Nicely Does It

If I had a pound for every time a person implies, or straight up tells me that I’m toobeing_nice_is_cool_by_tallis-d7h69fz nice, I’d have about enough to have plastic surgery to look like Tom Hardy’s dog and I could be leading a very nice double life as we speak (sorry for the odd imagery). Point is, I get told this a lot and every time I just hear the same thing: You’re not good enough.

OF COURSE this isn’t what people always mean, but for the most part* what they do mean is that they think I should be more like them and I call bullshit on the whole thing.

I’ll be nice if I want to, I will trust people if I want to and you know what? If I don’t want to tear a strip off someone for whatever reason, then I won’t. This isn’t a weak characteristic and I won’t stand for it. The next person who says it is going to see how ‘firm’ I can be, when I stab them in the leg with my Biro.

And breath…


This blog post has been hovering around in my head for a long time, since the last time the same comment came up and now I’m just peeved enough to tap it out.

Since when has this characteristic become so frowned upon? Am I allowing people to walk all over me and take me for granted? Not the last time I checked. Am I meek and scared to do what’s right? I don’t think so.

Course there are ways to deal with things, I’m not about to fling myself into my boss’ office and bend his ear about all the things I want in life. There are boundaries. But this is who I am, I do things my way because this is me.

I don’t want to give the wrong impression here. When I talk about being nice, I don’t mean pure and angelic, obviously. I can be a monster, and I’m often snappy – I can sulk with the best of them.

I’m working on being a better individual, with more tolerance for all sorts of people. I’m learning if I don’t like something, just to walk away from it.

I’m just a big fan of a good and happy, simple life and of picking the right battles. It’s an ongoing project.

I like to absorb situations and learn about people so I can deal with them accordingly. I’m not a bolshy person and furthermore, I probably never will be.

I like the idea of being Catwoman but in life, I’m more Selina Kyle (maybe a little less down trodden, not as cute).

We’re not all destined to be in the spotlight. Some people choose a different way to live and I don’t believe that makes them any less valuable. The world needs people to direct, produce, paint the scenery and write the lines. These are important jobs too.

So the next time someone tells you’re too nice, ignore them. Or if you ever feel the need to say it to someone else, maybe think about your words. Better still, don’t say anything at all.

Nice people know what they’re doing and they’re people too.

*This probably isn’t about you, if you’re reading this.

Boring is as Boring Does

Big Bird says Partay!

I’ve never really worried about how my friends perceive me. I mean, of course I care as much as the next person what people think, but I always figure if we’re friends then they think I’m awesome, and vice versa.

Sometimes though you get a flash of how someone sees you and it isn’t always flattering. This is when I start to assess what I’m doing anywhere near people who think I’m boring. That’s how they make me feel, anyway.

But what is exciting? Is it someone who knows who they are, who can articulate and laugh at themselves, or is it someone who’s up all hours, shagging and dancing and flirting and shitting fucking rainbows? Isn’t there room for both, and everything in between?

It would be remiss of me to pretend I don’t sometimes feel old, that being married, though the greatest adventure I’ve ever had, means I’m not dancing on tables and swilling Tequila from hot men’s arm pit crevices anymore. But then I remember I was never really that person.

Maybe for a brief while, when all nighters and Speed were de rigour, then gay clubs and head injuries obtained from drag queen’s handbags. But I left it behind because in the end, I’ve done it. My quality time with friends is now a little quieter and a lot more enjoyable as far as I’m concerned. It rarely means padding home barefoot at 5 am, although it’s not completely outside the realm of possibility (hello work’s Christmas do).

But does that make me a boring shit?

I’m not a party girl. I like a nice meal and a good old catch up, I like talking and reading and films. I like to be able to hear what the other person is saying because I like to listen.  It would never occur to me to bombard anyone with intricate tales of every little thing I’ve been doing.

Do they need to know that I love Netflix, am obsessed with walking through Brighton looking at graffiti; that when I have time off I just want to be left alone? That if I really like you I’ll be there, but I don’t play well in big groups, where I don’t know anybody. Should I apologise that I haven’t been to Croatia this year, or anywhere for a while, that I don’t eat at the right restaurants or drink the best gin?

I suppose this post is cryptic in some ways, that I should just have the balls to come out and confront. But I don’t want to, man. I’m cool with who I am, and the people who matter know who I am too. Maybe it’s friend trimming time, the season to take stock of what I’ve got and move on from the ones that don’t think I’m cool enough.

Anyway, here’s to my boring life, the one I choose and the one I love. Here’s to the people who understand me and share it with me. Here’s to the ones who think I’m fascinating and fun, no matter what.

Here’s to me!

To Drink or Not to Drink, It’s None of Your Beeswax!

Photograph does not belong to me

For a long time I didn’t drink at all. I fended off no end of “You’re so boring” comments, dealt with the distrust of the drinkers around me – stayed clear headed on every night out I went on, despite the highly amusing peer pressure (turns out it still exists in your thirties).

There was no specific reason for not drinking alcohol. Not health, nor allergy or recovery. Definitely not because I was Straight Edge. I just didn’t want to.

People’s reactions to what I put in my glass were the best thing about it, that and the absence of hangover at all times.

But then, I started to drink. Again, for no good reason; simply because I chose to. That’s the beauty of it, it was only ever because I did or didn’t want to.

It’s really cute though when people are all “But YOU DON’T DRINK!” when I order Vodka. It’s like they finally got to a comfortable level with my drinking and now can’t compute that it’s changed again.

It will most probably change back.

If I’m honest, I don’t like spending my cash on something I can’t eat or wear. Spending £50 (even £20) isn’t an option for me of a Friday night. I’ll always chose something better than booze but… I like the odd drink.

I like a cocktail. I prefer Tea.

But what I really enjoy is the choice. To drink or not to drink, that is the question that nobody but me should care about.

Stop trying to label me, hardcore drinkers! I’ll do what I want, thanks.