The Value of Valentines

So, as everybody must know by now, Valentine’s day is on Thursday.

That’s right, the day that makes singles cry into their wine and forces couples to be nice to each other is fast approaching, but is it really just a commercial holiday?

As a teenager, I hated the idea of Valentine ’s Day, even when I had Ian to celebrate it with. Why should you need a day to celebrate your love? Surely you must celebrate it every day? I never had a problem with buying Ian gifts, but I have always had this bad habit of doing the opposite of what people tell me.

But now, as a semi-functioning adult I can appreciate Valentine’s. Balancing a degree, work, family visits, social life and relationship is hard. It’s like juggling and when you drop a ball all the others fall apart.

So, it’s nice to have a day dedicated to spending time with Ian with no questions asked. Despite living together, we barely see each other because he works weekdays and I work weekends. And, Valentine’s is more of a reason than an excuse to the people around me.


Friend: Do you want to go out tonight?

Me: *Thinks I haven’t seen Ian in ages.* Nooo, sorry. * Please keep inviting me places and don’t hate me.*


Friend: Do you want to go out tonight?

Me: I simply cannot do the act you ask of me. Alas, it is Valentine’s Day and I must spend it with my beloved. Do not seek an apology, as you will not find one.

As for the gifts, we never go all out because we simply can’t afford to. We both put some money towards the date and get each other little gifts that we want or need. Last year I bought Ian an Xbox game, which, granted isn’t the most romantic gift in the world. But, it is something he wanted but couldn’t afford. And he got me perfume, because I had run out and he knew it’s not the sort of thing I’d buy myself.

I think that’s why our relationship works pretty well. When it matters (like engagements, getting a house etc.) I’m very materialistic and high maintenance. However, on small occasions like Valentines and Christmas, I would rather have the stuff I need or have wanted for a while, than some cringey card and expensive jewellery.

But that’s just me. Valentine’s is very commercialised, but I like the day itself. I just wish there weren’t so many adverts.

Dating a dentist

I have been with my boyfriend, Ian, for almost 5 years now.

Every time I tell someone this, they automatically go ‘Awh, how cute.’ And, it is cute, but it’s not all fun and games.

This is mostly because he is a Dental Nurse, and spends an awful lot of time inspecting my teeth, even when I’m not expecting it.

The other day I was smiling at him, and he smiled back. I thought it was a sweet, romantic moment where he was happy that I was happy. But no, he was just happy because he could see that I flossed.

I also get ‘surprise trips’ after I asked if we could go on some adventures. On my day off last week he called me and asked me to go to his work for a check up. I asked when and he said ‘Now.’ Bearing in mind I was sat in my dressing gown dunking a Chunky into my tea, that was not what I meant by an adventure.

So, in I went. He even took a break so that he could use the saliva slurper on me.  When most girls say ‘he stuck it too far in and I choked’ they’re referring to something dirty. But not me, I literally mean he stuck a tube in my mouth and I have a terrible gag reflex. To be fair to him, that wasn’t his fault. He is good at his job, it’s just his job that’s not pleasant.

I hear so many horror stories, I’m surprised I’m not mentally scarred. Apparently, blood gets on the ceiling and he has to clean it after every patient.

I also know lots of long words like buccal and prochlorperazine. What do they mean? I have no idea but I know them.

I guess it’s not all bad. I get free toothpaste and I’ll always know when I need a filling. Who needs romance when you have private treatments at NHS prices?

Swimming, Assassinations and Ice Cream

So, I’m writing this in the back of Ian’s Dad’s car, which is good news as it means I haven’t pucked and been banned from it forever.

The south was great, and I discovered I’m a bad person because I desperately want Ian to inherite his grandparent’s house.

They have many rooms, a lovely garden (Though I couldn’t help but think ‘Oh god. The maintenence, it must take hours to cut. You can tell you’re an adult when thoughts like that cross your mind. But that’s a crises for another time.) And even their own swimming pool.

Ian has asked me politley not to kill them off, but I can’t call the assassins now, they won’t give me a refund.

I do think if I had my own pool I would be much healthier because I love swimming but hate public pools. It’s the only exercise I enjoy. But my generation is doomed to never buy houses, so I will be a poolless widow forever unless we inherite thiers. Ian won’t ask for it though. He still has a thing called pride, whereas I’m happy to grovel at their feet and tell them all the health benefits it will give me.

Whilst we swam, I asked Ian to take a photo of me on the whale. (Not real, you fools. Inflatable.) He had bought me a Little Mermaid bikini the day before and I have become obssessed with it. I asked him to take a nice, elegant photo of me. But instead he captured this monstrosity:

Thankfully, he had accidentally changed the video setting so it’s only a second long. I thank God for that every day.

Aside from swimming, we went into Brighton where I stuffed my face with sandwiches, ice cream and Shakeaway.
We walked through The Lanes and had a stroll along the beach.
There are only 2 big cities I would ever live in; Edinburgh or Brighton. Though the crowds at Brighton startled me a little bit.

Have you ever tried to eat a meatball sandwich gracefully, with the wind blowing your hair all over the place?

You can’t. It’s impossible.

So many people witnessed a stumpy ginger troll destroying a sandwich, leaving hot sauce on her forhead and chunks of meatball in her hair. Luckily Ian’s family had decided to stay home, and he already knows I’m a monster so it was fine.

Overall, it was a great getaway and even my attempted skin care got complimented.

What I mean by that, is that the day before I left, I mushed a banana up with oats and honey and smothered it on my face before placing cucumbers on my eyes. That was when Ian came home and found me laying on our bed with half of the breakfast aisle dripping from me.

I tried to explain that I’m too poor to buy facemasks but he didn’t understand.

The good news is my skin has been lovely and soft since so I totally reccommend it.

So that’s pretty much all I have to talk about this week. Now, please excuse me. I have assassins to tend to.

Food glorious food

Okay so if the layout of this post is weird it’s because I’m attempting to be tech savvy. I’m writing this on my phone, and you’ll just have to make do while I figure this out.

Whilst staring at the ceiling trying to figure out something to write about, (This has become part of my blogging routine. It’s hard to write when all you do is work and sleep.) I went through lots of topics in my head that I know about, but couldn’t find anything to get my creative juices flowing. (Ew. Don’t worry, I will never use that phrase again.)

And since I don’t want to cause arguments or be political, expressing strong opinions on here is a no go.

But then it hit me. I do have an opinion on something that won’t hurt anybody’s feelings: Food is fricken awesome.

I don’t even know how people diet. Or how people are vegetarians, I mean I know why, and it’s an amazing cause. But it also takes some serious will power. I do not possess that kind of power. I will eat anything that finds it’s way onto a plate.

And then there’s people who ‘forget’ to eat. How?? It’s a human need, do you people forget to breathe too?

I just don’t get it. Ian can’t even get me out of bed unless he is well equipped with chocolate and coffee, and even then he struggles.

My love for food and my easily-influenced personality also mean I spend a lot of money on recipes I see on Facebook. Facebook is like ‘Here’s how to make lasagne but with garlic bread instead of pasta’ and 5 minutes later I’ll be in Aldi, striding down the aisles like I have money to waste, which I don’t.

Aldi is also troublesome. There’s a few aisles that change every few weeks. Most of it is random rubbish that I want but don’t need, and one of the aisles is full of exciting food. I think the last thing I bought was Caramel Popcorn Coffee. Sadly, it was disgusting. But the smell should be in a Yankee candle, and the little chocolate drops in it are cute.

There isn’t much more I can say about my love for food, and to be honest, I’m struggling this week so I think I’ll just keep this short and sweet.

Hopefully I’ll continue next week, but I’m going on a trip to Seaford (Which involves a 7 hour car journey with Ian’s dad. He pretends he’s recovered from the first time I met him and threw up in his car. But I notice him nervously glancing at me in the mirror every so often, not that I blame him. It was an awful first impression.)

My point is, I will write if I have time. If not, it’s going to be a horrifically long fortnight for you all.

Toasties and… torture?

It has been another blazing week since I last wrote, and people have been enjoying the heat in traditional ways, with BBQ’s and beach visits. I, however, spent my day off paying to be locked in a room with my brother and boyfriend.

That’s right folks, my little brother, who is actually a teenager and isn’t very little, came to stay and I thought we’d go to Manchester for the afternoon and do an escape room.

‘But what does that have to do with the delicious sandwich at the top of this post?’ I hear you ask, even though you probably didn’t. And the answer is absolutely nothing, except that it was my brothers dinner at Northern Soul Grilled Cheese. They do delicious mac and cheese toasties for a fiver, and honestly it was so worth it. Jak’s had pulled pork added to it, whereas mine was in a pot mixed with sriracha, sausage and crispy onions. I think my taste buds had a little food orgasm, it was that good.

Anyway, that was the only photo I took through the whole day as I’m very much a ‘live in the moment’ type of person. So, let’s get back to talking about the escape room.

We booked a room called ‘Captured’ as I wanted to do a scary one. I’m a sucker for horror games and basically being scared. I actually find it interesting that humans seek enjoyment from the thing that most species avoid. You don’t see mice going up to cats for the thrill, or fish pretending to flop about on land for a few seconds. We’re so weird.

We were blindfolded and taken to the room, where a video started playing and we took the blindfolds off. We didn’t get very far after that, though I think we were about half way when the timer ran out. The room was Saw themed, and each time we got a clue the jigsaw laugh played, which got a bit annoying when I was stressed.

I won’t go through all the puzzles, because spoilers, but for one of them you had to pull a rope to lift up these little doors. This was the first thing that went disastrously wrong. I went up to the rope, and started pulling on it, and as far as I knew, it didn’t do anything.  But then, from behind me, Ian said ‘The doors are moving! I think they’re giving us a clue.’

But instead of putting two and two together, I just went over to Ian and watched the doors. They didn’t move again, so I assumed my boyfriend was a nutter and went back to pulling the rope. I heard Ian gasp and say ‘Did you see that?’ So I stopped, checked, and nothing was happening. I went back to pulling the rope, this time frowning and getting a bit frustrated. This went on for a while before Jak noticed what was happening, and informed Ian that I was the one activating the doors.

If Jak wasn’t there, I swear we wouldn’t have got past that first puzzle. Which is actually really bad, considering me and Ian live alone together and might start a family one day.  That is not a day the world will ever be prepared for.

We also broke a puzzle, and the woman had to come down into the room and fetch the key for us. We worked terribly as a team, the boys hopping from one puzzle to the other, and not listening to anything I said. I’m aware that what I say most of the time is pretty stupid, but they could have at least tried my guesses when we were stuck.

Basically, I wanted to kill them both by the end of it, and to make things 100x worse we had to run for the train.

I am not a graceful runner, and I was not in a sports bra. Instead I was in skinny jeans, docs and a low cut top. My boobs were bouncing in pain, almost hitting me in the face. I was also out of breath and sweaty, and then the guys decided that since I couldn’t talk through my panting, they would tease and insult me about the whole ordeal.

Overall, I loved having Jak over to stay, even though we do not work well as a team and I feel like I have discovered that me and Ian are as stupid as each-other. Pray for us.

Love Island is back and I have some thoughts

Okay, so when I started this blog I set myself three rules:

  1. No political posts.
  2. No posting anything too serious.
  3. Don’t post anything that I would roll my eyes at…

…Aaand I’m already breaking two of those rules, because self-restraint is not one of my best traits.

Unless you live in a cave on Mars, you will know that Love Island is back, and it’s all the internet can talk about. I personally have no problem with the show, I mean damn, those people are hot and I love a bit of drama.

But what I do have a problem with is the normality of it.  Random people are forced to live together on an island, sleep with each other and the entire concept is based around who’s bonking who?

And that’s normal, because in today’s society people have multiple sex partners. People sit in coffee shops saying ‘Guess who I got back with last night?’ or sit sipping cocktails, giving advice on the best angles for a nude. And to back up my point, I just read Cosmo’s story: ‘This is what your recurring sexual fantasy really says about you.’

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, people deserve to live the way they want. It’s just strange to me, and it makes me doubt myself.

Now bare with me on this, because I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. Love Island, Big Brother, they’re all a dramatised reflection of how our society behaves. And so, everybody I meet seems to be confused by me.

This is because I am living a Disney style relationship. My boyfriend and I got together when we were 17. It was/is our first relationship and we’ve been together four years, which apparently, is a ridiculously long time for people our age. And every time I meet someone new, they always say:

‘God, that’s such a long time.’ And then, as if reading off a script, I reply with:

‘Yeah, doesn’t feel like it though.’ And they almost always reply with:

‘But doesn’t the commitment scare you? How do you know he’s any good if you haven’t been with someone else?’

My brain then goes into anxious mode, and makes me question every part of my life. It makes me question my happy, healthy relationship because people believe that love never lasts. It’s like we’ve been taught by a generation of divorced parents, a sex-obsessed media and a bunch of sad movies that there’s no such thing as a happy ending. But I’m living proof that there is.

Just because I haven’t tried Baked Alaska doesn’t mean that I don’t love Chocolate Brownie. (Yes, I am a crazy woman comparing ice cream to sex. I have reached that point in my life. Mourn me.)

And I know I’m lucky to have my first relationship last, and most people don’t get that chance. But the truth is, I got to know Ian for months before I slept with him.  And despite all these reality shows, I believe that sex shouldn’t be rushed into  and you should only have it with someone you truly love, rather than with someone you’ve only met for a few days. That’s what makes a relationship healthy.

Like I said in my first post, I really have no clue what I’m talking about, which is why I wanted to sway away from serious topics.

But let me know what you think by leaving a comment below.