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Digging Deep male gold digger

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Categories: BLOG, DATING, DATING TIPS, Latest

Digging Deep – the male gold digger

Dating is a glorious activity but, like all fairy tales with quests there are villains. So recently the question of gold diggers has come up. The Male gold digger.

They exist! Remember Mel B’s ex? Not Stephen Belafonte the other one? No, the other one! Jimmy G the Dutch dancer? And the indomnitable ex of Britney Spears? Kevin F redefined the smash and grab male gold digger. Yes they’re both dancers but, if I’m honest I don’t think it’s related to a whole career. Maybe just

No my precious, the average dater has to contend with a more mediocre type of digger. But, diggers they are. The dating digger. There are varying levels of digger but essentially these are men who date for financial or social gain. Not so much the rinsing of online women, no, these ones are interviewing for a Sweetner Mummy to help them through to the next level of life. These men aren’t ready to adult and are happy to prey on women who may not have that much themselves.  Be careful. I’ll take you through the obvious ones:

Dinner Digger

You go out on a date and he doesn’t put his hand in his pocket when the bill comes? Dude ate a storm though and was even deliberating between starters and desserts because, this may be his last decent meal this week. Dude was all about, ‘Shall we order another bottle of the Italian red? It does go well with Wagyu beef.’ This guy dates to live.  If you play the bill staring game then, pay the bill then grab your purse and run, he’s too pathetic even to date. This man is not for you. A new trick is for guys to throw in £30 after they ascertain you’re paying by card when the bill is clearly over £100. Selfish lover. Move on

Date Digger

Forgets his wallet, doesn’t ever pay for anything but is happy to suggest a trip away, hotels, plays he wants to go to, seminars he has to go to to make it to the next level. This is basically a professional student looking for a bursary and mentor. The implication being that he would like to adult but doesn’t quite know how. Dude is 43.  He has a job. His lifestyle is not your financial responsibility.

Den Digger

Too any questions about your living situation are the red flags. Who you live with, if you own or rent, how much you’re paying, how many bedrooms etc. It’s interview 101 and you may think it’s because he wants to shag (there’s a possibility that this is an access question because he lives with a wife or parents question, true) but to be honest you need to work out if you ever saw yourself moving your clothes out of your spare room so that you can move him and his comic and trainers collection in.

If you’re happy being dug and this is how you get your relationship high then fine but, let’s just accept that the dating recession has led to a lot of diggers out there looking to milk. You’re not a cow.

Happy Dating!

© Chelsea Black 2017



Roadrunner aka the leggings

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Categories: Latest, Misadventures

Disclaimer: I’m not hot. I just have a butt and a penchant for wearing leggings. Roadrunners are a new phenomenon. Unfortunately the leggings of 16th March 2017 have special powers and have not been reduced to house only leggings. Men act like leggings are an invitation to fuck. They’re just leggings. Here’s how it went down:

So I was on my way to French class and about 3 minutes from my house. I had just passed the spot where I’d gotten mugged in 2010 and was thinking about how I was going to explain in French that I hadn’t done my homework (again) due to sheer laziness. As I was listening to my music I spotted a black guy in a diarrhoea brown leather jacket running in the middle of the road against traffic. This was a one way street? Where the fuck was he going? I watched as he nearly got run over by a delivery scooter as he looked to cross over to the other side. Cue Chicken jokes.

Turns out he was jogging to me. He came over and a conversation ensued

Me: Are you ok?

Roadrunner: Yeah.

Me: Can I help you?

Roadrunner: Yeah I saw a gorgeous young lady so ….

Me: You better go find her then?

Roadrunner laughs like Ricky Gervais. Am I a comedian though?

Roadrunner: Hi I’m Roadrunner

Me: OK

Roadrunner: Can I chat to you

Me: Regarding?

Roadrunner: [sensing that he’s losing me] So do you live around here?

Me: Yeah

Roadrunner. What’s your name

I tell him. He asks if it’s short for anything. I lie and say no. I don’t have the energy. And now he’s making me late for French. Grrrrr

Roadrunner: I’m in Wembley. I’m just on my way to the gym because, you know. That’s how I live my life?

This confuses me. Are we about to have some sort of metaphysical / existential conversation? On a THURSDAY?

Me: Ok Dude I have to go

Roadrunner: Wait! Where are you going.

I explain French class. He has a weird accent

Me: What’s with the accent

Roadrunner: I went to an American school but grew up in Europe.

Me: I see.

Roadrunner: So where are your parents from?

Why Black Jesus are you bringing all these thirsty men to me?

Me: South Africa. And yours are from Nigeria right?

Roadrunner: Yes! How did you know?

Me: A strong guess

Roadrunner: Can I get your number so that we can chat later.

I give him my number. Maybe he IS my person. You never know.

Roadrunner calls me immediately to make sure I had his.

Me: Why? I’m not going to call you ?

Roadrunner does his Ricky Gervais laugh and asks me what I do. I lie.

Me: What do you do? I

Roadrunner: I’m a broker. But also I work as an administrator in a hospital.

So, he’s a broke broker who needs a side job? I sigh and go to French. This one is just a liar. I see. He said he would call me about French but it’s already after ten. I blame the leggings. It was too soon for Spring attire. The men aren’t ready. And for those that don’t know, that’s sarcasm.

Aw lawd he’s started whatsapping about my figure. I may have to block him. Sigh

Night all!

© Chelsea Black


The Train Drain

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Categories: Latest, Misadventures

The train drain

Let me set the scene: It’s a Wednesday evening, the train is late and I’m 548 days into my celibacy sentence

So normally I take the train home with my Train Hubby but, ever since our disagreements over Brexit voting it’s not been the same. I endeavour to take the early trains and we do a polite office catch up instead. Besides, every time I went on a date he would be so negative that I was starting to think he wanted me to be single forever. Anyway, I digress

I was sitting on the train and a guy was sitting on the 4 seater chairs opposite. I was in the middle of a critical google search (what did the lines on my nails mean? Was I dying? Well yes but it turns out that it’s nothing) when he interrupted me to talk. I didn’t even bother to take my earphones out

Dude: Excuse me, do you live in Clapham Junction?

Me: Huh?

Dude: Do you live in Clapham Junction?

Me: No I don’t

Dude: Oh, because I’ve seen you around there.

Please note that we are on a train to Clapham Junction

Me: Nod politely with a tight smile

Dude: I live in Clapham Junction you see.

Me: Ah Ok

Dude: I work in Surrey. I’m a prison officer

Me: OK

Dude: Yeah I’ve been doing it for a year after I studied for it

Me: Congratulations

Dude (perking up): Thanks (he turns his whole big body towards me like he’s going to tell me a secret). There are two prisons but I work in the men’s prison.

Me: OK

Dude: So what do you do?

Me: I work for local government.

Dude then proceeds to tell me about his Housing Benefit woes and how he owes the Council £400 and is paying it back £40 a month.

Dude: So where do you live?

Me: Fulham

Dude: So do you take a bus from Clapham Junction

Me: Overground

Dude: Ah you change at West Brompton right? Yeah I used to work for Overground

He seems so proud

The only thing I can say about this dude is that he doesn’t need e to partake in the conversation

Dude: So I’m from XXX

Me: Yes I know where it is. West Africa

Dude: How do you know it ?

Me: I have an ex from there and friends

Dude: Where is your ex?

Me: Chicago

Dude: I have a friend in Chicago . His name is William Henson. Do you know him?

Me: No

Dude: Why are you smiling?

Me: Chicago is kinda a big place

I know. I had to stay there once as I missed a connecting flight. They put us up at the Holiday Inn

Me: Oooh fancy

Dude: Yes it was . So do you have facebook?

Me: No I don’t (I can’t lie well and he raises his eyebrows). I deleted it recently (not entirely untrue)

Dude: Ok so can I have your number?

Me: No it’s ok

Dude: Oh. Don’t let what you ex from XXX did put you off us.

Me: It hasn’t

Dude. (confused) Oh. Maybe next time then?

Me: mumbles something

The train finally pulls into Clapham Junction and I move into the aisle. Let me clarify that there are hardly any people on the train. So why can I feel this man’s body against my arse? Why is he touching me? I run off the train and up the stairs.

So, this is why! He’s turned what was already a micro-aggressive situation into a creepy one. So now when I’m rude to the next dude it will seem disproportionate. We’re tired.We just want to be left alone to google why our nails may have those weird lines on them

Sigh I almost wish racist Train Hubby was there. Almost

Happy Women’s Day!

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