Word On The Blog



2 days ago, I was sitting on my bed, having a discussion about “Long Term One Night Stands”.

You know the one, where you see a guy for a long period of time. He is not a friend with benefits, because you are not friends. You just hangout. You might go for a drink or dinner, but then you always end up back at his and end up gone in the morning. You just have this one night stand, over and over again.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big girl, I’m not going to have a break down. I make my own choices, but sometimes, you can like the guy a little bit more than you want to, he likes you but not as much as you like him and majority of the time you get into a LTONS agreement that was never discussed with you but you go along with it, because you gotsta get yours.

Confession; I was feeling sorry for myself (again), a little lost. Wondering if there was something in my wiring that made me a #Samantha and not a #Charlotte. I am clearly doing something wrong that makes me not GF material. I mean, when they can’t spare an evening during the week to see you/spend time with you, your personality clearly sucks right?

No Melania, you are just a perfect long term one night stand material. I suppose you got to be good at something right? 


My original post was going to disect my thought process about LTONS and how I was ALMOST done with that type of ish…but then a touch of drama occurred last night and right now I am annoyed.

I’m done being everyone’s favourite LTONS. I’m worth more, even if it takes me a while to convince myself

I’m over being the girl that doesn’t get given the time of day. It’s shit. I’m closing the door on being the girl that is annoyed yet still responds to the guy that takes DAYS to respond?

Goodbye to the girl that allows her ex boyfriend to be extremely selfish and continue to ruin her day almost 2 years later.

Tchau to Bumble, the new Tinder. Au revoir to the fuck boys and whether I end up as a Charlotte or Samantha, no one cares. I no longer give a fuck.

Let the road to discovery begin and let it start by consuming my 3rd Magnum for the night.




A quick one.. 1st July 2017

Last night:

3 shots and 3 doubles later, I’m on the Central Line with drunk people at 2:40am. I feel like I must be the only sober person on here but that can’t be right, especially when  I’m sitting here smiling like a Cheshire Cat thinking about my final destination. Definitely a mixture of alcohol and excitement! 

I start an internal dialogue; Sometimes you have to make sacrifices to get your end away. And by sacrifice, I mean travelling further than 30 minutes to get your leg over. 

Girls have needs. No slags or derogatory terms here. #Samantha

What got me here, in this state of intoxication, was meeting up with a friend and beelining to Freedom in Soho. 

Actually, we didn’t go straight there, we thought we’d check out “The Box”. Walked past the queue and darling, there was nothing about my outfit nor my state of mind that would even let me in. Every lady in heels, me in platform Supergas..I doubt that counts. Tight ass jeans vs. my Super comfy pants (easy for sliding off 😉). My make up wasn’t on fleek either and my hoops were big enough to have a chihuahua jump through!

So we decided to spend the night in a “gay” bar drinking and people watching. There was alcohol, a couple of stripper poles and  packed full of straight couples and beyond cringey Hen Dos.

I wish I could write more, but the smell of body odour on this 20+ degree train and the swish swish of the alcohol in my belly means I could definitely projectile vomit on this chick in her red dress. 

Note to all; It is important to wear clothing that allows you to breathe. Everyone will appreciate it. They may not thank you for it, but I can assure you it means they won’t dedicate any blog/Snapchat/instagram/gossip time dedicated to talking about you. 

^ So the above was me drunk at 2:30am and making my way to East London. 

The below is me having recovered from last night and having reflected on the last 48 hours. 

Today involved snuggles, an AddisonLee driver deciding to talk to me,  throwing up, sleeping and takeaways.

At what point do you stop being a #Samantha and get the opportunity to be a #Charlotte. How do I get my bald little Jewish man?

I end the evening on a Love Island high…and drafting my next post..

Random picture of me

Thinking out loud – 25th June 2017

Recently, I’ve been talking about my blog to a few guys. Some have said that I should get writing again, explore my creativity. Others have passively suggested that what I do is “harsh” and for someone to put their thoughts and feelings of not only their own, but their opinion of other people up on the world wide web, must make that person so vulnerable and they personally couldn’t do it.

When people question my method and why I do it, I start to doubt myself. Why do I do it? Do I not worry that the guy will read what I have written? Do I stress that I might hurt their feelings? So many questions!

Hold on a minute, why am I even letting the negative thoughts take over, I don’t write anywhere near as often as I used to and when I do, not every post is about a bad date!

Even if I am posting about my dates, this is my creative outlet. No-one is forcing you to read this. This is my diary, my journal, my thoughts, my life. I feel comfortable enough to share it.

It does make me think about whether I should tell “love” interests about it. At the moment I haven’t been telling every guy. The past 18 months I have probably only told  2 or 3 guys. I don’t know whether that is to save myself from their reactions or to keep them away from the blog so I can write about them! I couldn’t really say. Maybe a bit of both…

I’ve never told a guy where to find my blog, but if the guy is curious and they do a little stalking, it’s just so easy to find my blog. If they make it to Instagram, there’s my blog link. Every now and again on my Insta-story (and Snapchat), I take a snap of me writing. If we become friends on Facebook, I share my posts on there too. So….there you go…if they want to find it, they can and will.

For some unexplained reason, I have stopped writing about anyone that I really like. Actually, there is a reason and it is definitely to do with the fact no one really enjoys me when I am happy. I am at my best when I am miserable and complaining about a bad date. A bad date is more interesting right? Why do I want to write about a good date anymore for it to go completely sour after the 3rd or 4th date. It happens all too often with me. Remember Rick the Prick?

I looked back on a few posts from 3/4 years ago and the way I expressed myself was definitely harsher than how I write now. A little brutal actually! Anyone who dates me now is living an easier existence as far as I am concerned.

Don’t get me wrong, there are some things that I write and I have to keep them as drafts. Not everything needs to be posted. It works as a therapeutic release for me and it is always interesting to read back!

I side track. Blogging my life, my dating, my thoughts and emotions on the whole bloody thing is something that I enjoy and would like to keep doing…

That is all.

For now.


The Vans Guy

I like my guy to be assertive. Sexually agressive. Charming. Chivalrous. Handsome.

You would think with that specific checklist, every guy I meet and choose to spend my time with meets the criteria. Dear readers, that’s really not the case, and I rarely get to tick all of those boxes.

I had a date planned with a guy I’d been chatting to on Bumble for about 48 hours.

I’d purposely made plans that evening, so if the date was shit, I could prance off to have a good night out with my friends.

So imagine my face when I met one that made me put my list down and pay attention! I’m sitting in a booth and this handsome Italian guy walks up to me. Good hair, good teeth, great smile! (Could have been taller, but I tend to attract the 5’8″ of the world, at peace with it!)

There were no concerns about having to make excuses to try and leave the date early. We were having a great time, so good we even ended up taking a polaroid selfie! He was a charming chatterbox and I didn’t want the date to end and neither did he.

He was so confident, he decided to delete Bumble from my phone and said “you won’t need it anymore” – bold move pal.

I was already 1 hour late to meet the team and he was doing his best to convince me to ditch them and continue the night with him. He wouldn’t have had to try very hard but I managed to tear myself away. I had to leave.

Our first date included us passionately kissing in the bar, outside and then on the way to the station. *massive grin on my face* – I loved it!

When I turned up at Bounce in Old Street, 2 hours after the agreed meet time, I was given a grilling, not because I was super late and tipsy, but because my hair was dishevelled…Oops. (Note to self, look in a mirror more often!)

I spent the rest of the evening with a smile on my face and hair out of place.**

(**Not really, I fixed my hair, but it read really nicely.)

We spent the best part of 2 months hanging out together having a good time and I didn’t even bother downloading Bumble again after that first date!

During said time…those pesky red flags came up didn’t they. UGH.

  1. He smoked IN bed and in his room  (I got him to stop that straight away)
  2. The topic of my blog came up. His reaction was most unpleasant! He wasn’t down for me to be blogging about people. We had to agree to disagree as we got into a teeny tiny little argument a bout it..How ironic that I am writing about him now…
  3. He decided to call me out on what he thought were my flaws. Well why thank you sir, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear on a date, waiting for my food to arrive, of how you think I am crap. (I internalised my upset and added that to the things that I know is wrong with me but I will probably do nothing about because it’s my goddamn personality.)
  4. Finding it absolutely hilarious that a waitress asked him why whenever he comes to this particular restaurant, he is always with a different girl and proceeds to find it SO FUNNY that he must share this piece of information with me. (Our first date was where I’ve been on countless of dates, don’t see me telling you asshole!)
  5. He stepped on my vans.

The funny thing is, him stepping on my Vans was the red flag that I couldn’t get over. The nail in the coffin some might say. Call me silly, shallow, stupid. But, I just couldn’t make sense of him doing that and I couldn’t get my head around it.


His reaction, was arrogant and bewildering. He just wasn’t sorry, he said he saw that I had new shoes on and thought it would be funny to step on them. He wasn’t about to apologise and he didn’t give a shit if it annoyed me. His words, not mine.

He went on to say that he’s done it before, and he’ll do it again. Serial shoe stepper!

I didn’t really fancy him after that..his bad attitude was the biggest turn off. We agreed to call it quits and by agree, we just didn’t speak to each other after a while.

He was all those things that were on my checklist; Sexually agressive. Charming. Chivalrous. Handsome but dammit, his attitude stank and realistically, we were never on the same page about life/values. It was genuinely fun whilst it lasted and I guess we both knew it would be a short term thing. The polaroid has now been slotted into my photo album for memories-sake!

My initial thought was to jump back on Bumble, but instead, I deleted myself from it completely and decided to give dating up for a while. The checklist has been filed away and shenanigans should cease.

What will I do with myself without dating? I suppose you’ll just have to keep reading…





The One Where I Ignored The Flags

Set the scene:

It’s 7pm, Shepherds Bush Station (Central Line).

I get to the station and I can’t spot tonight’s date in the crowd. It’s so busy, so I call him.

I find him eventually, he’s handsome and super tall, this is great. I approach him, all smiles and go to hug him.

He goes stiff and comes out with “I don’t do that kind of stuff.”

Erm…..ooookaayyyy then. Flag.

I ask him where are we going and he tells me he knows just the place, a pub on Uxbridge Road.

Hmm. He hasn’t picked the more obvious choices nearby. Odd. Defectors Weld? Sindercombe Social, I mean even ye olde faithful, “The Bull”.


As we walk, we ask each other a few standard Qs’s,  a joke is made and his reaction is to punch my arm.

WTF? Is this an episode of Friends? Flag .

He does this one more time and I ask him to not do that, ever, because I don’t like it.

We are STILL walking…where the hell is he taking me. I find it odd that we are walking this far down into Shepherds Bush, no-one goes this far down…

We finally get to the Pub and as I knock back the pinot, I quickly start to forget all about those flags.

We chat and we flirt. We drink more wine whilst he says interesting things mixed in with a few arrogant things. He tells a few crap jokes followed by decent chat. He leans in a little, I pull away.

We’re on our 2nd bottle of wine now,  the flirting increases and we get a little bit more comfortable on the sofa. We get close, real close and then we kiss a little…and then kiss a little more.

He goes bold and asks me if I want to go back to his place, it was nearby. He did mention earlier that he had his own place and he didn’t care about having to spend more money in order to have his own space.

So with caution thrown to the wind, we leave the pub. When he said he didn’t live far,  he wasn’t bloody joking. He actually lived across the road from the pub…The warning flags start to come back out…

I’m very tipsy at this point and I’m curious to see his place. He unlocks the door and we walk through the hallway.

He shows me where the bathroom is…and then opens the door to his space. “Let me give you a tour.”

When he was bragging about living on his own and was happy to spend extra cash to have that privacy, I was thinking a cute, cosy but spacious apartment. Enough room to swing a cat or have a sex party that included hanging from faux chandeliers from IKEA.

My idea was far from reality. As I stood in the doorway, I was confused. It was so small. Teeny tiny humans would have struggled to make this a home let alone a guy who was 5 foot fucking 6.

I look to the left, the ladder to his bed bunk bed. I look to the right, his kitchen and straight in front of me was a desk. Where on earth were we supposed to have a good time exactly? I can assure you, not on any level would I have climbed up a ladder to get in his bed.

I sober up, very quickly. I don’t want to be here. How do I do this? How do i get myself out of this situation?

He grabs a bottle of wine out of the fridge and pours me a glass. He kisses me, my eyes are wide open and my brain is failing me. Why am I still in this guy’s room? Why am I kissing him back? Why do I have wine?

He needs the toilet – I hope it’s a genuine need for a wee and not a let me clean my dick because I’m about to get lucky situation.

I pour my glass of wine down the sink and I get ready to leave whilst assessing where the would be weapons are in the room and how to get at them should this end badly.

He comes back in and tries to get all dominant – would have loved that, had I not been totally repulsed by the situation I had put myself in.

I tell him I need to go, it’s late and I have work in the morning. He seems to think he can change my mind.. #NoMeansNo

As I make my escape I tell myself off for being reckless. As I stroll home, I fill the girls in, I reflect on the flags and the serial killer vibes that were screaming at me. Safe to say I have no desire of ever seeing or speaking to again.

I never messaged him and there was no message from him that night, or the next night.

Then a few days later I got a text from him “hey – had a really great time, would like to see you again..”

Hmm…sorry pal, that’s a no from me.

Moral of this tale: Never ignore the flags. Drink responsibly.

1st January 2017

I’d like to say I am not one to regularly get caught up in my feelings, but after having re-watched the episode of Glee, when Kurt’s dad and Finn’s mom get married; there I was, fully stationed at emotion junction.

After 3 years of sharing my life with someone, 2016 was my first year single. I have just turned closer to 30 and I am living in the home I grew up in. Who would want to actually marry me now?

Date me, sure, I am a freakin’ good time, but to actually spend the rest of their life with me, start a family, die with me? (All subject to terms and conditions, obviously!) – On the shelf I will stay.

Everyone getting engaged this winter has just reaffirmed that I am on the path to being that “Favourite Aunt”. You know the one, that has the best stories of when she went to that party, woke up with Mars ice-cream in her hands, hair and bed because she’s a goddam mess! (True story)

Should I just call it quits? Forget about ever finding someone? I can’t even say let me go buy my cats now because I hate cats and my mum is “allergic”.

I wiped my tears away and took a deep breath. Despite a case of heartbreak avenue at the end of 2015, I can say 2016 has been a blast. – A few ups and downs and it was a bit touch and go when I contracted Influenza mid-way through December, but STILL HERE!

I won’t waste anymore tears or time worrying about the state of my future love life! I just need to concentrate on the here and now.

Let us raise a glass to 2016 whilst giving a shoutout to 2017.






Tinder, Bumble & Happn.

2016 and single, this is what I am working with.

I’ve had people say to me before, Mel, what you doing on a dating app? You can get someone no problem.

1st of all, if I had to rely on getting someone to walk up to me and sweep me off my feet based solely on my looks, I would remain single for a very long time. 2nd of all…yeah, please refer to my 1st of all.

In Real Life, the options are being chatted up at a bar, street or work;

The guy at the bar is only interested on where I’ll end up later that night.

The guy on the street is trying to sell me drugs or telling me to “smile, it could be worse” – yeah mate, it’s worse. I’m single, 20-something but closer to the 30-something and I live at home. It’s worse.

The guy at work is married or having sex with the girl from work who everybody thinks is hot, but she a nice from far, far from nice type of girl.

In the virtual world, there seems to be an allusion that you somewhat know what you are getting into and for a dating pro such as myself, this is just easier..I think.

Tinder – Find someone on here, basically looking for a hook up. In this day and age, you aren’t on Tinder to find the love of your life. If you are, you are the exception, not the rule.

Happn – To find people that you cross paths with and by cross paths, I mean come across all the men that walk past your house or that you’ve walked past in Westfield.

Bumble – Why hello! Find good looking men and if you match, I have to message him first and throw in some time restrictions for the buzz. Let the anxiety begin!

What I’m trying to get at is dating IRL is hard. It is easier, to whack up some photos of you looking your best, add a witty line or 2 about how I am yet to meet someone as funny or funnier than me and bam, a dating profile is born (again).

I guess we will see…

M x



Game Over

At what point after a breakup should you move on?

1 month, 6 months, 1 year?

Apparently they say that you need to halve the length of your relationship and that is how much time you need.


When things aren’t going great, have you ever felt vulnerable and all you want is reassurance that everything will turn out ok? Yeah, I hear you, I hear that urge. So you pluck up the courage and give your boyfriend ex-boyfriend a little Whatsapp to be met with a response that cuts like a Flat Iron steak knife. Sharp.

“What don’t you understand about space?”


I understand that I am single now and I raise your rejection with Tinder.

*Opens App store > types in Tinder > presses Get > opens Tinder > creates profile > swipes right*


I spent the last 9 months being mindful that I shouldn’t blog on WOTB, for fear I could hurt my ex’s feelings with my words.

No-one wants to know what their ex gets up to, let alone read it on their blog that is basically about dating!

I was so concerned about his feelings that I went to the trouble of creating a brand new blog, made it anonymous and shared it on the pretence it was someone else.

But why though?

It was more hassle than it was worth and I don’t see why I should put myself out any longer.

So tonight, in bed, full of a cold and feeling quite irritated at the fact that I felt I should have to do that, I have made the decision that IDC.

I don’t care anymore and I actually don’t want to live my life, concerned with what he might think about me. If you don’t want to know or read about it, don’t click on – just don’t do it. Work on that self-control papi.

My blog isn’t about you and how you feel about me dating after we’ve split up. It is not about me trying to purposefully hurt your feelings. It is about me, my life and how I enjoy writing about it!

So basically, the point of this post is to say, I’m back on WOTB and I will bring over the posts that I wrote and share them on here.

I hope you enjoy xx



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