Breakups are harder the older you get, and that’s a fact. Not only do you have to endure the heartache that is missing someone who’s been a huge part of your life for a considerable amount of time, but you’re also grieving for all the hopes, dreams and plans that will never come to fruition. (Better put those imagined baby names on the back burner!) You gave your time and youth to someone who you now have to forget, and unfortunately there is no memory eraser. Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind was nothing but a fictional movie, and so our only option is to endure. But you are not alone in the battle.
We were sat on a beautiful big balcony, overlooking the sea but I sat there looking down forlornly at the bubbles in my sparkling water. “Is this rock bottom?” I mumbled quietly to my friend.
“I think so…”’ she replied, “But do you know what happens when you reach rock bottom, Pam?”
I continued to focus on the bubbles in the glass in a bid to stop the tears that were threatening to burst their banks at any given moment. I shook my head.
“The only way left to go is, up.”
A few weeks ago, at the end of a hike to the top of a volcano, we sat basking in the natural springs, dirty sneakers saturated with ash dust, thrown to the side of the rocks.
“Did you bring your slippers for after?” the girl I was with asked me.
I shook my head, cursing myself for being so unorganised. We had woken up late, cue me, throwing things into the back pack last minute. Water, sunglasses and sunscreen were the only essentials I had thought to pack in my sleepy haze, throwing in a swim suit last minute for good measure.
She threw her head back and laughed. “See! This is how I know that I’m ready to be a mom!”.
Her words have been playing in my head like an annoying song that gets jammed in the brain on repeat, ever since. How come at thirty years old, I wasn’t able to organise myself for a day trip, and yet here I was, daydreaming of a not so distant future that contained babies? I really ought to raise the bar to this girls’ level, I told myself. Yes… me, myself and I had work to do.
“January is going to be our year.” I was Skyping with my overseas bestie a couple of days before Hogmanay (that’s what us Scots call New Years Eve by the way). I thought ahead to my January work pattern and felt a tidal wave of giddy wash over mewhen I thought about the two weeks of annual leave that needed filled with some plans. Yeah, this year is going to be the year I travel more and actually have some more adventures, I told her.
Fast forward to the first week of February, and if that first month was a taster for the year ahead, then please tell me that the first month is just a trial run?
It’s foolish to deny the want to be popular. On some level, you want to be popular. It’s okay, everybody does. Everyone wants to be liked and actively seeks validation in belonging to a tribe. Denying it is no use; it’s pure evolution. But the fundamental question to women worldwide should be, which tribe do you want to belong to? The Superficial Squad who value everything materialistic, or the Sincere Tribe who only serve to nurture your best interests?
If just one more person had told me that I’d find it when I’d ‘least expect it’, you might have just seen me on the headline news for smacking said person in the face. Well, maybe not quite, but hearing the same advice ten times over from people in adorable couples who weren’t really in a qualified position to offer said advice, was getting more than a little bit tiresome to say the least. In fact, it was outright exasperating. I’d nod and smile at them all the while thinking, yes, yes… you really have no idea how heinous dating is in this modern world, but I’ll be polite and pretend that this advice has been useful.
But then, one ordinary day, something just happened. And it wasn’t at all like I expected.
And no, I do not mean the song by Haddaway, but you can listen to it here if I’ve put you in the mood for it.
“Here, I’ll forward the link to you now, and tell me your score!!!” My flatmate bounded enthusiastically out of the room in search for her phone so she could ping the quizto my inbox. We’d spent the evening gabbing away at the dining room table about “The 5 Love Languages” after she came across it on a podcast. “It’s a book you know.” My other flatmate chipped in. “I’ve got it on my kindle if you want to borrow it.”
Love languages? There are approximately six thousand, five hundred spoken languages in the world, and I had only learned one – how the hell was I supposed to understand five new ones all about L O V E ?
We were at the gym, before breakfast doing fasted cardio in a bid to lose some weight, slogging it out on the treadmill that overlooked the swimming pool when I felt a familiar lurch. She was right in our line of sight; all tanned, long dark hair, body like a fitness model, petite stature, and elegantly laid out on a sun lounger.
Right in our line of sight.
I’ve sat here, in front of my laptop now for forty five minutes. If that’s not a testament to the very subject that I’m trying to write about, then I don’t know what is.
I got an anonymous comment on one of my blogposts. (To see the post in question, click here). Firstly, I am clearly not excelling at this whole blogger-thing – because it must have lay there unnoticed for quite some time, (note to self, must read and pay attention to inbox more frequently), and secondly, I then allowed the feedback to occupy more headspace in my mind than it truly deserved.
To tell you the truth, it bothered me.
T H I R T Y.
’til I am thirty.
Let’s talk about turning thirty.
I wrote a blog post on the types of men you find in Dubai following a conversation with my friend over a You Tube video which categorises men into four types, but then, the more I thought about it, I realised that for every type of man in Dubai, there are just as many different types of woman. I am all about equality, and I would hate for any men reading my blog to think that I am solely targeting them (!) So read on, to uncover the various categories of woman you’ll encounter across Dubai.
My friend just sent me a YouTube video of a Derek Hart theory which states that there are four types of man, slotting categorically under the following headings:
- confused man
- good man
After I watched it, (you can watch it too by clicking here) I found myself researching other articles about different types of men, because, realistically four categories does not seem space enough to pigeon hole all the men in the world into.
In the hook up culture of today’s millennial generation, there is an abundance of apps that make causal encounters easier than ever before, including Tinder, Bumble and Happ’n to name a few, but in a world where one night stands are a mere click away and sex is pretty much readily available, the flip side is an generation who value monogamy and fidelity more than ever.
Sat on the sofa eating Pad Thai and half watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, my good friend (who’s never short of verbal ammunition for my blog) was talking to me about newly acquired boyfriends. To be more specific, she was talking about a mutual colleague of ours who recently coupled up, and has already moved into his place after only two months of dating.
Have you ever seen the film, ‘Just Friends?, where Ryan Reynolds explains the ‘friend zone’,
“The ‘friend zone’ is like the penalty box of dating, only you can never get out. Once a girl decides you’re her ‘friend,’ it’s game over. You’ve become a complete non-sexual entity in her eyes, like her brother, or a lamp.”
Not for the first time in my life – I have found myself relegated to the friend zone. I have become like a lamp.
The past two weeks I have learned a lot of things – including that hands and feet occupy the largest area of the brain when it comes to human senses; that’s why when your shoes are hurting your feet from all that dancing or whatever, the pain feels much more unbearable. (I KNOW!!!) Even more wild than that though, is that I can now confirm that men are actually crazy. They are insane-psycho, more-issues-than-Vogue and a daily newspaper combined, whack.
Packing is high up on the list of chores that I would 110% rather not do. It features much higher than hanging up washing, and just slightly lower than mopping the floor or putting clean sheets on a super king sized duvet (alone).
But fear not, babies, for I am here to guide you through the dreaded chore. With holiday season fast approaching, I am going to tell you my own personally designed Pamela Violets ultimate guide to packing. I am going to tell you what you should be taking, and what you definitely should not be taking.
I’m sitting in a cute little cafe called Ohh Boy, in the Aminta area of Athens, smiling like a slightly crazed person. I have an iced coconut coffee next to me, a cute dog opposite me, and a bowl of greek yoghurt, fruit and honey to the left of me.
Last week I blogged about how saying ‘yes’ to things that I’d usually find an excuse not to do, was changing life for me, albeit in a short period of time. Over the past few months, I have been reading a lot of books on how not to give a fuck about all the things I have given too many fucks about for too long, and somewhere in between all those words, I think I may actually have gradually started giving less fucks.
A couple of months ago, while I was round at one of my friends apartments for one of our ‘Come Dine With Me’ dinner nights. Catching up, we were all talking about our latest gossip and what we’d been up to, and when it came to my gossip which was distinctly lacking, I made no qualms to hide how fed up I’d been feeling lately.
the action of delaying or postponing something.“your first tip is to avoid procrastination”
Being brave isn’t a word that I’d normally use to describe myself. In fact, I don’t really consider myself brave at all. I’d normally consider myself a low-risk taker, probably because I am an only child and a Virgo (except when it comes to buying trainers – on that note, I’m a bit of a gambler!).
If honesty is the best policy, then why does the truth so often hurt? And if there is no such thing as a good lie, is there such a thing as being too honest?
It’s lent, and despite being a non-practicing catholic, my inner seven-year-old self (she’s always there) still kind of feels some moral obligation from my catholic education to give something up for Lent, just incase there really is a Heaven when we die. If you don’t know what lent actually entails, it’s a whole forty days and forty nights of going without something, to represent Jesus trekking through the desert without food and water for the same length of time.
Valentine’s Day is fast approaching and every shop is literally bursting at the seams with red, pink and white. Not one for overtly outright proclamations of love and PDA’s (I am a Virgo after all), I present to you a series of ‘Alternative Valentine’s Day poems’, written by me.
A few weeks ago, I was at Dubai’s tacky somewhat-but-not theme park, Global Village. I won a giant flamingo on some little ducky fishing game (and when I say giant, I mean GIANT), went a ride on the highest swings, and was then happily chomping my way through a chocolate chip ice cream cone dusted with sprinkles. “I am literally living my childhood dream.” I thought to myself.
On Thursday night, I had a wobbly moment. An albeit brief moment, but a wobbly moment nonetheless. I had a cry on my sofa, then I poured myself a (very large) gin, and I went to bed after about another four of those gins looking like Bridget Jones, only more tragic because I have two cats. Continue reading
I’ve had a bit of a blogging sabbatical lately. I’ve mainly been preoccupied with a few tasks like reading Sarah Knight’s, “Get Your Sh*t Together” which has me timing how long I take in the shower, (sixteen minutes FYI, and that’s not even on a hair washing day). Nothing that depressing or cringe-worth funny has been happening of late, and to be honest, I’d say that that’s where 99% of my material for blogging comes from, hence the drought, although I’m getting my eyebrows done by Beyoncé of brows later and we know how that went down in the past (watch this space…). So, until I have something worthwhile to write about, I decided to have a look through the gems of my unpublished drafts and I came across this one and decided to share it. Continue reading
If you were to play a word association game, and someone shouted out ‘CHRISTMAS!’, the word most people would probably shout back in return would be, ‘JOY!’ or ‘HAPPINESS!’, however, I am here to argue that this is a common misconception. I mean, you might subliminally know the words to the majority of your Spotify Christmas Playlist, but have you ever actually listened to the lyrics? Well, deck the halls with antidepressants because here’s a compiled list of the 22 Saddest Christmas Songs of ALL time*.
A good friend of mine once told me a story about an ex best friend and her who’d had a bitter and upsetting fall out. I don’t know why the story always stuck in my mind – maybe I resonated with it a bit. Either way, we were walking through the train station, when she told me that she had recently read an article comparing the turmoil of falling out with a best friend, to grief. The article discussed the importance of recognising that a major relationship in your life has effectively died. “As with any death”, she told me, “you need to mourn it.” I always dress in black anyway.
I read an article online about Ed Sheeran ditching his smartphone. The guy just dropped off the grid because he felt like he was spending too much time on social media and seeing the world through a screen. While I really admire him for it, I don’t think I could bear to be parted from my iPhone – I am way too reliant on it.
Do you remember when mobile phones just started to be a ‘thing’? And everyone would cram as many shorthand words into one measly 7p text message? Continue reading
Does everything happen for a reason? Or is life just a series of coincidences?
I was telling a good friend over WhatsApp that due to my low key living at the moment, that I didn’t feel like I had much to write about for my blog just now. She suggested writing a blog ‘on fate and how things that are “meant to be” are BULLSHIT and why we should pay them no mind.’ (She did add that she was probably just feeling extra cynical, after yet another potential relationship collapsed in a heap around her), so I’m using her suggestion and writing a blog about fate and wether or not I think it exists. Continue reading
They say health is wealth, and food makes health no? So how many cafe’s can a girl visit in one week?
There’s been a recent debate amongst my friends, over how to tell wether or not you’re in a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship with someone, and most importantly for all my expat friends, does this vary from culture to culture? Continue reading
Para Pam was a nickname once coined to me by a friend in my very early twenties, around the time my anxiety most likely started, although back then, I didn’t actually know that was what it was. Continue reading
One thousand, one hundred and ten days ago today, (it was a Friday) I upheaved my life and took it to Dubai. I cried mascara tears on the shoulder of my mum’s brand new white t-shirt as she told me, “I’m only going to say this once, but it’s not too late to change your mind if you don’t want to go.” Continue reading
There are some fundamental differences between the female and male species. I have discovered these fundamental differences through a variety of methods including thorough observations of the species in their natural habitat*. Other methods include at length discussions between groups of friends – friends hailing from both halves of the species.
*of my nose
People keep asking me, “What type of music are you into?” How have I managed to get to the ripe age of 28, and fast approaching 29 without being able to answer this question? I don’t know… all I know is that I do not like Techno. I also don’t like Heavy Metal and Screamo.
Do you ever wonder about the reality of a person behind their online persona?
Singapore wasn’t really part of the plan. I had planned to spend the long weekend in Barcelona, but unfortunately my plans fell through. At a loose end, I messaged my friend in SG who has a spare room. A few hours later, I was up and frantically packing (as always) and in a fast cab to the airport. Here’s my guide to SG, so that you can do it with even less effort. After all, I’m all about the minimal.
(When I wasn’t supposed to be buying anything) from the 24th of May to the 24th of June.
What’s the best way to cure a severe case of the blues? Grab a friend and escape the city, pronto Tonto. Just after 11pm (and a couple of gins) last Wednesday night, I decided to catch a flight out of the sandpit for the weekend, and randomly headed to Budapest, the capital of Hungary.
With absolutely zero planning, except a quick search of google and some suggestions from friends, here’s my highlights from Budapest. Continue reading
When I was 19 years old, I got dumped by my childhood sweetheart. On the train to uni the next day was reading the Metro newspaper (for those who haven’t heard of it, it’s a free British newspaper for commuters). That morning, I kid you not, the opening line under Virgo’s Metro star sign read, “A major relationship in your life has just sunk like the Titanic.” I don’t know why, but after all these years, I’ve never forgotten that opening line. Continue reading
“When is it okay to post a picture of someone you’re seeing* ?”
*Terms and conditions apply
If this week has taught me anything, it’s taught me that guys and girls get sad equally. The only difference is that men don’t really vocalise it the way that women do, meaning that we just think they don’t get sad. Continue reading
I am part of Generation Y, which comes with all sorts of problems that Generation X probably never encountered. One such millennial problem is the rise of social media. Is it a blessing or is it a curse?
Staying in fancy hotels can pretty cool sometimes. ‘Sometimes’ being the magic word… Continue reading