Future terrors

At the ripe old age of 20, i’ve realised that i’m fucking terrified about the future.

I mean i know i’ve got another decade or so before the real paralysis of fear kicks in, but right now i can already feel the goose bumps rising when i think about the dirtiest words in the English language; Commitment, stability and children.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up when i realise that right now i’m in my 20’s i’m in the so – called prime of my life and the heavy weight of this makes me want to crawl under a rock for a few hours whenever i remember it. I mean what does the ‘prime of your life’ even mean? And what i am expected to do during this fabulous years? AM I WASTING MY 20’S!?!? is it wrong that my idea of a fun night is spooning my cat and watching documentaries about serial killers? The thought alone is exhausting my overloaded brain.

So far my experience of this (overrated) era in my life is shithouse, for lack of a better word. I’m constantly broke, drowning in uni assignments for a course i’m not even sure i really want to do. I’m unemployed and it’s near damn impossible to find work in this ‘delightful’ city of Melbourne if you don’t have prior experience. But how the hell do you get prior experience if nobody will give you initial experience? stupid vicious circle. Oh, and i’m painfully afraid of commitment, so of course the cause and affect of such fear is perpetual singledom.

Don’t get me wrong i’d give both my eyeballs to be able to travel more, do spontaneous road trips and frequent the best bars in the city. But slight hitch right here peoples, it all requires fucking cash. And thus lies my predicament; MUST-enjoy- 20’s – because-life-after-30-is-shit-but can’t-enjoy-20’s-because-so-very-broke.

But anyway to commitment. This is one hella scary concept folks, and i’m not just talking about committing to another human but committing to a job, to hobbies, to pretty much anything that requires anymore than my email address. I can probably trace this fear back to daddy issues and all that jaz, but i don’t want to exceed my cliche threshold at such a tender age. So we’re just gonna go with my brain is deformed and i was probably dropped on my head as a small child therefore i am incapable of experiencing true love! I do apologise i had to stifle my gag reflex re-reading that last sentence. But in all honestly even flirting with commitment makes me rather uncomfortable. *insert example*

Scenario: I’m with a super hot bloke, we’ve had a fantastic date i leave feeling elated and excited to see him again. He then proceeds to message me the next day and asks me if we can meet up again. My commitment alarm siren starts whirling in the background and i immediately commence operation ignore – quite simply i just never reply to him again and happily withdraw back into my bubble of self inflicted alone time.

So basically due to the fact that i can barely commit to a favourite pizza, i see a doubtful future laying ahead for me. Which kinda snowballs into the whole ‘children’ thing. I mean unless i just get knocked up by accident after a sleazy fumble between the sheets (likely) or the immaculate conception round 2 happens (not likely but man that would make a damn good blog post) i just can’t see myself procreating. And i’m okay with that i think.. oh fuck it i can’t even commit to the idea of committing to have kids. I’ll just have a farm instead i think with lots of fluffy animals with soft fur to absorb the tears of loneliness.

And as for stability, well hey we’ll just say thats one hell of a good subject to have a laugh about in your downtime.

Anyway, i hope you all have your shit together and your ducks in a much neater row than me. If not god bless, and you’re welcome to come live on the soft fluffy animal farm with me.

Farewell fellow spinsters and bachelors, Em.

Flakey bitches.

We all know the desperate annoyance that comes with flakey friends. We might even be that flakey friend, but either way how many times can a friend bail before they’re headed straight to your blacklist?

I love my friends, i really do, I can put up with holding their hair back after one too many $10 jugs, I can deal with constant complaining over the phone at 4am on a Monday night…”I just realised i don’t have a boyfriend because i got a pimple that one time, right? RIGHT!?’ and i can even handle them stealing my clothes and holding them hostage. But the thing that really grinds my gears is bailing on plans. Especially when they’re the ones who made the fucking arrangements in the beginning!

As far as i’m concerned the only suitable reasons to ditch plans are:

1) You got stuck in a dress that was 4 sizes too small in a clothing change room and you’re now having a panic attack and hyperventilating and thus have lost your driving abilities.

2) A sexy British boy fell out the sky and just insisted that you must go and drink excessive amounts of champaign right then and there.

3) Your cat tipped over your new bottle of MAC foundation, your carpet is ruined and you’re gradually accepting the fact that you just don’t have the money for another bottle and thus will have to walk around looking like a flustered tomato for the foreseeable future.

4) Your hangover is so bad that your head is stuck in the toilet and even 7 bottles of gatorade haven’t been able to revive you.

5) And lastly, i mean i suppose some super crazy family emergency might count. But only if you can prove it, bring me the DR’s certificate and worship me whilst feeding me grapes at a later date to make up for it.

And believe me bitches, i am super sleuth and a mad detective, i WILL find out if you’ve flaked for another friend. 😉

Love, Emeline.

Dating etiquette makes me want to throw bricks at people.

So we all know that feeling, when you hit off with a guy or girl and the tingle of anticipation overwhelms your brain. And this is all good and great and fab and blah blah blah *insert happy adjectives*, But then the panic sets in and BAM, you’re stealthily searching the internet for tips and hints on ‘what food to order on a first date’ and ‘Will he expect sex on the first date?’. You find yourself manically  trawling through e-harmony advice on how to ‘Leave a lasting impression on that special guy’ whilst trying to navigate public transport.

Everyone with the slightest touch of the insecure vibes knows the pain. Because really when you think about it, a first date is the same as a job interview, you’re both auditioning the other person to see if the deserve a role in your life. And with this bizarre mating ritual of humans comes a whole lotta etiquette, which quite frankly does my head in. As follows a comprehensive list of my dating woes/concerns/fears ect

1- How do you subtly insert a mint into your mouth at the right time without them noticing and deciding you’re on a determined mission to shove your tongue down their throat?

2- Why should you avoid talking about your ex? as far as i’m concerned you’re just giving them a friendly list of things not to do if they want a successful relationship with you!

3- How many glasses of wine is the perfect level, to be able to portray that you like to have fun but most importantly are under no circumstance *nudge. nudge* an alcoholic? *wink, wink*

4- Why do you always feel inclined to make up an excuse about why you went to the bathroom for more than approx 1.5 minutes, god forbid they thought you were doing an ahem, number 2.

5- To wear lipstick or not to wear lipstick? Let’s face it, you feel sexier with it on but it prohibits sexy activities such as the average kiss from occuring, at least without disasterous results.

6- Exactly what food should you order without the shame of being the girl who orders the salad or the girl who went for the pasta and ended up with napoli in her eyebrows?

7- So can i still see other people or… that classic age old dilemma of when you must forgo the attention of the opposite sex for that special person. But when? From the first date? after you’ve talked on facebook 17 times? This one always gets me.

8- How the hell do you keep your face tilted at that flattering angle for the entire evening?

9- When the conversation goes akimbo and you’ve gone from discussing your favourite colour to him fondling your boobs in the smokers area of that bar your at. Do you let this continue in this modern age or is that still a no go?

10- And lastly my biggest peeve of all, WHO THE HELL PAYS THE BILL? i personally feel exceedingly uncomfortable with the idea of my date paying for me, kinda as if i owe them? although i do know a lotta people who feel uncomfortable with their date not paying for them. So really i’m not sure but either way it can be a dark scary thought to investigate.

Well for now, that’s all my little old sleep deprived self can think of, but as i continue my foray into the amusing, terrifying and most of all confusing world of dating i’m sure there will be more to come.

Love, Emeline.