Category Archives: Blog Post

Light My Fire

How To be Single, Because Exposure Isn’t So Delicious and 25 Things I Love About Liverpool – why everyone should have a bash at public speaking. 

Ignite Liverpool celebrates its 10th anniversary this year. If you’re not familiar with this fantastic social gathering and speaking forum, you’re seriously missing out.

In its own words: “Ignite showcases Liverpool’s movers and shakers, creators, thinkers, tinkers, innovators and doers, makers and dreamers in a fast paced format designed to inspire. Do you want to be inspired? Do you need to get your creative juices flowing? Then Ignite Liverpool is just for you.”

I have to thank my friend and former Liverpool City Councillor, James Noakes for introducing me to Ignite, on what I remember to be a cold, Monday night in the city. Heading upstairs at Leaf on Bold Street to a bright, bustling room filled with inspiring people with something to say. Others eager to listen. I learned all kinds that first night. The dentistry talk was genuinely fascinating while a bloke from West Derby documented his global journey. It was dead good.

Anyone can get up and speak at Ignite. All you have to do is prepare a five minute presentation and 20 power point slides to accompany your talk. Simples.

I knew from the off I wanted to have a crack at it. I was absolutely bricking it and my delivery wasn’t great. But I really enjoyed it. My first talk was about exposure as currency. Having done a tiny bit of digging into freelance life, I noticed a worrying trend of freelancers in the media industry chasing payments for work – FOR YEARS!

Not content with pretty much blowing my first attempt, I had another go. I talked about How To Be Single, which at the time was an idea for a column I’d had at work. It flowed so much better because I ditched the script and talked about what I’m most passionate about. Communication. Oh the irony!

Lastly, I had a five minute ramble about the incredible people of Liverpool. A city I’ve called my adopted home for many years. The humour, the characters the inspirational women blazing a trail for the next generation.

I’m still not great at public speaking. My nerves are always shot, but once I get up there, it’s such a great experience. The Ignite Liverpool crowd is always a welcoming one that wants to see you do well.

Today I received an email about the 10th anniversary edition of Ignite Liverpool on 4th March 2020 at Leaf on Bold Street from 6pm. I’m absolute chuffed to bits to say I’ve been asked to speak at the event and already my mind has gone into overdrive as to what to choose as my subject.

Sending my huge thanks to Neil, Adrian, Dan and the team at Ignite Liverpool for the invitation and the support in helping me to combat the nerves – which have never gone away! Here’s to another 10 years of inspiring, insightful and engaging talks and presentations on the weird and wonderful.

Find out more about Ignite Liverpool and get involved by heading to www.igniteliverpool.com and follow @igniteliv on Twitter for event updates.

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I Come From a Land Down Under

Half a billion animals have perished in the Australian Wildfires, a figure which is set to rise in the coming weeks. 

I was born in a place called Cronulla, it’s south of Sydney, Australia. It’s not currently ablaze, but the effects of the worst wildfires seen in decades are truly being felt right across the continent.

According to the latest report on CNN (2nd January 2020) more than 900 homes have been destroyed in New South Wales alone and 17 people have died nationwide. The effect on wildlife is perhaps the most shocking. Wait for this. Half a billion animals have perished since the fire season began in September, and the number is set to rise. The native Koala population has been hardest hit, a third of the population, wiped out.

I’ve often heard people say they would love to emigrate to Australia but they’re too scared of snakes and spiders out to kill them. Who’d have thought it would be wildfires that pose the biggest threat. Air quality is dangerously low and so areas unaffected by the fire line are still in trouble.

The dry weather has made the situation worse as firefighters and volunteers work around the clock to try and stop the fires spreading. Despite international help being flown in, plus support from the Australian armed forces, the summer is just beginning and there is literally no end in sight.

It’s been a long time since I was ‘back home’. Sydney 2000 was my last jaunt as a ballsy 17 year old. I adore my home city and surrounding state and to see it ravaged in such a devastating way is sad and frightening.

My heart goes out to all those who have lost loved ones, their homes, businesses, possessions, everything in the fires. My thoughts and thanks to all those risking life and limb to stop any further damage and loss.

Climate change has played a real part in the fire season starting earlier and lasting longer. We all have to take action now, because it’s already too late for some.

 

 

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Ghostbusters is the best film ever made. Fight Me

From the kick ass soundtrack to the budding romance between Peter and Dana and the epic one-liners that have spanned generations. Oh and Egon, science and sex appeal. 

So this evening I went to see Ghostbusters in Concert at Liverpool’s Philharmonic Hall. It’s a stunning venue and one fitting to show what I consider to be, the coolest film ever made. Closely followed by Ghostbusters II.

It’s been 35 years. Released in movie theatres (did you do the voice over guy in your head then?) back in 1984, I was just 2 years old and missed the thrill of queuing up to be the first to watch the amazing special effects and a cast of established and up and coming, exciting actors.

I think I first saw the film around 1988 and I adored it straight off. Well, once I’d gotten over crapping my pants at the ghost in the library! I instantly fell in love with Bill Murray as Dr Peter Venkman, in the same way my now 14 year old adores Egon – the late, great Harold Ramis. I love Louis and Ray’s one-liners and Winston not taking any shit, in fact, Janine not taking any shit and Peck being dick – Back off man, I’m a Scientist.

As you’ve probably gathered by now, I’m a massive fan. My friend bought me tickets to see Ghostbusters in Concert, with the soundtrack played by a live orchestra – as a birthday gift. I’ve been massively giddy about it for weeks and it’s rounded off my Christmas celebrations perfectly. I took my teen daughter because she’s word perfect on quoting the film and the aforementioned Harold Ramis love.

It was epic. Seriously, if you get chance to see it, go. With Ecto 1 bells on.

Dan Ackroyd delivered an opening speech, the brand new Jason Reitman Ghostbusters Afterlife 2020 trailer played and original director, Ivan Reitman revealed how the end of the film was rewritten following an outstanding audition from a relatively unknown Sigourney Weaver.

The performance was absolutely outstanding. Goosebump-inducing drama that you could feel in your chest as the film played behind the orchestra. The light-hearted strings and flutes as Peter and Dana meet, the stirring base and brass as the action reaches fever pitch on the Central Park apartment block roof and everything in between. The orchestra gave the film a whole new dimension, even after I’ve watched it 50 times or more.

I’m limbering up to fight you, because Ghostbusters is actually the greatest film ever made. Here’s why….

It’s about friendship. The dynamic between Ray, Winston, Egon and Peter is comedy gold. Each plays their own part and they bounce off each other perfectly. They stick together. Peter manipulates Ray – who will get a third mortgage for a house with a fireman’s pole (legend), Egon takes a load of shit off Peter too and Winston is actually really forthright – shouting at the Mayor, the lot.

The script. The one liners alone have stuck with generations who’ve enjoyed this family, action, rom com film. ‘Listen, you smell that?’ ‘Well my Uncle thought he was St Jerome’ ‘Okay, who brought the dog?’, three of my particular favourites. See more here.

Janine. Janine is a phenomenal character. Brimming with attitude, an 80’s wardrobe to die for and without a shadow of a doubt, the influence behind many a Spectacle Wearer of the Year Award winners look. I’d have like to have seen a romance blossom between her and Egon as opposed to necking on the sofa with Louis in the sequel. We got one!

Peter & Dana. From the moment Peter claps eyes on Dana and proceeds to jump over the office gate to greet her, you just know he’s going to pursue her. She fends him off, he turns up to her orchestra rehearsal, they agree a date and she goes and turns into a woman possessed, like, for real. They’re so cute together and the story progressing in the second film is the icing on the Manhattan cake.

The soundtrack. My teen and I once watched a misheard lyrics vid on Youtube and one of the absolute corkers was ‘who you gonna call…..? THOSE BASTARDS and since then it’s actually ruined that catchy Ray Parker Junior track. It’s still a belter though, and hearing it performed live by an orchestra is even better.

The “special effects”. Okay they’re crap. But by early 1980’s standard they’re all kinds of amazing. The streams, Slimer, the ghosts, the shit-scary dog thing that chases Louis through Central Park, the list goes on. They’re crap, but we love them.

Egon Spengler gets his own entry into why I adore this flick. He’s socially awkward, intelligent, quiet yet fearless(ish). When he smiles or is shown any affection (from Janine or Dana) his face lights up and frankly, some days that’s all you need in life. Team Spengler.

The Ghosbusters save New York City. In a sea of thousands of flicks set in the city that never sleeps, this one goes the extra mile and brings in a 20 storey high Stay Puft Marshmallow Man – and he’s pissed. These guys save the world and they do it in manky boiler suits while driving a former funeral hearse. Legends.

I could easily continue, for hours. A thesis if you will. It’s an incredible film, for hundreds of reasons and for me it will always be special. Go on, drop me a line with your thoughts katereillyjames@gmail.com. I’ll consider any other 80’s film as a worthy challenger.

 

 

 

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The Twilight

Is anyone else waiting, pen poised to fill in day one of a fresh, new 2020 diary? Can we just get on with it now?

December has been a haze of job applications, trying not to spend unnecessarily and walking my dog. I’ve spoken to more recruiters than family over the festive period – to the point where I wondered if I should’ve included them on my Christmas card list? Oh, that’s another thing, I reckon Christmas cards will be a gonner in 2020. We’re all saving the planet with little steps and I reckon the festive, glittery tokens will be next on the cull list.

We’re in the twilight zone at the moment. That annoying time between Christmas and New Year where some people are back at work, some are still smashing through the selection boxes and daytime films, some never had a break at all. If you’e a job seeker during this time, it’s frustrating as hell.

When you’ve filed a brilliant application that you’re sure will picked up – the twilight blows it apart because everything takes so damn long at this time of year. I suppose it doesn’t help if you’re impatient.

It was also surprising to see a lot of job adverts being posted on Christmas day. Stuffed with turkey, hating on you relatives, dreading the thought of going back to that job you hate? Get on your new shiny iphone and apply for a job before the Gavin & Stacey Christmas special!

I have applied for around 178 jobs in December. Ranging from Portsmouth to Stranraer and everywhere in between. Reporter, Journalist, Media Manager, Social Media Manager, Copy Writer, Editor, Sub Editor, Night Editor, Communications Manager, you name it.

I’m hopeful that 1st January 2020 brings a flurry of interest and I can begin the next decade in a challenging yet rewarding role. Realistically, who is chasing applicants on New Years Day? Back to the selection boxes it is then!

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1, 2 Back Again

As you might have gathered from the previous post, things haven’t exactly plain sailing of late. It’s time to move on. 

I’ve been working as a freelance journalist for the last 4 years. I loved it. Until a few months ago when I realised I’d stopped being fun. I shouted at my kids, for being kids. I was living hand to mouth because I’d prioritise doing fun, work-related stuff instead of making sure I had enough money for a rainy day.

It’s hardly the crime of the century, I know. I mean who has money to save in the current economic climate? But the reason this has bitten me so badly in the ass, is because it’s now three weeks until Christmas and I have a grand total of £87 in the bank.

WHY did I stop being a freelance journalist so close to Christmas? Why not see it through until I had another job, or at least until January? Well, mainly because I was so ridden with anxiety and down about it, I walked around the Christmas Markets with my kids, randomly bursting into tears. That’s usually a sign something isn’t right.

For four years I’ve (just about) managed to juggle everything. Three kids, a full time, pretty demanding job, a house, a dog and a boyfriend. Working in the media is like having another child. 24 hour commitment and this overwhelming feeling of not being able to switch off and never quite being good enough.

Every update my Iphone spewed out about how many hours screen time I’ve accumulated (Approx 7.58 hours per day FYI) I’ve felt increasingly like I’m missing out on my kids, yet I wouldn’t put my phone down. I’d work harder to get my workload done so I could chill out, only for another deadline to arise, and another and another.

A steady stream of work is absolutely nothing to be sniffed at, again, especially not in the current climate. But my god it’s so hard to keep up. I got teary. My persistent nose bleeds got even worse. I got the shakes and then the random bouts of crying my eyes out started.

I woke this morning to the sound of my electricity metre beeping. This means it’s low on credit. No credit, no internet, no work, no money – no electricity. Who’d have thought it? Someone having such an amazing time, bossing it at work, going to parties and meeting famous people – would be wondering where the hell the next £10 electricity is coming from?

It’s two weeks before Christmas. I have £85 in the bank and I’ve spent so long applying for jobs and ticking ‘I Am Not A Robot’ Captcha boxes that I think I actually am a robot.

It’s terrifying. But it was still the right thing to do. My mental health has taken serious nose dive and while it’s going to be a really tough few weeks, it can only get better. I took the advice of a friend and looked at Universal Credit while I’m applying for jobs all over the country.

I would genuinely rather pluck my own eyes out than have to go through that absolute shit storm of an application process, which at the minimum takes 5 weeks to reach a decision. Now I can fully understand just how desperate it must be when even though you’ve worked and paid into the system, there is nothing to help you bounce back when you need it. Thank god for family and friends.

Back to square one it is. I’ve written this primarily to look back and realise how low I’d gotten before I did something. Wanting to do you best at work is a great attribute. Letting it blind you to the reality of a situation, is a curse.

Catch me on Linked In!

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Black Friday

Bloody hell, everything seems so difficult just now. Heads up, this is a rant + breath = gratitude type post. Just to bring you up to speed. 

So, the country has gone to shit. If you disagree with anyone on social media, you’re not only wrong, you’re also a kn*bhead as well. Everton can’t decide on a manager nor find their balls to sack the current one and to make matters worse – there’s more brawling going on at the school gates than ever before – and once again, it’s the parents not the kids that are fighting.

It’s been a whirlwind of a year. Disgusted I’ve not blogged since Spring but with comic work, ALL the what’s on at The Guide Liverpool, new podcast series with The Blue Room and three kids growing at a speed of knots, I’ve had about four days off. I spent my laptop free time in Paris – on the anniversary of the Yellow Vest Protests. You should have SEEN the tear gas and police parades. Spellbinding.

About the brawling. The school my kids go to if falling apart. I know parents who moved house to get their kids into the catchment area just a few years ago. The latest Ofsted was a shambles and nothing seems to have improved since. In fact its gotten noticeably worse. Police involvement in adults fighting and persistently using bad language in the school yard and resulted in some deep discussions about our future in the suburbs.

Letters have been written. Applications to new schools complete. Now we wait. And wait. And wait. Does anyone home school these days? Drop me a line, genuinely interesting in how that all works.

Comic book work should see a shift in the new year thanks to a brand new story and a little confidence boost from my friends in Texas. Ever wondered what would happen if the River Mersey ever burst its banks and engulfed the city? Bringing with it some big ass monsters?

This summer I interviewed Sister Sledge, I rocked out at Kings of Leon and interviewed so many inspiring people including former England Netball captain Ama Agbeze. I also assumed the role of Auctioneer for the very first time for the amazing, Clare House Hospice. Alongside celeb chef and Sunday Brunch presenter, Simon Rimmer, I was able to help raise more than £130,000 for children and families who need it most. An incredible 2019 highlight.

Doodling aside! I trained as a sports journalist as the sensational use of language that bridges punditry and media, has always fascinated me. Earlier this year I joined the guys at The Blue Room EFC podcast and gave my two cents worth on the Everton focused chat. It’s a brilliant laugh and I’ve been welcomed with open arms. So much so that we’ve launched a brand new strand of the podcast and now, Youtube channel.

Women on The Ball is a monthly podcast with Everton Womens captain, Lucy Graham and players Simone Magill and Maeva Clemaron and me as your host. Want to know what it’s like to be a female pro footballer? Tune in!

This week I joined the gaffer at The Guide Liverpool, the one and only Jay Hynd on a secret press trip down to London. We crossed the most famous zebra crossing in the world and visited the iconic, Abbey Road Studios! Stuff of dreams.

As Christmas rapidly approaches, you’ll find me writing gift guides, helping others to promote their independent businesses in Liverpool and donning my blue santa suit to rock up a BTR Santa Dash 5th medal! If I make it around the 5k course!

How’s your 2019 been?

 

 

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Almost There

If you’re not singing ‘Almost There’ from Disney’s Princess & The Frog right now, we can’t be friends. 

It occurred to me the other day, as a friend rapidly approaches a big birthday, that I’m halfway there. Almost done. Seriously. I don’t mean to be morbid about it, it’s just a fact. I’m 36. With my high sugar diet and penchant for stressing over things out of my control, it’s highly unlikely I’ll make it to 80. Diabetes and its best mate, cardiac arrest are always watching.

Clearly I need to make a few life changes, which I’m working on. Back out running, attempting to eat less sugar and plan my balanced meals (now that all 17 Easter eggs have been inhaled). But this impending birthday (not even mine – see what I mean about stressing over pointless stuff) did make me stop and think. What have I actually achieved in my 36 years?

Society used to say that by the age of 36 a woman should be married and raising children. Ticked those boxes. Turns out kids are absolutely immense, husbands….mmmm not so. And besides society can kiss my arse. We’re marching to the beat of our own drums these days.

Are bucket lists still a thing? Is there a 2019 version (a short YouTube video maybe?) of making a list of stuff you really wanna do before you croak? Should it take news of ill health or a monumental life event to motive us to live more? Surely the biggest regret in life is to get to your dying breath and wish you’d done more? Taken more chances, worried less about the consequences.

My personal bucket list has gone from worldly adventures to ironing all the school uniforms on a Sunday. Or getting all the washing out on the line on a sunny day. Sometimes I set a target for my daily word count, other times its my step counter or calorie count on My Fitness Pal.

Maybe I’ve become uninspired and bogged down with the practicalities of parenting. The kids need a solid education, to be settled, see their friends, get enough sleep etc. And they get all that. But I’m always blown away to hear stories of people who’ve upped sticks on gone traveling with their young families for months on end. Can a school with ‘requires improvement’ Ofsted results really question the education of world travel?

In reality, the inspiration still burns inside (oo-err). I don’t want to be on my death bed content with never having travelled further than the M62 but its okay because all the laundry was done in a timely matter and I scored highest on My Fitness Pal for calorie deficit.

We’re all heading the same way. I’m almost there, but the second half of my story will take a different path.


Say hi! Twitter & Instagram.

 

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Dear Liverpool, I think I love you

It’s been one of those on/off things for 36 years. I think it’s love. 

Adopted as my hometown, I grew up in this spectacular city. I’ve spent the longest time under one roof here (5 years) and moved away only to come running back when the shit hit the fan. I couldn’t be any more of a wool if I tried. Born on the other side of the world, my mums scouse roots pulled her back to Merseyside when I was just 7 weeks old.

Living in the North East for a while as a kid, my favourite memories of coming to Liverpool were going to the markets, bonfire night in Sefton Park and absolutely anything from Steve’s chippy in Aigburth Vale. Not much has changed.

I’d go back to my little market town with all the latest gear. Clothes, trainies, hair accessories. My country-bumpkin friends jealous of my modern threads. I first went to school in L8 at the age of 8 with a Geordie accent. Safe to say I was ripped mercilessly for that and it soon gave way to ‘shiiikkkkennn’.

After a stint in Germany I was back again at the age of 10 to join a rough as shit school in L14. Having the audacity to tower a whole inch over the tallest girl in my class, I got my arse handed to me one day after school and was promptly moved to the upper echelons of……another, much nicer L14 school.

I moved back home to Sydney in 2000 for a short time. After working the Olympics I fucked up massively and needed my family and familiarity. So I came home, properly home. That’s when I knew this thing with me and Liverpool was serious.

I’ve made life-long friends here. I made vows here. Twice. I made some of the most incredible memories within Liverpool’s cityscape that will stay with me until my last breath. I know this city like the back of my hand. Each and every bump. It’s soundtrack, pulse and layout.

Liverpool Women’s hospital is an important place on the map for me. It’s where I changed. I shed my skin and took a new path. I grew up.

All three of my incredible little dudes were born there. Aided by equally incredible, local staff who work around the clock delivering miracles. I left my dignity at the door in exchange for knowing what love really feels like.

I’ve truly lived here. My life has fallen apart here. I’ve grafted, cried, hurt, loved, messed up, laughed til it hurt. Walked home from town in the small hours, watched the sun come and go and stared, open-mouthed as the full moon passed over the illuminated Liver Birds – for real, this actually happened.

I love the people. The polar opposites of the north and south of the city, red and blue. The scouse-ims, the drive and ambition. I adore the ‘don’t give a shit’ and ‘because I said so’ attitude. More than anything I love the solidarity. Scousers care, they love hard. And because of that, so do I.


Say hi! Twitter & Instagram.

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For Hire: Expert Juggler

I cannot juggle balls. 

I can juggle a young family, school run, parents evenings, dentist appointments, hospital check ups, daily nosebleeds, domestic shiz, seeing my friends, meetings, writing, sketching, way too much social media, running every day and dating – ish. That’s level expert kind of stuff right? Apparently not.

2019 is an age of influencers and the belief that we can be and achieve anything our heart desires. Manifest your best life, work hard, don’t drop the ball and you shall receive. Absolutely nothing wrong with a positive attitude and strong work-ethic.

I see that go-getting, ‘no-stopping me’ approach everywhere I go, especially on social media. Inspirational quotes based on having it all, reaching for the stars, it’s all about working on your hustle. I meet friends and colleagues who are constantly in a rush. Working on this, that’s in the pipeline, meetings for this, planning for that. It’s fascinating and fucking exhausting in equal measure.

Just because we can have it all, it doesn’t mean we have to.

I’m self-employed. I’ve juggled freelance journalism/copy writing for a number of years and I love my job. I adore it. Journalism, listening, writing, stories, meeting people, working with clients, planning media strategies, learning. It constantly challenges and frustrates me. The perfect mix.

But in 2019, is a little job satisfaction enough? How many of us believe the old adage ‘find a job you love and you’ll never work a day in your life’? I love my job. But I also love switching off my laptop, muting notifications on my phone and re-watching Sex And The City for the 74th time.

How many of us feel that working as much as humanly possible is the only way to get ahead or be deemed successful now? How many of us, and I’m definitely counted in this one, feel like a day off work is a day wasted? Maybe its the nature of freelance work. Don’t work, don’t get paid.

I’ve officially adopted my laptop. You know the way people in the US can marry door knobs or classic cars? My HP laptop is now my fourth child. It’s not even my favourite (that’s Cleo) but it’s the most needy and dependent. Or is that me? Is it lazy to be satisfied with one job and simply, get by? Is it not enough to boast about on social media? Should I be spending every waking moment trying to be ‘successful’?

Juggling is great. I think I’m really good at it. I have glowing references and it pays alright too. I’m going to give acrobatics a go next. You know, as a side hustle. That’ll look good on Instagram.

 

 

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It’s Only Words

I’ve got a proper dating dilemma going on……you won’t believe it.

And that one sentence above is the problem I’m facing. What happens when you’re so messed up by douche bag boys that you can’t believe a word anyone says. What happened to integrity, honesty, leaving your blue ticks and ‘last seen’ on WhatsApp? What’s with all the secrecy these days?

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I appreciate that some will read this and think I’m a proper weirdo stalker who is obsessed with knowing the second by second details of my partners life. That’s not the case. I’m just a firm believer that if you say you’re single and into me, liking hundreds of other girls pics on Instagram, bare faced lying about your marital status and concealing the fact your ex just had your baby……just isn’t acceptable.

When it comes to finding ‘the one’, a solid foundation is a must, right? If you go into a relationship with a shit tonne of skeletons in the closet, or you’ve stretched the truth about your amazing job, car, travels, whatever, the chances are the truth, or a quick Google search will trip you up eventually. Do you remember a time when automatically putting your phone on silent and face down on the table when you’re in company, wasn’t the done thing?

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Is it too much to ask that when you’re dating a guy, he isn’t liking pics of cute chicks on Instagram? When a guy tells you he’s single but you spot a sly pack of hair pins on the sink when he sends post-shower selfies? And the ultimate cringe fest that is having your mate trawl Tinder to find your boy parading as a single pringle, when you’re on the phone arranging your next date. (Ps – I got a ‘We were on a break’ excuse for that one).

I’ve met guys who’ve lied about their age, their hairline and their height, the latter being the most despicable when you’re 5ft 9. It can’t be just me. Is anyone else ready to give up because you can’t help but expect that the other person is bullshitting you?

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When we’re surrounded by ‘Reality TV’ that’s been proven to be completely staged for cameras and ratings, when ‘fake news’ attracts more clicks and controversy is the talk of the town, does anyone really care what’s real anymore?

The definition of integrity goes: “the quality of being honest and having strong moral principles.” First up, I’m no angel and my moral compass has a few notable dents, but when it comes to dating, I’m 100% straight up. No wait, bad choice of phrase. I mean, I’m honest about who I am, what I do, where I want to be and what I’m looking for. Is the truth too difficult to deal with?

taller-women-5

One guy I was talking to, but had no interest in meeting, finally gave it to me straight (jeeze Kate the puns!). He explained that if a woman had stipulated she wanted to date a non smoker, he’d just keep his habit under wraps until she either fell for him or he got her into bed, which ever happened first. Grade A manipulation, no?

Alright so I can’t tar every guy with the same brush and I’m sure there’s some cute, solvent, single guys out there who know the difference between reality and bull shit. There’s probably some who don’t need to resort to hiding who they really are with fakery and lies too. But asking for all of that and height as well? That seems like a step too far.

Can I pretend I’m 5ft 5?

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