Oh god Reader, have realised that there is so much that I didn't tell my 17 year old self about. I'm going to have to call her back in. She's a bit of a pain in the arse really, but I'll feel awful if I don't at least warn her about some of the stuff to come. Alright, wish me luck! *sends out for tardis style takeaway*
Oh bollocks, I'm back here again
Enough of that attitude young lady! I've called you back to impart words of wisdom to you! Wise words! Of wisdom!
Are you DRUNK?!
Heheheheh.....maybe.....*falls off bed slightly before righting self and smiling proudly at clear dexterity and grace*
But we don't really drink that much!
Just wait till our 18th birthday...
I'm so excited! I'm going to dress up! It's going to be SO MUCH FUN!
Well, you're certainly going to dress up....unfortunately we don't remember much of the rest of the night. And we're sick on the costume.
Oh god, how cringe! At least I won't do it again.
Actually, after swearing off booze for almost a year, we go to uni and....well....alcohol happens. Our 19th is even worse. We get carried out of the student club! It's essentially all the fault of much more alcohol tolerant friends of ours. But it's not very elegant. And it happens quite a lot after that.
Tell me now. Am I an alcoholic?
Oh goodness no! Uni is just...quite full of booze in the first two years. You calm down a bit in the third year, what with being the social sec, you have to watch out for everyone else. And then you don't drink at all at Drama School and lose your tolerance for booze completely! Which leads to not coping with booze at all well on your theatre tour (although the vomming is always from hangovers, not on the night, and we think you actually weren't very well during all that because you were also quite unhealthy in other ways as well as hellish hangovers). Now you just get drunk on occasion and can handle your booze much better. Although your hangovers are never that fun. You do learn your limits though and stop thinking you can keep up with Hockey and Rugby players. Now you are perfectly able to have a few drinks, be tipsy, but still make good decisions whilst being a silly sausage too.
Well that doesn't really sound great. Can I just skip the drunken first two years of uni?
Oh sweetie....I wish I could tell you we could. But they give us some really great anecdotes. Like the time you lay on a hill with your bestie and yelled at the moon. Or the time you decided to sing a duet at karaoke and got a standing ovation. Or that hilarious time you were showing off your pole dance moved and karate kicked a girl's handbag across the room.
Ok. Those do sound quite brill. Wait....pole dancing?!
Yeah, you take lessons! And win an amateur competition. Don't worry, it's not something we want to do for money, but it is quite fun. (mumbles 'apart from that time you accidentally bring the pole down with you in front of your new boyfriend')
What was that last bit?
Oh, nothing that can't be called endearing at some point. Now listen, and listen hard. Keep the love of Edith Piaf to yourself for a while
But we LOVE Edith! *starts singing La Vie En Rose, badly*
Well yes, but everyone will think you're mad in your first year. Until you discover the drama society and then they get you. Also, please stop wearing so much eye liner. You look a bit like Kurt Cobain.
Kurt Cobain is a SEX GOD.
You know he's dead right?
WHAT?!!!
Ah. Forgot we didn't find that out till quite late. Anyway, get over it. You are not Kurt Cobain. It is not a good look on a 17 year old girl. And while we're on the case-The tweed trousers with the broaches on the pocket are AWFUL.
DUH, I know. I just got a mini kilt from Camden!
Oh lord. The mini kilt.
Is it that bad?
No, wear it while you can get away with it. It's how you get asked out by the rock dude.
HAWT.
But you're a bit too old to be an Emo really. And you're way too happy. Brush your hair a bit more and stop buying plastic jewelry.
You're MEAN
No, I'm right. And the voice of experience. Oh, speaking of experience, stop feeling awful about being a virgin.
SHUT UP
Oh for god's sake, everyone knows. Look at you! You practically scream purity. It's not that unusual for a 17 year old, really. Lots of people from school turn out to have been lying about losing it anyway. And give up on the idea of David Bowie turning up on your door, he's too old for you.
I'm saving myself for him. The Goblin King is so so buff.
Eurgh. No one uses that word any more. Buff? Really? USE PROPER WORDS! He is not a freshly cleaned car!
Fine. Any more words of wisdom?
Yeah. Only LOADS. Keep hanging out with your new friends, they do you the world of good and make you feel really normal at the same time as making you feel special. Sweeney is dead smart and has ALL THE DEGREES and will probably help you in court one day. Robo is an avid traveller and Kaat is the queen of luxury. Clefairy lives five minutes up the road, and guess what? Tikki is getting married and you're her bridesmaid!
BEFORE ME?!
Oh you knew it would happen, she got a boyfriend before you too! And she's way more mature than you. (I happen to know you drew that tattoo on with biro and bunked off for the past two tuesday afternoons at college!)
Shut up wrinkly, someone might hear!
Oh no one cares. You do actually get a real tattoo though.
SERIOUS? Do I get a sleeve? Or a Chanel logo? Or a placebo lyric?!
Well, you're an actor, so sleeves don't work very well for that. And no to the others. Because....well, no. You get a rose! For great nan Rose. And for other reasons which you'll have to find out for yourself. Now shouldn't you be off to Quadruples for lunch?
Oh yeah! Me and Kaat are going to get a really healthy salad and then bunk off English and go to Camden again! Byeeeeee....
She'll honestly never learn. It's like talking to a bloody brick wall!
Ah well,
Tarrah Reader!
Ash
x
By Aislinn De'Ath
Click on my face to link to my vlog!
Tuesday, 5 November 2013
Monday, 4 November 2013
An interview with 17 year old me...
Reader, anyone who knows me knows that I constantly refer back to my past selves as if they were old friends or family members who would have a fully formed opinion on how I live my life. I get the mick taken quite a bit for starting sentences with 'god, 12 year old me would love this' or '15 year old me would be looking at me in horror right now'. And last night I got talking with my housemate about how different I was as a teenager. Which made me wonder-what would my 17 year old self think of mid twenties me? Only one way to find out....THE POWER OF TIME TRAVEL (shut up and suspend your disbelief)
Oh...hi. Where am I?
Hi there 17 year old me! You're in 2013, with mid twenties you!
Oh.
Surprise!
Hang on....are we in LONDON?
Yeah...?
What happened to New York? We were supposed to be getting married to a rock star in a beautiful yet edgy ceremony about now!
Well, New York is still somewhere we want to live, but we ended up making lots of contacts in London and staying put for the time being. Also, your family has grown and you have a godson now and some really cute little cousins you want to see grow up. You did go on a couple of dates with a rock star if that helps?
Someone makes me a godmother? Wow. That's pretty shibby! Who was it, Clefairy? Ooohh I date a rockstar? That must have been awesome!
Ok, first off, don't use the word shibby. No matter how hard you try, it never quite catches on
But..
NO BUTS. It's awful. You do not sound kitch and cute, you sound ridiculous. And no, Clefairy doesn't have a baby yet (was it the many many nephews and nieces that made you think she'd have a family so young? Well she has even more now-no need to add more kids into the equation just yet!), your youngest uncle and aunt had the most gorgeous, funny little boy and you're his Godmother-you make him awful craft gifts and give him lots of cuddles. And dating a rock star was fun for about one date, then it turned out rockstars can be quite shy and his best friend scared you off (we think she fancied him too). You also never quite shake the suspicion that they thought you were a groupie.
Was it someone from Panic! At the disco?
No. Far less famous. No one knows who the band is really, even back then.
Oh. Bum. Hey, where's all my hair? WHERE IS ALL MY HAIR?
Oh yes, about that. The thing is, having hair down to your bum is lovely when you're 17 but when we get a bit older (and years of dyeing has made it slightly less luxurant and bouncy) we decide to keep it just below boob level. Don't worry, we're never going back to the Harry Potter haircut.
The whole reason I was single age 13-15.
Erm...Yeah, you stay single for quite a while actually, so I don't think we can put it all down to the bad hair
WHAT? I don't end up meeting a gorgeous guy on my first day at uni?
Oh, well, you do, but actually you wind up just seeing him as a friend after cleaning up his sick and stuff. Living with boys who are mates sort of makes you not fancy them. Also, after years in an all girl's school, you sort of have magical boy-repelling powers. You keep getting seen as 'the little sister' of the group and to be honest, you don't pick up on any of the hints boys give you anyway. You meet someone in your last year though and end up going out with them for 4 and a half years!
Oh phew. So I'm in a relationship and on my way to marriage and kids then?
Er, not exactly. In fact, we're sort of single again.
I'M SINGLE IN MY MID TWENTIES?! OH MY GOD I'M BRIDGET JONES
Please shut up.
I'M GOING TO DIE ALONE! THIS IS SO FAR FROM SHIBBY! I SHOULD HAVE MARRIED MY ONE BOY MATE!
Oh yeah, about that, he turns out to be gay
What?! But we kissed!
He wore women's jeans!
But he had a huge crush on me!
Later in life we now think he just admired your skinny androgyny and lack of boobs. It's not even the only time it happens to you. You have a bit of a penchant for picking vaguely feminine boys out and for a while, a lot of them end up coming out of the closet.
Oh for god's sake. Am I at least performing at The Old Vic? Or The National?
Not exactly. You've done some tv and film work though! And played Estella in Great Expectations in lots of fabulous theatres! You're actually vaguely successful at the acting lark at the moment (although far from famous or rich, more that you have pretty regular work albeit low paid) And you have boobs now!
I HAVE BOOBS?!?
I know! They finally come in during your first year of uni! No more chicken fillets and rolled up socks in the bra for you young lady! But also no more running without a bra. Because that gets old fast. Along with getting boobs you get asked to model for a group called Suicide Girls but you turn it down because you're worried how it may affect your career as an actor.
Wow. I must be really skinny!
Well. You were then. Not so much now. Now we grudgingly accept that curvy is good and the fat on our tummy is to keep our baby making bits safe.
Eurgh.
Well we can't afford to live off M&S sushi forever!
Do I at least live in a really cool part of London? In my own apartment? With a pet parakeet?
Well, you live in Southgate with one of your best friends from Uni who is now a director. No parakeets. We have a no 'Ash being Dr. Doolittle' rule. It's pretty awesome!
Southgate's gross!
Actually it's quite trendy now. Lots of funky little coffee shops and charity shops.
Fair enough. And I suppose we can go swimming every day.
Not really, we can't afford swimming every day.
We can't afford £2.50 every day?!
Oh, yeah, there's been a recession. Swimming is £7.50 now.
£7.50?!!! That's the same price as an entire outfit from Punky Fish!
Oh dear sweet fool. That's nothing, busses are now £2.10 for a single if you don't have an oyster
What do shellfish have to do with public transport?
Never mind...
How are mum and dad? And the little bro?
All good! Dad now part owns the company and Mum runs her own business! When you're not acting you work for her on the side. They still both look impossibly young and go off on holidays to exotic places. Little bro is now taller than us by a foot and goes to uni in Wales.
Wait...mum and dad go on holiday? WITHOUT US? Isn't that child abuse?!
No, given that NEITHER YOU OR LITTLE BRO ARE CHILDREN ANYMORE. (We are sad about it though and keep hoping they'll win the lottery and whisk us off to Disney again)
Weird to think of him being at uni. He's only 12! And really weedy.
Enjoy it while you can, he gets really strong and can pick you up now. And does if he's losing an argument. You get put outside the front door like the sabre tooth from the flintstones.
Does he ever admit to stealing my Tigger diary?
No! But we still suspect him. You actually get on way better now. He's calmed down a LOT and is very funny. It helps that you don't live with each other. You even miss him when he's away!
Ok, well I suppose that's ok. Right, I feel the tug of college and a night out at The Roxy. Do we still go clubbing every week?
God no! We're out so often networking, we far prefer a quiet bar or even better, our own sofa!
Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo......(disappears into a vortex of time travel to leap into mini kilt and dance to Peaches and The Arctic Monkeys)
Hm. Not sure how delighted she was, but she's IMPOSSIBLE to please. Before I go Reader, a few friends of mine are trying to raise money for various projects, so please see below the blog and donate and share!
Tarrah!
Ash
x
A very talented theatre practitioner and actor friend of mine, Liz Williams is in the middle of a course to help bring theatre to the young. It's an amazing opportunity and Liz is extremely wonderful at everything she does, hardworking and fierce. If anyone deserves a helping hand, it's her! Donate or share her page here: http://www.gofundme.com/passionvspaycheck
The lovely James Card of Thorny Devil Productions is asking for contributions for their next short 'For My Next Trick'. Have worked with Thorny Devil in the past and they're a great team, who do fabulous work! They're also jolly nice people, so please give what you can, or just share if (like me) you're very very poor!
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1791500593/for-my-next-trick
Oh...hi. Where am I?
Hi there 17 year old me! You're in 2013, with mid twenties you!
Oh.
Surprise!
Hang on....are we in LONDON?
Yeah...?
What happened to New York? We were supposed to be getting married to a rock star in a beautiful yet edgy ceremony about now!
Well, New York is still somewhere we want to live, but we ended up making lots of contacts in London and staying put for the time being. Also, your family has grown and you have a godson now and some really cute little cousins you want to see grow up. You did go on a couple of dates with a rock star if that helps?
Someone makes me a godmother? Wow. That's pretty shibby! Who was it, Clefairy? Ooohh I date a rockstar? That must have been awesome!
Ok, first off, don't use the word shibby. No matter how hard you try, it never quite catches on
But..
NO BUTS. It's awful. You do not sound kitch and cute, you sound ridiculous. And no, Clefairy doesn't have a baby yet (was it the many many nephews and nieces that made you think she'd have a family so young? Well she has even more now-no need to add more kids into the equation just yet!), your youngest uncle and aunt had the most gorgeous, funny little boy and you're his Godmother-you make him awful craft gifts and give him lots of cuddles. And dating a rock star was fun for about one date, then it turned out rockstars can be quite shy and his best friend scared you off (we think she fancied him too). You also never quite shake the suspicion that they thought you were a groupie.
Was it someone from Panic! At the disco?
No. Far less famous. No one knows who the band is really, even back then.
Oh. Bum. Hey, where's all my hair? WHERE IS ALL MY HAIR?
Oh yes, about that. The thing is, having hair down to your bum is lovely when you're 17 but when we get a bit older (and years of dyeing has made it slightly less luxurant and bouncy) we decide to keep it just below boob level. Don't worry, we're never going back to the Harry Potter haircut.
The whole reason I was single age 13-15.
Erm...Yeah, you stay single for quite a while actually, so I don't think we can put it all down to the bad hair
WHAT? I don't end up meeting a gorgeous guy on my first day at uni?
Oh, well, you do, but actually you wind up just seeing him as a friend after cleaning up his sick and stuff. Living with boys who are mates sort of makes you not fancy them. Also, after years in an all girl's school, you sort of have magical boy-repelling powers. You keep getting seen as 'the little sister' of the group and to be honest, you don't pick up on any of the hints boys give you anyway. You meet someone in your last year though and end up going out with them for 4 and a half years!
Oh phew. So I'm in a relationship and on my way to marriage and kids then?
Er, not exactly. In fact, we're sort of single again.
I'M SINGLE IN MY MID TWENTIES?! OH MY GOD I'M BRIDGET JONES
Please shut up.
I'M GOING TO DIE ALONE! THIS IS SO FAR FROM SHIBBY! I SHOULD HAVE MARRIED MY ONE BOY MATE!
Oh yeah, about that, he turns out to be gay
What?! But we kissed!
He wore women's jeans!
But he had a huge crush on me!
Later in life we now think he just admired your skinny androgyny and lack of boobs. It's not even the only time it happens to you. You have a bit of a penchant for picking vaguely feminine boys out and for a while, a lot of them end up coming out of the closet.
Oh for god's sake. Am I at least performing at The Old Vic? Or The National?
Not exactly. You've done some tv and film work though! And played Estella in Great Expectations in lots of fabulous theatres! You're actually vaguely successful at the acting lark at the moment (although far from famous or rich, more that you have pretty regular work albeit low paid) And you have boobs now!
I HAVE BOOBS?!?
I know! They finally come in during your first year of uni! No more chicken fillets and rolled up socks in the bra for you young lady! But also no more running without a bra. Because that gets old fast. Along with getting boobs you get asked to model for a group called Suicide Girls but you turn it down because you're worried how it may affect your career as an actor.
Wow. I must be really skinny!
Well. You were then. Not so much now. Now we grudgingly accept that curvy is good and the fat on our tummy is to keep our baby making bits safe.
Eurgh.
Well we can't afford to live off M&S sushi forever!
Do I at least live in a really cool part of London? In my own apartment? With a pet parakeet?
Well, you live in Southgate with one of your best friends from Uni who is now a director. No parakeets. We have a no 'Ash being Dr. Doolittle' rule. It's pretty awesome!
Southgate's gross!
Actually it's quite trendy now. Lots of funky little coffee shops and charity shops.
Fair enough. And I suppose we can go swimming every day.
Not really, we can't afford swimming every day.
We can't afford £2.50 every day?!
Oh, yeah, there's been a recession. Swimming is £7.50 now.
£7.50?!!! That's the same price as an entire outfit from Punky Fish!
Oh dear sweet fool. That's nothing, busses are now £2.10 for a single if you don't have an oyster
What do shellfish have to do with public transport?
Never mind...
How are mum and dad? And the little bro?
All good! Dad now part owns the company and Mum runs her own business! When you're not acting you work for her on the side. They still both look impossibly young and go off on holidays to exotic places. Little bro is now taller than us by a foot and goes to uni in Wales.
Wait...mum and dad go on holiday? WITHOUT US? Isn't that child abuse?!
No, given that NEITHER YOU OR LITTLE BRO ARE CHILDREN ANYMORE. (We are sad about it though and keep hoping they'll win the lottery and whisk us off to Disney again)
Weird to think of him being at uni. He's only 12! And really weedy.
Enjoy it while you can, he gets really strong and can pick you up now. And does if he's losing an argument. You get put outside the front door like the sabre tooth from the flintstones.
Does he ever admit to stealing my Tigger diary?
No! But we still suspect him. You actually get on way better now. He's calmed down a LOT and is very funny. It helps that you don't live with each other. You even miss him when he's away!
Ok, well I suppose that's ok. Right, I feel the tug of college and a night out at The Roxy. Do we still go clubbing every week?
God no! We're out so often networking, we far prefer a quiet bar or even better, our own sofa!
Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo......(disappears into a vortex of time travel to leap into mini kilt and dance to Peaches and The Arctic Monkeys)
Hm. Not sure how delighted she was, but she's IMPOSSIBLE to please. Before I go Reader, a few friends of mine are trying to raise money for various projects, so please see below the blog and donate and share!
Tarrah!
Ash
x
A very talented theatre practitioner and actor friend of mine, Liz Williams is in the middle of a course to help bring theatre to the young. It's an amazing opportunity and Liz is extremely wonderful at everything she does, hardworking and fierce. If anyone deserves a helping hand, it's her! Donate or share her page here: http://www.gofundme.com/passionvspaycheck
The lovely James Card of Thorny Devil Productions is asking for contributions for their next short 'For My Next Trick'. Have worked with Thorny Devil in the past and they're a great team, who do fabulous work! They're also jolly nice people, so please give what you can, or just share if (like me) you're very very poor!
http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1791500593/for-my-next-trick
Saturday, 2 November 2013
Friendzoning...
Ok Reader, so recently I've been noticing lots of guys complaining about getting friendzoned by girls. You see it all the time. 'Uh man, this girl TOTALLY friendzoned me' 'What a bitch' 'Yeah, I know, she clearly only goes for douchey blokes, nice guys always finish last'.
Ahem.
I'm sorry.
SHUT THE SHAG UP.
Friendzoning exists, sure. And it sucks when you like someone and it turns out they only see you as a friend, I mean, come now, girls go through it too, I've been through it myself. But stop acting like it's a) only something that happens to men by girls and b) because you were clearly meant to be together from the start and she KNEW that and then whammied you with a 'Sorry I just see you as friends' acme safe on the head.
When a girl meets a guy, her instant thought is not that it will lead to sex. The majority of times, if a meet up is arranged, she assumes it is just to meet up and chat in a friendly manner. Not to go on a date. Because it is not made clear. If I like a guy I am USELESS around them (despite being just about the flirtiest person you'll meet under most circumstances, when I meet someone I genuinely fancy, it's as if someone's replaced my brain cells with felt and sequins and I start talking utter crap and stammering and tripping over a lot. I can however, flirt brilliantly with people I don't actually see sexually. I know, I am a ridiculous human being.) but generally if they ask me out I assume it's just to hang out, not to date. Sometimes to my own detriment. Once, when I was a lot more naive and (lets face it) stoopid, I thought a guy was literally asking me to a sleepover and turned up at his door with pjs, a bag of dvds and popcorn and my best friend. Girls are not that aware sexually most of the time. And most of us have pretty crippling self doubt. We don't recognise that someone fancies us unless they kiss us, tell us so, or get one of our more enlightened friends to tell us so. After uni, I once said in a group of male friends 'I never really got asked out at uni' and apparently 90% of them had asked me out at some stage without me ever realising. Apparently I'd even been out on a date with a couple of them and had NO CLUE.
If you want to go on a date with someone, tell them it's a date. Just give us a heads up, ok? Then we can tell you if we're actually interested or not, and you won't ever get into the friendzone situation. Be warned though, you could lose out on a lot of really frigging awesome female friends that way.
Also, what in lawk's name is all this crap about 'nice guys finish last'? My last boyfriend was a classic 'nice guy'. Who was into comics and gaming and geek culture. HE HAD POKEMON POSTERS IN HIS ROOM. And guess what? I kissed him first. The utter wankers I've been interested in, I've never made a move on, because they are, as I have said, utter wankers and I'm not completely brain dead. Generally a girl won't look at a guy and go 'ah yes, he's someone who'll cheat on me and treat me like poo, I want a slice of that hot action'. Normally the guy seems perfectly nice initially and it's only later that the not so lovely bits come out. The difference is, the cocky guys seem to have the confidence to ask a girl out directly and actually show that they are sexually interested in them rather than hanging out around them and after a month of being mates suggesting that they go for coffee in a matey sort of way. They make their agenda clear. Which is why ladies know it's a date. And to be honest, the majority of men I know who say 'I don't get it, I'm a really nice guy' are not in fact, really nice guys. They just think they are because they don't make the first move, and let's be honest no one ever really thinks that they're a knobatron.
I've also noticed that the same guys who keep getting 'friendzoned' appear to want all of their female friends to have seen them as a romantic prospects. Er...sorry. What?! Why is that ok? I am pretty obvious when I fancy someone. I am, in fact, incredibly ridiculous and do stupid things like texting them texts about them by accident (this has happened so many times, I think I have a problem, thank christ for smart phones and existing conversation threads) and not realising that I'm talking to their girlfriend and making it painfully obvious that I fancy their partner (again, happens more often than I like to admit and leads to me feeling AWFUL because I haven't realised that they were taken and then hiding under my bed for a week or so). Sometimes, I meet men and I just think 'cor, aren't they great people? I want them to be in my life' in a very non sexual way and now I have lots of lovely male friends who (I hope) know that I don't see them romantically.
The thing is, it's also really crappy of a person (male or female) to go into a friendship with an ulterior motive. Can you imagine if you'd made this great friend that you thought was like a sibling and then one day it came out that they'd only got into a friendship with you because they wanted to jump your bones? Or suddenly stopped talking to you because you wouldn't date or sleep with them? How manipulative? I mean, I can be really shy sometimes (I know, you wouldn't know it, but I'm an actor, I hide it remarkably well), but if I am attracted to someone and he doesn't feel the same way back (or, adversely, can't feel the same way back because he's in a relationship) I go 'oh, ok' and it may feel a bit shitty for a while but I realise it's not their fault that they don't want to jump my bones and get on with congratulating myself on having made a nice friend and getting the hell over it.
I always hear guys saying 'But I always make the first move'. I'm sorry, but I call bullpoop. You know how many times I've been actually, properly asked out in a way that I know it's a date? Twice. Once I said yes, once I said no. You know how many times I've been kissed first? Three times. One of those by a drunk person who I didn't want to be kissed by, which really doesn't count as it was more like someone throwing a wet dishcloth with bits of broken china in it at my mouth. I have kissed (not including in plays and auditions and games of truth and dare and drunk men throwing themselves at my uniwilling face) nine guys. Nine. Only two of those made the first move. So don't give me that rubbish. I don't get guys making the first move on me. I wish I did. Life would be more interesting. Because making the first move all the time isn't that fun, even when you know for a fact that the guy likes you back because his friend told your friend or something like that. However, I have been accused of friendzoning. By people I had no idea I had romantic feelings towards me. Normally after years and years and years of being friends. If you hang out with a girl for ages and don't make a move, you're not being friendzoned, congratulations, you are friends.
And that Reader, is all!
Ash
x
Ahem.
I'm sorry.
SHUT THE SHAG UP.
Friendzoning exists, sure. And it sucks when you like someone and it turns out they only see you as a friend, I mean, come now, girls go through it too, I've been through it myself. But stop acting like it's a) only something that happens to men by girls and b) because you were clearly meant to be together from the start and she KNEW that and then whammied you with a 'Sorry I just see you as friends' acme safe on the head.
When a girl meets a guy, her instant thought is not that it will lead to sex. The majority of times, if a meet up is arranged, she assumes it is just to meet up and chat in a friendly manner. Not to go on a date. Because it is not made clear. If I like a guy I am USELESS around them (despite being just about the flirtiest person you'll meet under most circumstances, when I meet someone I genuinely fancy, it's as if someone's replaced my brain cells with felt and sequins and I start talking utter crap and stammering and tripping over a lot. I can however, flirt brilliantly with people I don't actually see sexually. I know, I am a ridiculous human being.) but generally if they ask me out I assume it's just to hang out, not to date. Sometimes to my own detriment. Once, when I was a lot more naive and (lets face it) stoopid, I thought a guy was literally asking me to a sleepover and turned up at his door with pjs, a bag of dvds and popcorn and my best friend. Girls are not that aware sexually most of the time. And most of us have pretty crippling self doubt. We don't recognise that someone fancies us unless they kiss us, tell us so, or get one of our more enlightened friends to tell us so. After uni, I once said in a group of male friends 'I never really got asked out at uni' and apparently 90% of them had asked me out at some stage without me ever realising. Apparently I'd even been out on a date with a couple of them and had NO CLUE.
If you want to go on a date with someone, tell them it's a date. Just give us a heads up, ok? Then we can tell you if we're actually interested or not, and you won't ever get into the friendzone situation. Be warned though, you could lose out on a lot of really frigging awesome female friends that way.
Also, what in lawk's name is all this crap about 'nice guys finish last'? My last boyfriend was a classic 'nice guy'. Who was into comics and gaming and geek culture. HE HAD POKEMON POSTERS IN HIS ROOM. And guess what? I kissed him first. The utter wankers I've been interested in, I've never made a move on, because they are, as I have said, utter wankers and I'm not completely brain dead. Generally a girl won't look at a guy and go 'ah yes, he's someone who'll cheat on me and treat me like poo, I want a slice of that hot action'. Normally the guy seems perfectly nice initially and it's only later that the not so lovely bits come out. The difference is, the cocky guys seem to have the confidence to ask a girl out directly and actually show that they are sexually interested in them rather than hanging out around them and after a month of being mates suggesting that they go for coffee in a matey sort of way. They make their agenda clear. Which is why ladies know it's a date. And to be honest, the majority of men I know who say 'I don't get it, I'm a really nice guy' are not in fact, really nice guys. They just think they are because they don't make the first move, and let's be honest no one ever really thinks that they're a knobatron.
I've also noticed that the same guys who keep getting 'friendzoned' appear to want all of their female friends to have seen them as a romantic prospects. Er...sorry. What?! Why is that ok? I am pretty obvious when I fancy someone. I am, in fact, incredibly ridiculous and do stupid things like texting them texts about them by accident (this has happened so many times, I think I have a problem, thank christ for smart phones and existing conversation threads) and not realising that I'm talking to their girlfriend and making it painfully obvious that I fancy their partner (again, happens more often than I like to admit and leads to me feeling AWFUL because I haven't realised that they were taken and then hiding under my bed for a week or so). Sometimes, I meet men and I just think 'cor, aren't they great people? I want them to be in my life' in a very non sexual way and now I have lots of lovely male friends who (I hope) know that I don't see them romantically.
The thing is, it's also really crappy of a person (male or female) to go into a friendship with an ulterior motive. Can you imagine if you'd made this great friend that you thought was like a sibling and then one day it came out that they'd only got into a friendship with you because they wanted to jump your bones? Or suddenly stopped talking to you because you wouldn't date or sleep with them? How manipulative? I mean, I can be really shy sometimes (I know, you wouldn't know it, but I'm an actor, I hide it remarkably well), but if I am attracted to someone and he doesn't feel the same way back (or, adversely, can't feel the same way back because he's in a relationship) I go 'oh, ok' and it may feel a bit shitty for a while but I realise it's not their fault that they don't want to jump my bones and get on with congratulating myself on having made a nice friend and getting the hell over it.
I always hear guys saying 'But I always make the first move'. I'm sorry, but I call bullpoop. You know how many times I've been actually, properly asked out in a way that I know it's a date? Twice. Once I said yes, once I said no. You know how many times I've been kissed first? Three times. One of those by a drunk person who I didn't want to be kissed by, which really doesn't count as it was more like someone throwing a wet dishcloth with bits of broken china in it at my mouth. I have kissed (not including in plays and auditions and games of truth and dare and drunk men throwing themselves at my uniwilling face) nine guys. Nine. Only two of those made the first move. So don't give me that rubbish. I don't get guys making the first move on me. I wish I did. Life would be more interesting. Because making the first move all the time isn't that fun, even when you know for a fact that the guy likes you back because his friend told your friend or something like that. However, I have been accused of friendzoning. By people I had no idea I had romantic feelings towards me. Normally after years and years and years of being friends. If you hang out with a girl for ages and don't make a move, you're not being friendzoned, congratulations, you are friends.
And that Reader, is all!
Ash
x
Thursday, 31 October 2013
Talkin' 'bout my geeeeneration...
So Reader, my generation is a pretty interesting. We're the generation that left college being told that going to university would guarantee us work, that can't afford to move out of our parents' house till we're past thirty, that have rediscovered religion (not me personally, but loads of my previously atheist or agnostic friends have discovered God, Allah or Buddah later in life) and have found a love of crafting and baking forgotten by our grandmothers. We've ended up being the lost generation, we're not punks/hippies like our parents or teddy boys/rockabilly girls like our grandparents. We are apathetic, disillusioned and looking for reason. But you know what? I sort of love us. Here's two lists of the crap, and great things about Generation Still At Home Watching British Bake Off
Crap
Crap
- The apathy-I mean seriously guys, we saw the French version of the BNP nearly get in a couple of years ago due to voter apathy, not voting does not make a difference. Make a stand, go to protests, write letters. But for the love of god take a stand.
- Ugg boots-I know they're like heaven on the feet, but oh my goodness, they look like something a two year old should wear, not an adult!
- Internet trolling-It's just pathetic. It's for weak, cowardly people who pick on others for sport and as far as I can tell use it as an excuse to be racist, sexist and homophobic.
- Twerking-WE ARE IN OUR TWENTIES MUST WE REALLY SHAKE OUR CELLULITE AT PEOPLE??!?
- Reality TV-Ok, I'm an actor so I'm a bit biased (what with it stealing potential work and all), but it's inane, dumbed down and beige.
- Immaturity-Maybe it's because it's taken us all so long to move into our own places, but most of us are perpetual children. Most of my friends are scared to commit, whether that be to a relationship, a mortgage or a career path. I have so many peers who are almost thirty (or even past it) but still have no idea what job they want to do when they grow up.
Fantabulous
- Make do and mend-since we're all extraordinarily poor, we find new ways to have fun. All of my friends are artistically adept in one way or another, personally I make ugly toys for my little cousins for presents and often bake up a storm. One of my friends embroiders film quotes and frames them and another makes beautiful pillows. Costume parties are great because you see people wearing all manner of home made madness.
- Creativity-The theatre scene is spectacular at the moment because we keep trying to find new ways to express ourselves. The trick is seeing past the west end and going to the fringe shows and low budget films. We are a generation who are unafraid to try new things creatively, and keep testing the boundaries.
- Onesies-OH MY GOD SO COMFY AND YOU CAN HAVE ONE THAT LOOKS LIKE A FLYING BAT
- Determination-We have no money and little chance of progression but we are still convinced that we can succeed. Good for us. Pat on the back!
- Family support-With the recession, so so many of my friends have been supporting their parents, siblings and grandparents on tiny wages and I am so proud of them. We don't have many luxuries, so for someone on barely any money to want to give all of their excess over to supporting others is a wonderful thing to see.
- Romance-there's been a real surge in romance in my generation-all of my friends are getting married, I keep hearing of random acts of romance and a lot of my chums (male and female) are moon eyed over beautiful things their partners have done for them, whether that be making a midnight picnic in the garden, leaving hand drawn pictures and love notes for them or bringing home flowers 'just because'. Of course, being single I'm not quite getting in on that action, but I have hope!
- Compassion-if you go on youtube at the moment, you'll find people dressed as superheros giving out bags of food, drink and clothes to the homeless, visiting childrens' hospitals and old folks' homes with gifts and songs and paying for the person behind them at starbucks and drive throughs. It's rather amazing.
Add any others you can think of Reader!
Tarrah!
Ash
x
Saturday, 19 October 2013
Romantical...
Reader, I've been watching some of the films recently that highly encouraged the romantic ideals that formed me as a young un. The Slipper and The Rose, The Princess Bride, Ten Things I Hate About You, Star Wars (shut up, and again, shut up. Hans Solo for the win.). And it made me think-did romantic gestures die out or did they ever exist to begin with?
The thing is, I grew up with really romantic parents. My dad proposed to my mum by taking out a full page ad in the newspaper, and had to wait a week to get a response. She never got an engagement ring, because they were so poor back then, but then years later, at Christmas, he surprised her with the most beautiful bit of bling you ever did see. He brings her flowers on a whim, they go out on dates and she scuba dived and skied for him (things that never caught her interest but that she did because he loved them). Quite often I'll walk in on them laying on the sofa all cuddled up and laughing uproariously at a private joke. They've kept nearly every anniversary card they ever sent to each other and recently my mum told me that whenever she goes out for work evening events or away with friends, she is always thinking about him and can't wait to see him again. They set me this incredible example of what love can be, so my standards are quite high. But is it my standards that are high or the standards of the rest of the world that are low?
I'm at an age now where a lot of my friends are getting engaged, and some of the proposals have taken my breath away. Not because they were the biggest, or the flashiest, but because the proposers knew exactly how their proposees had dreamed it would happen and had managed to outshine whatever they were expecting with their thoughtfulness. Similarly, one of my university friends is with someone who isn't scared to openly say how excited he is to spend the rest of his life with her, who asks her what she'd want out of a marriage and who sacrifices his one holiday to spend it with her family, not because he feels like he should, but because he really wants to. They race home to see each other every evening and sunshine practically gleams out of her when she talks about him.
On the other hand, there's also a chunk of my generation whose love lives are almost exclusively meeting up with people for a quick shag. I was talking to a friend the other day whose romantic life has been purely based around hook ups sourced from the internet, who told me she felt like true romance was dead and that she may as well enjoy herself sexually. She also confided that if she was still doing this when she was thirty she might move to Mexico or have a nervous breakdown, but since she's in her mid twenties she felt like it was still acceptable. Another male friend told me romance was dead, and that I should just get used to it. Big gestures, he told me, just didn't happen any more.
Now, maybe I'm wrong, but when I was growing up, I never wanted my life to be a series of one night stands. I knew that it was unlikely that I'd meet the man of my dreams and have my first kiss with him and then we'd go off to his palace and get married and have lots of perfectly well behaved babies, but I expected to have at least a great deal of romance in my life. Instead, I find myself midway through my twenties, single once more, slightly shellshocked and wondering what happens next. After a break up and some romance disappointments, how do you wind up not being the bitter fairy at the party?
When I first became single again I told my housemate that in order to survive, I had to think of life alone as simply a new life filled with hope to meet the great love of my life, but I think I'd forgotten about all the inbetween bits. The thing is, contrary to fairy stories, true love doesn't just pop up out of nowhere. You meet someone, you become friends, you date, you either want to rip their clothes off straight away or it's more of a slow burner, then love sort of blossoms. And how do I reconcile my dreams of the fairy tale ending with the beginning bits of awkward flirting and not being sure stage of meeting prospective dates? Cinderella certainly never had to put up with this bollocks-although she did have to deal with her only friends being rodents. And there's so much more to consider nowadays! When I was last single and dating (at the tender age of 21), I never bothered worrying about how I would be considered and how I acted in a relationship might affect the velocity of said relationship. I just sort of got on with it. Now I keep getting told that there are all these rules. Be unavailable (not really an issue for me given how crazy my schedule is), let them ask you out, never make the first move, don't be too intimidatingly well dressed (difficult given my wardrobe is almost exclusively 50's dresses and high heels). There's a whole bloody rule book that no one told me about! You're not allowed to just sit on the couch and make out any more, you have to go on proper dates! It's perplexing! And none of the fabulous single women I grew up reading about and watching on the screen are single any more. Carrie has Big. Bridget has kids and a toyboy. Even Jennifer Aniston is engaged. I'm part of this generation of boomerang kids who are all getting engaged and settling down and for the first time in a long while, I'm single, but it seems I'm one of the only ones. Although this does present a couple of nice things. I get to flirt with the gorgeous men that previously I would only dribble at from afar. I get to be a single bridesmaid (always fun, and includes bouquet catching and dancing like a nutter whilst drunk on pimms). If Nicholas Hoult comes knocking, I'll be free for a date (I'll be waiting for that call Nicky boy). I can focus on my acting without feeling guilty. I can eat a tub of Phish Food frozen Yoghurt for dinner and not be told off for it. Christmas is going to be a lot cheaper.
I haven't given up on my belief in true love and romance yet Reader. Even though my happy ending hasn't quite happened yet, I'll go on thinking that anything is possible and being moonstruck at weddings and happy for my loved up friends. Because life is too short to be spent being the bad fairy, especially when you can be the brilliant tea drinking, chicken owning, sparkle wearing fairy godmother in The Slipper and The Rose!
Tarrah!
Ash
x
The thing is, I grew up with really romantic parents. My dad proposed to my mum by taking out a full page ad in the newspaper, and had to wait a week to get a response. She never got an engagement ring, because they were so poor back then, but then years later, at Christmas, he surprised her with the most beautiful bit of bling you ever did see. He brings her flowers on a whim, they go out on dates and she scuba dived and skied for him (things that never caught her interest but that she did because he loved them). Quite often I'll walk in on them laying on the sofa all cuddled up and laughing uproariously at a private joke. They've kept nearly every anniversary card they ever sent to each other and recently my mum told me that whenever she goes out for work evening events or away with friends, she is always thinking about him and can't wait to see him again. They set me this incredible example of what love can be, so my standards are quite high. But is it my standards that are high or the standards of the rest of the world that are low?
I'm at an age now where a lot of my friends are getting engaged, and some of the proposals have taken my breath away. Not because they were the biggest, or the flashiest, but because the proposers knew exactly how their proposees had dreamed it would happen and had managed to outshine whatever they were expecting with their thoughtfulness. Similarly, one of my university friends is with someone who isn't scared to openly say how excited he is to spend the rest of his life with her, who asks her what she'd want out of a marriage and who sacrifices his one holiday to spend it with her family, not because he feels like he should, but because he really wants to. They race home to see each other every evening and sunshine practically gleams out of her when she talks about him.
On the other hand, there's also a chunk of my generation whose love lives are almost exclusively meeting up with people for a quick shag. I was talking to a friend the other day whose romantic life has been purely based around hook ups sourced from the internet, who told me she felt like true romance was dead and that she may as well enjoy herself sexually. She also confided that if she was still doing this when she was thirty she might move to Mexico or have a nervous breakdown, but since she's in her mid twenties she felt like it was still acceptable. Another male friend told me romance was dead, and that I should just get used to it. Big gestures, he told me, just didn't happen any more.
Now, maybe I'm wrong, but when I was growing up, I never wanted my life to be a series of one night stands. I knew that it was unlikely that I'd meet the man of my dreams and have my first kiss with him and then we'd go off to his palace and get married and have lots of perfectly well behaved babies, but I expected to have at least a great deal of romance in my life. Instead, I find myself midway through my twenties, single once more, slightly shellshocked and wondering what happens next. After a break up and some romance disappointments, how do you wind up not being the bitter fairy at the party?
When I first became single again I told my housemate that in order to survive, I had to think of life alone as simply a new life filled with hope to meet the great love of my life, but I think I'd forgotten about all the inbetween bits. The thing is, contrary to fairy stories, true love doesn't just pop up out of nowhere. You meet someone, you become friends, you date, you either want to rip their clothes off straight away or it's more of a slow burner, then love sort of blossoms. And how do I reconcile my dreams of the fairy tale ending with the beginning bits of awkward flirting and not being sure stage of meeting prospective dates? Cinderella certainly never had to put up with this bollocks-although she did have to deal with her only friends being rodents. And there's so much more to consider nowadays! When I was last single and dating (at the tender age of 21), I never bothered worrying about how I would be considered and how I acted in a relationship might affect the velocity of said relationship. I just sort of got on with it. Now I keep getting told that there are all these rules. Be unavailable (not really an issue for me given how crazy my schedule is), let them ask you out, never make the first move, don't be too intimidatingly well dressed (difficult given my wardrobe is almost exclusively 50's dresses and high heels). There's a whole bloody rule book that no one told me about! You're not allowed to just sit on the couch and make out any more, you have to go on proper dates! It's perplexing! And none of the fabulous single women I grew up reading about and watching on the screen are single any more. Carrie has Big. Bridget has kids and a toyboy. Even Jennifer Aniston is engaged. I'm part of this generation of boomerang kids who are all getting engaged and settling down and for the first time in a long while, I'm single, but it seems I'm one of the only ones. Although this does present a couple of nice things. I get to flirt with the gorgeous men that previously I would only dribble at from afar. I get to be a single bridesmaid (always fun, and includes bouquet catching and dancing like a nutter whilst drunk on pimms). If Nicholas Hoult comes knocking, I'll be free for a date (I'll be waiting for that call Nicky boy). I can focus on my acting without feeling guilty. I can eat a tub of Phish Food frozen Yoghurt for dinner and not be told off for it. Christmas is going to be a lot cheaper.
I haven't given up on my belief in true love and romance yet Reader. Even though my happy ending hasn't quite happened yet, I'll go on thinking that anything is possible and being moonstruck at weddings and happy for my loved up friends. Because life is too short to be spent being the bad fairy, especially when you can be the brilliant tea drinking, chicken owning, sparkle wearing fairy godmother in The Slipper and The Rose!
Tarrah!
Ash
x
Wednesday, 16 October 2013
Solitude...
So Reader, for the past couple of days, I have been alone. House sitting. Now, the first night, I freaked out slightly. Couldn't sleep at night because I kept thinking I could hear noises (despite the fact that the house is more secure than Buckingham Palace and I am surrounded by safety conscious neighbors). I ran out of things to do, started talking to the cat in funny accents and did so much crafting that my fingers now look like they have chicken pox from the needle prickles.
Now however, I am loving it. I am taking every night as as solitary sleepover. Films, face packs, popcorn and many hot baths. Singing loudly and out of tune has become a must whilst cooking dinner. Solitude, I have discovered, is very me. Saying that, I have already caved and spent a night back visiting my housemate last night because I missed her too much (living with one of your besties is a committed relationship, you miss them as you would a boyfriend after a while).
One thing that I have come to notice is that my taste in films has definitely got more silly since being single. No longer do I make an attempt to watch a range of genres. Or much in the way of new, edgy films. This week I have chomped my way through The Bachelorette, My Best Friend's Wedding, SATC2, Dark Shadows and The Cinderella film with Hillary Duff. I can feel my brain cells dying and I am loving it! Next week The Purge and Byzantium are on my list. I've now watched all of The IT Crowd and restarted on American Horror Story. Fantastic.
The cat is very confused by me. He is unimpressed with my singing and my various accents. I dressed him up as an arab cat the other day using a teatowl and a hair band and he glared at me for the rest of the day. I'm not convinced he is enjoying me being his carer quite as much and I am enjoying caring.
In between work (and self pampering) I have been seeing a lot of my grandparents. Today I took my gran out to get her yearly dose of the ENTIRE CLINIQUE COUNTER and as usual she forced cake down my gullet and gave me a talk out of the blue about how 'there is someone out there for everyone, any ye'll find ye'reself a lovely man at some point, ye need someone mature. Maybe someone who's got a house'. My gran is clearly the queen of advice. This is the same woman, who when asked about how she met the love of her life said 'The Eegit stole my handbag'.
Anyway folks, I'm going back to Carrie and the girls and starting to run my bath. Up super duper early tomorrow and it looks to be a busy ass day!
Tarrah!
Ash
x
Now however, I am loving it. I am taking every night as as solitary sleepover. Films, face packs, popcorn and many hot baths. Singing loudly and out of tune has become a must whilst cooking dinner. Solitude, I have discovered, is very me. Saying that, I have already caved and spent a night back visiting my housemate last night because I missed her too much (living with one of your besties is a committed relationship, you miss them as you would a boyfriend after a while).
One thing that I have come to notice is that my taste in films has definitely got more silly since being single. No longer do I make an attempt to watch a range of genres. Or much in the way of new, edgy films. This week I have chomped my way through The Bachelorette, My Best Friend's Wedding, SATC2, Dark Shadows and The Cinderella film with Hillary Duff. I can feel my brain cells dying and I am loving it! Next week The Purge and Byzantium are on my list. I've now watched all of The IT Crowd and restarted on American Horror Story. Fantastic.
The cat is very confused by me. He is unimpressed with my singing and my various accents. I dressed him up as an arab cat the other day using a teatowl and a hair band and he glared at me for the rest of the day. I'm not convinced he is enjoying me being his carer quite as much and I am enjoying caring.
In between work (and self pampering) I have been seeing a lot of my grandparents. Today I took my gran out to get her yearly dose of the ENTIRE CLINIQUE COUNTER and as usual she forced cake down my gullet and gave me a talk out of the blue about how 'there is someone out there for everyone, any ye'll find ye'reself a lovely man at some point, ye need someone mature. Maybe someone who's got a house'. My gran is clearly the queen of advice. This is the same woman, who when asked about how she met the love of her life said 'The Eegit stole my handbag'.
Anyway folks, I'm going back to Carrie and the girls and starting to run my bath. Up super duper early tomorrow and it looks to be a busy ass day!
Tarrah!
Ash
x
Friday, 11 October 2013
Hanging...
Reader, today I have not been very well. I have, in fact, had a hangover from hell. I went out last night and took full advantage of a happy hour deal and had six cocktails on a very empty stomach and when I woke up this morning, I had a mouth drier than a sand dune and a stomach that turned every time I reached for my glass of water. My head was vibrating like the inside of a bell and words weren't coming out as words, more like slurring yelps that made little sense. I sounded like a character from Lord Of The Rings. A midget Orc.
I wasn't even that dramatically drunk, but my mid-twenties ability to handle my booze has clearly diminished. I spent the majority of my day squinting at my screen trying to get work done, then having naps, then watching Glee while I worked and wept. Eventually I half crawled to Asda and got mashed potato and sausages and ate them in a giant Yorkshire pudding covered in gravy. I was quite proud given that I only got lost on the way to the shops once. Although I did discover that my purse got nicked last night, which was less encouraging on the ability to handle my drink front. When my friends left this morning, I was unable to get up and give them a hug, I just waved at them from bed encouragingly and then carried on groaning into my pillow.
The night was great though. My lovely actor friends banded together for a night of cocktails, positive attitudes and stories from the scary (and at times hilarious) world of dating in London. We laughed, we posed for silly pictures, we took the unholy mick out of each other and we behaved like the pretentious luvvies we claim to despise (which is always great fun).
I did however, get chatted up. Which is a bonus. Apart from the fact that he was a 20 year old telecoms project manager with an S shaved into his head and his chat up line was 'So what drink are you getting me?'. I laughed so hard that I nearly fell off my extremely tall shoes. 'No dear, I'm an actor. I can barely buy my own alcohol'. Then he asked how he could get in touch with me. 'Ahhh' I said, mysteriously, 'Look me up online!' Luckily no one can spell my name. Little does he know! Oh dear Reader. My life has been reduced to enigmatically turning down pre-pubescent telecoms staff whilst trying to stay upright on exceptionally high heels. Hardly Sex and The City.
It's the first time in a while I've had such an intense hangover. I used to have one at least once a week at uni (although I think the emotional scars from the awful, cringey things I did whilst pissed lasted longer than the hangovers.) Being a social secretary always comes with a side of painful morning afters. The difference of course, is that now when I'm hungover I'm invariably guilty over not giving work my 100%. So no more getting drunk for me. Till November anyway. And then the Christmas parties will begin and my home made mulled wine will be making one hell of an appearance!
Hurrah!
Ash
x
I wasn't even that dramatically drunk, but my mid-twenties ability to handle my booze has clearly diminished. I spent the majority of my day squinting at my screen trying to get work done, then having naps, then watching Glee while I worked and wept. Eventually I half crawled to Asda and got mashed potato and sausages and ate them in a giant Yorkshire pudding covered in gravy. I was quite proud given that I only got lost on the way to the shops once. Although I did discover that my purse got nicked last night, which was less encouraging on the ability to handle my drink front. When my friends left this morning, I was unable to get up and give them a hug, I just waved at them from bed encouragingly and then carried on groaning into my pillow.
The night was great though. My lovely actor friends banded together for a night of cocktails, positive attitudes and stories from the scary (and at times hilarious) world of dating in London. We laughed, we posed for silly pictures, we took the unholy mick out of each other and we behaved like the pretentious luvvies we claim to despise (which is always great fun).
I did however, get chatted up. Which is a bonus. Apart from the fact that he was a 20 year old telecoms project manager with an S shaved into his head and his chat up line was 'So what drink are you getting me?'. I laughed so hard that I nearly fell off my extremely tall shoes. 'No dear, I'm an actor. I can barely buy my own alcohol'. Then he asked how he could get in touch with me. 'Ahhh' I said, mysteriously, 'Look me up online!' Luckily no one can spell my name. Little does he know! Oh dear Reader. My life has been reduced to enigmatically turning down pre-pubescent telecoms staff whilst trying to stay upright on exceptionally high heels. Hardly Sex and The City.
It's the first time in a while I've had such an intense hangover. I used to have one at least once a week at uni (although I think the emotional scars from the awful, cringey things I did whilst pissed lasted longer than the hangovers.) Being a social secretary always comes with a side of painful morning afters. The difference of course, is that now when I'm hungover I'm invariably guilty over not giving work my 100%. So no more getting drunk for me. Till November anyway. And then the Christmas parties will begin and my home made mulled wine will be making one hell of an appearance!
Hurrah!
Ash
x
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