So, this week, the sun is shining. We all collectively somehow (?!) got sunburnt, recklessly decided not to take a coat out (it’s still March, come on) and ended up freezing our nips off walking back from the pub. This week in an effort to dispel any notion of the boy who triggered those tears in my last column, I saw someone, let’s call him Javier (sounds Spanish and hot of which he is frankly, neither) that I used to hook up with semi-regularly.

It was one of those situations where whenever he’s in the city we would go for a drink to “catch up” and then somehow I’d end up wearing someone else's t-shirt, sat on the morning tube trying to avoid eye contact with commuters/ babies feeling like I have sandpaper in my eyeballs…..

I kinda cried on a date recently guys. Like real tears. Not even in a “it was windy”, or “I was watching One Day and therefore had a viable excuse kind of a way”... no I cried from a conversation. And before you get all “WHO WAS IT TELL ME THEIR NAME/ POSTAL ADDRESS AND BLOOD TYPE” and hunt them down like that dad does in Taken, it was for like, good/ nice reasons??

It’s Valentine’s week and to be honest, after a bit of a s*** show weekend on the love front feeling mainly feral, not particularly flirty and definitely not dirty (boo), I kinda found the love somewhere else. And don’t worry it’s not self love (EW!!). I went on TWO dates this week guys. TWO. One with a gal I went to uni with and another with a dude from a dating app. These dates weren’t terrible by any stretch, they were nice, perfectly nice, but honestly that’s kind of all they were? And I keep wondering when I’ll get that first date high again. But I’ve kinda discovered that the best sort of romance comes from an unexpected place….

I went out out last week, for the first time in a long while. And yes, was it a very delayed work Christmas party – naturally – and did I get Covid afterwards? Of course! But all the chicest kids do. So I am thrilled to finally be initiated into this sexy club. My friends were ready to leave, and the adonis and I did that thing where you hover, hooked into looking at each other because you’re waiting for the other person to ask for your number, or lean in, to just DO something and (g’bless) my friend just bluntly said “right, ask for her number now, because we’re leaving”. In the end, he came along for the ride….

Personal safety has been on our minds a lot the past few weeks (months/ years?). From when my mum first warned me about changing out of my tutu after World Book Day to texting a friend whenever I get home from a party. It’s just something that early on we are made aware of and forced to change our behaviour accordingly. It goes without saying that it totally infuriates me that we are constantly having to make sometimes big, sometimes small adjustments throughout the day, every day of our lives to keep ourselves safe. But, until our culture/ SoCiEtY – we must.

It’s getting colder, our nips are getting pointier and omicron is making us want to omicry!! But one thing that will remain, without fail, for the duration of all these trials and tribulations? A constant, in a world of uncertainty...ghosting. The haunting feel of the double tick, the “seen” greyed out wording thrumming in your face. It makes you want to spoon out your own insides. Social media and yes, dating apps too, definitely have a part to play in the lack of accountability we have for other humans’ emotions. Everyone’s disposable in a digital world. It’s made us all so damn casual about being ruthless.