#irresponsible behaviour

TRNC Foreign Ministry condemn Greek Cypriots over Maraş

Statement by the TRNC Ministry of Foreign Affairs regarding the fenced-off area of Maraş   The Greek Cypriot administration of Southern Cyprus continues to make statements to mislead the international public opinion regarding the fenced-off area of Maraş. It is important to register once again the fact that the fenced-off area of Maraş is a TRNC territory and it is solely under the TRNC…

          I’ve discovered that I have big issues with time management. When I start excelling in one area, I tend to start slipping up in another. The issue is mainly about how I reward myself for good behavior, which results in derailing time management plans for good behavior at a later date. The most recent time being on Saturday, when a friend I hadn’t connected with in awhile text me to tell me she was having the worst week ever, and that she also was drinking rye and wanted to get out of her house. Pretty much the perfect storm for me as a drinking partner: you’re good company, will come to my place, AND bring me red wine? Done deal. I thought we could hang out, catch up, have a few drinks…The night, of course, did not stay tame at my apartment, but instead ended drunk, belligerent, and with McNugget sauce thrown in what seems to be an artist manner, all over my new white Guess jeans, mentioned in previous blog. I also vaguely remember seeing a 6’9” (actual height) hot guy at McDonald’s around 3am, who upon my approach promptly expressed that I reminded him of his mom. Good stuff. I believe my response was, “have a great night!” before literally dancing out the door. Saturday’s activities resulted in Sunday plans being blown off in order to lounge in various places around the house, and watch Girls. 

          As I started to think about blog topics that wouldn’t bore the pants off anyone who stumbled onto my writing, I recounted my past week, and realized that my life is scandalously ridiculous at times. Most times. I have so many topics available, if I can just get over my own vulnerabilities for the sake of entertainment, which is really the goal for all areas of my life. Obviously, the scandal I’m referring to here is my boy management skills. Or lack thereof. I have been boy crazy since I was in my early teens, and probably even before. I remember getting all googly-eyed over Joe McIntyre and Edward Furlong when I was preteen. It’s only getting worse in my 30s. Now it’s a different kind of boy crazy than in my teens or 20s. Now I feel like I’m a teenage boy for about 2-3 weeks of the month, openly perving on any and all remotely attractive male in my line of vision, and not for a long-term commitment. I’m not on Tinder anymore, but that doesn’t matter, because there’s outside! The bus! The gas station! Seriously. The gas station. On St Patrick’s Day, while out with girlfriends at a popular establishment, I grew bored with the talent inside, so started messaging an 18-year-old university student I had met previously, making plans to leave and hang out with him. While I waited to hear that he had arrived outside (because he’s too young to get in the bar! Ha!), I managed to not only get distracted by a cute Latino guy, but I also at some point got his number, took my shoes off to show him my feet (I have no idea. He told me this via text the next day), and then mouth-kissed him goodbye after I got the message that my young suitor was waiting outside. I am a loose cannon! But I am having a fabulous delicious time. 

          While describing my adventures to a male friend last Friday, he accused me of being interested in younger men solely based on the fact that they are younger. Not so. And here is my argument…menfolk of my age, you’re not gonna like it. Sorry, not sorry…as a female, it’s been socially and societally hammered into my psyche that I have to keep up with a certain physique, look, fashion, style, behavior etc. Now, in my head - in my logic - I know that this is bullshit; people who matter don’t care about that, and exterior appearance only counts for so much. And yet here I am at the age of 33, working out with a trainer, eating organic and mainly plant-based, exfoliating and moisturizing from head to toe, drinking apple cider vinegar in the morning, getting my hair done, getting adequate sleep, whitening my teeth, taking care of my skin, drinking enough water per day to drown an infant in, and generally busting my ass to keep my shit tiiiiiiiight. I know I live healthily, and it’s been engrained in me as a female to behave a certain way, but I honestly do most of it to look as hot as possible for myself; I dance in the mirror a lot. Health is a positive side effect. I work on my inside self just as much, but it will be a cold day in hell when I brush my vanity aside permanently. 

          Now, to be a blunt asshole, think about the dudes that you know who are in my age group and eligible bachelors. Not your wonderful husbands or boyfriends or brothers who are married. The single guys. Who do you come up with? Because most of the ones I know not only have not been making a conscious effort in mind, body or spirit, but they have been revelling in bachelorhood and bromance; shot-gunning beers and consuming meat-based processed food at sporting events with their buddies for years. No thank you. I’ll take the guys without the beer guts, who have a passion for playing sports, as well as other things, and not just sitting and watching from the sidelines. Those guys usually happened to be younger. It’s disheartening when I’m lifting heavy at the gym to build my ass up, and dudes in their late 20s/early 30s are letting their already-old-man-asses atrophy away even more as they sit on them to watch the game. Obviously, I’m exaggerating a stereotype here for effect, but there are a lot, at least in Victoria. I think I also got resentful of men my age being set in their ways, after realizing that not only was I putting in the effort to look good for me, but that dudes actually expected it of me, and of all women, regardless of themselves. Not all guys (I feel like I have to bold this, to quiet the rage that any men reading who fall into this age group are feeling right now). I get that. But I’m talking about the ones that bring nothing to of value to the table, either physically or emotionally, and then bitterly complain about how they can’t find a good woman, as if it’s owed to them simply for being male, without any urgency to be equal to the goddess they expect to show up. There are a lot out there; it’s a shallow pool. I’m repeating myself. My guess is that they’re the same type of guys who Snapchat me a photo of their flaccid cocks, with the caption, “I’m bored”.

Sometimes, I wanna send a photo meme back saying “I’m bored, too”. Time to step up your game guys, just like you’ve been expecting chicks to do since the dawn of time. 

           I know. I’m contradicting myself. I’m saying people who judge on looks are jerks, and then I’m complaining about guys my age not being in shape. I’m being completely shallow here because I can be. I’m not looking for a serious mate, so I don’t care if someone reads this and takes offense. After all my experiences, I’m pretty sure love in the romantic sense doesn’t really exist. It’s all chemical fuckery our bodies do to ensure survival of the species. Even if it does, I’m so over the mess of it all. Sure, at the start it’s there. It’s the best feeling in the world when you’re able to let go and really fall into someone, and seriously, seriously wonder what you were doing with your life before that person came along. But inevitably, it goes. Not completely and not forever, but life happens and sometimes things are shitty and put stress on relationships. And things get stale. It happens. Then it becomes about choice, and choosing someone who has traits you admire, who brings out the best in you, and who has your back when shit goes down, because it will happen.