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?

My reign of terror

I thought I’d start this post wishing good luck to the lads who are kicking around an inflatable orb of air, for the honour of our country. I was going to make this post all about football, but as you can see, I know absolutely nothing about it.

So, moving onto a topic that I’m all to familiar with:


Now, I’m not talking about the cute type of clumsiness that people find attractive. I am not occasionally tripping over my feet or stubbing my toe. My clumsiness is something else.

People used to tell me that it was just my hormones, and I’d grow out of it. Alas, with age it has only got worse. It has manifested from a little flaw into something that is controlling my life and transforming me into a walking disaster that should be avoided at all costs.

Just this week I have fallen flat on my bum in public twice. Luckily I was wearing sunglasses that could disguise my shame. It’s like when I put sunglasses on I feel like I’m a fabulous celebrity and nothing can damage my ego. Then when I take them off, my ego disappears altogether and I’m left in a pit of self-doubt. (Fun times.)

I also managed to spill Coke all over some poor, innocent stranger. Basically, McDonald’s has introduced table service (which has made me a very salty person.) I was in a rush to give the tray to the man, and I must have let go before he had hold of it. I watched it fall like it was in slow motion, twisting in the air, and splashing onto the seat. Next thing I know, he was covered in Coke, his food was covered in Coke, and his best friend was sat laughing like a maniac. I apologised at least ten times, but this stranger was kind enough to laugh it off. The whole ideal is still giving me nightmares.

I broke my sofa bed. Ian and I got it out to watch Jurassic World and have plenty of space for blankets, beers and snacks. Then Ian tried to tickle me, my body spasmed and the entire bed just split in half. I think Ian learnt his lesson after he spent an hour fixing it.

And to top off all of that, I broke Ian’s mug. Whilst that may not seem like the end of the world, he had grown an attachment to that mug. It was his only mug for 6 years (Kinda gross) and it had come all the way from Germany. It was one of a kind, and my arse knocked it straight off the table and it smashed on the floor. The horror in his face was hilarious  so sad. Luckily, it was just the handle that smashed so we can still keep it, watching over us from cup heaven.

I’d just like to point out, if you’re annoyed at a clumsy person for making a mess or breaking something, just think. It’s probably worse for them. They have to live with the havoc they cause, you just happen to be a bystander who got in the way.

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.