40 is the new 30...

I find that the older I get, the more I appreciate being as young as I am. A contradiction in itself I know.

My friends, most in their late 20's, are, like me, looking for love. But they feel as though time is running out. It is 2am on a Saturday morning and I have just spent the past hour and a half convincing my distraught flatmate that there is nothing wrong with her, that she just hasn't found the right guy yet.

Why do we put this pressure on ourselves to 'have it all' by the time we hit 30? We expect to have got the study out of the way, got the travelling out of our system, be in a stable career, have met the love of our life, got married, and be popping out babies. That's a lot to fit in, in essentially 12 years (18-30)!

50 years ago, all we had to do was get married and have babies. But my generation, Gen Y, have put this new life-goal pressure on ourselves, and its all controlled by a ticking clock... But 50 years ago, living until you were 70 was quite an achievement. Now, it's considered the norm. We are living longer, fact

On average, women live, I believe, 7 years longer than men. My Nan says its because "women work so bloody hard all their lives dealing with men, it's our time off at the end to have a bloody rest!"

My Mum had me when she was 39. When I was younger, I didn't like that she was the oldest Mum in the playground. Now I love it. When she gives me advice, I know she is speaking from real, hardcore experience. She knows her shit. She is my best friend and my most favourite person in the world.

I think it is great that women want (and do) so much these days. I think we should continue to aim high and get everything we want (and deserve). But I also think we should give ourselves more time to do it in.

I say, 40 is the new 30. Let's embrace it.

Act like a child, and I shall treat you as one...

I dressed up as a school girl last night for the guy I was seeing who is a teacher. Bit warped I know but it was fun.

I knew it was going to be the last time we had sex because he has been all over the place emotionally and I can't drag my heart through that kind of shit. I couldn't cum though. I didn't want to because I didn't want to let myself go that much. I just wanted to 'go out on a bang', so to speak.

It's stupid, but I feel like there is some magic ingredient for finding someone special. Like, you know how they say 'it will happen when you are not expecting it' and 'stop looking and you will meet someone'. But I think all that is bullshit.

I think everyone, everywhere, is always on the lookout for someone special. Just look at The Farmer Wants a Wife. And "they" are right - you can't plan when it will happen, when it's the right person it just does. Take married people, for example...I'm sure when they get married they really believe they will be together forever, but how many people have affairs? Is that just the right person coming along at the wrong time?

I can't believe I used to just be able to give my body physically and it not mean anything. Now, I don't understand how someone can want me so bad in a sexual way (he was actually shaking touching me), and not want the rest of the package (I think it's a pretty good package).

I had to explain that I can get a fuck anywhere...that's not want I want anymore and I can't believe he treated me like that. I have done some slutty things in my time but the way he treated me this morning actually made me feel cheap.

How come so many guys you think are 'one of the good ones' turn out to be complete pricks?

I started crying this morning and he actually left. He left me crying. If I see a stranger on the street crying, I check they are ok. I don't just leave them. But he just left. Unbelievable.

And it really hurt. Crying like a schoolgirl. How ironic.

It's better to cuddle a Teddy than the wrong man...

I still sleep with my Teddy.

When I was about 12, I tried sleeping without my Teddy. Instead, I put it on the windowsill with the other teddies. But most nights, after going to bed, I would get up and grab Ted from his little spot and snuggle up with him, then replace him the next morning. I thought I was too old to still be sleeping with a Teddy.

Then, around 15, I reached an age where I thought it was cool, it a retro kind of a way, to still have a fluffy companion at night.

And now, I just plain don't care.

I have been ill all week and in the absence of my Mum, Ted has done a good job of comforting me. Aren't Mums great? They pick up your snotty tissues and hold your hair back while you hurl, all without a thought to themselves that they might catch your lurgy. Ted, whilst he can't pass me tissues or clean up sick, doesn't mind at all when I cough in his face, or steal the blanket away from him. He is just there.

Any men in my life have stiff competition to face in Ted.

You would think that my current squeeze (I'm actually talking about a man now, not my Teddy) would want to race to my bedside and mop my fevered brow when he found I was ill...ok maybe not race, but at least reluctantly walk with a pack of Paracetamol in tow.

But no. Although he was planning to see me on Sunday, he actually changed his plans in order to avoid me and my flu.

Part of me reasons that this is a very logical and sensible thing to do and completely understandable. And the other part is just hurt. I am the other side of the world from my family, I was very ill. And I needed a little company. And more importantly, and this is what puzzles me as to whether I should be wasting my time on this shmuck, is that I would have been there for him. So where does that leave us?

For the mean time, it leaves me and Ted. And I'm quite happy with that.