Wine, will you be my valentine?

Roses are red,
violets are blue,
wine costs less
than dinner for two.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, a day that proves florists are in cahoots with God and where people in functioning successful relationships flaunt their wellbeing before the rest of the world and generally mock the lonely and broken-hearted.
Generally, being alone is a little like having a bruise on your chest — it doesn’t hurt all the time, only when pressure is applied. Valentine’s Day feels like taking a sledgehammer to that bruise thus single people use Valentines Day to become manic-depressive and buy cats.

If history is anything to go by, irrespective of my relationship status I am more likely to spend the day shouting profanities than paying compliments and am more likely to give someone the finger than a kiss.
This year, however, I am changing all that.
After careful consideration, I’ve come to the realiziation that blindly throwing blanket hatred over the whole day is pessimistic and unhealthy and thus this year I am going to embrace St. Valentine and his chocolate shaped heart.

My newfound appreciation for all that is lovey and dovey has led me to investigate the origins of this most holy day. In summary, my research has found that Valentine’s Day was created in the 1700’s by St. Cupid, the patron saint of babies with wings and complaining about commercialisation; and along with Mothers Day and Fathers day, it is one of the most important festivals of the religious calendar.

Having a sound knowledge of the days history and significance leads me to my next obstacle: actually finding a Valentine. Gossip magazines inform me that Mr. Gosling already has plans, my puppy prefers to immediately eat the flowers I give him rather than be a participant in a dramatised ceremony of presenting them to me and my best other Valentine prospect is inconveniently on the other side of the Pacific Ocean.

But fret not, for I have come up with the perfect solution. You see, I have this friend who has loved me for years but whom I only pay attention to when the circumstances are right. They’ve been there through my laughs, my frowns, my ups and downs. I think we all know who this person is:


Valentines CardSure, it may not have been love at first swig, but over the years we’ve built up a very loving and reliable relationship. I don’t discriminate against it; I don’t judge based on color or the size of its… bottle. And in return, wine doesn’t discriminate against me. It’s taken me for better or worse (progressively worse as a night wares on) richer or for poorer (mostly poorer), in sickness and in health, and I know it will stay with me as long as we both shall live. And that’s why wine is my Valentine, but I’ll make sure to treat it properly every day of the year, not just when it suits me.

What I’m trying to say is that people need to take a page out of my metaphorical book (written by Hemingway? He was a drunk, right?) and rise above their defensive instinct to just hate the day or believe they’re above acknowledging it. A day can’t authenticate or validate a romantic relationship so it can’t shed shame on singledom, either. If you put aside the irrelvant history of how the day came about and the extensive and unnecessary commercialism associated with it, what is the actual harm of just having a day that acknowledges and reminds us of all the different kinds of love we have in our lives? That’s all it is (or should be), a day to simply recognize love in all it’s forms.

If you’re lucky enough to have someone, use Valentines day as a reminder to celebrate your relationship. Then do that everyday for the next 364 days. If you find yourself single, replace the self loathing and sadness you feel in in your heart with warm positive thoughts and appreciation for the love you do have. Start an affair with wine, open a bottle of red and embrace the day. It’s better than spending the day being cynical, mocking others and wasting an otherwise perfectly good Friday. Not to mention it makes for a fun way to pass the time until Mr. Gosling finishes with his plans and runs into the sunset with you.


What it’s like to be a twenty-something as told by Mean Girls, Bridesmaids and Girls.

Golly gosh, I love the inter-webs.
I found this little gem on them and just had to share it.
Kudos, BuzzFeed.

If you’re a twenty-something you probably feel like this:


College was all like:

But now you’re all like: 


Most of the time you just want to yell at the universe.

Because no one understands you. 

With boys, it’s like:

But with your girlfriends is more like: 

And every time you say to a boy:

He’s just like: 

At which point you’re like: 


And in the end, you don’t even want a boyfriend because:

So I guess what I’m saying is that being in your twenties is hard.
Most of the time is feels like this: 


Because the problem is: 

But at the end of the day, you’re only twenty-somthing so you should be doing this:

To see the whole story, you can head to the BuzzFeed article here.

Boyfriend applications now open:

Disclaimer: This post is entirely a joke. Unless you’re someone that fits the criteria. Then it’s not and you should contact me immediately. 

I have been single for a few months now, and whilst it’s been fun going out and meeting new and different people I’m finding it hard to meet guys I am attracted to. I think part of my problem is that the kind of guy I’m waiting on is wandering round a record store somewhere in Paris in 1951. Or is named Ryan Gosling.
So to make the search easier, I’ve decided to start accepting boyfriend applications and deem the below criteria vital for anyone who wants to run the gauntlet that is me.

You must be:

At a solid 5’6 I am of average height for a women. What’s more, I am in a constant state of denial when it comes to my height so will frequently claim that I am taller than I actually am. When wearing heels I am 5’9. I refuse to be taller than you in my favorite shoes, as that is socially humiliating and I am incredibly shallow. Thus anyone applying must be at least 6’0 or above.

Intensely smart
I tend to be most attracted to engineers, chemists and physicists. Whilst their general dorkiness makes them devoted, reliable and attentive boyfriends – there is also something outrageously attractive about a man who is brilliant in the areas in which I am legally retarded.
I consider myself fairly handy in areas that make no money, such as literature, language, debate and history. However I tend to hold immense disdain for men who share these areas of expertise as I find their ideas flimsy, their argumentative style predictable and their vocabulary paltry. That being said, extensive knowledge of proper grammar is a prerequisite for any future boyfriends.
Additionally, men with practical skills such as builders or navigators may apply as I lack functional skills and men that can read maps impress me.

This should go without saying. Being funny is as important as being nice. How men who lack the charm and finesse necessary to make a women laugh still remain in our gene pool is beyond me. But I will certainly not be reproducing with them. My eggs are hilarious, your sperm must be the same.

I like a man who is self-assured to the point of obnoxiousness. Enough said.

Maintaining your hair
I’m attracted to men’s hair. Calm down, there are weirder fetishes out there. Now I don’t have a preferred haircut; I just want you to know what style you’re going for and actually be able to pull it off.  If you do not care about your appearance and go years without seeing a hairdresser (not because you are growing your hair but because you can’t be bothered) you need not apply.

Open to wearing cable knit
Look, some people are into S&M and some are into role playing. I’m into cable knit. Now I’m not suggesting that I’m into just anyone who wears a cable knit cardigan, but I certainly believe that all men are at least slightly improved when wearing cable knit. Especially when worn with a white oxford shirt, tight (but not too tight) jeans and nice shoes.
However, I have a tendency to wear a lot of cable knit myself so we must coordinate our outfits over the phone each night to avoid ever committing social suicide by walking round wearing matching cable knit jumpers. 

You know how the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? Well the way to my heart is through manners. I’m a stickler for graciousness, politeness and respect.
Be polite and in return I promise to never give you food poisoning with my cooking.

Desirous of children
No, I’m not one of those crazy women who is looking for a sperm bank with legs. I like being 22, having no responsibilities, making terrible decisions and getting drunk at 1 in the afternoon when I feel like it. But eventually I’d like to have children and I’d like the person I end up having children with to want them too.

Able to grow facial hair
Beards, when grown properly are incredibly appealing. Even the knowledge that a man can grow a beard is attractive. It just proves you’re a man and not a boy waiting for puberty to kick in.

Willing to be henpecked
I am never satisfied with anything. I have an almost never-ending list of personal flaws and past mistakes, yet I sit atop a golden throne of judgement, from which I point my jewel-encrusted scepter at you and tell you to iron your shirt. I will pick fights with you constantly because I mistake disagreements and fundamental differences for passion. I consider a night in which we throw dinner plates at each others heads time well spent. I will find your most insecure points and needle at them until they are raw, bleeding stumps and you are weighing out the pros and cons of murdering me and making it look like an accident. I will be infuriating. I will be insufferable. I will be incredibly frustrating – but I won’t be boring.

A thrilling conversationalist
As you may be able to tell, I’m not short on either words or opinions. I like to debate until people’s ears bleed, and fall immediately in love with anyone who can do the same while holding my attention. You’re required to be able to form your own opinions, defend them and then should they differ to mine, ultimately change your views to agree with me.

Well, there you have it. A brief list of the humble requirements for the future love of my life. It’s not much, trust me. I’m easy going and open to change (no I’m not).
Applications will be accepted for the next few weeks after which the interview process will commence…


Looking like Ry may ensure an application’s sucess


So I may have a crush on Daniel Craig (I’m so sorry Ry!)

Those of you who frequently read my posts may have noticed that I have a mild crush on Ryan Gosling. And by ‘mild crush’ I actually mean a colossal crush that leaves me frazzled, occasionally unable to function in the real world and often losing whole afternoons in a delusional state planning our wedding and writing him love letters. I even posted a love letter as a blog entry, which you probably didn’t read…and despite the link I just provided, you probably still won’t read. But it’s a blog rule that I have to at least provide you with the link, both to prove how tech-savvy I am and to pretend like you actually care.
Hey, I didn’t make the rules, I just follow them.
Anyway now I’ve forgotten what this post was actually about…ahhh this is what happens when I think about the future father of my children.

Right, this post is to admit that last night I may have cheated on Ry (we’re on a nickname basis.) Now normally cheating is not something I would ever condone, but Ry and I have been rocky for the past few months. His relationship with Eva Mendes has been bothering me, not to mention my preoccupation with Scandinavian men whilst away has gotten in the way of me obsessively thinking about him. Like I said, things have been rocky. So last night, whilst watching Skyfall, I may have accidently fallen in love with Daniel Craig.

Now I know what you’re thinking; I’m only 22 and he is 44 so literally double my age and probably far too old for me. But age is just a number and next year onwards he will cease being double mine so really it’s fine.

Before I go on and say anything about Daniel Craig, I think you should take a moment and look into his eyes.

They actually defy science.
They’re the color of pure ice cold water dripping of a glacier. When his gives off a cold stare, you feel warmth looking at him. His stare just gives off a torrent of passion and emotion.
And then you look at his whole face and its perfect. It’s symmetrical, strong, beautiful and masculine. Friendly, but dangerous.

But enough about his perfect face, lets talk about his perfect body. You can tell he is in perfect shape because he can film those long chase sequences in James Bond films and not even look winded or too red in the face after them. It’s also obvious he has a perfect body every time he wears a tailored suit. Or when he walks out of the ocean in tiny swim trunks. He actually is the sexist person to ever emerge from a body of water wearing next to nothing.

Yeah, that happened.

But most of all I think my attraction to the sex God Daniel Craig comes from his portrayal of Bond. He’s not a boy that’s cute and adorable but doesn’t know anything. He’s not a guy whose cool, carries a guitar and has commitment issues – again just playing by the blog rules.
He is a fully grown man who can grown a proper beard and has thrown a few punches in his life . Daniel Craig may be the reason I’m going to go to the movies to see Skyfall again. He may also be the reason why men who wear suits, swill hard liqueur and live dangerously turn me on.
And as for Ry, he’s floating between the guy and man stage. But hopefully after this temporary break and me watching the last 3 James Bond movies a few times over, we can reconcile our differences and be back together soon.