How It Feels to Always Fall for the Bad Guy

You know the type. If you don’t, you either are one, or you’re hopelessly in love with one and are just on a downward spiral of denial.

I’m not one to put people in boxes, but the guys I’m referring to practically stick themselves in their own box, complete with a bow that they’ll tell you they got from Clinton’s, but was actually the first thing they picked up in poundland.

This is not a guy hating rampage; there are good guys out there, I just avoid them because it’s not what I’m attracted to. I’m a sucker for the guy that I know is going to break my heart, but I do it anyway because of the sick rush I get from chasing something that’s ultimately unattainable. Some people go on roller coasters or rob banks to get their kicks, I chase the bad guys. And not in the superman save-the-world-and-get-the-girl kind of way.

These guys have no one ‘look’ or ‘type.’ It is a common misconception that these guys come in the shape of ‘lads,’ who typically wear super-skinny-I-can-see-your-crotch jeans and bang on about cheeky Nandos and you know, banging. Alas, jeans and your choice of restaurant chain does not entirely determine your personality (although if you favour Nandos over Wagamamas, get out.) Even the guy who is an environmentalist vegan and reads you poetry could be a serial heartbreaker.

In an effort to remain gender neutral, I should also mention that the same goes for girls; the bad egg could be anyone. If you want to know what a “good girl” looks like, ask Drake, he seems to know a lot.

Anyway, I’m a girl who has only ever been with guys; of the bad kind. And if you’ve ever wanted to know if it’s all it’s cracked up to be, or want to relive the painful experience(s) again, this is how it feels.

At first, it’s exhilarating. The guy that is at the top of everyone’s secret wish list is interested in you. You. The girl that talks to her cat in her spare time and takes “Netflix and chill” literally. In the *old days,* he would have asked for your number at the school disco, but in the age where romance appears to be dead (R.I.P the 00’s,) he will register his interest in you by strategically liking your Instagram photos. What you subconsciously know but deny is that he probably likes other girl’s instagram photos because you know, a guy’s got to keep his options open.

"It's like winning the lottery and then realising that everything you thought you wanted doesn't actually buy you happiness."

If he’s an idiot, chances are he has a well-known reputation. If he’s clever enough to cover it up, it will be a delightful surprise later down the line. By this point, your best friend, your mother, even the postman will be telling you to stay away- and this will probably be the best advice you’ve ever been given, but never took. You convince yourself that this time will be different; that he’s not as bad as everyone says; and however cliché it sounds, you try but fail to “change him.”

You keep going along with it because it’s exciting, and you tell yourself that no other guy will like you again if you let him go. It’s like winning the lottery and then realising that everything you thought you wanted doesn’t actually buy you happiness. When it’s good, it’s really good. When it’s bad, it’s really bad. You become insecure and try your hardest not to piss him off, but arguments are inevitable. You feel you can relate to pretty much every Taylor Swift song by now, and before long you go all Blank Space psycho-bitch crazy over the girl in his snapchat story (who he tells you is his second cousin twice removed.)

You’ll hang on for dear life, for as long as possible. If you’re lucky, things will run their course and fizzle out. If you’re not so lucky (which, let’s face it, if you’ve made it this far, misfortune catches up to you like the plague), things will end with a bang when you prayed for a whimper. He’ll cheat, you’ll end it out of psychological torment, or pray to God, you’ll find someone better.

It’ll hurt like hell. You’ll want to get fat, watch Netflix and hide out in your bed until the end of days. You’ll think of calling him (or sending him a strategic totally accidental snapchat,) but think better of it; until you finish a bottle of wine, that is.

Everyone is thinking I told you so, but no one will say that to your face out of fear you might overdose on malteasers and pringles.

But one day you’ll find clarity. One day, you’ll wake up and realise how beautiful the day that awaits you is. You’ll appreciate your family and friends and realise that you have been loved all this time. You’ll realise how much time you wasted on someone who didn’t love you. Not the way you wanted. You’ll realise how great it is to be single because you can get fat and not shave and no one will care.

Everything will turn out okay, and you’ll come to realise that you’re happier on your own than you ever were with them…until the next one comes along. 

Letters to My Ex

Before you're tempted to read the title in its literal sense, don't. This isn't my diary and I'm not pretty or talented enough to go all Taylor Swift.

I'm talking about writing; yes, putting an actual pen to actual paper, and writing letters. That you're probably never going to send.

The idea came to me, as most people's do, after watching Adele's music video for new single Hello. Although I credit Adele (with a special shout out to TayTay) for providing the soundtrack to my teenage "heartbreaks," she does about as much for me as Boris Johnson in a cocktail dress.

Pushing that image out of our minds, the lyrics inspired me to do something I haven't done in a while; two things actually. 1. Write and 2. Tell the truth.

I started writing letters to people, telling them how I truly felt. Things I wanted to apologise for. Things I wish I had said but never did. Things they did or said that broke my heart. Things I couldn't thank them enough for.

I didn't expect it to be as therapeutic as it was, and before long I was writing dozens (okay, maybe 10, let's not pretend I know that many people,) so chances are, if I know you,  there's probably a letter with your name on it.

Of course, we'll never know what someone truly thinks about us, or vice versa. But try admitting what you really think to yourself first, and you might surprise yourself with the words you write down and the people you realise you didn't appreciate enough, and the people who weren't worth nearly as much time as you gave them.

And who knows, maybe one day, you'll post them all. And then change your name and flee the country.

Drinking Out Loud

Forever too drunk to function

It’s sad that in this day and age, we pour our hearts out to everyone who has a wifi connection, but can’t tell people how we really feel to their face.

I came to this realisation when my housemates and I had a few friends over recently. We’re students and therefore poor, so it was nothing too rowdy; pizza hut, lots of vodka and playing drunk Twister in our pyjamas, which I believe is what the kids call ‘standard.’

It got to that time of the night when most of us were too drunk to function, let alone manoeuvre a drinking game. So, in the want of nothing better to do, we had some lovely heart to hearts that I’ll pretend to forget out of embarrassment, but really remember every word of, and that’s the sad thing, because apparently we need to be comfortably inebriated to tell the truth.

It’s sad that I had to be drunk to hug it out with my girlfriends, to tell each other that we’re all beautiful in our own way, and could do so much better than that guy. It’s sad that I had to be drunk to lose all my inhibitions and dance around my kitchen like no one was watching (which my neighbours probably were, sorry.) It’s sad that I had to be drunk to finally tell the good-looking-but-bad-news-guy-whose-name-will-not-be-mentioned that he was treating me like shit, and that was not okay. It’s sad that I had to be drunk to thank my best friend for always being there for me, and to tell them that they’re one of the most important people in my small, made-up-of- 50%- vodka world. It's all pretty sad, but that doesn't mean I'm not glad I said the whole truth and nothing but the truth. 

After that drunken weight has been lifted off of my shoulders, I’d like to remain optimistic. I’d love to say that we should start sharing our feelings and telling our loved ones how much they mean to us far more often than we do. I could bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles, but the logistics of that are impossible and also potentially messy, so I won’t.

So I write this as an ode to all the things I won’t say out loud sober, because everything I do say is brutally, scathingly, unashamedly honest. But until I can say it to your face, I guess I’ll just have to blame it on the alcohol. 

As Over Baes

It's a new school year, which means new start, new you, and fresh new stationary from Poundland. Because not all of us can afford Paperchase, okay? 

If you're blindly optimistic, or failing that, just plain stupid, you've probably already set yourself a goal for this year. Study harder, get involved in a sport (LOL,) make new friends, try to turn up to all your lectures instead of binge watching Game of Thrones. 

I wasn't sure what my goal was for this year; heck, I don't even know what my goal is for tomorrow apart from getting out of my bed in the morning. But scrolling through Twitter as I do 23 hours out of the day, I came across something that pretty much summed it up: 

Once you get over the brilliant word play going on here, you can actually reflect a little bit. How many times in your academic career have you put "As before Baes?" Don't lie, I know you're thinking about them when you should be studying electrolysis. 

If I could go back and give my teenage self some advice, it would be a. a full fringe is a terrible idea, and b. don't put boys before schoolwork. 

I didn't think I had, I mean, I was a pretty straight laced student who's idea of rebellion was refusing to draw margins on my pages. But thinking about it, the subjects I probably fell flat on my face in during my GCSEs were geography and IT. Not because I had poor geographical insight and even poorer technological knowledge, although yes, I'm not going to be a computer whizz anytime soon. They were the two subjects where a boy I liked was also in. Cue me staring at their face for an hour instead of looking at the whiteboard. 

I went from getting distinctions in my Year 9 geography to scraping through with a pass, all because I was on a mission to get the boy I sat next to in class to fall in love with me. Same goes for IT, but different guy, obviously. I failed one of my IT units because I spent entire lessons having "banter" with this guy and was convinced we pretended to hate each other because we were in denial about the fact we were really meant to be. They don't give GSCEs out for banter, Georgia. And this isn't a remake of 10 Things I Hate About You. 

Admittedly, I place part of the blame on Taylor Swift for putting such stupid 'Love Story' esque ideas into young people's heads. But I was just as at fault for thinking boys were the be all and end all. Newsflash, you're probably not going to walk down the aisle with that girl/guy you're sending "cheeky" snapchats to right now. 

Subconsciously, that's probably why I ended up moving to an all girls' school. Those two A Level years marked the first time I focused on myself, and what I really wanted out of life. 

I'm not saying don't get in a relationship, I mean, I wouldn't know but I hear they're pretty decent. I'm saying consider whether that girl or guy is worth missing out on a lesson for, or leaving that piece of homework to the last minute because you spent all night waiting for them to text back. Think about where you want to be in 10 years time, and then think about whether this girl/guy is going to help you get to that place. If the answer is no, keep your eyes off the arse and pay attention in class. 

I'm not advising that you go around all this academic year singing ~As Over Baes,~ although it would make a brilliant Beyonce song. If your goal for this year is going to be anything, make this the year you put yourself first. Yeah, it may sound selfish, but who cares? The one thing I've learnt in my 19 years of existence is that nothing, and nobody, lasts forever. Friends, boyfriends and girlfriends come and go, but you're the only person that has got to live with yourself for the rest of your life.   

That girl that you spent all chemistry lesson trying to impress but is still clearly not interested? Let her go, she's not worth another D on your exam paper. 

That guy that claims he only talks to you but clearly has "banter" with all the other girls? Guess what, he's probably going to get crap grades and you're going to end up going to Oxford or something, who knows? 

This year, DO YOU. Because you are brilliant, and you don't need someone on your arm to prove that. 

LOVE 
Georgia x 

How To #23: Sexting for Total Amateurs

Once the territory of long distance couples, pervasive grown men on questionable chat rooms and the odd sexually charged teenager; now everyone’s at it. Or not at it, as the case may be.

Of course, I’m talking about sexting, the concept of which is hilarious. Obviously a word invented by the producers of This Morning to diagnose Diana’s horror when she found indecent texts on her 14 year old's Motorola Razr.

I personally blame it all on snapchat, for making sending that surprise, unwanted dick pic just that little bit easier.

And there’s rules to this game too, if you can’t stand the heat, keep your goddamn clothes on. If you want to know how to go from beginner to sexpert, ask your therapist or something because I have no fucking clue.

Gone are the days when a winky face was enough to arouse someone, now we require photographic stimulation that self-destructs in 10 seconds. Yay technology.

So yeah, I’m like the furthest thing from being an expert at this as they come. But I do have a couple of questions.

Is sexting like a planned thing, or do things just escalate and you then feel obliged to go along with it? Because god forbid you ignore a snapchat. I highly doubt you ask someone if they want to sext, mostly because it will be highly embarrassing for you if they say no. I like to think it just happens, but I don’t know, you might not be into that. We’re all just as fucking pathetic as each other though if you think about it.

How is sexting different to phone sex? I feel like phone sex could turn out to be very awkward unless you are already in a steady relationship with that person. In this situation where anything could happen, no one wants an awkward silence. Whilst acceptable if you live thousands of miles apart from each other, calling your significant other whilst they are on lunch at work is highly inappropriate, and also super awkward with a mouthful of tuna. Sexting doesn’t have that emotional attachment, so you can basically use each other for that 10 minutes of self-gratification whilst giving zero fucks.

How do you know when the time is right? I mean, right now you’re hovering in the innuendo, mildly sexy zone, but you don’t want to cross over into the *CUE RED FLASHING LIGHTS* sext zone. You can’t just go from pulling stupid facial expressions to a close up of your hooha, you’ll give the poor girl/guy a heart attack, for Christ sake. I’d say unless they explicitly tell you to take your shirt off (which, if they do, why are you giving this piece of shit the time of day?), give cues that you would like to move into the sext zone, pretty please. Start with a sneak peak of a bra strap or your chest and work your way up (or indeed, down) from there I guess.

Okay, so you’ve sent your sext-nificant other a really sexy photo, it’s probably your best one yet. Victoria Secret would be dying to hire you right now. You wait in anticipation for a gratifying response, and you keep waiting, maybe listen to a couple of Taylor Swift songs to pass the time. You check your phone and still nothing. There’s only three possible things that could be going on here. 1. They’ve fallen asleep before receiving it, which is just rude, I mean; you should be engagement enough to keep anyone awake at night. 2. They’ve opened it, but they haven’t replied, which means you’ve stepped over the mark and made them extremely uncomfortable, which you know, you kind of have to question your sanity for now. Failing this, and leading me onto point no 3, they’ve opened it, haven’t replied, but you bet they’ve screenshotted it, and are showing all their friends as they speak. You should’ve left it at bra strap, my friend.

All in all, I feel like sexting is more trouble than it’s worth. I mean, if you were that desperate, you’d just go and have sex with them. But it’s fun, and gives you something to do of a Sunday night, I suppose. Just a few general common sense rules about sexting to follow; which, if you don’t live by already, you should not have access to the internet, you amateur.

·         If you’re going to send a full body nude, for the love of God, don’t show your face. Or you know, do, if you want to be as famous as Kim Kardashian one day.

·         If they screenshot you, send out a hitman to take their phone and their life. 

·         Not to sound like an advert from the 2008, but remember that once you send a picture, you can’t get it back. Unless you work for MI5, in which case, screw all the rules.

Apart from that, let your virtual sexual appetite run wild, and just feel lucky about the fact that some of us are still petrified by Tinder.

How To #7: How to Get An Ex Back

Normally, I avoid these sorts of articles at all costs. They make me cringe and feel like I’m some kind of agony aunt. But, alas, it was one of the top suggestions this week, so here are my top tips for getting an ex back. Ugh.

WARNING: From my own and others’ experiences, I would never actually recommend trying to get an ex back- THERE WAS A REASON YOU BROKE UP, REMEMBER? Whether she cheated or he kept leaving his pants on the floor, is this really something you can live/put up with again?

1.       If you decided to completely ignore my warning, than more fool you. My first top tip for getting an ex back is to become the person he or she ‘fell in love with.’ Sound cheesy? That’s because it is, but apparently it seems to work. i.e. if she loved your humour, than be funny and if he loved your intelligence, then be smart or whatever.

 

2.       Prepare your first words- i.e. when you next bump into your ex, don’t cry or laugh hysterically or immediately start an argument, e.g. “WHY DID YOU DUMP ME?” No. They will most probably run off in the other direction and whoopsies, you’re back to square one. Example conversations starters include “Hi, how have you been doing?” – any awkward pauses after this point is all down to you folks.

 

 

3.       Use the past to your advantage: Did they love it when you had a beard? Grow it out! Did he love it when you wore your hair that way? Get down to the nearest hair salon. Remind them of the past you shared with them. Note to all divorcees- do not use this as an excuse to walk around in your wedding dress 24/7, this is unnecessary and also a little odd.

 

4.       Find out if they still care- If they have moved on, i.e. fallen in love, gotten married and had ten kids, they obviously don’t care about you in that way anymore. Do you have any mutual friends? Get them to casually throw you into a conversation- though try not to use your most extraverted friend for this task as all kinds of cats will be let out of the bag.

 

 

5.       Ask if they’d like to do something non-committal with friends: so you found out that they still care- great! To move the re-patching process along- go to the movies with a large group of friends so it doesn’t seem obvious that you have orchestrated this whole thing just to get them back.

 

6.       Let them know you were thinking about them- so, you’re on this large, non-committal gathering and your friends ditch you one by one, leaving you and your ex alone together. Awkward. To get a conversation going, bring up past events, preferably that relate to the current event. So if you’re at a party, say “hey, remember that time you threw up on the sofa at Jess’s party?” DO NOT SAY “Remember that time we were madly in love with each other?”

 

 

7.       Pay attention to your appearance if you have been neglecting yourself in that department: e.g. if you have been sat at home watching Netflix eating ice cream for the past month and have not even bothered to shave your legs- DO SO PLEASE, or wear trousers if it’s winter. WIN.

 

8.       Stop Caring About How Others Perceive You: A break-up can really knock your self confidence, which can be rectified if you stop giving a damn about what others think of you. Even if your friends tell you that you are cray cray for giving your ex another chance, if you think you are completely and utterly sane in your decision, then go for it.

 

 

9.       Remain positive- if nothing seems to be working, this is by far my favourite “look at me, I’ve moved on” tip. Social media is a wonderful thing, so use it- upload pictures of you having a whale of a time without them- it will make them realise what they’re missing.

 

10.   Remember, no situation is hopeless- even if nothing seems to be working and you want to crawl up with ice cream and a Gossip Girl box set for the rest of your life, unfortunately society says this isn’t the proper way to live. As my mum loves to say, “there are plenty more fish in the sea,” which is perhaps the only true cliché saying I have ever come across. Give being single a go- switch the Taylor Swift to the Beyonce and the vodka to a pina colada- you’ll have loads more fun, trust me.

 

Best of luck!

Love, Georgia x

Fretting over relationships? There isn’t much in the way of relationship blogs (surprise!)  but ’20 Nothings,’ a blog which I have mentioned previously, takes a gloriously witty approach to relationships and life during your 20s (and 30s)-  definitely worth a read.