Tag Archives: London


Mr Waterstone


Categories: BLOG, DATING, Latest, Tags: , ,

Mr. Waterstone’s

I was at my hang out looking for books despite promising myself no more books until I’ve thrown out a few at home. But alas ….I am weak. Sue me, I like to read.

I was bent over looking at the Film section when a man came up and said that he thought I was gorgeous. I don’t know how he could think this as a) I’m not and b) he only saw my ….ah! OK I get it. Waterstones really need to stop having such low book shelves.

So I say thanks and he says he’s sure I hear that all the time. I say no and no woman can ever hear it too often. He says that my husband is a very lucky man. I say yes that he is very lucky (sorry Fuhu but in my head you do already exist?) and move the book over my ring finger as he tries to ascertain if indeed I am married.

He turns to go and then comes back. He says, “Tell your husband….that he’s got competition”

Now let me take a step back. The man reminds me of the Tim ‘nice but dim’ Harry Enfield character from the 80s (youngsters, google it). Or the guy that does that Pimms O’clock advert.  He’s no looker, has slightly buck teeth, a sloany voice and a dinner jacket on. And yet somehow I’m flattered and blushing?

To be a fair a compliment is a compliment. There was no nigistent request for my number or an attempt to give me his.  There was no attempt to graze my butt or touch my hip or steer me with his hand on the small of my back. Yes guys, we know what you are doing. Look with your eyes not with your hands.

But, as I remember those teeth I can’t help but think….dating recession has been hard y’all.

© Chelsea Black.



The blog starts

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Categories: ABOUT, FIND ME, Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

So you know when you turn up to those business networking do da things and they tell you that everyone is going to have to do a 60 second pitch? And you’re standing there thinking to yourself, “****! I’ve got half an idea, my deodorant stopped working around noon and I’m hungry.” Well that’s how I feel about writing this column. It’s half an idea based on a series of status updates on a certain social networking utility but, hopefully, by the end of this you’ll get the idea.

Deadlines and word counts, my parents would be so proud. Not that they’ll see this. I mean, who wants to be confronted with the fact that their daughter is a dating disaster, spends way too much day time in the local park and thinks that the recommended drinking limit for women is 21 units? (Its 14 units for those of you who also thought that 21 was the right answer. It is, if you’re a man). Oh, and the sex! No one wants to admit that their precious child is out there exploring. Not as much as she would like to mind you but exploring none the less.

I’m a girl with a plan. I plan to have babies, get married 4 times (1 down only 3 to go!) and am destined for great things. Unfortunately I am severely allergic to kids, fall in lust way too quickly, and lack the focus for success. But none of this stops me from dreaming. You’ve got to have dreams right? I work for myself as an administrator and social group organiser (see reference to park above) but am a full time bar fly.

So a bit about me just to set the scene. Ok, I’m over 21. I’m at the age where men ask me how many kids I’ve got as opposed to do I have any. Then again this could be due to my permanent budda belly that I call Maxine Saj. She goes everywhere with me and constantly craves chocolates and woo woo cocktails. I don’t question these desires, I just provide.

I live in London and will not be removed unless under the influence of lots of champagne and a Tiffany ring. In fact, I saw the perfect champagne pink bauble ring in their window the other day. I think the ring, a house in zone 1 or 2, a great credit rating to counterbalance mine AND patience makes for the perfect compromise for being stuck in a relationship. Oh and a credit card would be yummy but I’m a realist. You can’t have it all.

Now I would love to stop and chat some more but you’ve just reminded me that I need to contrive a subtle way for my latest lust bunny to see the bauble ring. It’s been 3 weeks and I’m hopeful. So what if he hasn’t called me for a week. A girl with a plan, that’s me.

Ciao for now my precious

© Chelsea Black


Once upon a time

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Categories: Misadventures, Recent Posts, Tags: , , , , , , ,

What better way to end than with the beginning?

Once upon a time there was a thirty something year old princess who lived in a shoebox. The recession had yet to descend like a fog over London and property prices were swirling out of control.

She hadn’t always lived in a shoebox. Oh no my precious, her previous abode had been a 3 bedroom end of terrace castle in leafier Ealing with her then prince.  A sweet man, they had decided that happily ever after wasn’t to be their ending and he had banished her from the Ealing castle to a dungeon of a shoebox. Sweet yes but charming he clearly was not.

So swearing never to love again she took all of her belongings (including a multitude of smaller shoeboxes) to live in her shoebox dungeon in Chelsea. At first she was happy to enjoy life outside of the castle. Cocktails and chocolate became her constant companions. She joined a band of merry singletinis and, although often ill-advisedly, she experimented with fancy dress and karaoke

Despite enjoying her shoebox she realised that her time in the dungeon could be better utilised if she actually tried to find a new prince. Not that every princess needs a prince but with a penchant for romantic comedies and an unfavourable economic climate it made both emotional and fiscal sense.

But where to start? In her twenties there were princes everywhere battling for her student hand but as she entered her thirties she noticed that fewer princes seemed to be around. Where had they all fled?

Then one day on a rare trip back to Ealing she stumbled across a psychic at the fair. She asked about her love life and the psychic said she couldn’t see anything in the cards. She asked again and the psychic looked confused and said that nothing was coming up. The princess was flummoxed. The psychic told her, “Go and seek it and take note of all that is around you.” Confused and disappointed the princess returned to the shoebox dungeon to reflect. And then it hit her. Maybe her prince couldn’t find her! Maybe he wasn’t very partial to the District line, something she could sympathise with entirely. Or maybe he was just running on African time?

So she decided to be brave. Why couldn’t she be the one to go out there and slay tube delays for her happily ever after? She was a romantic feminist princess after all. (DIY and vermin excluded).

And so began the princess’s adventures. She started updating about her misfortunes and was asked for more. Ah! Perhaps the psychic had meant that she take notes? She started out with a 6 month internet dating subscription confident that in that time she would find a prince with charm. That was 5 years ago.

That princess is me my precious. My name is Chelsea Black and welcome to my misadventures. And maybe, just maybe you will find tales in here that will remind you of the joy of a happily ever after.

© Chelsea Black

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