Helga G. Pataki

About a month or so ago, I went to dinner with one of my closest friends. As we dined over dim sum and stir fry,  I confessed to her that I have developed a crush on a guy that I have known for quite some time. Me and this guy, are friends. We chat every now and then and I enjoy the chat. How do I know I like talking to him? I know because I make time for it.

Towards the end of last year, I turned off all notifications for Whatsapp in order to help me restore the balance of power. I choose when I go on to Whatsapp, not the other way round. You know that feeling where you are a slave to the chats, not me, not anymore.

Nowadays, Whatsapp is the least opened app that I use. So the fact that I take the time to respond to him and have chit chat, means I like him. A little bit at least.

Fast forward a couple of weeks and I found myself smiling every time he responded back to my message and there was even a time when I felt 1/10th of a butterfly. I haven’t felt that butterfly feeling for a very long time.

I then started asking myself if there was anything that I wanted to do about it.  Melanie, as the girls on the #TheReceiptsPodcast would say, are you going to shoot your shot?

Dilemma time. Do I say something now? Do I ask a mutual friend to see if anything has been said about me? Do I wait until I see him next?


I asked my Instagram world and 70% voted “NO” – Cowards or smart? *thinking emoji face*

The people that I confided in all said I should wait until I see him and take it from there. Leaving it to fate to decide on how it all plays out. To be quite honest with you, I thought they were all chatting doo doo. Why wait for something to happen? You know me, I like to just test shit out and if it blows up in my face, it blows up! Grab the bull by the horns sorta vibe!

Upon reflection, I think they are right. I should just wait until we see each other and feel the vibe. No pressure on me. He doesn’t know, so if I change my mind, chicken out, die; His life and our relationship will be unaffected and it would make our next meeting easy and means I avoid any awkwardness that 100% would have manifested should I have asked about him or told him how I felt.

Butttttt since then, I haven’t really spoken to him and my crush has simmered down. I’m sitting here and maybe, just maybe, it might be best that I don’t overstep that friendship mark. I attempted to cross that friendship line before,  when I was younger and I was rejected.

Maybe this time, Melanie plays it safe. Maybe this time, Melanie will just keep this crush as that. A crush. Unrequited love that can be managed. I mean, call me Helga G. Pataki, because he’ll never find out how I feel.





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Sometimes you have to ask yourself that one important question:

What the fuck are you doing?

My last post “that date.” had me in my feelings and a little burned. It had me questioning myself again. Why are you even dating? What do you want from life? What the fuck went wrong with this date? Was it me? Was it him? Do I care?

Obviously I do care, I’ve been single since January 2016 and although there has been a couple of opportunities to make something happen, my heart wasn’t in it and would’ve been unfair.

The opportunity to get back with my ex-boyfriend popped up in December…I dabbled for a month. I always knew that it wouldn’t work and went into this thing, open, honest and stating it wouldn’t be more than just a bit of fun. We didn’t work for a reason and there was too much water under the bridge for me to forget. Too many things were said when we were together and I can never forget that, no matter how explosive the sex was now!

So as the weeks went by, I was getting the vibe that for him, this was more than just a fun time. I had to be the Grim Reaper and dead it. To which I was met with a tirade of abuse of how awful a human being I am +  a too familiar argument format which drained me of any happiness.

1 phonecall and 2 WhatsApp arguments later, that ex-night in shining armour was laid to rest.

Again, what the fuck are you doing?

Why did I put myself through that? Sure, I enjoyed his company and we had a good time, but if the end goal was not to get back together, why play?

I’m not 100% sure what the answer is, but what I do know is that I have no interest in ex-boyfriends sliding into my DM’s. I am not here to entertain you sexually. You couldn’t keep me as your girlfriend, you don’t get to have me as a “ting”. 

*Sprays ex-repellant* – I know there are a couple of ex’s still lurking around…

that date.

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Have you ever been on a date that just…BANGED?

You get there, he’s cute.

Conversation is non-stop flow flow.

You stroll together, linking arms. (Might have made that bit up.)

You kiss loads.

You arrange to meet up in a couple of days.


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This whole situation still annoys me as I write this post, at one point, I wasn’t going to continue writing about it. But I write through the acute pain, to give you an insight onto the shambles that is my dating life!

It annoyed me a little, when he cancelled on me, because he was hungover.

It annoyed me a lot, when I didn’t hear from him the whole weekend.

It pissed me off when he acknowledged he was being shit, but wanted to see me before he went away and STILL didn’t message me.

It wound me up when I sent him a message saying it was a shame he didn’t get back to me but have a safe trip and didn’t respond.

You know what, pal, keep your blue ticks and shove it where the sun absolutely doesn’t shine.

Reflection time:

Am I overreacting after just having been on one date? No – and f*ck you, if you think I am. 🙂

Am I over it now? – Yes, kinda, maybe. A little.

Double reflection time:

Melanie, why are you actually annoyed?

Is it because I felt a spark that could have gone somewhere? Maybe.

Or is it, that I’ve got a huge EGO? When have I ever been on a good first date and it not get a 2nd? – RUDE.

Jokes aside, yes, my ego is bruised, but my brain is also confused. Where is the logic in what happened?

Alas, I can’t sit here and make excuses as to why he didn’t message me back/meet up with me again, but I’m in the corner, licking my wounds and trying to forget.

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It has been half a year since I checked in.

What’s changed? In reference to my “Love Life” and despite my passionate post on being everyone’s Long Term One Night Stand, not much! I would most definitely still categorise myself as “on the shelf” and still practising the art of LTONS.

1 or 2 guys may have been removed or removed themselves from my orbit. I would like to say I am okay with that, but let me tell you about one guy; let’s call him Deloitte.

Last time I saw him was September 2017. Let me not put him on a pedestal or anything, but goodness, gracious me, he was so handsome. It was a true shame nothing much came from that. I mean, did it matter that we didn’t have that much in common? Not really, not when someone looked as good as he did, it really didn’t matter. It didn’t help that he had a very nice sounding voice, northern accent and all. Naked, casual or in a suit, Deloitte, you did very well. But of course, with someone like that, he obviously knew it, he knew how attractive he was and I don’t think he would have lost any sleep over not talking to me.

Neither did I to be fair, but then 2 nights ago, I woke up after having had a dream about him.

The Dream:

I was at his place where him and his pals were hosting a gathering of sorts. Deloitte & I were talking in the kitchen (where all the cool kids hang out) and Deloitte said he missed me. In my head I am cartwheeling. Handstands. Fireworks. Happy faces everywhere. I responded with a cool:


“Yes, I didn’t think you were interested, which is why I didn’t message you. I am really happy to see you.” His words melt into my ear and my panties instantly become moist and my heart is skipping a hell of a lot of beats!

I wake up mid dream sequence and I feel warm and confused. Is that a sign that I should message him? Maybe we were meant to be more than just a 4 month situation?

I drift back into dream world…

We have slept together and fall alseep in each others arms. We wake up and talk for ages and then shuffle into the kitchen to have breakfast with everyone else.

Afterwards, Deloitte is trying to get rid of me. I overhear he’s got plans for 7pm. He doesn’t tell me that and I wonder who this “Jo” is that he’s planning on meeting? He goes to shower, he looks really nice. Goddamit. Blue short sleeve shirt, hair all nice and smelling delicious.

I can’t quite remember how the dream ended. Did it end with me walking out on Deloitte, upset and him chasing after me? Showing that he cares about me and I got the wrong end of the stick because he was just meeting his cousin. Or was it me, not caring that Deloitte was going for dinner, whether with friend, flatmate or other lover, if he wants to see me again, he’ll message me.

Again, when I awoke, I questioned whether it was really a sign for me to reach out to him. The question I put to myself was, if Deloitte really liked you, I mean really liked you, he would have messaged you in the last 3 months. Even if just to check in or wish you a Merry Xmas or HNY.

Melanie, you’re so right.

But riddle me this: Why am I thinking about him after 3 months, let alone dreaming about him?




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.

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