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‘Tinkerbell Jayne’ Category

  1. Return of the Man

    February 6, 2012 by Tinkerbell Jayne

    My goodness, its been an excessively long time since I logged into my own little online world. I have been off the blogging radar for a while now, mostly due to a complete lack of motivation, but with a New Year must come a Fresh Start (or just picking up where I left off, but with a more enthusiastic approach). But I am back, and I am back to do what I do best:

    Rant about Life and Bitch about the Male Species! Yeah!

    Or, maybe just one male in particular this time; yes, thats right my invisible chums, I have achieved various things during my recent months of online silence, but the most surprising of all has to be bagging a boyfriend!

    [Other achievements gained during this time include a promotion at work - pat on the back for me - and 57 heavy hangovers - just a rough calculation]

    The last time I wrote to you my posts were becoming somewhat moody. 18 months I had been on the singles market; I had met the good (who never really turned out good) I’d met the bad (normally nutcases) and I’d met the dam right ugly, and even they were hopeless. I had attempted set-ups through my friends, online dating, even re-kindling old (burnt out) flames, and goodness knows what else. Yet still no sign of prince charming, not even a slightly dumbed down less attractive prince charming.  Until one not-so-special Friday evening, when I had been dragged out against my will by some friends, I randomly met him in a bar. A bar!? The good old fashioned way to meet someone! I’d almost given up hope you could meet a stranger in a bar and live happily ever after. But there I was, September just gone, on a warm Friday evening, knocking back whisky & cokes in an overcrowded rock bar in the heart of London – and I met Larzy.

    Now, normally when I have an encounter with a man in a bar, I try way too hard to please them, agree with everything they say, and maybe even embarrass myself by getting a little desperate and clingy. I would normally convince myself ‘I really like him’ when I really barely know him, but I clearly just craved some sort of attention in that typical needy way that a lot of females do. This would often result in nothing but unnecessary disappointment when I would realise I’d wasted my time, or they would realise this first, leaving me high and dry and thus I would never hear from them again.

    Yawn. It had all gotten so predictable.

    But not with Larzy. This was a very different meeting, very different indeed. Don’t worry, I’m not going to get all soppy, and tell a tale of how two souls destined to be together, met in a crowded room and fell in-love instantly. No. Quite the opposite. Because I was fairly drunk, but he was even more so. And although I initially fancied the pants off Larzy, an hour in his company and I realised he was a worse drunk than I was. Nothing but a liability; spilling drinks, knocking into people and generally pissing people off (including me). He couldn’t remember my name, not even after the sixth time I had repeated it. He was stealing my drinks and refusing to buy me any back. Just a big tall handsome drunk liability. Upon realising this, something must have happened – whether my guard was let down, or I just decided that he was probably too wasted to try it on with me even if we both wanted him to – I suddenly stopped trying to impress him and actually started having fun with him. This changed things.

    Two hours into his company, we were drinking rum on the night bus home together and having long discussions about Family Guy. Out of all the goodies, the baddies and the uglies that I’d dated over the previous 18 months, I’d never met anyone I felt so utterlly compelled to hang out with the way I felt compelled to hang out with Larzy – fair enough we were highly intoxicated, and like I said, him a fair bit more than me, but what some people call drunk, I now like to call accidental chemistry!

    Anywho, as much as I liked him, and as much fun as I had, my previous experiences had left me mentally scarred and paranoid, therefore before Larzy was even saying goodbye to me, I had already emotionally prepared myself for the disappointment of never hearing from yet another stranger in a bar.

    So it was a very pleasant surprise to hear from him straight away, and an even nicer surprise to find out just how well we clicked in the sober world. And the rest as they say is history! Well maybe. Sort of. Im slowly discovering again that being in a relationship can be just as problematic as being single. And not forgetting, Im a woman, we are the deadliest and scariest of all the species – and we are never satisfied. We nag, we complain and we question everything, and no doubt thats just some of the fun the future will bring for Larzy and me.

    Watch this space chums!


  2. Dear Dickhead

    February 1, 2011 by Tinkerbell Jayne

    Dear Dickhead,

    Yes you, you know who you are - you are a Dickhead.

    Sigh.

    Oh how you’ve changed, you never used to be this Dickhead that you have become. Or maybe you’ve always been a Dickhead and you just have an unexplainable gift for hiding it.

    You were my best friend, but now you’re simply just a Dickhead. I was blinded by your sneaky disguise – with your sarcastic sense of humour that was so similar to mine, your northern roots and northern charm, and your ability to make me feel so bloody happy. Well, you’re not making me happy anymore – you’re seriously pissing me off Dickhead.

    I totally misjudged you Dickhead, I thought you were kind and I thought you genuinely cared about me; you were there for me when I was down and out, when I’d been dumped, when I was sad and upset and moaning about hating men because all they do is break your heart. You proved me wrong by being a gentleman and comforting me, and showing what I thought was sincere affection for a friend. You were always there for a cuddle, a giggle, a chat, a pint, a shot, you were an awesome flatmate, and I can’t thank you enough for the hundreds of cups of tea you made me – cheers for that Dickhead.

    I cherished you, I loved hanging out with you (oh how we laughed, eh Dickhead?), I thought I’d found a friend for life, a friend I dearly loved.

    But enough with the deep, meaningful and pointless crap, because by God I was wrong, wasn’t I Dickhead?

    Because one not-so-special winter’s day you decided to be your true self and show your true colours. It’s as if you awoke one day with a sudden vendetta against me and decided to bring me down. You lead me on, messed with my feelings, only to ultimately do what all males seem to do – trample all over me. Okay, fair enough, it takes two to tango, yeah maybe I loved you a little too much, and trust me, my biggest regret is acting on my feelings. But you responded, you acted on your feelings too. The difference is mine were genuine, and yours were clearly not.

    Tut tut Dickhead, you really shouldn’t play around with dangerous words such as the risky big L word, not if you genuinely don’t mean it. Everything you ever said to me was a translation for ‘I’m bored, so you will have to do for now.’ These past two months with you has been like living with a schizophrenic – one day you would be winning me over with your sweet, charming words, saying the things you know I so desperately wanted to hear. Yet the next day you would forget about me; you would toss me out like bad milk, I was old news … only to be recycled a week later when you were bored again, and you could see I was obviously naive enough to gobble up all your second-hand sweet talk.

    *Shakes Head*

    Dickhead, Dickhead, Dickhead, if you wanted me to feel like a fool, you certainly achieved your goal. Task accomplished Dickhead! I thought after all the bollocks I’ve been through, that I had learnt my lesson, that I would never be played again and that I could definitely recognise a Dickhead when I saw one. Bravo for playing me so dam well! If there was a Dickhead of the year award, you would win hands down. Because you really have made a fool out of me; you continued to be cruel, wanting to be with me one minute, then wanting someone else the next, and yet, somehow, stupidly, I was still pining for you, still keeping my fingers crossed that you would eventually pick me. I tried dating other people, but when you told me your (very negative) opinions of them and how you thought they were “not right” for me, instead of telling you to sod off and mind your own business, I took your comments so seriously. I even convinced myself that you were jealous, and that if I stopped dating, that you would finally choose to be with me.

    How dense was I to believe that? It was clearly never going to happen. And you pulled some fantastic lines out of the bag to make sure of that, didn’t you Dickhead? Lines that should have me made realise just how much of a Dickhead you are, lines that actually make me cringe just thinking about them, such as “But you’re out my league” and “I think your too good for me”, and nothing can top the one you delivered to me most recently: “I want to be with you, but I just need to be by myself right now.”

    So, the final straw came when just a week ago you performed your usual one act Dickhead play, confessing your “feelings” for me and trying it on once again, and then several days later you turn up at our flat with what appears to be your brand-spanking new girlfriend, flaunting your new found relationship in front of me, with the biggest, slyest, smuggest smile on your face.

    Really Dickhead? Really? You actually seemed shocked when I told you never to speak to me again. You seemed surprised, and confused. Did you really think I would be all fine and dandy about this? Did you really think it was okay, and not just a teensy weensy bit cruel?

    I’m actually confused myself, did I do something to piss you off ? Because as far as I’m concerned, I’ve been nothing but nice to you since the day you turned up on my doorstep, yes we’ve had our tiffs and silly arguments, but I was bloody good to you Dickhead. Not that I’m tooting my own horn, but let’s just stop for a moment and think back to just how good I was to you – I used to give you girl advice, I was always looking out for you, I cheered you up when you were down or homesick, I’ve taken care of you when you’ve been worse for wear on a many a nights out, I’ve even watched over you vomiting in the toilet, I looked after you when you’ve had nightmares, I even (foolishly) bought you a Christmas present, only to get nothing in return – yup, a tad embarrassing for me. And through all this you were on with me, then off with me, you were using me, and you were feeding me lies. So did you honestly really think I would be cool with you turning up at our flat with your new girl on your arm? Especially after you had fed me one of your classic Dickhead line’s just one week earlier?

    Believe me, I tried to act cool with it, you know how stubborn I am! I really tried my best to hide how I was honestly feeling, which was sick, angry, upset and absolutely disgusted. And for the record, it wasn’t about the girl, I have no problem with her, because let’s face it, she’s adorable and she has done nothing spiteful to me whatsoever –no, no Dickhead, this is about you! Because at the end of the day you are just a Dickhead, you’ve treated me with no respect, you’ve played me like a fool, and you’ve lost a dam good friend.

    But, congratulations, you’ve made all my ex-boyfriends looks like saints.

    So, this is my Goodbye and farewell to you Dickhead. I’m done. I’m sorry to do it so publicly, but let’s just call it revenge for playing me, lying to me, using me … oh and for that time you had wet the bed we were sharing one night. That seems fair.

    Pack up your stuff and leave; I hope you do make it to Australia in the end. And I hope you find whatever the hell it is you’re looking for.

    Lots of love (don’t take that literally Dickhead),

    The girl next door

    Tink

    P.S. If none of this makes much sense, you can always have a listen to the awesome tunes below to help the message get across:

    • Dickhead by Kate Nash – Includes the lyrics “I wish that you were more intelligent so that you could see what your doing is so sh*tty to me”
    • For a pessimist, I’m pretty optimistic by Paramore – Includes the lyrics “I put my faith you in so much baby, but you just threw it away”

    If your still struggling to understand the nature and meaning of this public ‘Dear Dickhead’ rant, then a few plays of Lilly Allen’s track F*k you should do the trick, lyrics include the very important message “F*k you”

    [Dad, if you’re reading this, I apologise for my language, but he seriously deserved it]


  3. The Terrible ‘N’ Word

    January 26, 2011 by Tinkerbell Jayne

    No, not that word, I’m referring to the word ‘Nice’, or rather two words – ‘Nice Guy’.

    These days, calling a bloke a ‘Nice guy’ can be seen as a bit of an insult, rather than a compliment. Girls want to date the Hot Dude, the Bad Boy or (in my case) the Funny Guy, but apparently no-one wants to date the ‘Nice Guy’.

    I’ve sifted through bits and pieces on the internet about these nice blokes; from blogs written by moody men complaining about how nice guys do in fact finish last, to websites created by women advising nice guys to man up, grow a pair, and be more rough around the edges. I even stumbled upon a site called heartless-bitches.com;  an outlet for women who don’t put up with sappy men and just say it how it is (strangely, I wanted to become a member, and see if I could fit in with these heartless bitches, but they state very clearly on their home page they don’t like “individuals who seek attention by whining in their online journals” – Dam it).

    A quick Google search (thats the extent of my research) proved that the internet holds its fair share of really pissed off blokes, who are all speaking out about how cruel the female species are,  for firstly, moaning about the lack of nice men available, and then secondly, kicking the first one we meet to the curb. But upon evaluating all this material, I found the majority of it to be information on how to get over the “problem” of being a nice guy. I read dozens of articles, some comical, most deadly serious, about how it is the man’s fault, and that they are doing wrong by being too nice.

    Relieved? Or appalled? It’s a relief to know that not everyone out there thinks that a woman is a heartless bitch for dumping a bloke for being too nice, and Yay we get to yet again blame it on the men. But on the other hand, is it a horrifically heartless thing to do, to dump a bloke because his main flaw is that he’s too nice to you? Are we heartless bitches?

    Across these articles, the words ‘clingy’ and ‘needy’ were very popular, alongside ‘desperate’ and ‘insecure’, and I can easily understand how these traits would put a lot of girls off. But when it comes down to it, dumping nice guys for arrogant arseholes who mess us around – really? Trading the ‘clingy’ for the ‘ignorant’? Swapping the ‘desperate’ for the ‘uninterested’? A lot of people- of both sexes- swear by the rule: Treat em’ mean, keep em’ keen, and yes it does seem to work most of the time, but god I hate that rule! Why would we chose a guy who is mean to us and rejects us, over a guy who desperately wants us, and feels the need to please us constantly. That just seems … f***ing stupid. Yet the running theme throughout my nice guy research (ahem, Google search) was that ultimately, women don’t want an easy win or a desperate guy. Just like most men, women want a challenge.

    I’ve recently been dating a nice guy, the nicest guy in fact, and (surprise surprise) it’s not worked out the way I had anticipated … BUT, I can’t agree that it’s necessarily to do with the reasons mentioned above. He was neither desperate nor insecure, and he wasn’t a boring guy that I felt I needed to swap for a challenge. My problem was, he literally was too nice to me. Uncomfortably Nice!

    Presents, flowers, adorable little notes hidden in my coat pocket, he always called, he was lovely … at not one point did the words clingy, needy, desperate or insecure enter my mind. Because I liked him, and he liked me. And then all of a sudden, I felt very strange. Instead of happy, or smitten – I felt guilty.

    Mr Nice Guy had made this huge effort of treating me like a princess, showering me with gifts and even, wait for it, drum roll …. writing a song for me and serenading me with it – albeit that part was actually a bit cringey – but ultimately he hadn’t done anything wrong. But I realised that I hadn’t done anything right, I hadn’t made any effort in return. In fact, from what I can recall I don’t think I even bought him so much as drink. And so I felt guilty – and uncomfortable. I felt like I owed him something. Was he trying to ‘spoil me’ into a relationship? Or just trying to make me feel dependant on him?

    Or, was he just being nice?

    Well, anyway, needless to say I freaked out, in a typical girly mentalist freak out kind of way (again – surprise, surprise), and so I ended it. Most likely this is me being ungrateful. And no doubt Karma will come back and bite me in the arse for this one! I can already predict the reverse happening to me in the near future.

    Maybe I am a heartless bitch – it would be pretty cool to join that club.

    x Tink Jayne x