I’ve always considered myself the strong, independent type… the no-nonsense-get-in-the-guy’s-face-if-he-crosses-the-line kinda girl. I think because of this demeanor I’ve been pretty fearless when it comes to guys who I have deemed ‘aggressive’ and I’ve always been able to hold my own when they say inappropriate things or manhandle me, like the time I punched a guy when he grabbed my ass one too many times.

What I didn’t realise though is that those kinds of boys don’t really mean any harm. Idiocy and alcohol were key factors in their inappropriate behaviour.

I never thought to bring this up because I’m still shaken by it when I think about what could have happened, but I suppose I feel the need to write things out for closure.

Last fall, a guy I had been on a few dates with insisted on picking me up from the airport. He had been a perfect gentleman for the most part save for a few unsavoury, tasteless jokes about women that I had brushed off but he hadn’t done anything that raised any immediate red flags. I thought it was sweet that he had wanted to pick me up but now that I think about it, it was strange how he had continued to insist despite my telling him he didn’t have to.

When he picked me up, he gave me a hug, grabbed my suitcase and we made our way back to the city. Halfway through the ride, I realised that he was going in the opposite direction from my neighbourhood.

‘I just need to swing by home for a minute,’ he said.

‘Actually, would you be able to drop me off? I’m really tired from the flight and I’d like to go to my place,’ I told him.

‘It won’t be too long, I promise,’ he insisted.

After a few minutes of my insisting that he just take me home, he pulled the car over in the middle of a deserted street and jumped on me, pressing his lips against mine while I struggled to push him away. I screamed at him to get off and kept pushing and pushing until he moved away in sheer frustrating. He then called me a tease and asked what was the point in him picking me up if he wasn’t going to get any.

I jumped out of the car and demanded that I get my suitcase back.

‘Fine,’ he sneered, grabbing my suitcase from the back and sped off.

Twenty minutes later, I was able to flag a cab down and silently made my way back home. I threw away the blouse he had torn, the skirt that was pretty much unwearable and stayed under the hot shower for an hour trying to wash away his presence.

When a guy decides to become truly aggressive, there isn’t a whole lot that a girl can do. If I hadn’t fought back as I had or if he had chosen to disregard the fact that I had been fighting back and had forced himself on me, I don’t think there is much I could have done.

Stay safe ladies. I know there are good people in the world but there are some horrible excuses for human beings around too.


Parisienne Style


It’s always a little strange when a guy who isn’t gay or your personal shopper tells you what to wear… My friend C is perpetually trying to get me to evolve my style to suit his tastes. I’d just like him to shave off that irritating goatee of his.

I err on the side of simple. Classic lines, monochrome palette and none of the bells, whistles and froufrou. C on the other hand has really been trying to get me to dress in a certain way: ankle length trousers, striped shirts,  flats and no makeup. Sir, you have to look like Marion Cotillard to pull off that look, I tell him, but he has very consistently and insistently attempted to brainwash me into thinking this is the way to go.

He recently sent me a photo of a pair of Salvatore Ferragamo flats that I own as heels and suggested that I break the heel off. Are you kidding me? I have always admired how French girls are just able to throw things together in a haphazard way and look amazing but you don’t ruin a pair of perfectly good pumps in the name of fashion.  There are some things that a girl just can’t pull off ya know? And how to be Parisienne chic is probably something on that list.




I was asked out on a date last week that went surprisingly well until about the end when I was hijacked in the bathroom by a slightly tipsy dude who proceeded to ask for my number. Excuse me sir, I am on a date, is it not obvious? Evidently not. The next day, I saw that he had texted me, having gotten my number from a friend of mine who was also at the bar. Creepy? A little but I figured I’d give him the benefit of the doubt because beggars can’t be choosers.

After cutting off booty call guy completely, I have been bombarded with equally useless men. Boys  really. Ones who play games and want to have fun. Sometimes fun is good but these days I can’t but feel that it’s a waste of my energy figuring out these silly games of theirs. So I’ve started to date casually, a few dates here a few dates there to see if anything works out.

You come to realise quite quickly what they want from you. And most of the time its not what is being offered up.

I’ve come to the conclusion though, that it takes a smart woman and a meticulously organized woman to juggle multiple men. It also takes a woman who can detach herself from her emotions from time to time, otherwise you end up with a big mess and too many balls to juggle (no pun intended).


Here’s the thing about dating in your 30s… you know that inevitably, some of these men are not going to last. The men that hold your hand while they drive you home, the men that laugh at your quips across the table, the men who push you up against the wall and press their lips against yours, the men that give you butterflies by the way they look at you… they just aren’t going to last forever.

In that sense, I miss the youthful innocence of my teens when love seemed like forever, whatever forever may have been at the time. Or the hopeful romantic I was in my twenties when I believed that the he who was with me at the time and I would be able to make it last, come what may.

But in your 30s, you just know…

And after weighing the pros and cons, you break it off before it even starts because you know that the good men in your life, the ones you would have fallen in love with when you were youthfully innocent, the ones you would have given a chance to when you were hopefully romantic, these men will fade out of your life and become distant memories because you can already see that there is no future with them.

I don’t know when I became so jaded. Perhaps in between the last man to love me and leave me and him, I started building up these walls and controlling my emotions and making excuses for things not to work out. But between him holding my hand and making plans and his insistence that I become his, I felt a sliver of hope creep up from when I least expected it to.

In your 30s you’re just tired. You’re tired of getting hurt, tired of the men who play games, tired of the men that judge you so sometimes you may just miss what’s right in front of your eyes. In your 30s you can’t even trust your own judgement because they’ve been clouded by disillusionment. How do you learn to trust again and let love in? Because it seems like the hardest thing in the world…

Office Romance


My colleague asked me out for a quick coffee last Friday, which ended up turning into dinner and drinks. A few days prior, he had walked with me from work to where I was meeting a friend and near the end of that walk, he reached over and held my hand.

‘What does that mean?!?!’ I screeched to my friend.
‘Maybe he was just being nice,’ my friend responded.

So I wrote it off as my colleague being nice (although who holds hands to be nice?!?!) and went on my merry way… until Friday.

Over drinks, he reached for my hand again, asked me if I was interested in him and then he leaned over the table and kissed me. On the mouth. You know, like a proper head tilt, put me off balance, against the wall type of kiss that, had I been a few years younger and a little less experienced, would have made me think I was in love.

Luckily, I am older and wiser… sort of…. so I only got the butterflies.

Shit shit shit shit shit.

Not sure what they’re putting in the water these days but men in their twenties are pretty aggressive. Where is all this confidence coming from?! I’ve never dated a co-worker because I feel that it’s really inappropriate. While this guy is not in my department and we don’t work together directly, we nonetheless see each other every day and work on the same floor.

‘I’m probably going to do that again at some point,’ he tells me while I glare at him and berate myself for allowing it to happen.

I’m still of the opinion that office romances are never a good idea.

Thank goodness for extended business trips.

21st Century Dating


I have been dating quite a lot recently, just dates… with many many non committal men who will text occasionally, booty call frequently and generally confuse the hell out of me. Where do I find these guys? Honestly, I have no idea. It’s like they just show up at my doorstep or something.

21st century dating culture is so strange. You spent more time on your phones or tablets and on social networking sites than face to face having meaningful conversations.

Guys have freaked out over the word ‘dating’ one too many times. Fine, I’ll say casual dating, as if that makes a difference; labels don’t really matter to me. But since when was dating something to freak out over. The guys I date seem to think that this is the gateway to marriage hell but let’s be real.. I don’t want to marry you either buddy.

I find myself becoming more and more jaded to the process, especially these days when communication is over messages and you find out the guy you’re seeing has gotten back with his ex over Facebook.

These days, a dinner and drinks seems to be a precursor to an ‘official date’, sort of like an interview to see if you really want to interview someone as a proper candidate.

I think its safe to say that the golden age of dating and being ‘courted’ has officially ended. We are now stuck with a string of wishy washy commitments and blah blah blah conversation until you get wifed up.

Romance is dead.