Shimanese

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If you read a blog I did a few days ago you will notice I called the hybrid language of bloke/girl Shimanese and its something that I have been seeing a lot of lately so I thought I would better do a blog about it. :)

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A long time ago, in a far away land there was a magician.  He knew what many had forgotten, that men came from Mars and Women came from Venus.  That we spoke two completely different languages and that we were constantly misunderstanding each other.  He wrote a book about it that almost every woman I know has read.  I am yet to meet a man who has bothered. And so the miscommunication continued and they all lived happily, and mildly confused, ever after.

You see there is this idea that we need some sort of manual to understand each other.  That every word that drops from a woman’s mouth is just dripping with emotional connotation and that men are just saying things because verbal communication was required and otherwise he would be in his cave sharpening sticks against the walls.  It’s total bullshit.  Wait! Before I get a load of John Gray groupies telling me he changed their lives, I am not saying we don’t often misunderstand each other I think we just forget, that like with other languages some people have a better knack of picking up what they have learned than others.

Now I am a woman, you can tell this from my picture, however I have often been told I have the mind of a man, the morals of a man and the ability to switch between male and female logic so quickly it made someone vomit once. I have the ability to state things in a logical, non-emotional fashion and I can say things like ‘fine’ or ‘ok’ using the word in its most basic form, meaning it has no hidden depth it simply is ‘ok’ or ‘fine’.  I can however also be a diva of epic proportions when and if the mood strikes me, the bonus of having a wide vocabulary, active imagination and English degree does help.

I can speak to men on their level, I can empathise like a bastard with women and I can sit somewhere in the middle quite happily not considering it any type of super power or awesome feat on my behalf.  That is until I run into someone who speaks very bad Shimanese.  Very very bad.

The guy who replies to his reply of his previous reply because you didn’t reply.  Think that is an excessive amount of replies? Yeah, me too.

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The ones who hear ‘I am not interested’ as ‘chase me, chase me I am just playing hard to get and will give in eventually.’  The ones who think I died because I didn’t reply to a message after 20 minutes.  The ones who hear ‘I am not looking for anything serious’ as ‘Aha tricked ya, I want to be married by the end of the year…Yes I know it’s August already.’  It’s like the weirdest language barrier ever.  If you wandered up to a French person in Paris and said ‘je voudrais un gâteau’ they would know that despite not being French you wanted cake because you said you wanted cake. They wouldn’t point you towards an Indian restaurant thinking that is what you really meant.

Look just because you can speak a little Venusian and maybe even if you were a member of the two sets of lips club that is what you would mean if you said that, it does not mean that the Venusian stood in front of you is not talking to you in fluent Martian.

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HDJ xxx

Ifs and Butts

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It’s amazing sometimes how life goes through periods of themes and, this is my life after all, the most recent of these themes has been the good old fashioned subject of butt lovin’.

Yes, you guessed it this a post about anal, kinda explains the picture now doesn’t it?

Anyway like I said this has been a theme over the last few weeks and it always intrigues me how people are going to react to this subject being brought up.  It’s a really good yard stick to measure guys against because their reaction can tell you a lot about them, what they have experienced in the past and what exactly they are hoping is waiting in the wings as a coming attraction.  For example, you know the guy who says that he has no interest in anal sex and pulls that face (without being a bonafide card-carrying germophobe) has simply never been given the opportunity or has simply dated women so anally retentive they shit out of their pores.  You know it’s been so off limits he hasn’t even let himself wonder too much.

Then there are my favourite type.  The “I tried in and it and I didn’t see big deal’ type.  You know that sooner or later the ‘whoops I slipped’ comment is coming your way because it might not have been a big deal then but it has to be worth another go to see what they missed out on.  Plus, since you mentioned it you put that little idea back in that head and it’s got nothing to do but stagnate. You know the second they get chance to take a trip around your old chocolate whizz-way they are really going to go for it.  I have dated a couple of these guys in the past and weirdly it went from being ‘no big deal’ to something that came up in conversation and was attempted numerous times without prior discussion.

There is also the type that believe anal is part of every sexual encounter, state that every woman they have been with loved it and begged them for it and that they can teach you a thing or two about it.  Now these (I am generalising, deal with it) anal sex virgins obsessed with porn.

Now I had always decided that there was no need to use the back door since there was a perfectly good cat flap on the front, and I had tried anal a couple of times with varying degrees of success and interest.  Note: If you aren’t into it enough to actively participate that much don’t bother.  And I had all but decided that it was a lost cause, it was going on the HDJ Room 101 List and then I had one of those sessions…

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You know the ones I mean where for some reason whether it be with someone new or someone you have fucked a million times, the stars align, the angels weep and the earth moves slightly more than normal which means that you get somewhat carried away and try that position you read about, or do something really out of character or that simply never interested you before.  The adrenaline is pumping, the endorphins have taken your common sense hostage and you just go with it.  Well I went with it and like all good highs there has to be the moment where you start to come down and despite being able to say it wasn’t horrible, painful or as world altering as I thought it might be I am still not a convert.  I think I always liked the taboo more than the act itself…

Butt, it doesn’t stop there.  Despite having conversations with a few guys this week about this subject the award winner for best conversation about this has to be ODP.  As usual a font of fucked up, eye-opening (sometimes eye-watering) and useful information.  An interesting link sent to my phone that lead me to some porn I probably would have never watched (it was in the spirit of research) and a mild wondering about whether or not this whole anal thing is really all about us women taking a pernus up the pooper at all.  A bit of salad tossing, a finger, maybe two…How much of a leap is it to full on strap-on welcome mode?

So now I can tick something off the list of things I have tried, added something else and might even need to get myself a new sex toy for my goodie-drawer…

HDJ xxx

Blow Job

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I have to admit that there is something that really bugs me.  Ok, maybe it doesn’t bug me enough to occasionally not do this myself (and I think the fact I can be honest about that is good) and that is blowing someone off.  No, it’s not like sucking someone off which is a whole hell of a lot of fun and something I do as regularly as the opportunity presents itself (and by that I mean I actually want to, I’m not running a service).  Blowing someone off is the art of the lamest excuse ever to not do something.  It’s the glaring indication that you don’t really care enough to come up with a good excuse or even hide the fact you didn’t try.  Blowing someone off is expected from time to time, it’s useful when you get yourself in situations that you kinda regret but at the same time it’s also fucking rude.

Now I like to think of myself as a worldly sort, I am open-minded, I am honest and I don’t want anything resembling his and hers bathrobes so it makes me wonder why, with all these facts as blatantly obvious as my rather impressive cleavage people still feel the need to completely not get me.  I mean I even used the phrase ‘I don’t want to be dealing with someone getting sand in their vagina if I decide I got a better offer.’ Could that have been anymore clear that I was not looking to settle down and have babies (granted they would have been very very attractive babies) and that I (as well as expecting him too also) was keeping my options well and truly open?  I thought I had bridged the gap and managed to speak fluent bloke and that for once I had been understood, comprehended and we were on the same page…  But I think this guy might have been speaking a hybrid of girl/bloke which I shall call Shimense and therefore assumed that my declaration of not being arsed was one of those word traps that women apparently use all the time.

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Now the truth is I have other options.  I am picking up other options pretty much daily and yet I am amazed at either the self-delusion or downright conceit of some of these men that leads them to believe that even despite being so drawn to me themselves they believe that they are the only men in the universe that has had that happen to them.  Whilst on their side women everywhere flock to them because their magnetism is just so damn strong Yoda aint got nothin’ on it.  Are these guys for real?  I had already indicated that my International Woman of Mystery Tour was taking me to other parts of the country and yes, I had omitted the information that it meant some one on one time with some dangly bits and I may have omitted the fact I had plans with another dangly bits brigade member (hahah) when I got back.  Nowhere did I say I was hanging up my HDJ fun pants and sitting by the phone waiting for a phone call.  That my search for man I could settle for was over and that I was climbing out of this dating pool and towelling off with the fluffy Egyptian cotton towel of commitment.  I was carrying on as usual.  HDJ business as usual.

So the notion that I would not take kindly to plans being cancelled because of a “better offer” seems somewhat silly doesn’t it?  The idea that being honest and saying ‘I actually have the chance to mount this girl I have been wanting to fuck for a while’ would illicit any other response from me other than ‘enjoy’ seems ridiculous because when you give me the lame blow off I know that’s what you just didn’t have the balls to say anyway.  I speak bloke, I just made the mistake of thinking you did too.

HDJ xxx

Lip Sync

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Well I went on my date.

I admit the idea of doing all that small talk, answering the same inane questions about family, holidays, books and movies again and nervous lulls in conversation had given me a low set of expectations for that first date. It’s been a while since I have had one and the last first date I had (technically) involved a weekend in a hotel room on the outskirts of London and my clothes mostly in a ball on the floor. Not that that wasn’t fun (obviously it was a lot of fun) it meant that an actual date date was not something I was sure how to do. Luckily, I went to meet someone that didn’t want to do any of those traditional awkward first date staples either and it was a whole hell of a lot of fun.

Now for those eagle-eyed blog readers you will know that I had a brief internet encounter with #17 before and we went our separate ways. After a bit of time spent interacting with a range of various forms of life that call the internet (and the Cotswolds) home we realised that we may well be two of the only sane/attractive/open-minded people that are left. It made sense to meet up and see what this could be, whether we would click off the internet (geddit?). I am very glad I got a second shot at #17.

So we met up, went for a walk in the Countryside, talked total bollocks to each other about a variety of topics that would probably make you believe that we need to be sectioned and almost never stopped laughing. We were pretty much at ease the entire time. Oh and did I mention he is hot?? I might have done but Oh Mother May I?!

It went well, the conversation flowed, this first date thing is a piece of cake and then it came time for that part of a first date that can make it or break it. The goodnight kiss. Now this guy is exactly a foot taller than me so I was feeling like a bit more of a midget than normal, and the logistics of trying to kiss this guy without breaking my toes or his neck was something that I had considered as being problematic. I can honestly say I don’t remember if he bent down to me or I tip-toed up to him because that was without a doubt one of the (if not the best) kisses I have ever had. The kind of kiss that leaves your knees trembling and if someone asked you your name you would just say ‘um’.

Kissing is something that I have noticed is very under-rated. It’s like the opening act that a lot of people want to skip to get to the main event but kissing is a great (and fun) way to get a little glimpse into what else is waiting for you when things move along a little. It’s a fantastic way for you to gain some insight into just whether or not it is worth sticking around for the main event and ladies and gentlemen I might not go so far as to be camping outside the box office for tickets for this main event, but I am damn eager to get to it now.

Don’t worry I will keep you informed. I always do!

HDJ xxx

Try Hard with a Vengence

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So tomorrow I have a date.

This is a big deal in that I haven’t been on a date in a long time.  I don’t want to think how long it has been because I am still in serious denial that I am in my thirties.

This guy (#17 in case you were wondering) I had initially disregarded as someone that I wouldn’t be interested in spending much time with. However, due to some issues that took me out of dating range the last few weeks I have gotten to know this guy through the wonder that is Whatsapp.  Ok, that might have been some mild sarcasm there, but hey it’s me.

So he seems like a nice guy.  What I mean by this is he is visually appealing enough for me to risk being seen in public with him.  He is quite frankly the hottest thing I have seen in the Cotswolds since that awesome sticky toffee pudding at some pub outside Stroud.  He is funny too, I’m not sure if that is intentionally or not and he gives good banter.

Initially I think he thought I was going to be his usual interaction type and I was indifferent enough to tell him more than once to stick his cockshots up his arse because I had no interest in a dick looking way too pleased with itself for the simple fact that it can stand up upon production of a phone camera, popping up on my phone lock screen when I was in a situation where that could cause almost atomic meltdown if seen by the wrong eyes.  He took this well, I am almost convinced that this honesty, frank indifference and the fact I laid on the line that if he gets attached to me in anyway I will neuter him has been the reason that this guy has been blowing up my phone for the past month.  And I haven’t minded.  It’s been nice to have a message I actually want to reply to instead of Try-Hard With a Vengence that seems to have whittled his messages down to one every few days.  Man, do I ever regret agreeing to that visit now.

I’m not the kind that likes too much effort in that I find obvious and blatant availability not only slightly worrying but downright nauseating.  Have some mystery about you man!  I am trying to imagine if #17 were to suddenly switch to rampant doormat mode whether I would react any differently than to occasionally hit myself in the head with my phone (which has happened 3 times on receipt of messages so far).  I cannot imagine I would and think that I have a little more depth than a puddle in this regard.  Hotness does not prove a decent excuse to act like some form of puppy.

Am I expecting big things from this date?  Not really.  I’m not looking for big things from much at the moment.  Still gun-shy and not afraid to admit it.  So why am I bothering?  Well dear reader, I am bothering because this guy is hot, I like the attention and I am sure that various other parts of me will enjoy his attention too when we reach the appropriate date threshold to begin removing articles of clothing with teeth…

HDJ xxx

 

Guilty Pleasure

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I am about to admit something that I am probably going to regret.  Something that if the next guy I consider spending any significant amount of time with reads I bet it shortens our liaison by a considerable margin.  Something that not many other girls would admit I don’t think.

Looking back at the treatment I have endured and tolerated in the past from ex-boyfriends, lovers and friends with benefits and the way in which I have vowed to girlfriend after family member after friend that I would never tolerate again; experiencing the exact opposite of these things is…a huge turn off.  I’m not saying that I miss the way I was treated by some of them, the alcoholic and the nose breaker are things I would never do again but some of it, the stuff I have really bitched to my friends about I never realised how important it was for the dynamic of a relationship…until now.

Every girl has a back-catalogue of useless wankers that she used to date.  From the emotionally unavailable, selfish, inconsiderate arseholes to the lying, cheating, alcoholic and nose breakers.  Every girl because of these men has a list of traits and deal breakers as long as a piece of string; things that they will never deal with again.  Things that will send up the red flags.  The reasons they just want a nice, reliable, dependable guy.

My confession is the last thing I want is a nice, reliable, dependable guy.

I am aware this may just make me a masochist.

Over the last few months in my newly found state of singledom I have been a magnet for these nice, reliable, dependable men that apparently want to rescue me and treat me like a princess.  And it leaves me cold.  12a and his noncommittal, cold shoulder approach irritates the shit out of me, but I find that dance much more interesting than a few hours spent being told how amazing and beautiful I am with the kind of wide-eyed honesty and depth of truth in their tone of voice that just gives me the herby-jeebies.

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I don’t find the implication exciting that if I say the word he is going to transform before my eyes like Optimus Prime from some normal, everyday average Joe to wannabe Prince Charming, I don’t find it appealing in anyway that should I want it, I can have it.  All of it.  The knowledge that there would never be any anxious excitement of not knowing whats coming next, that there would be no mystery, no wondering, no…for want of a better word games.  I don’t like game-playing but I do like a bit of an edge that means I don’t feel like this person has some form of glass roof on their head displaying everything that they are thinking and doing.

Maybe it’s knowing that if I went for this guy he would never hurt me, I would win every fight without raising my voice and I would get my own way without any hesitation.  Every. Single. Time.  I don’t know to some people that might seem like the perfect relationship, but this idea leaves me colder than the chunk of ice that sank the Titanic.

I want the mystery, the anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach, that rush you get when you don’t know whether something is going to work out the way you want it to or not.  I don’t want to date in my comfort zone, that’s boring, it’s playing it safe.  And when was the last time you said to someone you have to try that it was so much fun and a rush because of how safe it was?  Up to now I have dated pressed up against the edge of my comfort zone, one foot firmly planted there so it didn’t get too scary.  And the variety of bottom-feeders I have dated heralds that, that didn’t work.  So my choices are date the nice, reliable, dependable guy that turns up when you want the other guy to and says the right thing when you’d rather be grabbed and pinned up against a wall making up properly.  Or get completely out of my comfort zone and date dangerously.

I think it might have to be the latter because I would rather feel that rush than wake up one morning fat, old and bored.

My name is Hell DeJour and after experiencing a glimpse of what I guess I myself and other girls have announced that they want in a guy I hold my hands up and admit I don’t want that at all.

HDJ xxx

The Hypocratic Oaf

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I was only going to do one blog today but something occurred to me as I read a text message I received earlier from a member of the Dangly Bits Brigade.  And that is, and it will come as no surprise to anyone who has been in a personal relationship with anyone of the male gender, men are hypocrites.

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Ok, ok not all men.  Unbunch your panties male readership I am sure that you, and possibly only you, are the one exception to this rule.

Moving on…

You see as I have talked about in previous blogs men like to believe that they have the eternal defence when it comes to women and relationships, the get out of jail free card of ever being in the wrong because…drum roll please..women are dramatic.

Ladies and gentlemen I would like to introduce you to the Drama Kings.

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You see I can be honest.  When I have a text a guy who has not responded in a time I have considered appropriate for a response, I would text again some snarky, sarcastic comment which varied in severity based on how pissed off I was in the first place and the contents of the original message.  Apparently acting in this manner means that men think you are needy and pathetic and just being a royal pain in the ass and so they take this to be the best time to step up not replying because they don’t want to deal with the drama.  FYI men of the world, if you simply replied to the first message even if you don’t have time to go into great detail you would spare yourself a world of hurt.  The second message usually calls for some sort of explanation about not replying to the first message and this will head off about 98% of the time the argument and drama (as you see it) from continuing.  It is actually that simple.  Granted there is the 2% of the time but I’m not a relationship counsellor.  The more you ignore the more your ears get sore.  There’s a mantra for you.

So yeah, my point was that I have done this and I admit it. I think every woman has done this.

But what exactly are we women supposed to do when the shoe is not on the other foot, its on a whole other person?  When you get a text from a guy and you’re busy.  You assume because when he doesn’t reply being busy is a good enough reason to be generally discourteous that he won’t get his bollocks in knot about no response.  That he will be calm and completely understand.  So you don’t worry about it and go on with your day.  Because he thinks requiring an instant response is needy, and of course he’s not needy…

And it’s been a few days I forgot about the message and I get another one.  Now I could have broken my plank pose to reply but my arms were shaking so much I felt like Michael J Fox off his meds so I have to admit I was otherwise occupied.  So that’s two messages in 3 days with no response.  Let’s put this into perspective before I continue, I am still awaiting a response to the last message I sent to this guy almost 2 weeks ago.  Am I sweating it? No. Did I find it annoying and a little rude? Yes.  But my lady parts were in no form of irritated state about it.  Fast forward a few hours and lo and behold I get the snarky, sarcastic message…

So if I had a penis I could claim that this was someone polishing his crown and going all Bobby from TOWIE type drama king on me. But I have lady parts and therefore this has to be something different other than a seriously butthurt guy seeing his ass about the fact that this is happening the other way around and he didn’t really expect that…  It just has to be. Men aren’t needy and clingy and don’t panic that the girl they are texting might be trapped under something heavy and unable to respond to his message (that something heavy being some form of ripped rugby player or similar).  Men don’t do that.  Do you boys?

Now we all know that someone’s bollocks are in a knot about the fact that I didn’t come running when he whistled and that when he reached out and put his ego on the chopping block I left the kitchen without even noticing, but I can’t call him on this.  I can’t accuse him of being dramatic because in the act of pointing out this drama that I have been accused of (sometimes rightly) so many times over the years it will be turned around that I am trying to cause drama by highlighting his drama. I have to admit that somewhat boils my bearded clam. How do men do that?  And as great as it would be to point this out, to make it known that he is acting no better than the needy, clingy, searching for validation woman that he has often accused me of being; I’m going to do the one thing men never do when faced with this drama.  I’m going to fucking enjoy it.  Yeah it’s annoying, it’s hypocritical but its also deliciously satisfying at the same time.

Someone forgot when you play with HDJ she plays by her rules.  Not yours.

HDJ xxx