My morning started out by finding I had forgotten about a banana in the bottom of my bag, the soggy remnants of which I then went on to grind deep into the material of my bag with my laptop. So I now have a banana splattered handbag and a damp Macbook.
It pretty much sums up my mood this morning.
Sometimes in life, things happen to you and you, as a blogger/writer, immediately think, well that’s shit but at least it’ll make a great blog post. And sometimes, I just wish that the bad thing didn’t happen in the first place. (Although I am, of course, going to tell you all about it – what type of blogger would I be if I didn’t?!)
But I don’t have that kinda life where I can write about how happy I am all the time, or how I have the perfect job, face, life or arse. It’s generally just me chatting nonsense.
So anyway, as you know, I’m single. VERY single. And you may have also read on this blog how hard online dating is, especially these days. If you’re regular readers, you may also know that I’m a (for want of a better phrase) a plus size woman, larger than life and, for the most part, pretty confident too. I have my own personal ‘journey’ (God, it sounds like X Factor) with regards to my weight, but that’s something I’m dealing with offline, at least for now.
Anyway, last night, these two parts of my life collided quite spectacularly.
I rarely go on dating sites these days … I find myself continually swapping horror stories with fellow single friends and we have all found dating really difficult at the moment. But I still go on once a day to check my messages in the hope that one day, if I remain optimistic enough, one day … there will be a message from a man who is lovely, and normal … just like me, and that maybe, maybe he’s been looking for me as much as I’ve been looking for him.
Well that certainly didn’t happen last night. Instead, I had this following conversation with a stranger:
Him: “To (sic) big.”
Him: “To (sic) fat for me x”
Me: “Wow. Who asked your opinion?”
Him: “Lol just giving to you and not like that x”
Me: “I tell you what fella, even if you COULD grasp the English language and spell properly, I wouldn’t ever take your opinion seriously. Like ever. I haven’t even asked for you to comment on my appearance … what gives you the right to give it?”
Him: “That’s just me lol like god here to help you x get to the gym.”
I don’t want to say here what I told him to go and do, because I’m a lady. I blocked him of course.
Wow right? This man, who I’ve never spoken to before, who I don’t know, has been kind enough to offer his opinion about how I look.
Yes, you open yourself up to all sorts of ‘trolls’ and morons when you have a blog or go on a dating site or, for that matter, deign to put yourself out there at all. There will always be that person who feels it’s his or her duty to call you out because, no doubt, they have their own HUGE issues.
And you know what really bothers me? I let it get to me. Albeit only for an hour, this ‘man’ really got to me. I was visibly shaking. Even worse, I ended up questioning everything about who I am as a person. Am I really happy as I am? What do people really see when they look at me? Are people only being polite when they say I’m pretty, or that I’m lovely as I am?
Am I a good enough person?
And you know what’s even worse? I was so caught up in feeling shit that I forgot to do my Tooth Fairy duties and Dexter came to me this morning asking why ‘she’ didn’t leave a pound.
My friends were amazing of course. They rallied round and said all the things I needed to hear:
“Want me to send the boys round?” (That was from my brother lol.)
“His opinion is irrelevant – he’s too thick for you. You’re a sexy, vibrant, intelligent woman who would wipe the floor with him. Ignoramus.”
“Hope he gets dick rot.”
“Kate I am so sorry to read this, what an asshole. You are amazing and you have inspired so many with your confidence plz don’t let the words of one idiot change that”
… and my particular favourites:
“Wish I was a lezza. I’d eat you alive Kate Sutton you sexy piece of ass!”
“The man is a festering bell-end made solely from squirrel piss, sawdust and anal juices. Feel free to pass this message on to him. Even better, give me his addy and I’ll fucking do it.”
MY FRIENDS ARE THE BEST!
You know that scene in Airplane when the young girl is hooked up to a drip and everyone queues up to slap her round the face? That’s what my friends did for me last night … they metaphorically gave me the shaking of the shoulders I needed to snap me out of this self-doubt.
So where am I at now? Waiting in a coffee shop for a date with a really hot, 6ft 7” guy who, I hope, is excited about meeting me. Because I may not be slim, or young, or a myriad of other things but, as clichéd as it sounds, I’m really happy with who I am. I think I’m a nice person, I’m a good friend and a great Mum. I’m kind. I can write. I have a filthy laugh and I enjoy cocktails far too much. But I think I’m doing alright.
This man means nothing to me and I won’t let him occupy another second of my life – I really have too much going for me.
So Andrew12345F … you Sir, are a prick of the highest order, but you haven’t won. Not this time round my friend.