Single world problems

When I'm at dinner with my friends and they run through
the list of who is engaged or married from high school

and I'm like...

Source: #myfriendsaremarried

This spring, the single population in our little group of friends has become smaller than ever. The majority of my closest friends are actually in a relationship at the moment.

Whoa. How did this happen?

Now, don’t get me wrong. I couldn’t be any happier for my friends. It’s heart-melting to see the blissful, almost dumb-like smile on their faces when we’re talking about their new sweethearts, huns, and boos.

It’s just… Sometimes a single girl needs another single girl. To talk shit about the lamest ever I-made-a-birthday-cake-to-my-hubby Facebook status update, to drink two bottles of champagne before noon, or to cry her heart out over the guy who went and fucked the dumbass blondie instead of her.

Some days, a single girl needs not to see any couples around her. Today, I got all anxious when I came to think about our plans for the Midsummer holidays: going to a summer cabin for four days with my closest friends, the bunch consisting nowadays of eight couples, and six singles.

If the couples decided to challenge the singles to any team sports, we’d be 16 against 6. Yay.

“But so what? It’s not a big deal, and we’re still the same.”

Yes, and no. Being in a relationship changes you, in my opinion. Not necessarily for worse, but for different.

“But so what? You’ll probably end up being just like us, some day you’ll be in a relationship as well.”

Yes, most probably. That day, I might take a look back at this post and not understand anymore at all what I’ve been writing about. But that day isn’t today, and until that day, I sometimes will need to get to be my selfish and bitchy single self.

Apologies to my more or less married friends. You’re all cool, but sometimes just so very different.

Post by Jo

Us vs. Me

Ok. Prepare to get emotional with me. 

The situation between me and The Guy I have been talking about has moved into the state where both of us wonder what's the deal and where are we heading. We have been hanging out for over a month now and it has been enjoyable, fun, and sweet in all the imaginable measures. I like him and he likes me. 

But this is the point where the problems usually start. The point where I start freaking out. 

All this happened just too fast. It was just few weeks ago, when he surprised me on my late night run and in this beautiful night of rainy Helsinki I realized that this might be something more than just friends thing. And now we meet every day. We know the schedules of each others' days. We wash our teeth together before going to bed. We don't do dates or stress about how we look or act with each other. We hang out like a married couple. Last night he actually called me darling before going to sleep.

This is all just what the fuck. As selfish, bitchy, and you're-gonna-be-forever-alone it may sound, I don't like the idea of us instead of just me. I don't like sharing my life. I like to be able to isolate for a weekend and not to talk with anyone if I feel like staying in bed watching How I Met Your Mother and eating peanut butter. I like changing my mind every day and being in a bad mood for no reason without being a harm to no one. I like being spontaneous and kissing whomever I like. I'm really good at falling for people, but I really suck at falling in love with anyone.

So, I have a feeling that the thing is either to go big or go home. And you know there's no place like home. 

Post by Sally

Managing Human Resources

Dodging, tackling and hooking co-workers

Last Saturday it was time for the summer party of the company I work for. The industry being IT, most of the workforce quite naturally represent men. Guys, cool guys, less cool guys, real geeks, and so on.

Anyway, on an occasion including company like that, open bar service, live music, casual mingling, and Finnish drinking habits – being a female wearing a dress and lipstick – it might be difficult to avoid any sexual references or raunchy talks.

So, at the party, a few times I found myself in a situation that went more or less across the vague line of appropriateness between colleagues.

1. Senior investor of the company touching my private parts. Or more like brutally groping my ass. Really, as if he was a 15-year-old making it to the second base for the very first time. You middle-aged, married, father of two, perv. Very awkward. Very uncomfortable. Definitely not cool.
    
2. Colleague from my team telling he wants to kiss me. Several times – but I couldn’t tell whether he was joking or being serious. Okay, being Italian and drunk might be his excuse, but in any case, it was rather embarrassing than flattering since other colleagues overheard that.
    
3. Mr Office McDreamy telling me about the problems in his relationship. And enquiring after my relationship status. After having flirted a few hours with me. Weird. But interesting. Really interesting.

In all my previous jobs my association with my colleagues has always been purely professional, so I was rather clueless, to be honest. Seriously – what’s the deal? Where’s the line?

Can you get involved with a colleague, or is it an absolute no-no?

Post by Jo

drunk-dial-logics

Behavioral experiments about drunk phone calls

In a dark, northern country like Finland, very few marriages would ever happen without alcohol. Quiet and shy Finns only start talking after a sixpack of beer and in order to get in contact with the opposite sex, it usually takes a couple of Jägermeister shots added. 

Well, luckily we - the current 20 to 30-year-old coolster generation, that lives in the sexiest districts of Helsinki, dresses in American Apparel and COS, ombre-colors their hair and smokes electric shisha pipes - aren't that bad. We have learned to be nice, polite, and social. 

However, alcohol is still the love potion of our social culture. We meet new people while partying. And admit it - we are still shy - and this is why we continue with the process of getting to know each other while being doped by champagne showers. And drunk dialing is weird. This is why I decided to give you all a little handout to decode the drunk contacts based on my own field research of the topic.

You need nothing but the moment of time of the drunk contact, and the case is clear.

Call/Message at 7 pm

He thinks of you as a friend. Or he is Italian.

Call/Message at 10 pm

He thinks you're cool but doesn't know if he is that into you.

Call/Message at 12 pm

He is interested in you. 

Call/Message at 2 am

He is definitely interested in you.

Call/Message at 4 am

This one needs no explanations, right? It's a booty call. He want's to have sex with you. No emotions can be analyzed by this contact since at the moment he is just acting based by his primitive need to breed. 

Call/Message at 6 am

He is in love with you. 

Be my guest.

Post by Sally

Spring/Summer 2013 - the Essentials of the Season

Me and Jo have this funny little habit in our group of friends of announcing themes for each four seasons of a year: themes for our love lives. It's not a dead-searious guideline to follow, it's just something fun to boost our already fabulous single life even more. This exciting seasonality started a year ago, as we both were moving back to Helsinki from our adventurous little field trips around the world - and as we were both in the mood for love.

So, Jo launched the Summer of 2012 the be the greatest of all, a mindblowing, tell-your-grandchildren-about-this, the official Summer of Love.

It went ok. I met a man that changed my world at a rock festival in Belgium. However, though we both were ready to get married, buy a caravan and drive around the world together after the festival weekend, it didn't lead that far in the real world. 

So September started with still no love. Jo, again, thought that it would be time to freshen up our mindset, so the fall became the Fall of Crush. 

It was a flop. Nothing worth mentioning was going on. I ended up dating a skateboarder who was shorter than me and lying myself that maybe I do like this guy, I just don't realize it, because he's so short.. Well, no way. 

After the two seasons of searching for the one, we were really sick and tired of sweet sweet love. It was time for the Winter of Bang.

As a surprise to no one, it was a huge success. 

However, as emotional motherfuckers like we are, we needed something more when the days started to get longer - so this evolved into the Spring of Fling.  

The Spring surprised even myself with the flingy things it brought with it. So as the days have been getting warmer, leaves greener and white wine spritzers more and more enjoyable, the Spring of Fling has pointed out which direction it is leading us. 

So welcome - the Summer of Romance.

Post by Sally

Bang Club Rules aka. how to be friends with benefits

The rulebook for friends with benefits

1. You do not talk about Bang Club.
2. You DO NOT talk about Bang Club.
3. If someone says "stop" or goes limp, taps out the bang is over.
4. Only two people to a bang.
5. One bang at a time.
6. No shirts, no shoes.
7. Bangs will go on as long as they have to.
8. If this is your first night at Bang Club, you HAVE to bang.

 
Yup. Works pretty well.

Friends with benefits, the odd grey area between friendship, one night stands and a proper relationship, might easily develop from convenient, casual sex into an emotional shitstorm if some set of rules for the thingy isn't agreed upon.

Now, I don't mean you should sit down with lawyers to negotiate – just make sure you're on the same page of each other's terms and conditions. Keep it simple, and keep it straight.

I myself have managed to maintain a great friend with benefits for some three months now. Some say it's the longest that such a no strings attached status can last, and that after that it's doomed to get emotionally complicated. Ouch.

Oh well, I guess I'm about to see. In the meantime, I'll continue enjoying myself without the awkward mornings (so, what was your name again?) or being bounded by exclusivity. A win-win.

Post by Jo

Small town issues

They say world is a small town. That between any two individuals in the world there is only a maximum of six degrees of separation. And you know it's true, as it seems that whenever you meet someone, is it in Helsinki, Milan, Singapore or Mexico, you are most likely to find some mutual friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend after getting a bit deeper in knowing each other.

So, from this aspect, Helsinki is like an Amish community – a little village where everyone is more or less related to each other. Everyone knows everyone.

This is a tricky situation when it comes to dating. If there is a million people living in the Helsinki area, from whom approximately 100 000 is at my age range, from whom 50% is female gender, 50% is in a relationship, 30% is uneducated or intellectually inadequate, 20% wear camouflage patterned clothes, and from the remaining part, majority is just too weird, too normal, ex-boyfriends of a friend, have bad breath, racist viewpoints or no confidence, so the remaining amount of men that are actually dateable potential is like, what, twelve?

And of course, all the cool kids hang out in the same courtyard.

So, as a single girl, who in general gets very well along with the opposite gender and is incapable of long-term relationships, I face a problem every once in a while – I get interested in someone, whose friend I have already dated.

It is pretty damn awkward. For everyone. 

My recent date is crazy and weird, fun and good-looking. And so was a good friend of his whom I went out a few times two months ago.

Looking forward to the shit to hit the fan.

Post by Sally

All The Single Ladies

“So, how come you’re still single?”

… Ahem. Awkward.

I’ve never really come up with a good answer to the question. I haven’t even quite understood the whole point with the question – is it supposed to somehow mock me? To compliment me? Or is it just pure wondering?

“Maybe because I’m a complete bitch” is what I’d sometimes like to say, but on the other hand, that might not work with dear old Grandma.

On Sunday I was yet again tongue-tied while meeting an old friend over a cup of late afternoon tea. Since puberty she's pretty much all the time been in a relationship with someone, and she seems to be having a hard time to understand why some people don’t mind that they haven’t yet found their other half/soul mate/significant other/whatever the fuck.

Not even close to smooth, I mumbled something strange, gave a shy laugh and quickly changed the topic before she’d get carried away about hooking me up with some blind date. Awkward, yes indeed.

However, yesterday I came across this miraculous piece of wisdom on the Thought Catalogue. So, here’s to everyone who’s got embarrassed with the above question (or, perhaps, on the darkest of the moments, has questioned it from themselves):

“You’re not single because your standards are too high. Good for you for having standards. It’s not because you didn’t like that really, really good guy who wanted to take you on a date and you just weren’t feeling it. And it’s not because you like to wear pajama pants as soon as you get home and wash all the makeup off your face. You’re not single because you didn’t learn enough from the past or would rather chill on a Friday night with your blanket and a cold beer than shower, get ready, and go out. You’re not single because something is wrong with you.

You are single because you are single. It’s really as simple as that. You haven’t made the connection with another heart yet. You can get dolled up, dress cute, cut your hair, dye your hair, tweeze your eyebrows, put on lipstick and you may still. be. single. You can go out to a bar hoping to meet the love of your life and not find a damn one in the place attractive. And it’s going to remain that way until it’s time for you to find one. Stop hoping for it. Start living the life that you do have instead of wishing for things that you don’t have. There will come a time you’ll meet a boy and you’ll have to give up some of this single freedom you currently have. Start being more thankful. Start doing that now.”

You are single because you are single. How simple, and how very enlightening is that?

Post by Jo

The Critical Step

I don't know on which basis you people evaluate your new love affairs, but for me, you really can't tell if a guy is worth putting any effort for before you have been in bed together.

But this has nothing to do with sex.

Even though I'm not the type of girl that I would spend my lonely nights holding a big fluffy teddybear, dreaming about a man who would gently hold me as I fall asleep, I do believe in the power of touch.

When you spend time in bed for the first time with someone you like, there is two common scenarios of what might happen. First one is that it's nice. It's fun, it's okay. When the regular routine is looming ahead and it's time to start reading emails and hiding from deadlines, you get up like every morning after a good night of sleep: it would be nice to stay to bed, but you rather get up. The bedtime was fun but when it's done, you're just done with it. And this is a bad sign.

The other scenario is that it's just magical. Like, regardless if you actually sleep together or not, it's just amazing. You know, it's like you're creating your own little parallel universe where nothing else matters except for the skin contact. You just simply can't get up. That's the kind of chemistry that causes you being late from work, skipping parties, not answering phone calls or staying inside the house for 36 hours.

If there's no such physical obsession, it never works. I don't know if it's about pheromones, hormones, chemicals or some unexplained divine forces, but even though I would really like a guy, the sex would be superb, but there's just no gut feeling of "let's quit our jobs and move to Siberia so that we can stay in and cuddle for the rest of our lives", I know that sooner or later the thing will suck.

So last night I slept with my new date. It was a "let's lock the doors, skip our duties and forget the real world" kinda thing. But still I was early at the office this morning.

But I'm pretty sure it's just me enhancing my habits. And this thing might be worth, if not putting all in, then at least up the ante.

Post by Sally

Reputation – a turn-on or a dealbreaker?

When meeting new people, I can usually pretty quickly decide whether I find these people interesting or not.

Recently, however, I got puzzled when I met this one boy at a party. He was a friend of a friend, goofy, easy-going and quite a charmer. We had a good time: he was obviously hitting on me, and I was interested. I could've easily been sold, but I was bothered by his reputation: he’d slept with more girls than an average bus can carry, and it was no secret.

I was slightly repelled by the fact – and yet, at the same time, I was intrigued by the other side of the story: rumor also had it that he was simply great in bed. Bang.

Although I had a lot of fun with him, I couldn’t decide if I should be flattered or degraded by his attention. So, when the bar closed, we ended up in an awkward afterparty with some very random people. As the sun started to rise, it was time to decide whether to go big or to go home. I couldn’t chase off the uneasy feeling, and so I decided to head home – alone.

The next day, after a long, sunny picnic with friends and some champagne, in my decreasing day-drunkenness and craving for some closeness, I came to question my decision. A reputation is just a reputation – stories and rumors – so why should I be so much affected by what other people seem to think, instead of relying on my initial reaction?

And right then, I was interrupted in the midst of these speculations and my favorite intimacy substitute Häagen-Datz by a surprising call from my regular/irregular bangbuddy.

I hadn’t heard from him in a while, but the moment I decided to answer to the phone, it came clear to me that it wasn’t the charmer himself I had been interested in last night, but only the chance for some physical action. Reputation matters, it seems, as I was suddenly so happy I hadn’t become his latest conquest.

The guy came to pick me up by a cab, and as we drove to his place, I already forgot about the charmer.

Post by Jo

Type, antitype, blood type, E-type…

Today I started thinking about types. I was sipping a late afternoon espresso with a friend of mine, and after the discussing the hot topics of the day such as Beyoncé changing her username on Instagram, I told my friend whom I went out with the other day.

“Really? Wow… I didn’t think he was your type!”, was the reply she gave me. 

Well. Neither did. This guy and me have nothing in common except a hilarious sense of humor and a big ego.

But what the hell is my type anyway?

During the previous year I have dated a bunch of guys. A tattooed consultant, who cooked a really good lasange. An Italian businessman that was 15 years older than me and drove a ridiculously expensive car. A curly haired snowboarder who, all of a sudden, quit his day job and moved to Australia. An overweighed comedy actor that smoked a lot and was drunk at least three times a week. A blonde-haired male Barbie that was such a perfect gentleman and so by the book that Disney could’ve created him.

My first boyfriend was a long-haired bass-player and the latest one a start-up entrepreneur.

So you get the range. There is no type. There is not a single common feature that I would identify about the men I get interested in.

But yet I consider myself open-minded. Untamed. I surprise even myself with my feelings. Last time I told my friends that I’m really not interested in the guy I just met at the party, as he is really not my type, I ended up being crazy about him after three days (and well, getting my heart broken after three weeks).

So I guess it’s something abstract that I fall for. It’s the bang. The uniqueness. That’s my type. Or maybe I’m just the kind of girl that one day dies for sushi and another day for bouillabaisse. Haha.

Post by Sally

Ps. With this guy, I like his enthusiasm about old school rap music and his ability of not to give a fuck.