Friday, 26 April 2019


My best male fwend who is also my best ‘ex of sorts’ came back into my life just a couple of nights ago…still as a fwend I mean – he’s married with way too many kiddlies for me to comprehend.  We have the occasional period of not being in contact and this has been the end of one of those periods (three or four months this time).  It was nice, him coming back.  I felt happy, it’s always good when he returns…I feel like my oldest friend has just arrived and there’s a ton of catching up to look forward to.  

Ours is actually the longest friendship I have with a person who has continued to be an active presence in my life…I know I can tell him anything and he’ll listen and he’ll tell me the TRUTH and then listen some more and when he’s at the end of his tether he’ll tell me to ‘fuckin’ get a grip’ – he is ‘TOUGH LOVE’ and ‘MORE’ and I platonic-ally love that about him!  Even when we’re not in contact…we could be in contact…if one of us needed the other.

Anyhow, I told him I’d been up to no good during his absence, writing this blog and a bit about what it was about and why it came about and he wanted a mention…not only a mention, but a whole blinkin’ post actually – well he did and he didn’t – his ego did; his conscience (maybe?) not so much.  So I got thinking about it and I’ve tackled this little ‘issue’ that might be affecting you all right now…whether it is possible to have an actual, genuine, healthy friendship with your ex?  Can it be done?  Should it be done?  Is it acceptable?  

You can all have a bit of a think and I suppose a bit of a judge if you so desire and let me know in the comments what you think.  I don’t usually think it’s possible.  Mates, eventually, maybe…but a genuine friendship I think is quite rare.  But I thought I’d give you all a bit of hope if it is actually a friendship with your ex you so desire…cause I found one.

Let me tell you a bit about this one.  I’m going to call him ‘Corgan’ after Billy Corgan from The Smashing Pumpkins, because that song ‘Disarm’ (linked 'HERE') happened to be playing when we had our first smoochey.  He doesn’t remember that (I checked yesterday…he doesn’t) because…well, the zip on my trousers had just broken so he was a little preoccupied…we were in a nightclub and rather than giving me his coat because I was cold…he sacrificed his belt to keep my trousers up – he wasn’t wearing a coat perhaps he’d have given me that too had I needed it.  I don’t think any other girl he came into contact with back in the day, during his reign could honestly say ‘Corgan helped me keep my trousers up’…nope…they’d all unanimously say ‘…my trousers were always down when he was around’!

Because Corgan was a bit of an enigma. 

He was…YOU WERE CORGAN…and still could be if he hadn’t turned into such a miserable fucker!!!  The enigma is still there, it just needs a polish…

He sort of agrees that he was an enigma depending upon the mood he’s in…but mainly he replies, ‘nah…I was just Corgan…and now I’m a grumpy bastard’

Corgan was a leader…

I’m not a leader…I’m not a follower either…I’m a ‘I don’t want to lead you and I don’t want to be led; also I don’t want to follow you and I don’t want to be followed; so you do ‘you’ and I’ll do ‘me’ type person.  But he had little sheep-followers and they followed him everywhere.

They’d walk hopefully into a pub or club, looking eagerly around for their shepherd and when they realised he was absent or they couldn’t find him, their demeanor would noticeably slouch in disappointment and their shoulders slump…it was the strangest thing ever, it was like The Pips had lost Gladys Knight…'Corgan and his Pips' I’d call them.  Their little faces would light up the room when they found him.  Honestly, if they were lemmings there would have been carnage. 

I disliked Corgan…A LOT…I didn’t know him all that well in the beginning.  I knew he’d snogged one of my friends under a table in a bar and that his query 'heterosexual Pips' had thrown a couple of pints over their heads whilst they were in this act…the animals they were…truth be told they were probably a bit in denial and a bit jealous of my friend kissing their Gladys.  Well this ‘kissing-spilling pints’ incident was particularly irritating to me because my friend was wearing MY coat at the time.  She weren’t too happy either…her hair was fucked and she never spoke to him again if they actually ever even spoke at all – he doesn’t even remember her…doesn’t remember the occasion and so obviously doesn’t remember my coat getting ruined either…just another day in the life of the care free Corgan that he was…which reminds me…THAT dry cleaning bill you absolute tart…!

Then another of my mates (I’ll call her Bella, because she was beautiful) ended up drooling over him…they were dropping like flies my friends! 

Was I the only one that didn’t get it??? 

Bella was getting very strung along by him whilst he was in a ‘relationship?’ with somebody else; I’ll call her Kel.  And as a result of this little mange et trois I was forced by Bella to listen to the Cranberries classic ‘Linger’ more times than was healthy over a two to three month period…because of HIM…TEARING HER APART, RUINING EVERYTHING and all that shit…

And then Kel found out that he’d been snogging Bella and all hell broke loose. 

It started like this…him and Kel approached Bella and I in a club – he was clearly under duress – she was dragging him by his t-shirt…like LITERALLY DRAGGING HIM BY HIS T-SHIRT…it was almost like she had him in a hostage situation and he was desperately trying to develop a Stolkholm Syndrome-conversation with her, trying to negotiate her into releasing him as they approached…but this was Kel and this was Bella and it was going to get AWK.WARD – there was going to be an outright winner and an outright loser – this was gonna be a ‘fight to the death’…cause Kel had been struck with the psycho stick and Bella could do crazy-witch craft type things with your mind.  My money was on Bella to win but Kel was an each-way worth-a-punt.  

Crazy Kel stood before mind-fuck Bella and said ‘Corgan has got something to tell you…’  Dig in the ribs, gun to his head… ‘HAVEN’T YOU…go on Corgan…tell Bella so she KNOWSSSS’ she hisssssed through gritted teeth.  ‘Yeah Corgan…go on…what have you got to tell me?’ snarled Bella sharpening her claws…I want to excuse myself from this but it’s too bloody good…so I chimed in with a bit of lowest form of wit… ‘Well this would make an interesting dinner party guest list…’ no one laughed…

Bella’s got 'a look' in her eye and a smirk on her face…so that’s dangerous and Kel is just wired, her head’s about to explode and her long pig-tail plaits are going to fly off and strangle us all …I’m a bit like ‘OH SHIT CORGAN…WHATEVER YOU SAY YOU ARE FUCKED MATE’…so Corgan is centre stage…crazy eyes upon him, claws drawn and he says with Kel’s knife digging ever so slightly into his spine and Bellas eyes burning right through his sole…and he mumbles...

Then off he was pulled by Kel again…like a fierce as fuck lion dragging a little bunny rabbit into the forest to ravage that little bunny rabbit all alone, all to herself. 

Bella’s turned to me, even I'm scared and I've done nothing…‘…I’ve got unfinished business tonight…hold my drink…’  She turned on her stiletto booted heel and on queue dry ice circulated the room forming a coconutty aura of death, hell, fury around her just to punctuate her wrath…and she disappeared into the foggy ice and out of view like the ice queen she was.    
Twenty minutes later I watch on as seven stone Kel is being carried out the club by three burley bouncers, legs kicking, arms flailing, words I can’t quite make out all starting with the letter ‘B’, so I can hypothesise that there’s a Bella or/bitch and/or bastard involved…and in my periphery I see Bella and Corgan snogging in the direction from where Kel is being carried.  I filled in the blanks for myself and never asked either for clarification as to what the fuck went on in those lost 20 minutes. 

But I was getting mighty sick of this dude wreaking drama on my nights out…and Bella was turning into a bloody Pip too for that matter even though Kel appeared to be back on the scene – he’d clearly cast a love spell on these pair cause he was playing them like a fiddle and flute.  He was just doing him but I was getting irritated…he’ll probably read this and say… ‘ahhh, nahhh, you were falling in love with me right from the start…’  I wasn’t Corgan…I wanted to slap your way too popular for your own good muggy face.

He was never interested in my friend or Kel or most of the others I saw him with.  I knew that, he knew that, they knew that.  Bella eventually got with one of his close friends which I thought hysterical and sensed my actual time had come to rub it in his face.  By chance I was standing at a bar.  He approached the bar and again by chance stood next to me. 

We exchanged ‘pleasantries…’  well we kind of grunted an acknowledgement at each other actually…I said all smirky like…’Bella moved on quick didn’t she…?  Yeah...she said…your mate’s a better kisser than you and more of a man than…’  I didn’t get time to finish what I wanted to say, because, he was holding a full bottle of lager in his hand and he whipped it forward and back and much of the content of the bottle all frothed up and hit me bulls-eye…square in the eye.  NOT THE BOTTLE, let me stress – his intention was not to permanently blind me…just momentarily would do him…it was just the force of the frothed up lager that almost took my eye out…not the bottle...

Ouch Corgan…hit a nerve?…  So that was a conversation killer. 

I gave him daggers (with the one eye I could actually still see out of) and flounced off a bit smug that I’d got such a reaction out of him until I got to the ladies and realised the state of my hair and makeup.  Some half an hour later he came over to say he was sowwwwy.  He got on his knees and spent 20 or so minutes apologising and asking if I accepted his apology…to which I eventually growled ‘NEVER’.  Well…guys and gals…NEVER say ‘NEVER’. 

He faded into the background for a bit thereafter.  Still with a different girl each time I saw him, still leading the Pips, but not really bothering me. 

I actually saved his life on one of the last occasions I saw him before there was a long break in our paths re-crossing.  We were at The Isle of White music festival…pure coincidence that he, the Pips and general hanger-on-ers erected their tent next to ours.  Bella and I came back from a walk around to find them there…he looked as euphoric about this as I looked disappointed because I knew tricks were going to get played and I was going to be in the crossfire.  Like the night the dickhead took all the tent pins out of our tent and it collapsed on ME…unbeknownst to Corgan, Bella (who this bloody well directed at) had found somewhere else to rest her head for the night so she was OK.  I on the other hand was fucking livid and had to sleep on top of our deflated tent for the rest of the night. 

The following day he was very sunburnt and a lot drunkie.  He was lying outside his tent in the midday sun which was a thick idea and I wasn’t sure if he was dead or alive.  The Pips weren’t about.  I hesitated, but decided to go over.  I gave him two sharp kicks to the right kidney…in retaliation for being momentarily blinded during the lager incident and for him being a prick the night before… ‘Corgan…are you dead?’  He mumbled something incoherent… ‘Hmmm, alive then are you…do you want a medic?’  I think he said ‘Whatever’…but looking back he might have said ‘Water’; well I didn’t have enough water on me for us both.  Those two, two litre bottles in my hand were mine.  I told a medic there was a boiled lobster clashing in his pink t-shirt over there (I pointed in his general direction) that might need assistance and off I trotted.  Good deed for the long weekend done.

Later on that day, whilst I was watching The Prodigy play…there he was…crowd surfing.  He reached the barriers at the front of the stage and then the slippery bastard rushed through a gap in the wall of bouncers and managed to get three quarters of his body onto the stage…he was retrieved and dragged back down by his ankles before being dragged away, waving crazily at the now even more ecstatic crowd – this was actually televised BTW.  Half of me was rolling my eyes thinking ‘give me a break’ whilst the other half was slightly in awe thinking ‘…you were close to death two hours ago you lobster, now look at you – where DO you get that attention seeking energy from…and the love that’s being adorned on you by total strangers to boot is bloody wasted…you asshole’. 

I’ve asked him what he’d have done had he managed to anchor his whole body up there…he said he hadn’t thought that far ahead.  I think it’s more heroic that he ‘ALMOST’ got on stage than if he actually ‘HAD’ got on stage.  If had got on up and tried to dance he’d have looked really stooopid…he was never going to pull off a ‘Bez’; if he’d run round the stage he’d have looked like a knob and I can’t really think what else there would be for him to do up there other than those two things…then wasn’t the most appropriate time for him to strike up a conversation with the late great Keith Flint or any other member of the band halfway through their set …so he would have been a bit redundant up there really…

Fast forward three (ish) years.  I’d moved temporarily to Wales for work and hadn’t seen Corgan for probably four years.  My secretary puts a call through to me saying ‘someone called Corgan is on the phone for you…’.  I’m like ‘Eh?  Who did you say? How the hell did HE find me…and what does HE want?  Errrr, OK…?’ 

So he sounds a bit panicked on the phone; apparently fearing for my life.  My ex is on a rampage he tells me…they’ve been flatmates which is an arrangement that had most definitely broken down…and our mutual ex (my ex-bf who is now his ex too in the form of an ex-flatmate) is allegedly wanted by the police.  Corgan and my ex’s girlfriend have ‘evidence’ to suggest that he’s found out my whereabouts and was last seen/known to be getting on a train Newport/Cardiff bound.  So now I’m also fearing for my life!  A bit extreme perhaps…but this was the ex who…erm…dropped his towel…you can read about that car crash in the link I’ve left HERE

As it happened I was about to leave work for 4 weeks annual leave that very afternoon…so if that ex was ever en route to me our tracks probably crossed somewhere around Bristol.  Thank God.

So Corgan had gone mightily out of his way to do me a favour.  I was a bit shocked and bemused. Had Corgan realised that a world without me in it would be a sadder one?!  Or was he was returning my half-arsed attempt to save his life on the Isle of White?  Or why Corgan…actually…DID you make that call?

I got back home and wanted to know from Corgan what the hell was going on…Well THERE WAS A LOT going on…a long history of stuff that appeared to concern me that I hadn’t known about…so a meet up was on the cards for Corgan and I.  And for the first time, at his place, we conversed without me wanting to kick his shins and chop his toes off and him not wanting to douse me and/or my belongings in beer. 

So things were going BETTER than I thought.  And throughout that day and those hours we sat talking, I got what everyone else seemed to get – he had 'something'.  He’s a personality I’ve not really experienced before.  He’s a lot of things to a lot of people.  He tunes into what you need off him and becomes that thing.  On this day he was actually a lovely, polite (dare I say it), caring bloke.  Explaining everything I needed to know about the shitty stuff that had been going on and expressing concern for me.  No Saint…he definitely was NOT a Saint…but with the Pips not around and just me and him without music blaring and without my friends around for him to take advantage of he was interesting, hilarious and engaging. 

URGGGHHHH…I was soooo annoyed with myself cause dare I admit…Corgan was actually ‘alright’.  He was a person able to give everybody around him the best part of him that THEY needed to make THEIR life better for THEM.  I can’t express it any other way…I don’t understand it myself!

We decided that we’d go out that night; drinks, club, maybe move on up town…I invited Bella, he invited his mate who Bella had previously enjoyed liaisons with.  This way we all knew each other and the Pips were none the wiser; the Pipping-lemmings could take a night off.  Bella was slightly delayed…she’d managed to set her oven on fire so had to deal with the fire brigade and y’know her house, dogs and possessions first!  There was a bit of ugly banter between her and Corgan when she finally arrived, mainly recounting how he’d strung her along and him giving her the ‘well you let me’ come back.  She was ok really though, cause Corgan had fixed her up for the night with his mate.  Drinks down our necks and we’re all buds for the first time EVER.  It was a good feeling and I can’t even explain why. 

Hot summer, pubbing, drinking, dancing, clubbing, music, GREAT music, the feeling of coming home after months of hard work away, the beginning of a long holiday, everything was hazy but clear and fun and exciting it was just a night like no other; there was electricity in the air.  I was on Corgan’s radar for this particular evening – I was going to be a Pip for the Summer.  Bella was enjoying herself getting reacquainted with Corgan’s mate…but a tiny smidgen of Girl Code was seeping in…off to the loos we trotted for a girly chat which ended in Bella saying ‘I’m over Corgan… just don’t let him treat you the way he treated me cause I’ve had enough of Linger to last me a lifetime’.

So more chatting, bit of bantering, bit of flirting and the next thing I know my trouser zip had broken, hilarity, he’s taken his belt off and buckled it around my waist, Disarm is playing and he’s disarmed me…

With town ruled out on a technicality…my trousers secured with his belt (which was on trend btw) but his now in danger of falling down…all four of us make it back to his.  All I can remember is more laughter and more fun and more bonding and more euphoria and Summer and our trousers…and PIZZA…

Our respective mates are off to beddie-byes…I’m asked to kindly wait in the lounge, and off he disappeared…he’s back 10 minutes later with a big smile…he’s got his hands over my eyes and he’s guiding me somewhere and he takes his hands from my eyes and his whole bedroom is lit with candles.  Just candles EVERYWHERE.  I mean…obviously he already had the candles in there, the opportunist-slag that he was.  He hadn’t bought and planned them specifically for me…which takes a certain degree of romance out of the equation I realise…but even so…it was the thought and the gesture.  A very important gesture in my mind and one I knew was not made ALL THE TIME and for everyone…[as confirmed when Bella stumbled in the following morning…and through the hangover managed ‘Fucking candles Corgan?  I didn’t get any fucking candles…’] and we talked and talked and laughed and things into the early hours until the candles burnt down to the wick and went out of their own accord.

Now…I’m not going to lie…Corgan had the absolute potential to cause me a lot of pain.  I caught a connection, I’m 50 percent certain he did…but maybe for him it didn’t come that quickly…these things are very different for men and women…but what set Corgan apart from the mind fuckery that other exes have caused is that he was completely HONEST with me from the start. 

He told me where he was in his life.  He told me of his ‘plans’.  He told me everything I wanted to know and NOT WHAT I WANTED TO HEAR.  These men that fuck women around or don’t care about the feelings/welfare of the woman they are leading on…they LIE.  And that’s because if they told women the truth from the outset of their intentions they would never get laid. 

Corgan was better than that.  Corgan could tell the truth and still get laid! 

But there were no illusions, no doubt, no grey area in terms of his intentions. 

These were the bizarre but very honest, truthful facts of how and why this was a Summer romance that was going to be coming to an end just as soon as Autumn came…

·           He was going to Magaluf on the first day of Autumn…nuff’ said…but I’ll go on…
·           The holiday was booked.
·           My ex [his ex-flatmate remember] had caused him financial loss.
·           This ex’s mother was going to be paying for said loss…with interest.
·           My ex’s mother was funding my Summer romance’s holiday to Magaluf.
·           Gladys was taking his Pips.
·           We all know what goes on in Magaluf.
·           Corgan was going to Magaluf for one reason and one reason alone.
·           Gladys and his Pips were taking ‘it’ on tour!

When I left his place for the last time – the day before Shagaluf – his parting words as we hugged for the last time were ‘You’re amazing; the timing’s just wrong’ and I agreed ‘It’s OK.  We’re just not meant to be’.   Today, all these years later he has recalled 'Our Summer' as being 'Exciting', 'Sexy' and 'Fun' all ended with a good feeling.

No games.  No name calling.  No nastiness.  No hard feelings…the Summer had come to an end that’s all.  His honesty and transparency had eliminated the mind fuckery. 

He’d told me how it was and I had no problem in telling him to stick what was on offer which was essentially ‘when I’ve shagged my way around Spain and I’ve unpacked my suitcase and you’ve washed and ironed my best pulling shorts, we’ll maybe give things a go – if that’s what I still want when I get back’!  I don’t know whether this would have been on the cards or not.  But anyway he’d made his choice without even seeing what was going to be on offer in that dirty-ass-resort.  Enjoy Spain and thanks for a straight-up FUN Summer.  Safe Flight - adios amigo!

I didn’t really expect to hear from him again, not now our lives no longer needed to cross.  Summer was gone, back to Wales I went.  And then about four months later he emailed me.  Two or so days into his two week intended shagathon he’d met a woman…yeah…that was going to happen…but I mean…he’d met ‘his woman’.  HIS ONE.  HIS EVERYTHING. 

The woman he said he knew from the first conversation they had that he would marry her.  

And I was genuinely sooooo pleased for him.  I honestly was.  I knew he’d make THE ONE…’HIS’ ONE an amazing partner in crime.  He needed someone strong and resilient.  Someone who would take no shit.  And he found her.  WTF she was doing in Magaluf I don’t know…perhaps her plane got hijacked and diverted to this shithole?  But anyway – fate found its way to Magaluf of all places!

So he did marry her…and I remain very happy for them and the life they’ve created together.  I might have lost out on a potential boyfriend for a year or two but he gained his soul mate…which I think is what we are all striving to find in a world of people we mainly just find ordinary…and I gained a Corgan shaped friend…the best platonic male friend a girl could wish for, cause that email was the start of our long, strong and amazing friendship.

Chin Chin Corgan…I hope that was OK for you!  

Anyone else here managed to salvage an actual, genuine 'friendship' with an ex?  Or do you all want to comment on my 'lack of Girl Code'...which I'm probably going to have coming to me now!  

It's OK, I can take it, and no Bellas were hurt (by me) in the making of this friendship...but I love comments in any you can do that below, if you like...!


Sunday, 21 April 2019


Fumble is not for me, I’m sure that's the vibe I've been giving off  here, so it won't come as any surprise!  But I wanted to tell you all what I don’t get about this app and why...

Perhaps I should be writing to the Fumble CEO/developers about this…?  What a great idea…!!!  Two birds, one stone… 



20th April 2019

Dear Fumble


I wish to make some observations with regard to your dating app, Fumble.  You can read about all of my experiences of ‘trying to find somebody remotely date-able’ using your app here if you are interested enough to do so…I had the ‘decency’ to try out your dating app which I knew would be a shit show…and as you are promoting shitty behaviour, really Fumble, you owe it to those deluded enough to believe your marketing-hype and as a result download and use your app to actually read about their experiences.  This is so that YOU as a ‘responsible dating forum’ can get a full grasp of the kind of dating experience YOU are encouraging…well, as I've said, my experiences are all catalogued and ready to be read..., Fumble...HERE!

It was with immense trepidation that I signed up to Fumble because I just couldn’t believe that I would find a ‘decent-non-entitled-man’ who wanted a relationship with a woman willing to ‘chase’ him from the get-go based upon a lame 100 character ‘About Me’ intro (if he could be arsed to write one that is), and a below par photograph of him kissing a 6ft pineapple.  And two weeks down the line, I was damn well right.  So I’d like you to consider my views on why your app is shockingly shocking so that you can perhaps…how to put this…yeah, scrap it and start again or take on board a more honest marketing strategy?  You could start by replacing 'liberating for women' to 'detrimental for women' and take it from there. 

First off, women chasing men is not some kind of feminist movement or notion or a path to female liberation.  Loyal a.f. Female Fumble-employees if you're reading this, I hope you aren't lying to yourselves with a thought process akin to…‘…if we as women want something, it's the 21st century don't you know…we should put ourselves out there and go get it…we shouldn’t be quiet little women waiting around for what we want…so our dating-app-employer is Emmeline Pankhurst so far as we are concerned…’ although I’m still convinced there is a man at the helm…come on Fumble, don’t make me check Wikipedia…!

If we’re talking about a woman wanting a certain job or a position at work or getting on the property ladder or saving up to bag herself a nice holiday in Bali…OH MY GOD…I agree with the Fumble concept 100%…initiate, engage and CHASE that dream and you better kick-ass and land it and then revel in sheer kick-ass liberation.  

But relationships and men; and relationships and women are not possessions.  If you think dating apps such as yours where women HAVE to chase men empowers women well...they DON’T…they actually do the absolute opposite.  What women are doing by entertaining dating forums such as this one is enabling men to treat them like absolute crappy crap all under a misconstrued theory of what 'liberation' is…and Fumble, come on, you already KNOW this. 

Women chasing men is NOT Feminism at play or liberation in action.  It's a car crash.  There is a reason why ‘Men are From Mars, Women are from Venus’ (credit to Mr John Gray) is a bestseller and that’s because it is bloody well spot on.  Men and women are different.  Men are like flamingos and women are like gazelles – we are a different species within a species.  And generally the two difference species are attracted to opposite characteristics and opposite traits... 

Without getting too y’know text-booky Fumble, I don’t want to confuse you…but Feminism is the advocating of women’s social, political and economic rights so as to obtain equality between the sexes…; I learnt that in basic GCSE Sociology…but I just can’t ever imagine my sociology teacher (who was an ACTUAL Feminist funnily enough) standing at the front of the class boldly claiming that…
‘An example of female liberation can be given as so…women must chase the men they want to date and in doing so equality between men and women in the social-dating forum will be achieved and marriage contracted should the woman chase the man into such a contract’.  

Oh my God…!  No I definitely cannot imagine those words in that order coming out of my Feminist sociology teacher’s mouth.

The dating app/site market is flooded Fumble, I realise this and your app designers have to think up concepts that are ‘different’ from ALLLLL the others to make it stand apart…and THAT is all this app has been designed for.  It’s one that encourages women to chase men – that's a concept...YES, and it’s also ‘a FIRST’…the designers met the brief - it's a ‘FIRST’ for a reason - IT ABSOLUTELY SUCKS…

You/your app designers don’t appear to care what it’s users do with this idea or how they use this app to treat each other, just as long as they've created a USP and it brings in the dosh.  Fumble, I can tell you, if you think you are 'up there' advocating for women through this forum for ‘social equality’ in actively forcing them to chase men, make the first move on grown ass men…then you REALLY DON’T UNDERSTAND THE CONCEPT OF 'FEMALE LIBERATION' WHICH IS THE PREMISE UPON WHICH YOU ARE MARKETING THIS APP.  SO THIS LEADS ME TO CONCLUDE THAT YOU ARE EITHER A BIT 'DIM'  OR YOU ARE HOPING THAT YOUR FEMALE FUMBLE USERS ARE.

I just can’t imagine anybody truly thinking that a woman chasing a man to get him to date and ultimately into a relationship or for any other reason for that matter (unless he’s stolen your handbag and even then it’s questionable) is a good idea.  

Ooops…I was just jesting with you Fumble...only joking around, but your stooooopid app is about as liberating and Feminist as encouraging and filming women mud wrestling in their bikinis to win a man's attention…but don’t go getting any ideas Fumble…

...don’t let me find out in the not too distant future that you have added a 'mud wrestling in bikinis' video element to your app so that women Fumblers can entice male Fumblers they are fighting over to view footage of them actually mud wrestling in exchange for a piss-poor text message ‘ won me then LOL…btw your ass looked great covered in mud’ from that ego-inflated male.

I’ve chased one man in my whole life and that was a disaster - I was young, hormonal and totally clueless…Who else have I chased?  NO ONE...other than the Postman the other day when he thought I wasn't home and about to drive off without delivering my GLOSSY HE was worth chasing...he still had my box!

And now because of this Fumble app, I have ‘chased’ six men…SIX DIFFERENT MEN IN THE SPACE OF TWO TO THREE WEEKS, urgggggh, makes me feel SICK…

‘Naz’ – who thought I would still want to get to know him after he offered me his two truths and a sack of shite.  Read about that HERE.

‘Someone’ – I didn’t even want to chase but mistakenly swiped right for.  Read about that HERE.

Boring ‘Tom’ – who wanted me to drive 300 miles to see him and his donkey when he visited my area 3-4 times per week, again, read about this HERE.

‘Mark’ – who I was ‘just larking around’ with and was hoping would have got me blocked just so I could revel in the kudos.  Read about this HERE.

And there were two others that I haven’t really got much to say about, but…

The first one, we’ll call ‘Cameron’ initially seemed decent…until he wanted me to send him a million-trillion pictures before he would properly converse…it was as though a picture got him a bit of battery power to the brain which enabled him to knock out a sentence, but then the conversation would die until he got another photo which gave him a renewed bit of battery life – that’s as far as we got…forget that what attracts me to a man is his sense of humour (which I stated in my 100 CHARACTER??? [FUMBLE: what is THAT about????] ‘About Me’).  He was just focused on getting his needs met – getting as many pics as possible…what for??…YEAH, I KNOW WHAT FOR.  

Boring.  Shit.  Entitled.  He’s seen my picture, I’ve seen his…so let’s y’know see if the important stuff connects…or not!  I’ve got no time for this.  You’re encouraging men to start off being chased and then they expect all their needs to be met before they will even consider the needs of the female Fumbler who is too busy chasing and trying to faciliatate their entitled ego to realise that her needs are definitely NOT going to be met.  EVER.

The other, we’ll call ‘Alastair’ seemed decent, funny-ish, charming BUT…I could tell that this was going to be a bloody ‘text relationship’ – so he got deleted five days in.  Because I am not here looking for a text buddy.  I’ve had one of them and I don’t ever want another one because it’s BORING and I don’t want my phone being roped into the relationship as a go-between-third party.

You see, this is what I think about apps that make women make the first move…

From the profiles I’ve read and the interactions I’ve had and just a general male/female dynamic, there generally has to be a certain type of man that chooses to ‘date’ using this type of app; I’ll generalise and put down some character traits I think are going to be present…top of the list goes, of course,

         Those with an ATTITUDE who THINK they like being chased, because ‘yeah bitches…we’ve had to do it since time began…so now it’s your turn…let’s turn the tables on YOU lot…’.
         Those who want an ego boost but don’t want anything more than that.
         Those who don’t want a relationship but a ‘text’ relationship/ hook up will do just fine.
         Those with very low self-esteem and are too lazy to work on their communication and dating skills.

•     Enablers.
•     Those who think they are being all ‘Feminist’ and have bought into your ‘liberation marketing shit’ and have a ‘if the man can do the chasing then why shouldn’t I’ attitude.
•     The needy lot.
•     Those happy to respond to breadcrumbs.
•     Those with very low self-esteem who don’t value themselves – and this is the group that I feel sad for – this is the group that get the worst of dating apps like this; these are the people YOU, Fumble, are exploiting.

I’m betting that a good proportion of male Fumbers are not looking for a serious relationship through this app, or if they are they are kidding themselves that they will ever ‘properly date’ let alone marry a lady who initially chases them on a lame-ass dating app…or they are plain entitled arseholes that nobody wants to date…the dating-dregs of dating-app-society.

The general mind-set of a man choosing this type of dating app, knowing that women have to make the first move, is going to be lazy, entitled, and very much…’ok you can start as you mean to go on.  You can start off by chasing and you can continue chasing and whilst you are busy chasing I’ll be looking elsewhere for a woman who knows that she’s worthy of being pursued.

That man I refer to as ‘Alastair’…he may well have been up for meeting eventually, maybe, perhaps, but he damn well was not going to ask me…I just know that I would have been expected to try to progress each part of the dating process and that for me is just never going to work – it’s a turn OFF.  I lost interest and I lost attraction and he lost my attention.  He was just always waiting on me…I was five days in and he went from a solid 7.5 to a 1.5 – because he was just namby-pambying around. 

I’ll tell you that as an actual liberated woman who has her own place, own mortgage, own car, can finance herself and has never needed or asked a man to buy her things or pay her bills how this app has made me feel; 

‘disposable’, ‘weak’, ‘not good enough’, ‘frustrated’, ‘angry’, 'anxious'‘completely repelled’, 'out of my depth', 'desperate''insulted'

...the list of negative thoughts and feelings goes on.  

The fun, thrill, butterflies and excitement of getting to know someone was absent.  Using your app was a chore - start to finish labour of the sole. 

Chasing men round the Wrekin is a bore.  And when I heard one of your sucky notifications ping it would make me slightly shudder because it was usually a reminder to chase and that time was of the essence and that a Fumbler liked me but I had to fucking guess which one and do this quickly, so I need to start a conversation with him when all he’s bothered to write is his name and age.  

Oh and Fumble, I’m not swiping right on just any profile so that I can find out which person I’m not attracted to is attracted to me…it’s a fucked up mind game and it’s not entertainment.  It’s not what dating should be about.  Just tell me who’s interested in me and that might peak my interest in him a little.  How about that for a novel idea?  Cut the crap.

The ‘excitement’/’pleasure’ of dating which should be there was just replaced with anxiety and the feeling that whatever might start off well was not going to end well.  And this is because if we women are all there chasing men we might like the look of around, how are we ever going to really know if they like us back.  Because women chasing men is not the order of play.  Sorry but it just ain’t.

Women generally find being healthily pursued (and I don’t mean stalked) a nice thing, a romantic thing, a reassuring thing, a feeling ‘safe’ thing.  Being pursued by a man who wants you when you want them is sexy and endearing and fun and wholesome.  It feels like everything is falling into place.

If I was looking for a weak a.f. man, who is going to bring nothing to the table, this dating app would be for me – but that is not what I and other genuinely liberated women who want healthy relationships with real men, men’s-men-type-of-men are looking for.  I’m betting true Feminists and actual liberated women would burn their bras and be willing to be force fed by a tube through their noses before they would ever consider chasing a grown ass man around.

Have a re-think Fumble – go back to the drawing board.  You may be making money…for now…but you ARE NOT promoting healthy dating habits and dynamics…you’re actually worse than the fuckery that is ‘Hinder’ because you are actively encouraging men to become or continue to be ENTITLED at the expense of the mental health of your so called ‘liberated’ female users who are forced to do what is unnatural which is to FLIPPIN WELL MAKE THE FIRST MOVE ON A MAN AND THEN CHASE. 

Fumble, I think you are having a Bumble with THIS app.

             Yours faithfully

             A now fully liberated [after deleting your app] EX-Fumble-user

P.s.  The last ‘About Me’ profile I viewed on Fumble was of one who described himself as ‘intelligent’…only he wrote it like so: ‘intellergent’ – since I really couldn’t be arsed to swipe right just to communicate the unfortunate spelling error to him, could you at least get spellcheck installed so that 'self-proclaimed' intelligent people like this don’t start the ball rolling by making giant pricks out of could have been a great little 'conversation starter' I suppose...for anyone bowled over by his 'intellergence' and wishing to find out more about this genius.


And finally, lovely readers…'female liberation' from a social perspective, in its purest and most honest form… 

‘The higher mental development of woman, the less possible it is for her to meet a congenial male who will see in her, not only sex, but also the human being, the friend, the comrade and strong individuality, who cannot and ought not lose a single trait of her character’.  
Emma Goldman (1869-1940).

‘nuff said…intelligence insulted...but App deleted...rant over...point made...blood pressure on its way back to normal...


Thursday, 11 April 2019


[Continuing onward from Instalment 6 of this Fumble-dating 'fun', which is linked HERE].

If I do have a ‘type’, which looks-wise I don’t, then HE, 'Mark', WOULD ‘NOT’ BE ‘IT’.  

He’d given his age, name and an ‘About Me’…yep…I’ll give him that.  He’d filled out all of the information he wanted us potential-match lady-Fumblers to swoon over that he could cram within the allocated 100 characters, which was a refreshing change…until I actually, y’know…read what he’d written!

Because what he did share about his 'wants' and 'needs' was flippin’ outrageous.  ‘Mark’ knew exactly what he was looking for…

His ‘About Me’ told me all I needed to know about this reptile and more...:

Spot on 100 characters – he sold himself alright…'up-the-river'

…his profile picture was of him with his arm around a poor lady the one that I assume to be his ‘wife’, only her face was sharpied out, much like her 'existence' for a large part of 'Mark's' working week.  

I’ve had the post-it notes out again and ‘sketched’ what I saw to the extent of my lack of artistic ability allows, as so…


This ‘specimen of Entitled-ness’:

·                Is a grown ass man.
·                Has got a job – that he hasn’t budgeted for.
·                Has come on a dating app because he doesn’t want to date.
·                Is already taken – he’s already MARRIED.
·                Is clearly punching...because he has a wife that I guarantee is way better than him.
·                Wants regular weekday sex…just not with his wife, thanks.
·                Wants non-committal sexy-fun with one of us lot.
·                Wants us to chase him for THAT through this messed up app.
·                Wants it for free.
·                Is additionally seeking free accommodation, heating, lighting, access to clean water, slippers, dressing gown and most likely a pipe thrown in.
·                Is going to want privacy so that he can call his wife every night to moan about the crappy one star dump of accommodation he’s been forced to 'fend for himself' in.
·                Wants a space in one of a female-Fumbler's beds at least four nights per week.
·                Probably wants dinner, supper, breakfast and a packed lunch too.
·                Wants the benefits of a relationship AND MORE without that pain in the arse 'commitment-thing'.
·                Is going to go home to his WIFE from at least Friday to Monday.
·                Can’t spell ‘I’m’ – ‘om’ is not a word…we aren't meditating 'MARK'.

But hell…we should forgive all of these ‘shortcomings’ he’s managed to flag up in, LOL, 100 characters and a picture, because…he’s honest about the realms, breadth and width of his flippin’ great big entitled self, although not so honest when he lied his way through his wedding vows.

WHAAAAT AN IMPRESSIVE EGO HE HAS…Cool…the bigger the ego the harder the fall.

Ohhhhh, yes!  This useless lump of doggy doo has swiped right for me…thank you sweet Jesus.

Conversation ON

‘Hi Mark…are you at home or… **winky face emoji** NEARBY?’

Him: (IMMEDIATELY ON THIS LIKE THE EAGER BEAVER I ANTICIPATED HE WOULD BE) ‘…Hi to you…I’m not home, so should be **winky face emoji** NEARBY’.

‘Great…I’ve read your Bio’.

Him:  ‘LOL…I finish work at 6.00 – do you want to show me your digs…and that…I like your pic which is a massive bone-A’!  Took me a few minutes to get that he was attempting a terribly lame play-on-words ‘bonus’ and bleurgh…’something else’ I don’t want to think about.

‘Ahhhh, sorry Mark…I’m not about this evening…what a pity, cause I like yours too’,  I lied.

Him:  ‘That’s not ideal, but how about tomorrow…fancy buying me a drink to make up for not being available tonight?  And then back to yours?  Do you have an en-suite?'.

‘Ooooh, OK, that sounds REALLLLLY, great 'Mark'…I’ve just got some bits and pieces to do and then you’ll be needing that drink whilst you look through your divorce papers’.

Him:  ‘What??’

‘Yes, I do have an en-suite…thanks...  I was at your wedding.  You obvs don’t remember me; I’m the daughter of your mother-in-law’s close friend.  Absolute coincidence, but I’m with your mother-in-law now…she says to say ‘Hi you absolute…’ooops…she called you a rude word, I can’t repeat that…but it has five letters and rhymes with ‘Dick’.  

Enjoy your weekend in the marital home after what I'm sure is going to be a hard weeks graft…and don’t despair, with the qualities you possess I’m sure you’ll find another lady to wife-up in the not too distant future.  

Lovely chatting with you 'Mark', you absolute gent-of-a-man’.

And the jobs a good ‘un…

He deleted the conversation and ME quicker than I can say ‘Just pulling your bone-A’…and he HAS to give a reason to Fumble for deleting our conversation…his options are: 

'Dear Valued Male Fumbler...did we Fumble up there...was that match not up to scratch?

·        Mark do you feel abused; would you like to Report Abuse?

·        Mark do you feel offended, would you like to Report Offensive Behaviour?

·        Mark was that interaction obscene, would you like to Report Obscene Behaviour?

·        Or Mark, are you just ‘Hell no, not interested’?
Valued Male Fumbler your honest feedback is important to us so that we can take 'appropriate action' or otherwise make better suggestions that meet your dating requirements and approval'.

Let’s see if he’s reported me for one of those first three reasons.  Because I should have reported HIM for ALL FOUR REASONS (only Fumble didn't invite me to have my say) and for giving me high-blood pressure.  

Let’s see if this entitled 'man' who wants to be chased around MY town by a stranger he's looking to take free sex, free board and free lodgings from whilst married manages to convince Fumble that I, who is here looking for a like-minded, genuine and UNATTACHED somebody, should be barred from the delights of Fumble…

Wonder if it’s the mandatory 24 hours to wait until Fumble strikes up a ‘You’re Barred’ conversation with me, the ‘lady’…although...initiating conversation with a female?  Wouldn't that be Fumble breaking its own stupid rules?    

If anybody wants to suggest a dating app I should TRY…let me know…I’ll have a loookie and give it some consideration and if I do take the leap of 'faith' then I’ll sign up, take me chances and review it for you all. 

The ONLY one I’m not up for is ‘Hinder’ – don’t want to be murdered all for the sake of a blog; so kindly leave that one out purrrrlease…and I thank you kindly.