I had a date this week that I deliberately kept on the down-low.  I only told everyone on Twitter … didn’t even mention it on Facebook.  I know!

I’d specifically kept rather quiet about it because my track record with dates lately has not been great.  Shocking if you will.  I’ve been stood up, had to put up with (what I still perceive to be) a racist comment and basically I’ve just been dicked about far too much for my liking.  So my plan of action was to say very little and try not to jinx the damn thing.

My date was Scottish (I didn’t hold it against him,) 33 years old, 6ft, funny, HOT, and, for the 24 hours I knew him before I met him (what can I say … I’m a fast worker,) we got on really well.  He lives in Essex but said he’d be happy to come over (to my town, not my face (sorry) and asked if I’d agree to go out for a drink with him.

Hmmm … let me see.  A date with a young, sexy, smart man – or doing the washing up, watching repeats of Traffic Cops and in bed by 10pm.  Who am I kidding?  9pm.

I agreed, obviously, and we arranged to meet on Wednesday night at 7.30pm at my local.

And right up until the very second that I saw my date stood outside the pub waiting for me, I didn’t believe the date was actually going to happen.  I expected it all to be a wind-up.  That he had no intention at all of meeting me.  That it was, in fact, just a joke.  That he was married.  Or bored at work.  Or all of the above.  That there was no way this date was actually going to happen.

How sad is that?  This is what dating has become for me.  Full of cynicism.  Convinced that there are no decent guys left out there.  Yes, we’d spoken on the phone several times.  Yes, he had no problem sending me photos of himself – (mostly) fully clothed I should point out … and yet I was full of doubt.

For someone that’s generally such a positive person, it’s a rubbish feeling.

Anyway, he rang at 7.30pm on the dot, said he was already at the pub and my babysitter very kindly drove me to the pub.

And there he was.  As he promised.  Stood outside waiting for me.

Was he what I’d imagined?  What he’d portrayed?  What I’d hoped?

Yes, yes … and yes.

He was gorgeous, smart, and, most importantly, he smelt might-ty FINE.

We had a lovely evening together.  He refused to even let me buy a single round.  He held doors open for me.  He was entertaining.  He was great company (as was I, but that goes without saying.)

There was one hairy moment though (wasn’t me, I’d shaved my legs,) when he said:

“There’s something I’ve not been totally honest about.”

My heart sank.  Here it comes, I thought to myself.  Thought it was all too good to be true.

“For the past nine years ….” he continued.

Oh God, Oh God.  WHAT????

“…. I’m a policeman, not a builder like I told you.”

Oh!

I couldn’t really understand why he’d gone to the trouble of lying but, as he explained, policemen don’t have the greatest reputation and he didn’t want to put me off.  To give him his dues, he told me within five minutes of our date and it really wasn’t a big deal.  Could have been a WHOLE lot worse.

We had a few drinks and, as he’d been at work at 3am that morning, I called it a night at about 10.15pm.  Poor bloke was knackered.

He drove me home and as we pulled up outside my house, I said he was more than welcome to come in but that he’d probably want to get home early.  He agreed, we had a brief peck on the lips and he was gone.

So what next?

As great an evening as we had, I just knew he wasn’t interested in a further date.  We swapped a text the next morning, each saying what a nice night we had, and that was that.

And we haven’t spoken since.

Sometimes it’s just better to leave on a high.  We had a great night and I knew that as much as I’d like to have seen him again, if he was interested, he’d have got in touch.  He didn’t, and that’s absolutely fine by me.  (Git.)

I’m not even left wondering ‘why?’  There’s no point.  Whatever it was, there’s no point dwelling on it.

His loss though, obviously.

The post The Date with the Scot appeared first on WitWitWoo.

For anyone that’s attending this year’s BritMums Live conference, here are a few details about me:

Name: Kate – Or Flame Haired Goddess …. just putting it out there.

Blog:   WitWitWoo

Twitter ID:  @iamwitwitwoo

Height: 5ft 8″ – used to be taller but the shrinking has begun.

Hair:   Red.  ALL natural … *cough*

Eyes:   Blue, but generally bloodshot due to sheer exhaustion.

Is this your first blogging conference?   No, it will be at least my fourth – I’ve lost count.

Are you attending both days?   Two nights in the Hoxton?  No kids.  Damn straight.

What are you most looking forward to at BritMums Live 2013?   Catching up with blogging friends I’ve already met, meeting new bloggers, vodka, topless waiters, being me and not Mum for a whole two days, meeting Cherry Healey and a lie-in.  Preferably with Cherry Healey.

What are you wearing?  God knows.  Never plan outfits in advance.  But flat shoes for the day.  Probably jeans.  I’m rubbish at wearing heels, unless I’m in bed, then I don’t really have to do much.  Just lie back and pretend I’m enjoying myself.

What do you hope to gain from BritMums Live 2013?  I’m an official BritMums Moderator this year which means that I’ll be, ummm … moderating stuff.  Basically, introducing guests, encouraging questions from the floor etc.  I think.  So I’m looking forward to being a part of the team and floating around pretending I know what I’m doing.  I’m sure there’ll be plenty of tips to pick up from the workshops too.

Tell us one thing about you that not everyone knows:  I’ve probably divulged all of my secrets on my blog!

Please feel free to come and say hi if you see me around at the conference – I don’t bite (hard.)

See you there!

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Blogging.  It’s a funny old game.  You plod along, blogging week after week, some days finding it easy to write … others, not so much.  But I write because it’s now a part of who I am.

Last night, however, I had a bit of a wobble.  And we’re not talking my boobs for once.

The rankings came out for Tots100 and there was the usual flurry of ‘didn’t you do well’ and ‘ooh look how high I am this month’ and it’s fantastic for those bloggers (she says bitterly.)  High fives all round.  And usually it doesn’t bother me.  And, don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t actually ‘bother’ me, because I’ve never been one for worrying about where I place, or whether my Klout is higher than my Kred, or whether Dave’s blog is doing better than mine.  (Not sure who Dave is, but my blog is better than his.)

But it did get me to question something.  So, like with every other question I need an answer to, I asked Twitter:

“Does anyone actually read my blog?  Serious Q.”

I felt like a twat as soon as I posted it, suddenly panicking that people would think it was a really sycophantic thing to do … that I was just looking for 100 (although, quite frankly, I’d have been pleased with two,) bloggers to stand on their chairs and shout, “Yes Kate!  Don’t worry!  WE read your blog.  You are a Goddess of all things redheaded and bloggery!”

They didn’t, obvz, but a fair few lovely people did pause Question Time long enough to reply that yes, they do read the blog and some even left comments which, for 11pm on a Thursday night, is a big ask in my book.

You see, I’ve always thought that I blog ‘for me.’  And I do, for the most part.  I don’t analyse what keywords people have used to find my blog and tailor posts accordingly.  I don’t crowdsource for topics, or pick stories from the news just so a post will be popular.  I write about what’s going on in my life.  That’s about it really.  It’s just that it tends to cover lots of different, random things.  Whether it’s dating, travelling, parenting, karaoke’ing (it’s a word,) or, like tonight, having an existential crisis and rambling on like James Joyce.  (Trust me, studied him at Uni – man’s a mentalist.)

But actually, as much as I write for me, I also want to be read.  If I didn’t, I’d write a personal diary and lock it away.   I want to know that at least someone, somewhere, has read something I’ve written and enjoyed it.  Hell, I don’t care if they disagree with what I’ve said or done, or even if they think it’s a big bag o shite, just as long as they have an opinion about my writing.

I write how I speak.  My thoughts tumble from head, through my arms and out through my fingers onto the keyboard, so whatever I write is heartfelt.  It’s how I feel.  Who I am.  Even if it is a dissection of yet another dire date.

It’s honest.  That’s what my blog is.  100% honest.

I write because I want to share my story, as banal as it often is.  I want to tell people that I’m as important as the next person.  That I matter I suppose … in my own little way.  That even though I may get stressed, or think my life is somewhat boring, or I can’t date for shit … people are still interested.

Fundamentally, we all have stories that we want to tell – bloggers just have a forum to do that.  But it takes a lot of courage to do what we do and I think that’s something I hope people appreciate.

Now if this post doesn’t get me to Number 1, I’m never blogging again.

The post Who Do You Blog For? appeared first on WitWitWoo.

So that was the Bank Holiday.  Done and dusted for another few months.  Short but perfectly sweet.

Dexter and I mostly chilled, interspersed with a trip to the cinema, cutting the grass, a couple of Nana naps and lunch with my best friend.

And the funny thing is, it was perfect.  Gone are the days of Tenerife holidays (for now at least,) and weekends in London.  Nowadays, I’m just catching up on sleep and time with my boys.  Life has become about the simple things in life and that’s just fine by me.

However, I do still dream.  I dream of the day that I CAN travel.  The day I don’t have to drive around in a car with a window bound together with duct tape.  The day I don’t have to worry about debts left to me as a parting gift by my ex.

These simple dreams spur me on to be as successful as I possibly can be.  I work a full day in my day job, which I LOVE, come home and begin work again – being Mum, blogger, writer … and occasional dater (when I have the energy.)  I guess these days, I’m re-examining just what successful actually means.

Is it being rich?  Chances of that happening are very slim, but I’d be happy with just being debt-free.

Is it being in love?  Again, that’s not exactly going great, but it’s nice to date and meet new people, regardless of the outcome.  And besides, if I didn’t blog about dating, I doubt anyone would visit the blog!

Is it being able to travel?  If Dexter and I can manage to make a weekend in Dover fun, then we can make anywhere fun!

Is it doing well at work?  I’m lucky that I really enjoy my job and I seem to be doing well at it.  Having been unemployed before, I appreciate the fact I even have a job!

Is it being slim?  If it is, then basically I’m f*cked.  I don’t think I’ve ever been slim, but I’m at the age where I’m comfortable in my own skin and that’s a nice place to be.  I need to be fitter, and that’s something I’m addressing, but I don’t spend hours hankering after a flat stomach.  It ain’t ever gonna happen!  So I make the most of what I’ve got – and I’ve got a lot!

Is it having a family?  I don’t have a ‘typical’ family – no partner, my eldest lives with his Dad and visits every week, and my Mum isn’t around anymore.  But it’s MY family. I’m loved and I love.

So I guess all of the above is what I class as being successful.  It’s not such a bad life.

What is YOUR idea of success?

Sponsored post. (All comment my own, as usual.)

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You may be aware that I’m partial to the odd date or two – very odd in some cases, and so when I was asked to share the details of a competition that eHarmony are currently running, I couldn’t refuse.  Well, I could, but didn’t.

Now I don’t like to call myself a dating expert (stop laughing at the back,) but if you want to share your dating expertise you could potentially win £400 of vouchers to spend on the experience of your choice with Virgin Experiences.  There are also two runners up prizes of £200 each.

All you have to do is click on the image below or the link here to be taken to the competition. You’ll then be able to watch a short video from John, and be asked to give him advice on three key questions ready for his date this weekend. On Monday, you can check back and hear from John how it went!  (And chances are, I’ve probably dated John at some point, so don’t be surprised if I feature in a video somewhere.)

Best of luck!

Sponsored post, but all opinions and content are my own.

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This week’s theme for Tara’s The Gallery is self portrait.

I’ve never been shy about posting photos (no, not ‘those’ photos,) but that doesn’t mean I don’t have insecurities like everyone else … I just manage them well.  I’m 42 … it is what it is.  No point pretending I’m younger and actually, I quite like where I am in my life right now.

OK, I’m single, but I don’t see that as a negative thing.  I have a great job, lovely family, and my boys are doing really well.  Yeah, I have a few wrinkles and my left eye is weirdly a little droopy, but it’s character building!

I love my hair.  I love that I don’t know anyone else with the same hair colour and I will also think that redheads rock.  (Because they do.)  I like wearing bright lipstick, I smile (a lot) and I like to think I still have a naughty twinkle in my eye – even at the ripe old age of 42.

So there you have it.  That’s me.  Cracking on a bit, but still a big lover of life.

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Lots of you may have heard about the Collective Bias™ Social Fabric® Community and lucky for them, I’m now a part of it!

My first project was clothes shopping for Dexter in Next.

I’ll be honest, I really like Next clothes but budgeting has meant I haven’t had the opportunity to shop there in a long time.  It was nice to be back, although I still think that there are always much nicer clothes for girls than boys in every shop.  But that’s another story.

Dexter and I decided to make a day of it and I asked my best friend’s son if he wanted to come along to Bluewater with us.  Don’t think he was that impressed tbh … until I mentioned Iron Man 3.  Then weirdly he jumped at the chance.

Shopping with one boy is hard enough.  I worried that shopping with two would be horrendous but actually, I needn’t have worried.  I think giving them a little ‘project’ of having to find an outfit for Dexter made them feel like they were on a mission and, at aged 7 and 8 respectively, they’re both really interested in clothes and, I quote, ‘looking cool.’

Next at Bluewater is pretty big, set over two floors.  The children’s department is upstairs and although some sections of the department felt a little cramped, most of the department was roomy enough.

The first T shirt that caught their eye was navy blue with red lettering on that said, ‘Born to Rule.’  They thought it was hilarious.  Me?  Not so much.  But hey, whatever puts a smile on their face.  I thought I’d treat Dexter’s friend too, so that they could have matching T shirts, which they thought was a great idea.

Two things I struggled with:  Firstly, the sizing.  It’s not particularly Next’s fault, I’d say it was more mine and his Dad’s, but Dexter is a big boy for 8!  The biggest size I could find was aged 12 (even though I know they go up to aged 16,) and I can’t imagine that’ll last him that long.

The second issue is the cost.  I’ve bought Dexter’s clothes in Primark, Sainsburys and charity shops for the past year and we’ve managed just fine.  I see shopping at Next as a treat but I know that a lot of my friends shop in Next all the time.  Personally, I just don’t think I could afford it.

So for me, it’s a balance between finding clothes that Dexter deems ‘cool’ enough and me being able to afford them.

I think we did well finding an outfit that Dexter likes – the ‘Born to Rule’ T shirt, denim cut off shorts and a skull baseball cap.  Total cost of this outfit was about £30.

Overall, there’s a great selection of clothes, shoes and accessories in Next.  The queuing was a bit of a pain, but the friendliness of the staff made up for it.

Would I go back?  Yes, if I had a spare few pounds in my purse.

You can see more photos in my G+ album.

I am a member of the Collective Bias™ Social Fabric® Community.  This content has been compensated as part of a social shopper insights study for Collective Bias® #CBias #SocialFabric.  All opinions are my own.  As usual.)

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I have an appointment with a solicitor next week so that I can get some divorce advice.  (I don’t know what they call it when you ‘only’ co-habited – certainly felt like I was married.  For a very long time.)

Anyway, I’ve been offered a free half hour consultation, which won’t be nearly long enough.  However, when you’re quoted £200 per hour by a local solicitor, I figured I’d go the free route, at least at first.  I just need to ask as many questions as I can within half an hour – machine gun style.

It’s been 22 years since I was married.  SUCH a long time ago.  We were, of course, far too young to get married (and I’m sure he’d agree,) but it’s hard to regret something when you have such a beautiful son as a result of a past relationship.

And I don’t regret it.  He was my first love and I went into that marriage with every good intention.  It just didn’t work out and I still think that’s a little sad.

Still, we’ve both moved on and now it’s really hard to imagine ever getting married again.  Hell, at this rate, it’s hard to even imagine ever having a boyfriend again.  But I wonder … is getting married later in life really worth it?  Is it worth the expense?  The stress?  The hassle?  Once you’ve had your fingers burnt, what really is there to gain from getting married again?

I may sound cynical, and it’s obviously not something I need to worry about just yet …. (or for the next 10 years,) … but I just don’t see the point.

I’ve tried very hard not to become bitter from either of my two long term relationships because personally, I don’t believe that’s any use to anyone.  Not to my kids, future boyfriends, and especially not to myself.  But it’s not easy.  When things haven’t worked out, it’s really quite hard not to carry baggage from one relationship into another.  But I think I’m doing OK.  Especially as things are particularly difficult with my current ex … and I think I’m doing alright.

I’m focused on a job I love, trying hard to bring Dexter up on my own and my plan to Take Over The World is coming along nicely.

Be kinda nice to share it all with someone though.

Sponsored post.

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