My body is now a temple. Well, almost…

green juiceBonjour, Happy Easter and Happy spring time. The sun is shining in North London and all is well  with the world. I’ve done my march around Hampstead Heath, put a load of green stuff in a blender and drunk it, and now, instead of having veins full red wine, if you cut me you’ll find warm water with lemon.

Yes, my body is a dilapidated temple currently undergoing renovation.

One of Tony Robbins biggest things is how important physical health is to every aspect of your life. If you don’t wake up with energy every day you can do nothing at all. He’s right, of course.

The funny thing about my self-improvement mission is that while I’ve spent the last year and a bit cramming my head full of self-help wisdom, I’ve been cramming my body with booze, sugar and coffee. As a result I’m tired most of the time, have put on a stone and a bit in weight, and my face looks like it belongs on the Pillsbury Dough Boy.

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I walked on fire

fire walkIt’s 9pm on Thursday night and 7,000 people are chanting ‘YES! YES! YES!’ in a pitch black car park in London’s Docklands.

The mood is tribal.

I feel like we’re on our way to a ritual killing. Maybe our own.

We’ve already signed waivers that warn us that what we are about to undertake could result in ‘physical or emotional injury, paralysis, death….’

I feel sick with anticipation but I keep putting one foot in front of the other.

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Dating month is over – so did I Get the Guy? Er, no. Obviously.

Well, it was a BIG WEEKEND. From Thursday to last night I was under the spell of self-improvement guru TONY ROBBINS. I walked on fire, danced around like a lunatic with 7,500 other people and fell heart-stoppingly in love with the 6ft7 lantern jawed self-irmprovement God.

There was a lot of talk about taking MASSIVE ACTION and getting into a PEAK STATE. Basically the OPPOSITE to my usual approach to life. And as much as I would have liked to take the p*ss out of it all, I couldn’t. He was brilliant. It was brilliant.

I got home last night around 10pm, so I still need a bit of time to assimilate it all. I’ll put up a post on Wednesday. For now, a belated post to wrap up DATING MONTH.

Huge thank you for all the clever, honest and wise comments to my last post which asked does Happiness = Marriage + Kids?

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Does happiness = Marriage + kids?

Screen Shot 2015-03-19 at 10.36.50In my last post I posed these questions:

Do I really want to meet someone? Do I want to have children? Do you have to get married and have children to be happy? Will I regret it if I don’t? Is the fact that it hasn’t happened by now a sign that actually that’s not my path? Or is my independence just a symptom of my fear?

At the end of the post Kara made this comment:

Can I ask, who do you hang around with? Are you getting a real cross section of views in your life? I ask because you are wondering things like, Can you be happy without children, Will you regret not getting married/ having kids etc. It feels like you’re stuck in this groove that happiness = husband and children. That’s not the only way!

Maybe find and talk to a good range of people who have done all different things (eg older and childless, in thirties and single, with children, thought having them but didn’t, and so on). I bet some will have regrets but most of them will have just made the most of life and are happy.

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The real reason I am single

pixshark.com

pixshark.com

Bonjour, bonjour. It’s a rainy Monday here in London and I am feeling about as romantic as a cabbage. I’ve taken the last week off dating – no Tinder meet ups or even messages – and it’s been a relief. I actually think I’m going to delete Tinder – I don’t like it anymore. It’s a bit of a head f**k. I might just stick to the old fashioned way of hoping to meet someone in real life.

And weirdly that seems to be happening. A friend of a friend asked for my number in the pub on Friday night and earlier last week I got asked out by a guy on the tube. He might have been drunk – and possibly on a few other substances – but hey, it’s still nice to be asked!

Anyway, my light must be on or something.

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Mea Culpa

Well, shock horror it turns out that writing about a dating month is complicated. It’s one thing writing honestly about myself but it’s another thing writing about other people.

Even though I’ve changed details, the guys concerned would recognise themselves if they came across this blog and I don’t know how good it would make them feel. It wouldn’t make me feel good to have someone talking in public about my hair, my clothes, my job, my money.

It didn’t make me good to be the kind of person writing about that stuff.

While some of the guys knew about my dating month, others didn’t, including the Mad Scientist.

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Does money matter when it comes to love?

Screen Shot 2015-03-04 at 09.36.29My friend wants to set me up with his friend. This friend (the one I’m to be set up with) is 37, an artist and musician and works in a coffee shop. It is really really awful that my first thought is that I can’t face going out with a broke Peter Pan? Is that very judgemental, superficial and money-grabbing of me?

My last boyfriend was also an aspiring musician. He was talented and we got on so well in many ways – we could talk for hours, had the same sense of humour and similar morals – but the money thing became a real issue. I hated the fact that I ended up paying for a lot and that he seemed happy to let me.

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Date number 2 with the Mad Scientist

Screen Shot 2015-03-02 at 11.35.53Last Thursday morning I stood in front of a boardroom of business people and told them I needed a boyfriend. No, really, I did.

My friend Josh had invited me to this networking business breakfast he goes to, saying I might get some copywriting work out of it.

I don’t really want any copywriting work but according to Matthew Hussey we must say ‘yes’ to every invitation because you never know where it will lead and who you will meet. It also gets you out of your comfort zone and used to interacting with people.

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I’m a high value woman. And I don’t mean I charge by the hour

Screen Shot 2015-02-26 at 12.57.11Last night I was supposed to have a date with Alistair, the Scottish guy who works for the NHS.

His profile said that he ‘liked to make sweeping assumptions about people based on their profile pics’. He guessed that I was Irish, liked swing dancing and vintage clothes. I guessed that he was Scottish.

We were messaging last week and he made me giggle. It was easy.

He asked if I wanted to meet up. I said yes. We agreed on this Wednesday night. He told me that he’d been in touch this week to arrange.

This Tuesday night, around 11pm, I was going to bed and still hadn’t heard from him. It was annoying. Pride meant I didn’t want to be the one to message him first but also, I wanted to know if it was still happening so I could make other plans if it wasn’t.

So I messaged him: ‘Hello Alistair, how are you? Just wondering if we’re still on for tomorrow night?’

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My date with the mad scientist

Screen Shot 2015-02-23 at 12.02.53Well, it happened. My Tinder dating has officially begun. I had my first date on Saturday with a guy who described himself as ‘6-ft Scouser with a taste for the absurd.’  His profile pics attested to that – there were shots of him wearing a comedy moustache and wig, pics of him in what looked like a Flamenco outfit at a festival…

None of this is my kind of thing. I’m too uptight for fancy dress. And I find absurd stuff kind of stupid and childish.

But then there was a nice normal smiley picture and I could see he lived locally so I just swiped anyway.

We had a bit of texting at the end of last week.

He told me he was good at making burgers and doesn’t like lazy people. I told him I’m a terrible cook and am very lazy. He said he admired my honesty. I told him I liked burgers. Continue reading