her boob cos there was a bee sting – Julia Quinn (2006). The Viscount Who Loved Me. Great Britain: Piatkus Books Ltd

‘Accidental’ senarios are good cos that way you can blame it on the accident and not your hiaoness therefore maintaining your sacredness and purity.

Glossary:

Hiaoness - Kegatalan / Horniness

I Hear You're Living Outta State

In fantasy:
You are tall, beautiful and slightly sad. You hold the universe in your hands. You can tell me stories that never end. You make me laugh just by being in the room. You walk hand in hand with me even in our dreams. You are a prince that has a pauper's wisdom. You have a crooked smile and messy hair. You can play the guitar. You like books that I like. You write letters to me in your head. You can dance with me in the moonlight. You make me feel safe. You are never late. You can talk me to sleep when I'm scared. You love only me, always have, always will. You are immortal as am I.

In reality:
You're a vampire character in a badly written book.
Oh poo.

Catch the Birdie

I've recently had the pleasure of being introduced into the world of bird watching...My life moves in strange ways indeed. And I realised that birdwatching is like man-watching. 

>> Just like birds, you spend hours observing and hoping for a beautiful one to come along. 

>> You spend hours and travel across the globe just looking for that one bird that checks all the criteria you are looking for. 

>> When you do spot a bird, you have to identify its characteristics. Does it have the markings of a good strong species?

>> If and when you do identify a rare bird (ie. a good man) everyone wants a piece of it. They will all clap and applaud it's beauty and spend hours, even days just observing it giving you small chance of capturing it yourself. 

>> When you do spot a beautiful, rare bird...you are always worried it will fly away. 

Syok Sendiri-ness (Hot For Yourself)

The other night I went out with a couple of FSGs (Fellow Single Girls) and were standing in line for the club. When we had been waiting for all of 10 minutes and were getting suitably hot and bothered this is what my FSG friend had to say:

FSG#1: They should let us go to the front and get in for free.

Happsgirl: Why?

FSG#1: Coz we're hot.

FSG#2: That's not a reason.

FSG#1: It should be.

Teeheehee. It got me thinking, do we over-estimate ourselves sometimes? Ok, do we over-estimate ourselves all the time? To the point of it maybe being the very reason we're single? I think I do. Case in point...perfectly nice normal boy comes and talks to you in the club...you say hi, but reckon, hey, you're hot enough tonight to hook up with the DJ. You end the night hanging around DJ's booth and then watch him take off with a model while perfectly nice boy has gone home with some ugly, bitchy girl you know he's too good for.

We bring this on ourselves. We do.

Signs you may be suffering from a bad case of syok-sendiri-ness:

#1 - You think you look hot even when you've just woken up and have eye bags that hang to your chin and hair that looks like an orang gila (crazy person).

#2 - When people ask you what's your lowest standard of guy you would date, you say 'billionnaire male model'.

#3 - If you go to a gig and the only people you think are good enough to hook up with are band members. Worse still if the band is made up of err, John Mayer alone.

#4 - You think you're compromising when you get asked out by a nice, cute guy but he doesn't happen to be a prince.

#5 - You demand to be let into a club on account of your hotness. Even if it entails a big embarrassing fight with the bouncers and the phrase 'Do you know who my father is?' being thrown about.

#6 - You think people are checking you out all the time, even when you're driving and people are looking in your direction because you are the oncoming traffic they need to avoid.

B-Day (Bubble bursting-day)

If you wanna measure how much you matter to the 'men in your life', then there's no better way than when it comes to your birthday. Here are the responses of people I consider/considered to be *significant*. 

Former Love of Life (FLOL) - no wishes. From being the only person to make it special 3 years ago...to multiple messages 2 years ago...to belated wishes a year ago...to nothing. Silence. NOWT. Now I know why they call it EX-communicado.

Pseudo-Crush - he didn't know it was my birthday. 'Nuff said. Altho, he did try making up for it when I reminded him. Hurhur. 

Ridic - I don't think he got the message alert on FB since he has 10 000 friends and at least 100 ppl might've shared my bday. 

James Franco - despite the fact he doesn't know I exist, he STILL managed to turn up in Spiderman 3 which happened to be showing on the bus I was taking on my birthday. That was very nice of him. 

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In more exciting news though, not one but TWO sexy older men(SOM) sent very sweet messages to me.

Message from SOM #1 - Hey sweetie, rumour has it it's your birthday...so happy birthday honey. (Cheap thrill factor: 8 outta 10) - sweet nothings sial! 

Message from SOM #2 - Happy birthday dear. *something intellectual I don't understand* Lots of love SOM#2. (Cheap thrill factor: 9 outta 10) - because it was damn intellectual. 

Cowering in a Corner

In a conversation with PoPots, I have come to the conclusion that we fear lots. When it comes to mens' appearances, that is.
eg. Popots: I have a general fear of fat men.
Happsgirl: I ran as far as possible when a short man talked to me.

We realise we're being shallow of course, but we also decided that we're not going to be apologetic about it. When I asked around, I realise that almost everyone has a baseless fear when it comes to men's appearances.

There is a fear of bald men...A fear of men with BO (I think this applies to all of us)... The fear of hairy men...Heebie-jeebies around men who are TOO hairless... A fear of skinny men...We fear of overly tall men...Fear of men with big teeth...the fear of sweaty men...Men who have long fingernails make us run a mile...we cower from men with bad breath...and even the fear of beautiful men.

I myself am really put off by short men...I can't understand being attracted to someone who is shorter than me (I'm 5'4). I think 5'4 is seriously the shortest a man can go. When I can see over the top of your head, it sends a chill down my spine. It's like my fear of lizards...completely baseless and irrational but it is no doubt a fear.

I've put down these fears to simple survival code. We don't want to see in our partners or potential partners what we see as flaws in ourselves. I'm short and have always resented that fact. So I cower from shorties and have an imaginary height requirement bar of 5'10.

So fess up, what do you fear?

Here's Looking At You

I have a LOT of goodlooking girl friends. And no, I'm not exaggerating or trying to butter up my friends when I say this. It's true. A lot of the people I hang out have any of the following happen to them on a regular basis:

1) Have men say, 'damn, look at her' when they walk past.
2) Get marriage proposals on the street.
3) Have talent scouts come up to them and ask them to model.
4) Get modellling jobs.
5) Have random people come up to them and want to take pictures of them.

The great thing about hanging out with good looking people is that you generally look popular because of the influx of people looking in your direction. The down side is that, after awhile you start to feel like the short, fat troll hanger on.

Which makes me ponder, just how important are looks when it comes to being a happy single? Could your singledom come down to the pure and simple fact that you're just not as good looking as you think you are?

I know it's about confidence and personality and general chemistry, but physical attraction is the first thing that attracts us to the opposite sex. What if you simply aren't attractive to the type you consider attractive? In a society that prioritises looks over so much else, is being plain and not accepting that fact going to be your ultimate downfall?

Chillingly...for me at least, I wonder, if I never accept that looks play a huge part in this whole game, am I being completely deluded?

What do you think? Do you think your looks play an integral part in securing your future in finding a partner?

The Asshole Gene

Maybe men are born with an *asshole gene*. They can't help it. Just like maybe women are born with a *bitch gene*.
Some men's *asshole genes* are just more latent than others. Just make sure if you find a man, his *asshole gene* is kept in check. Use your *bitch gene* if necessary.

How To Tell You're Getting Despo

#1 You've started to believe the FB Quiz that your Celebrity Boyfriend really IS Robert Pattinson and you've devised a long list of reasons on why he really SHOULD be your boyfriend. ( eg. he has messy hair, you have messy hair, he mumbles, you mumble - it's just logical you're MFEO) (Made For Each Other - a term I learnt from Kavana)

#2 You start high-fiving yourself for simply being in the vincinity of attractive older men (even though one of them is like, a cousin and the other is like, your boss)

#3 You've just started a really long letter in your head to the FLOYL (Former Love Of Your Life) detailing to him why he should really dump the German ho and be with you because you loved him first and also that Asian women are more subservient and will ultimately pleasure him more than any stupid kinky German tricks a ho picks up on Eurotrash.

#4 Your friends have started to tell you that you need to go out with someone... ANYONE including a sleazy looking balding doctor with a possible BO problem. (No thankss)

#5 You decide that it's time to message the perfect guy you went on a blind date with (whom you ran away from and haven't contacted since) and tell him that you've publicly announced that he's Perfect. You also panic when he wants to add you on messenger because your profile pic is one of you being felt up by an oiled muscle man.

#6 You've started to consider how to possibly get back in touch with that oiled muscle man. (You also regret not asking him to sling you over his shoulder and take you home with him)

#7 You start to wonder if your gay best friend might consider doing you a little favour by not being gay for one night. Or two. Or maybe possibly just marry you for convenience sake.

#8 You find yourself suddenly being really attracted to Marilyn Manson.

10 signs you know you're moving on

so, you've just broken off a relationship with someone you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with. now you realise and have accepted that conversations about the future, the wild awesome sex, the familiarity of someone you thought you'd grow old with... will never be a part of your life anymore.

sure, it's upsetting. but what's more upsetting is if you allow yourself to brood and wallow in self-pity. your friends will start to avoid you because you bawl about the same thing. you start to doubt and question yourself repeatedly. your self-esteem plummets to an all-time low. you feel like you'll never be the same person ever again.

but, wait! there's hope. loads of women have managed to crawl through a disastrous break-up and survived to tell the tale. and if you notice, moving forward, they all start to regard the break-up as a tool to toughen them up. build a spine of steel. not to sit there and take anymore shit in the next relationship. be there with sagely advice for the next friend who allows a man to trample all over her.

look to these women as inspiration. take the time to let the depression, anger and sorrow melt away to be replaced with optimism and joy. and you know you're ready for the next relationship with open arms (and legs teehee) when the following happen.

1) the ex messages you and instead of grabbing for your phone and replying immediately like you always did, you just coolly shrug it off and do something more worthwhile than replying... like cleaning the cat's litter box.

2) you see him again and your heart doesn't pound like it's about to break out of your chest. instead, you survey him and while you still have fleeting thoughts of "what if..."... they're just fleeting and you stop dwelling.

3) when you go to your happy place to make yourself um... happy, you stop thinking about him and instead imagine sam worthington cumming with you to make you live.

4) you stop sussing for stories about him from third party sources. you don't bother to hear anything about what he's up to or who he's seeing.

5) you hear he's seeing someone new (or in my case, going back to someone old) and you just hope one day he'll find the happiness he's looking for instead of being a lost boy.

6) you don't have to skip songs in your ipod anymore because they don't cause a painful jolt whenever you hear something that reminds you of him. so i say welcome back to elvis presley, metallica and the la bamba soundtrack!

7) you stop comparing other guys to him. just because he could make you laugh, doesn't mean other guys won't!

8) you re-evaluate your priorities in life. while almost everything used to revolve around him, you start thinking about yourself more and this is the part where "no limit" by 2 unlimited should play in your head.

9) you can stay alone at home now and be sure you won't fall into a black brooding spell that is fuelled by memories and things of the past. i found the best way to overcome this was to download something entertaining to watch and have a purring cat sleep beside me.

10) you can look back at what happened and take it as a lesson learnt instead of breaking out in sniffles. one day, you will even smile and laugh at yourself for the silly things you did and said.

so there you go. 10 signs you know you're moving on to greater things!

Over and Out

Signs you are over the FLOYL (Former Love of Your Life).

- When you FB stalk him, you suddenly get distracted by photos of his best friend's ass.

- You start FB stalking his best friend and spend the next half hour doing so. (This time you're not doing it just to find pics of the FLOYL)

- You come across a particularly hot pic of the FLOYL and you don't imagine having steamy sex with him.

- When you see a pic of the FLOYL cozied up with some skinny dark haired ho, you shrug and say to yourself 'good for him'.

- You start to see exactly what your friends meant when they said 'he looks like a monkey'.

- When someone mentions 'The One' you no longer think about him laughing and being all lovely...instead your vision gets clouded by images of Christian Bale topless, sounding husky and looking intense. *quiversome*

Rules Of The Ridic (Part I)

You know what's Ridiculous?

Ridiculous is women still going out and believing that just around the corner The One might bump into her.

Ridiculous is believing that The One is some perfect person who will sweep you off your feet.

Ridiculous is thinking someone you may have met somewhere or seen briefly, could've been The One.

Ridiculous is hoping against hope that someone you left or left you had been The One.

Ridiculous is building someone up to be The One.


So many Ridiculous notions we come up with to try and convince ourselves that being single isn't ok. That we must, by hook or by crook, find someone who *completes* us. Who's to say we won't fall apart more after meeting this inevitable character?
And who's to say there can be just ONE person that fits? Why can't there be more than one The Ones?

I wish we would stop this Ridiculousness. Even just for a day. Stop looking. Be free. Be happy with being One. Why does it have to be a lonely number? Why can't it be one of strength? Hmm?

What's the most Ridiculous, is that after all this, I don't think you'd listen to me. Because, in a stupid ridiculous way, I hardly listen to myself.
We should really give each other slaps for being this Ridiculous now, shouldn't we?

Mr. Maturity

Here's what NOT to do when you're trying to go after a guy who is super mature, sophisticated and out of your league.

1 - Call him Anal within the first 10 minutes of meeting him.
2 - When he goes silent at your remark, snort and go 'maybe not Anal, but stuck up'.
3 - If he crosses your path on the way to the toilet say to him loudly 'exsqueezzee me, but I need to peeee realllyyyy badllyyyyy'. (and make a joke of ur rhyming sentence)
4 - If he asks you what you did on the weekend say 'I lost my voice coz I was screaming at a BSB concert and tried to get backstage.'
5 - When he calls you 'Babe' giggle uncontrollably for the next 10 seconds.
6 - If he offers you a ciggy take the ciggy from him then start coughing uncontrollably when you try to smoke it. If you don't smoke, simply say 'I don't smoke.'
7 - Have your gay friend shout 'Hey HAMSAP PUKI PO!' from across the bar when you are sitting with him.
8 - If he doesn's acknowledge you or say Hi to you, shout at him from across the room and say 'OI MR.LANSI! WASSUP?'
9 - Tell him that you own Paris Hilton's album.
10 - Tell him he reminds you of your granduncle.