Bridget’s got a bloody boyfriend …

I know, I know shock of the fucking century. Who’d have thought it… 
Let’s backtrack a few whirlwind weeks to give you an idea on how we got here. So it all started out with a rather posh dinner at Hixter that Mr Boat shoes had arranged. Cue alarm bells, does this mean he’s finally realised he’s been dating a slight mentalist and he’s calling it all off? Or, is he about to say whilst he’s had fun he’s just not looking for anything serious …. I’m a great girl and I’ll make someone very happy blah blah blah …. here we go …. 

Then he comes out with the complete opposite of the usual, “it’s not you its me rubbish.” He starts  to say “he’s had lots of fun but it’s not just fun he’s after …. ” And now for the most shocking part….”he wants it to go somewhere.” Whaat?! Oh my god . This never happens. 

So, hang on rather than wanting to call things off and disappear in a ghost like fashion like most men these days… he wants us to, “lead somewhere,” and he’s not just in it for “fun” ? Then he did something even more shocking-  HE brought up the exclusivity chat making it crystal clear he wasn’t seeing anyone else, “err I mean I’m not seeing anyone else right now but you can do what you want of course..” A few awkwardly uttered sentences later and I’m left stunned/ ridiculously excited. 

Bloody hell he is actually keen and not even in an over keen, total turn off sort of way. In a mature adult relationship sort of way …. 

 The rest of the evening I spent trying to act cool and not have a huge cringeworthy smile across my face but I’m pretty sure I couldn’t hide it. Sickening i know. Eekkk now after the momentary excitement I must admit I did start to freak out a bit. 

Am I nice enough for him? Do I want a boyfriend?! And, what is this elusive exclusivity middle ground and what does it mean? Do we stay in this mostly monogamous middle ground of effectively having “no man” of your own but it also means being unable to get with any “other man,” EVER?!  And can I do that, am I capable of it?! 

Is my issue timing or just being tied to something in general?! I’ve been single so long have I forgotten how to be a normal girlfriend? How much time are you meant to spend with a boyfriend? How nice / nasty should you be to keep them interested ?
How long does “exclusive ” last for ? And then how long before we become “official?” And what’s the fucking difference between exclusive and official, is there one?! 

His timing also co-incided with the classic turning 25 predicable email from my estranged father who’s thousands of miles away telling me I need a plan, a strategy to my career and general life. 

Feel a tad like Cyndi Lauder in girls just want to have fun… bar the spiky multi coloured locks thank god. This is the man who for years terrified young boys with his 6 foot five frame and stern stare. I was also always, “too young for a boyfriend.” 

Until now, nowadays he’s desperate to sell me off/ get rid of me before I get to my sell by date. 
It got me thinking shit maybe it is time I should grow up and settle down. Mr boat shoes might be part of the master plan and he’s meant to be my boyfriend. Dear lord ! 

After this flurry of panic I got to thinking what is actually wrong with having a boyfriend? Why am I panicking so much and will anything really change with a title ? It’s not as though we are now bound together for eternity with a mortgage and babies. And I have been dating a VERY long time. 

Will I instantly turn into some raging psycho when I become someone’s girlfriend? Hopefully for his sake not…. 

Or am I panicking about the fact that there isn’t really anything to panic about at all?  If I carry on freaking about what might happen rather than enjoying  it for just what it is then am I going to ruin it all before its even gone anywhere?

After consulting my friends who’ve actually managed to have functional relationships recently I realised I had a meltdown over nothing. 

So then I planned on bringing it up in a really cool way but just ended up blurting out the following …”so I’ve been thinking if you’re keen on the boyfriend thing I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to the idea.” Not quite what they say on the movies but that’s as soppy as I could go.Jesus Christ. 🙈

Despite his outlandish shoe choice he’s actually a pretty private guy and as much as I’d find it entertaining to dissect every aspect of our sex life and his penis I’m not sure he would be all that impressed. And to be quite honest, I don’t have that much time anymore. Yes women can multitask but fitting in sex, sleep and blogging- it just seems there aren’t enough hours in the day. So I’m not quitting, more retiring for a little while ……. 

So long faithful readers and I have no doubt Bridget will be back soon and hopefully not with a baby! Unless I have well and truly found my Mark Darcy……


Do manners really matter..?

Do manners actually matter in modern day dating? 

So things are progressing incredibly well with Mr Boat Shoes, in fact surprisingly so bearing in mind my track record. (Note to self… do not panic/ try not to reveal manic side just yet. Try to remain calm and at least partially normal for as long as feasibly possible ..)

 We are now on official double figures dates and have sort of had the exclusivity conversation.. albeit after about a litre of wine each. Oh dear Lord… These dates have certainly be of shall we say a somewhat diverse variety. Mostly alcohol infused of course, but we have managed to do a sober walk around Battersea Park. Too romantic? Eww… god help me!


We’ve also been on a few slightly strange dates… 



Firstly, there was the Drunken monkey. Now, to give Mr Boat Shoes credit he had researched this and it appeared to be some quite trendy dim sum place which was of course located in Shoreditch. What it actually was turned out to be essentially what looked like a converted slightly smelly old pub, which had been converted into a semi—posh Chinese takeaway. Not Mr Boat shoes at all and when he saw the very limited wine list on a piece of slightly soggy laminated paper I swear I saw a little bit of a discerning frown.

 Secondly, was the “festival,” idea of drinks at the magic roundabout. Don’t get me wrong if I was suitably intoxicated and clad in appropriately edgy clothing this would have been a great shout. But, I was not. I was in a Burberry mac, little dress and designer sunglasses – NOT appropriate attire. I also spent half the time wishing I could drink out of a proper wine glass and not a plastic cup. And the other half feeling as though as I was getting old for having such thoughts.


 However, believe it or not we’ve made it through the obstacle course of dating so far and I’ve even let him into my house. He has seen my terribly messy bedroom and he has not yet made a mad dash to the hills, there is hope!


But, there’s one little issue. Is he too posh for me? Firstly, he talks as though he probably knows Prince Harry personally, (I bloody hope he does..)

 I do not. I am from Stoke-On- Trent and regularly get asked if I am northerner. Clearly, I don’t have a soft Southern accent like no doubt every privately educated previous girlfriend of Mr Boat Shoes. He likes to say I have a soft Northern twang but is he just being nice? And has he got a clue where Stoke is? 

Secondly, his holidays, how on earth would I ever be able to afford them?! He regularly jets off to LA, Barbados, St Tropez, skiing in the alps. My holidays this year have consisted of Glastonbury festival and a week away in Greece. If he ever was to invite me away I would have to take out a credit card to just buy the wardrobe for the trip alone. There is no way on hells earth I am setting foot on a St Tropez yacht without the right clobber. I mean what if I get papped?! I cannot be seen by the public in my Asda bikini… 

Thirdly, and this is the biggie. Am I classy and well-mannered enough? When he told me I don’t hold my knife properly, I nearly died and he even brought it up not at the time but after the event. 🙈Which obviously clearly shows he was that repulsed by the fact I hadn’t held it properly he had been thinking about it after the event. How much had he been thinking about my incorrect knife handling?! Was this a deal breaker?😲 Fuck, can I go to some sort of finishing school asap? I even had to have a knife holding practice session with Tatiana in the office who was able to finally put some of the things she learnt at Cheltenham ladies college to good use.


It got me thinking about manners generally. How important are they in dating? And, do they matter? And how does one know how to hold a knife in the appropriate manner.

Yes, it’s not directly a class related issue but there’s certainly a link. I didn’t go to Cheltenham ladies college and I didn’t get taught any of these clearly very important life skills. Clayton hall Business and Language college spent too much time trying to break up fights and discourage underage smoking to concentrate on teaching students the key skills to attaining a boyfriend aka manners.  What would they teach in finishing school anyway?


I decided to seek the advice of the dating professionals and was outraged at the results.

 E harmony gives three seemingly important reasons as to why manners matter. 

Apparently  It’s important to create a great impression by firstly – not swearing. As someone who has a tendency to get a bit of verbal diarrhoea in situations where I feel slightly nervous my usage of the F word is likely to get worse rather than better in date scenarios.

 Secondly, they tell you to not try and be too funny. Again, how is this controlled type of behaviour conducive to a date type scenario – clearly is not! (Has the person who ever wrote this advice actually been on a first date?! And also what if you are just incredibly funny what are you supposed to do then? Try your hardest to be deliberately grumpy..?


Thirdly, be nice to everyone. I mean come on, do you expect people to be outwardly rude to one another or indeed the waiters on first dates. I mean surely that’s a given? And how far does “everyone” extend? I mean clearly you’ll be nice to the person that you are on the date with but does this extend to people who barge past you in the street on the date? Or, drunk people on the tube home? This is central London -be too nice to random strangers and people will look at you like you’ve got three heads.

 So, I’ve decided E Harmony have got absolutely no idea and I am creating my own criteria as to which manners really matter in the difficult dating world….  (In the hope I can obtain Prince Charming by at least 2037!)


1. Table manners. Now, here there is certainly room for improvement from my side. Don’t get me wrong I can hold a knife and fork. And I do know the difference between a fork and a chopstick. Also, I wasn’t exactly spinning the knife around my head or hurling it at him. But turns out he had a point. When I asked some posh girlfriends there really is a certain way of holding your cutlery. Thank god for Tatiana in the office who gave me a quick crash course during a quiet Friday afternoon in the office. Key thing to remember, keep those fingers far up your knife!

 2. Swearing. Now I think that this should only apply to REALLY bad swear words, like the C world. Completely stopping swearing is non-negotiable… I swear subconsciously, constantly and swear words form a key area of my vocabulary. If I was to eradicate such words from my speech, I’d have nothing left to say. And no one wants to date a mute…if Mr Boat shoes want things to progress he’s going to have to get over the F word coming out of my mouth. (Just not the C one.)

3) Pronunciation. This seems to be the main area in which I need to improve and it’s a tricky one as you have to fail in the first instance to realise where you are going wrong. I don’t pronounce Bath like “Barth,” Or castle like “carstle,” but these aren’t the deal breakers. It’s silly words that seem to catch me out. For instance apparently , I pronounce pergola entirely wrong. Unfortunately for me, they are pretty on trend right now and every drinks event seems to involve attending a “pergola” of sorts. I also don’t say the drink, “Aperol,” properly either apparently. Again, something else very much in fashion this summer. Seems odd to me that all of these hard to say words are alcohol related. You would think if I was going to know how to say any words properly it would be the ones related to my number one hobby…


So, having identified the key areas in which it appears manners still matter in the modern day world of dating, I then got to thinking about what the solution to this really is. Do I cart myself off to some finishing school and pretend that I am Elizabeth in pride and prejudice? Do I start elocution lessons in an attempt to behave like Eliza Doolittle in My Fair lady? … Somehow I can’t see me incorporating into my social life lessons on how to appropriately chant and pronounce, “The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plane.” Zzzzz

And have you seen how expensive elocution lessons are?! I’ll be penniless before I am able to sound posh. 

No, seeking professional help is the not solution, and do Ieven really need a solution. Is this a modern day issue, so manners matter ? 

After a bit of deliberation, (and a table etiquette crash course,) I’ve decided that yes it does helps if you can actually get the food you wish to eat into your mouth.
But if someone is really interested in you they won’t give a shit about any of the other things. As corny as it sounds and even I can’t believe I’m saying this… it’s finding someone who likes you for you that matters, not your manners…. 

Panic on the horizon though, he’s invited me to his parents next weekend…. !!! 

25 things I’ve learnt by 25…..

 Fuck I am officially a quarter of a century old. I am now closer to thirty than twenty…. I am fast approaching middle age, incontinency and general losing of my marbles. And I STILL DON’T HAVE A BOYFRIEND. Or a career or a house…


Okay, slight hysterical panic over but it’s still a terrifying thought to think I’m now in the second half of my twenties. I am practically ancient…. My brain began ticking which admittedly doesn’t occur all that often. Have I achieved anything worthwhile or vaguely notable before reaching this monumental milestone? I don’t think being a prolific dater, being able to do 100 burpees or having sex in a lift really count as life achievements. Surely I’ve done something, anything!? Am I meant to be on some successful career path right now with my Prada handbag on one arm and my drop dead gorgeous, incredibly wealthy boyfriend on the other?….. Or, maybe I should be trekking up the side of some mountain in outer Mongolia trying to “find myself?”


Well, considering neither of those things are on the horizon I got to thinking about shifting the inner hysteria from what I’ve achieved, (clearly not a great deal..,) to what I want to achieve. And, perhaps more importantly to what I’ve learnt and am still learning about life, love and London and most frighteningly about myself…. And, what better way to articulate this than in every London bloggers favourite format, the good old Listicle. So, here goes – prepare for the embarrassment of a verbal dissection of the small amount of things I’ve learnt about my mental mind and life thus far….


1. Gin is not the drink for me. I cannot and should not ever drink it again no matter how good an idea it seems at the time. Every time I think a gin and tonic sounds delightful I must cast my mind back to the numerous evenings I have ended up as a suicidal, inconsolable and incoherent idiot and that is NOT a good look.

2. Change is horrid but essential. Had I not taken the slightly crazy decision to leave my boyfriend, friends and life to up sticks and move to London aged 21, I’d probably still be in my tiny back bedroom. However ,  I would be now sharing my room with two foreign spare room lodgers that my crazy Mama has moved in. I mean if they looked like Brad Pitt perhaps that wouldn’t be so horrid after all…

3.Turtlenecks DO suit me. It only took losing about five pounds, and twenty five years but my dear friend the  turtleneck and I got there in the end.

4.Cheesy but true, you do have to love the body you’re in. Yes, I would absolutely love  to have never ending legs and a washboard stomach like Gigi Hadid.. But, let’s face it ain’t gonna happen when I consume about ten bottles of wine per week. And,  I think a little cellulite is in fact character building.

5.Sex in public places is totally allowed and should be encouraged.
6.In fact I’ve learnt I need to have more sex full stop . Don’t get me wrong. I’m not about to be sent to the Covent as a virginal nun. But, there’s nothing wrong with having sex when you want with who you want.  
7.Talking is attractive. Life really is too short sometimes to not say what you mean. People respect you more for having an opinion rather than being a shy, retiring wallflower and your views are worth something. Although I’m not sure this rule should always apply. Perhaps  advised again after a few too many glasses of wine. 
  8.Laugh at all times and loudly, especially at yourself. It really is the only way to get through sometimes. I mean I’m even NEARLY seeing the funny side of knocking out my front tooth a week ago. There really is no point in crying over spilt milk/arrogant arseholes. You won’t change anything by doing that and in fact you’ll see there really always is a bright side. 

8. You won’t die if you eat a pizza. For the girl who thought carbs were the devil for years it really is okay to eat something naughty once in a while without worrying. You won’t become obese nor will you become a pepperoni pizza.   

9. I am yet to master the art of moderation. Now this one is most certainly a work in progress. I still drink far too much and struggle with not detonating the self-destruct button on occasion. But, I’m getting better at going out four nights a week, not five. Yes, life may pass you by if you spend every night on the sofa. But, you’re not really accelerating your life experiences by spending the whole time drunk or with your head down the toilet hungover either.

10.  Teeth do break. This is a recent depressing discover. After a few too many Proseccos I succeeded in knocking out half of my front tooth and bashing  up my entire face. Also a side discovery, dentists are not cheap! So for my 25th birthday instead of receiving something outrageously decadent as a gift I actually got my two front teeth. A chipped tooth equals eternal singledom. Looking like an ogre for a day was not the one…

11.Brains really are more important than beauty. After the Steady Eddy saga, enough is enough. Beautiful men really are most of the time boring. Since said saga I’ve had a string of very unconventionally good looking and some might even say vaguely geeky men in my bed..(and they actually know what they are doing in there.) God only knows I may end up marrying some sort of mad scientist at this rate. At least then I could potentially get some free Botox…

12.It’s okay to be crap at cooking. Don’t get me wrong I’ve had a few good cracks and I did somehow manage to make a Spaghetti Bolognese from scratch whilst drunk and had no recollection of doing it in the morning once. But, sober cooking is not my forte. Future husbands beware- you may starve. Or, live a life existing on beans on toast and cereal… At least I won’t have a fat other half.

13. It’s okay to hate your job a little bit. After illusions of being a corporate lawyer, enduring three dreadfully dull years of studying law at University, I’ve realised I will never be the next Elle Woods. Judging by the fact my current work/life balance being around 20% work 80 % life/general fun I’d say I’m rather far away from being the CEO of some huge corporation. And, I’m pretty alright with that. Will earning a six figure salary be the key to eternal happiness? I somehow doubt it…

14.As you get older your parents get more mental. Terrifying thought that I may someday morph into my menopausal, highly strung mother who is genuinely terrified of cash machines. Shit, it’s going to happen to us all at some point and there isn’t a hope in hell you can do anything about it.

15.Going to the cinema by yourself is actually quite enjoyable. To see a Disney film no less, Beauty and the beast in fact. Your own company isn’t so bad after all..

16. 69 really is a logistical nightmare. But a nightmare worth exploring. However, it does require maximum effort at all times. It really is true you do get what you give….

17. Shagging your friends is NEVER a good idea. Nor is shagging the guy you sit across from in the office. Note to self arriving at your colleagues house for sex dressed as a potato can cause for a hell of a lot of embarrassment in the office the next day. And for the next few years…..

18.Travel is good for your mind, body and soul and you should do it as much as you can. Trekking around India, despite the Delhi belly was a life changing experience. And I did also manage to snog one of Idris Elba’s friends out of the experience too so life changing in more ways than one. If only it was Idris himself, oh well something to aim for before the big 30…

19.Saying no is important. Not necessarily no to drugs and alcohol. More yes, yes and yes again on that front. But, more not doing things just because you think you SHOULD. If it doesn’t feel right chances are you shouldn’t do it and there’s a reason you feel that way. If only I had realised this before taking my clothes off and opening up to mind to numerous arrogant arseholes.

20. But, saying yes is important too. You can’t plan ahead for everything and Jesus how boring would it be if you did..

21. Spending on silly things is allowed. You can’t always be sensible and safe with everything. Buying something ridiculous you cant afford is completely normal. 

22.  Yoga isn’t the dullest thing on earth. Admittedly,  the first time I did it I did spend the first half of the class trying not to pass wind. And for the duration of the second half I actually fell asleep. But, I’m getting better and my warrior pose isn’t half bad nowadays. Maybe I will find my inner zenn one day…. I don’t think you’ll be getting many “OHM’S…” out of me just yet though.

23. Hangovers really can feel like you’re in your own mini version of a never ending hell, with no cure or escape route.

24. It’s okay to lose your shit. Be it about love, your job, or just dissatisfaction with your general life situation . Or, the fact you’re TURNING FUCKING 25! 

25. Life just really is one big old ride and the 25th stop can’t be that different from the previous 24… can it?

Sex for transactional purposes. Slutty or smart? 

Sex can it ever be for purely transactional purposes..?  With no overdraft fees or emotional charges incurred? 

Transactional sex refers to sexual relationships where the giving of gifts or services is an important factor. Transactional sex is a superset of prostitution, in that the exchange of gifts for sex includes a broader set of obligations that do not necessarily involve a predetermined payment or gift, but where there is a definite motivation to benefit materially from the sexual exchange (Hunter 2002).  But why can’t the payment and the gift  be JUST the sex?

It has always been the way that men are allowed to behave in such a businesslike manner towards sex but women aren’t. If we do we are promiscuous, with loose morals and as a direct result loose knickers. Well take it from someone who has actually lost their knickers at a mans house things shouldn’t be this way ….

Now, I know I’ve dissected in previous blog editions the issues with friends shagging each other, but in this I am not talking about a friends with benefits situation. To make it clear for this whole idea of transactional sex to occur, this person must not be your friend. But, different to the technical definition of transactional sex I’m not endorsing a subset of prostitution. What I’m talking about is being upfront and saying that what we want is sex. And just sex not the material exchange of gifts or goods being the sex and not expensive handbags …

Apparently the onslaught of transactional sex  is linked to poverty… I wouldn’t argue with that in terms of what it can mean in the primitive form for beginners. Jesus,when I think back to my first year of London when I literally went on dates to eat.. The only problem for those poor souls is that they didn’t actually get the sex after the dinner….Now the difference is I can afford my own dinner and it’s the sex I’m after.

Again, I am not endorsing transactional sex where it’s a form of manipulation by someone more powerful . My idea is to take it from the view point that females and males should be treated as equally able to control their own emotions and can take sex for what it is, sex.

There’s a huge difference between friends with benefits and no strings attached sex for transactional purposes.

Granted 34% of us have had no strings attached with a male friend, including myself. And no doubt there are lots of benefits. You’ve chosen to spend time with that person in a non -sexually charged context so hopefully you like them as a person with their clothes on as well as off. You would also hope that friendship would also enable a high degree of honesty. But there’s also a lot more to lose, you might want to cash in sell and move on but the other doesn’t want to . Or you may decide you want to invest more but the other person doesn’t want to?  My issue with fuck buddies and most certainly friends with benefits is the uncertainty and granted there are crucial differences between the two concepts. But they are both still a bit of a weird hybrid thing middle ground I find hard to navigate and negotiate in.

“What exactly does that expression mean, ‘friends with benefits’? Does he provide her with health insurance?”

But by keeping the two separate and treating your sexual partner like a business partner you’re actually ensuring no long term big losses. You get to keep your platonic plus one and much needed wedding companion.

By having short term no strings attached transactional sex, you’re actually being financially savvy. You’re temporarily cashing in your sex chips for now, keeping them learning and earning interest whilst keeping your eye out for Mr Better, if not Mr Right. Granted it’s gives you short term high returns and not long term happiness but sometimes it’s what we want, no?

Take fit Reuben from fitness first for example. I somehow got the hots for him during my lunchtime HIT gym classes which I can only attribute to his aggressive shouting at me to do  potentially permanently damaging things such as burpees and squats. Hot I looked yes, boiling in fact. Sexy, not quite so much. Sex inevitably ensued. On Valentine’s day last year in fact, oh the romance. Then, afterwards when he actually tried to conduct a conversation with me outside of our usual parameters of shouting and profuse sweating in my case, I realised I actually wasn’t interested in a word he had to say. In fact, he didn’t really have many words to say, (or at least ones more than three syllables.)…I can certainly say we both looked relieved when I turned down his request to spend time together in the day time.
There’s also no fall out venturing down the purely transactional route. There’s no awkward follow on messages from either side. No, we should do “that” again” and spending hours trying to decipher what he meant by, “that.” Did he mean sex and a date? Did he mean JUST sex? Did he mean he wants something to progress into ever- lasting love, marriage and babies? (Believe me, some girls get this far down the line with their imaginations!) If you’re just having sex as a one time cash transaction it’s very clear what the just is.

 With perhaps an option and no obligation to extend an overdraft on the odd occasion. An added optional extra should you have a particularly hard month some might say …  

Unfortunately chemicals aren’t in our favour ladies. Oxytocin the chemical released when you kiss someone apparently makes you form attachment. More of this is released  from our brains when we have sex which sends those annoying emotional endorphins our way .. (and who said all words being with ‘O’ meant good things in relation to sex?!) A GP once referred to it as the cuddle hormone.

So if we cut the cuddling and keep it to just shagging then we’ll be okay right? It’s at this precise canoodling moment we need to put the businesslike approach into action.  We are now CEOS of huge corporations and act like men in the workplace. So, why not extend our brokering abilities to the bedroom and become CEO’s of our own sex lives?

The same thing doesn’t happen to men in the bedroom.  They get the feeling of pure pleasure created by dopamine.Sounds about right. Women have to fight our way through the battle ground of feelings whilst men are able to wave their willies around with reckless abandoned and just  feel pleasure. Hormones most certainly aren’t an excuse, dopamine doesn’t have to mean dominant or dickhead.

Apparently we can’t train our bodies to identify whether we’re having a casual fling or a meaningful sexual relationship but do we need to and why can’t we? Human beings in the most part are the most intelligent beings on this planet. Mind over matter. I’m sure our brains are adequately equipped enough to inform our vaginas that we are after just sex?!
Ultimately, we’re  all inherently animals and maybe the route to finding a mutually compatible partner is about testing the sexual chemistry beforehand …
Or perhaps described more eloquently in the wise words of Carrie Bradshaw,  “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just somebody I’m trying on.”  

And after all girls, we all love a free shopping expedition do we not?

The Valleys boy or the Tory toff? 

 I’m here again at that fork in the dating road between brains and brawn, morality and the shallow waters of well, being shallow I guess?!

 Take politician Will for example. A blast from the past that I have previously slept in the same bed as twice but who never quite managed to a) get my clothes off…or b) take me on a real life date.. 💂‍♀️The modern day equivalent of Cilla Black aka bumble puts us back in touch.🙌♥


Rewind a year of Bridget related madness to the moment we first met in Balham Wetherspoons… What I mean by madness is too much alcohol, too much passing out and too much over eagerness. I was just I think too much generally. Fast forward a year later and he’s relocated to Fulham from the bright lights of Balham and seems to be dare I say it… a little more mature? Or, wait have I spoke too soon !? Inevitably so.  But, as ever I’m trying to be an optimist rather than pessimist.. (don’t know why I bother…

 Fast forward a week of flirtatious what’s apping for weeks. Then, one hour after checking I’m free and confirming a location here comes the unsurprising ….”Really, really sorry I can’t make tonight. Something’s come up. I’ll message you tomorrow .”😒 Oh fuck right off William you lousy leftie! Something’s come up… Urgh not even an over the top attempt to justify the last minute cancellation or any insight as to what something could be… 

 Firstly, what could be more important than a date with me? The country may well be in disarray but  I don’t care. This rendezvous was a wine Wednesday a year overdue in the making. I mean if that’s not dedication to the dating cause then what is… 🍷 I’d even googled what article 50 was and what state the country was currentlyin post Brexit so my politically related chat could be vaguely on par. Brexit smexxit 🇪🇺


Perhaps I should be more concerned at my lack of interest in the state of our country’s political situation unless it’s to make me sound clever on a date? But I’m not…I’m just pissed off.

 He’s even met my mother last year … don’t ask! Somewhat accidentally but it still counts. Why he’s not marching me down the aisle as his number one political aid/ confidant/ chief shagging partner  god only knows…👸Sam Cam’s launching her own fashion line. Cherie Blair works in law too…Okay as an actual lawyer but still- a job headhunting the weird and wonderful world of lawyers means that I can whip out some of the legal lingo as and when required.  I’ve even got a leather mini skirt similar to Teresa May’s leather leggings I’ve got all the vital credentials… and outfits …


Balham’s Bridget in number 10 Downing Street I can just see it now. I wonder what budget the PM’s wife gets for her wardrobe… If Sadiq can do it for Tooting then why can’t I?! South west London is big in the political world at present and it’s about time I got involved.  But no, my Downing street dreams have been dashed by politician Will. Who, is I may add is yet to get back in touch to shed any more light as to the “something,” that came up or to reschedule the best night of his life with me… I imagine I may get another invite to wine Wednesday in 2020 when he will probably be the actual Prime minister knowing my luck.

 Wallowing in self-pity over, I’ve had a think about where else my destiny may belong… Maybe I should do a total 360 from my illusions of political grandeur and become a Valleys girl. A group of friends and I made the epic trek last Friday to Wales to watch the rugby. We arrived in Cardiff in true Rugby fan style in a minibus drinking cans of cider. I even donned an England shirt for the man hunting expedition. 


 An amazing day of prosecco drinking later, (how very English of us!) combined with shouting at tense moments of the rugby and staring at well built Welsh men. And there I am at the bar on what was probably round 13..? Picture it lots of hand shaking, rugby taunting slapping on backs, jovial manly type behaviour. All going well and the men began looking unsurprisingly a lot better looking the more alcohol I’ve drank.  Then,I spot this gorgeous hunk of a man who my friend I think somewhat unkindly described as an oven at the bar.

 (Please make a joke/try and flirtatiously offend me/actually just make any attempt to talk to me!) He did as predicted the classic, you go in front of me at the bar line and immediately instructed me to take off my England shirt as apparently his Welsh pride wouldn’t let him kiss me whilst I was still wearing it. A request which I immediately obeyed … I do like a man with a little authority after all.


 Now I must admit through the slighter clearer vision minus the alcohol haze he was definitely over 35 and almost certainly had some form of significant other past or present and probably a child. But did I really care about that for a quick drunken snog and ego boost, of course not no. And it’s the Welsh accent that gets me weak at the knees. Genuine. He had the broadest shoulders I think I’ve quite possibly ever seen and he was charming in a sort of gruff and Swansea type straight forward manner. 


So in, true Saturday boozing style an hour later and I was sat on his knee snogging him in the bar marching around declaring that was the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen 🙈  Jesus how much did I drink? The next day his what’s app photo, (with him and a small boy who I can only presume is his own child, eek!) didn’t depict the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. But then I wouldn’t say it instantly screamed oven either…  I mean how do you even look like an oven anyway?!

 Alas gorgeous Gareth and I were not meant to live in holy matrimony. In fact, I think he actually ran off from me and I sought rejection comfort in my curry sauce and chips from Tony’s in chippy alley. Which by that point I was quite content with…  and plus my minibus was due to whisk me back to the valleys….


Maybe Bridget is made more for the Welsh valleys than the middle class of Houses of Parliament after all…. 


The sporty date …

It’s about time the sporty date. Let’s boil all back down to our making.. cavemen bellowing to attract their match. Throw me into a modern day scenario. Date number four with the mystery/ socially media unsavvy man and here I am wondering what the fuck I’m doing in the slightly psychedelic cycle beat spin studio. What started out as a semi sober joke was now not so funny reality. Fuck my life . 

Why had I paid 20 quid to publicly embarrass myself at my lack of pedalling strength?! 

Why had this ever seemed a good idea?! 

To my own detriment I’m not one to turn down a challenge so I wasn’t going to back out now. But why on earth had I made the suggestion?!

So there we were with dj Janine in the house with her live transcendental dance dj at the front doing his very “transcendental” thing. What does that word even mean anyway ?! Ibiza this was not, we were in a basement in Bank for gods sake.

And DJ Janine had all of the inspirational chat. Give me another gear, you’ve got this you’re climbing.. can you really feel this…” This was cycling enthusiast heaven? Everyone had the purpose built spin shoes and Lycra shorts and there was me head to toe in lu lu lemon and just in a sports bra with my wine waist entirely on show as it was preferable to remove clothing rather than pass out from over heating. 

My date barely acknowledged me in his competitive cycle beat psyche. Note to self giggling not appropriate in such scenarios, this appears to be serious shit. 

To also make public shaming that tiny bit more horrific I look up and see a huge leaderboard on show detailing just how many rpms each person is using and how much energy they’ve burned. Or in my case not burnt…I.e. How hard you’re actually trying!)

Mystery man had this nailed it appeared and stayed a solid first place for the entire class. Miles ahead of everyone else… alarm bells now start to ring. He seems like he’s done this before ….this a well trodden date route for this guy? Maybe not so shy after all?

Fast forward an hour, or what felt like a lifetime and I had survived. Struggled and sweated for just wait for it, 27th! Place. Absolute travesty and I’m almost certain the leader board was broken… I’ve seen DJ Janine naked in the communal shower, the sort of which I’ve not been in since the age of 14 at the communal swimming baths. 

If this wasn’t a modern day example of dedication to the cause of finding a significant other I don’t know what is…. 

Sadly however the romance didn’t seem to last very long after the spin date. Clearly 27th place just wasn’t enough…… 

Monogamy or more than two in the bed ..?

My friend recently met a guy who seemed to good to be true. Rich, successful, charming and single. 
Fast forward an impromptu evening of fun and wild sex to the next morning. His behaviour starts to get weird.  He starts checking for her hairs in his bed, taking her out of his house through a side door. And suddenly Mr charming seems not so single. If that course of actions doesn’t scream MARRIED I don’t know what does. And also makes me scream why are men such wankers?


I am not suggesting this is just something men do, women lose the plot sometimes too. One prime example of this was the wife of one of my friend. She appeared perfectly preened socially sorted and impeccably organised and well balanced. Fast forwards six months of marriage later and she did the ultimate cliché and kissed her colleague at the sky Christmas party. Lost her husband, her beautiful home, and the baby making dream that she thought she had always wanted. Instead she chucked their shared Dualit toaster, (what a waste of expensive kitchenware,) and photo frames at him whilst screeching down the street.

 I get that alcohol blurs the lines of what is and isn’t acceptable but drinking too much doesn’t mean your clothes then accidentally drop off.  God if I hadn’t drank sixteen vinos I wouldn’t have done half the embarrassing things I’ve done. Setting both my handbag and entire hand on fire being one, giving a close friend a drunken very uncoordinated lap dance to name another. But I’ve never gone in the realms of cheating. My one experience of cheating was when I was on family holiday in Greece, classy kardmenos of all places aged 17 and I snogged Gav from Essex when I had a high school boyfriend. Sorry Jack from sixth form. And yes, he was actually from Billericay. And yes thank the lord marginally better looking … 


But then what’s the answer ? If Jay z can cheat on queen Bee what hope do the rest of us mere mortals have? Remove our male partners peripheral vision and force them to walk around with blinkers on like horses? Or do we just never let them out of the house for fear they may stray? I highly doubt we would get a good reception to either  suggestion ….



On a slightly different but related note I’ve become a huge fan of the Netflix series, Easy. A Netflix short series entirely focused on the dynamics of different relationships. My absolute favourite episode and it’s hardly surprising is the episode where Orlando bloom and his super hot wife have a threesome with their baby piano class teacher. All orchestrated through tinder… 


I liked it so much  I’ve now watched it three maybe four times even making a guy I was on a date with watch it, and it of course went down a treat. It got me thinking,are threesomes the answer for those scared of monogamy? Swiping tinder not for the one but the extra one to get naked with… could this be the answer?

My previous attempt at a threesome was pathetic. It resulted in me decided I didn’t actually want to have sex with my friend or the guy involved in fact and let her carry on whilst I treated myself to a bath in the swanky apartment we were staying in. (I was a student at the time, baths are a luxury in those days, don’t judge !) 

I do get intrigued about people’s crazy threesome stories but almost in a way I get jealous of people who’ve had colonic irrigation. Intriguing but something I’d rather just hear about than try myself. Don’t get wrong, I’m sure it’s satisfying in one way. It’s nothing new , think of the Primrose hill set and all the inter-couple shagging that happened there between Kate moss and co. Borrowing your friends partner to bonk was the norm as it was just actually bonking your friends. I can see how all of the debauchery of the supposed cocaine fuelled three somesomes would be exciting. 

Maybe I’m missing a trick and I should get myself out there on the threesome scene. Or, maybe it terrifies me to say it i could possibly be a bit boring and just quite content sleeping with one person?! 

Mind you faced with the prospect of getting to see Orlando bloom naked in my bed I’m not sure my answer would be the same …