Gender Stereotypes: Why I don't get the "joke."

I have a sense of humour.  I spent a great many years with live stand up comedy as my number one hobby; I'd travel all over the place going to gigs, just to be entertained by a man or a woman with a microphone.  I still love live comedy with a passion, even though I don't get to indulge that love as often these days.  But today I stumbled upon a "joke" about the differences between men and women and I've got to say...  I'm not laughing.

That's a joke that's both funny AND cute.  See!  THIS IS HOW IT'S DONE.

The hilarious joke in question was essentially a collection of pictures with captions, showing how hilariously different men and women are.

Before I go any further, let me clarify:  We are different.  And some of those differences are hilarious.  When pointed out properly.  By someone genuinely witty.

This, however, was just a list of meaningless gender stereotypes, some of which bordered on being outright offensive.  One of the first images was of two groups of friends out to lunch.  One group was female, the other male.  The caption for the female picture said: "Female friendships last 2-3 years."  The male one read: "Male friendships last forever."

Here I am with my best friend, Lydia.  We've been friends for 6-7 years so far.

My fabulous friend Kirstie and me.  We must have known one another a decade, or at least almost that long.

And here I am with my fellow Whovian, Rachel.  We've been friends  for 15 years.

See where I'm going with this?!  It would appear that the "joke" is that women are flighty; we don't have long-lasting friendships, possibly due to all that bitching we do, or how easily bored we get... Ooh, is that something pink and shiny??!!  It's simply not true.  Until two years ago, I was still friends with someone I'd known since I was 11.  The idea that girls just fall in and out of friendships like fashion fads is just as dumb as the suggestion that all male friendships last forever.  Of course they don't!  Life can change and alter us as people and that in turn affects our friendships.  What I'm saying is:  Men and women may be different in a lot of ways, but we're equally capable of fostering a friendship that lasts longer than one of Katie Price's marriages.  Oooh, there's that bitching.  We are awful.

The next "joke" on the list was that women take group photos where we are always touching one another in a faux-sexual manner and pulling duck-faced pouts, whereas men just smile cheerily for the camera, like the bloody decent fellows they are.

Oh bugger.  We missed the memo.  We're doing femininity WRONG.

Again, this "joke" targets the stupid idea that all women play on their sexuality at all times.  That charming scent that's wafting through your nostrils right now?  It's bullshit.  Sure, we can vamp it up if we want.  But do we do it constantly?  Is it our instant go-to state when a camera is produced?  Hell no.  A lot of the women I'm closest to have to be persuaded to uncover their faces when I whip my camera out, such is their hatred of having pictures taken.  The only time I've ever pulled a duck-face is when taking the piss out of people who do duck-faces in photos...  Maybe they're only pulling them to take the piss out of people who make duck-faces and we're all trapped in some sort of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey, duck-face vortex?!  SEND FOR THE DOCTOR.

Any excuse...

Another "joke" was that men consider themselves to be successful if they make more money than they can spend.  And that women consider themselves a success if they find that kind of man and marry him.  Hey guys; my time machine works!  It's 1929!  

Except it's 2013 and I don't know a single woman (or a married one, for that matter) who would consider that to be the pinnacle of success.  Making her own way in her chosen career and enjoying a shed-load of cash that she earned?  Maybe.  But this outdated idea that women are simply seeking a wealthy guy to leech off for the rest of her days is not only a bit of a slap in the face to us, but to men as well.  Do we want decent guys to genuinely panic that we're after their wallet?  Hell no.  And for what it's worth, as far as I'm concerned, the size of a man's vocabulary is worth much more than the size of his bank balance.  Which is why if I met anyone from TOWIE, however loaded they may be, I'd run, screaming for the hills, throwing copies of the Oxford English Dictionary over my shoulder.

Then there was the part where the "joke" pointed out that men go to bed and wake up looking the same, whereas women reach the end of the day with make up on and hair still nice, then wake up looking - shock, horror - LESS THAN PERFECT.  Here's the thing:  You might think I'm having a sense of humour failure on this one, but we live in a society where women are expected to look a certain way.  Celebrity magazines highlight the slightest trace of cellulite on a woman's thigh.  Models are airbrushed so that they achieve an unrealistic level of perfection.  So it's not exactly funny to have our looks bashed in this manner.  We should be embracing our faces and bodies and encouraging young women to be comfortable in themselves.  This "joke" just makes it harder to do that.  I said it when I was going to loads of live comedy and I'll say it now:  If you have to resort to picking faults in the looks of a stranger, you're not a comedian.  You're just a bully.

Look.  I'm not boring.  I'm not a prude or a man-hater.  There are differences between the sexes and when they're pointed out in a funny manner, they can be hilarious and thought-provoking.  But if you're using "humour" as a cover for what is essentially misogynistic, gender-stereotyping, then you really need to haul your backside out of last century.  And if you're making a joke, try giving it a punchline.

Also, for what it's worth, these "jokes" are offensive not only to women, but to men as well.  So many of them paint men as being loutish or adulterous that it's as though we're supposed to assume that that is their default setting.  I know plenty of good men who are faithful, well-mannered and friendly who take these jokes, which lump all blokes in together, as an insult to their sex.  And well they should.  For all men aren't cheating, piss-taking, sexist idiots, anymore than all women are obsessed with pink, wear too much make up and have no ambition beyond marrying a rich man.  These gender-stereotypes do no good for either sex and it's really time we put them to bed.

Now excuse me.  I need a wee.  I'm going to have to call all of my friends and see if they'll come over to the house so I don't have to go alone.

Why I Will NEVER Accept An Excuse For Abuse

To say that I hate Fifty Shades of Grey would be a pretty massive understatement.  People say that "hate" is a very strong word, but as far as I'm concerned, it's not strong enough for my opinion of that book and its subsequent sequels.  I hate the appallingly bad writing.  I hate the fundamentally unlikable characters.  I hate the crappy merchandise associated with the trilogy; from "9 months ago, mummy read 50 Shades.." babygrows (gross) to "Waiting for Mr Grey" coffee mugs.  But most of all, I hate the abuse - emotional, psychological, sexual and physical - that features within the pages, but which is casually passed off as all part of the most wonderful, passionate, truest form of love you ever did see.  And possibly even worse than the abuse itself (if you're thinking "WHAT ABUSE?!"  I've written about it before and provided plenty of evidence here), are the excuses for it.

I'll say this now and I'll say it in shouty capitals:  THERE IS NEVER AN EXCUSE FOR ABUSE.

Since speaking out about my dislike (okay, my seething, raging hatred) of Fifty Shades, I've come into contact with fans who've said things such as:

"Christian is really vulnerable, okay?!  He's never had a serious relationship; you can't expect him to know how to behave!"

"You can't judge someone when they've had such a fucked up childhood.  Christian doesn't know any better."

"Poor Christian never had love growing up.  He's trying his best!"

There's a collective word for this group of genuine quotes.  That word, my friends, is "bullshit."

Congratulations, Fifty Shades fans!!!

For a start, if you're 27 and head of your own, massive company, then I don't care a jot whether or not you've ever had a serious relationship.  You know how to behave around people.  You don't become a bazillionnaire, well respected in his industry, without having any idea of social etiquette.  You also don't reach 27 without having ever witnessed a couple in a healthy relationship interact with one another.  Christian has adopted parents.  He has a sister.  He has staff.  There is no way he can argue that he simply doesn't know how a person is supposed to behave in a relationship.

Skipping the middle quote; if your idea of Christian "trying his best" involves him refusing to allow his girlfriend to see her friends without his express permission, or deliberately bruising her body in retaliation for her sunbathing topless, or threatening her with physical punishment when she has actually told him that his doing so makes her afraid and uncomfortable, then I would hate to see your definition of Christian not trying his best.  

But by far and away the most offensive argument, is the "you can't judge him, because he was abused as a child" line of thought.  Okay, time to get personal...

The words that helped me recover from abuse.

I've mentioned before that I spent over a year and a half in an abusive relationship, during which I was systematically emotionally manipulated, had my confidence destroyed and was expected to give sex on demand, but was called a slut if I initiated it.  One of the most common questions people ask when you open up about that sort of thing is: "Why didn't you just walk away?"  In truth, there are a hundred different answers to that question and it would take all night to address it properly.  But the simple answer, for me at least, was because I believed that my ex couldn't help the way he behaved.  

He'd been abused as a child; how could he possibly know how to love?  He was trying really hard.  How could I judge him for his behaviour after all he'd been through?

IS ANY OF THIS SOUNDING FAMILIAR??!!

Fifty Shades remains the only book I've ever burnt.  The worst experience of my life as a LOVE STORY?!  Just NO.

Now that I'm out of the situation and no longer being manipulated, I can look at my own argument and shriek: "What a load of BALLS."  But when you're with someone you love, who has led you to believe that they're broken and that only you can help to piece them back together again, you make excuses that you'd never swallow under different circumstances.  And I can only assume that when a truly badly written piece of "erotica" has gotten you all hot under the collar, you're prepared to believe the same bullshit about a fictional asshole, too.  Because the truth of the situation is this:  There is never an excuse for abusing someone.  There is no tragic backstory in the world that makes up for choosing (because yes, it is a choice) to abuse another human.

Think about it logically:  If we're supposed to excuse someone for abusing their partner, because they experienced abuse as a child, where do we stop?  "Oh dear, Jimmy murdered someone.  But hey, he witnessed a murder as a kid, so he doesn't know any better, poor love."  It's a ludicrous argument.  If having a bad childhood, or experiencing tragedy at some point in your life was a valid excuse for your own abusive/criminal actions, our prisons would be empty.  Everyone would simply claim to have not experienced enough love when they were small and boom: immediate acquittal.

Are we supposed to apply this rule to everything in life? 

"Well, Lisa's husband cheated on her.  She's in a new relationship now and if she cheats on her boyfriend, it won't be her fault, because of what she went through before."

"Liam's house was burgled last night.  Poor bloke; they took everything.  So if he robs from me tonight, I'll forgive him, because he doesn't know any better now."

Can you see how utterly stupid this argument is?!  If we believed this, we'd allow people to have a convenient excuse for treating other people like shit.  And seriously, abusers don't need an excuse.

We live amongst other humans.  We work alongside them, watch them form relationships with one another, chat to them about our day...  The vast majority of us know how we ought to treat people.  Whether or not we choose to behave respectfully is up to us.  Whether or not we choose to be faithful, considerate and affectionate towards our partners is up to us.  And if we choose to hurt people - physically or emotionally - we make that choice ourselves.

Sure, we all carry our own baggage around with us and the experiences life has thrown at us in the past will undoubtedly colour our present, to varying degrees.  Some experiences change us forever.  Some can damage us and cause us to need professional help in order to move on.  I don't mind admitting that after my abusive relationship ended, I struggled to cope.  I suffered severe depression and I sought counselling.  After a few months, I was transferred to a women's abuse charity, where I had weekly therapy for a year.  What I lived through, thanks to the bastard I fell in love with, changed me forever.  But will I ever use it as an excuse for my actions in the now?  Never.  I'm an adult.  I make my own choices.  If I manipulated someone; if I used them, bullied them or hurt them in any way, it would be because I chose to.  And I'm not the sort of person who could ever forgive myself for making that sort of abhorrent choice.

Fifty Shades fans could argue that Christian Grey hasn't recovered from his childhood and that's why he is repeating abusive patterns of behaviour with Ana.  But straight away, I counter that:  If he's still too damaged by his past to be able to recognise that he's abusing his partner, then he shouldn't be in a relationship at all.  Moreover, Christian doesn't equate what he's doing to Ana with what he lived through as a child;In fact he claims his past is the reason he wants to cherish Ana and give her the love he didn't have.  The truth is, he controls her, stalks her, threatens her and manipulates her.  In fact, he uses his past as a convenient excuse for his lousy behaviour as and when it suits him - usually when Ana is questioning him for the way he treats her.  Funny old thing, my ex used to do exactly the same.  If I criticised his behaviour, he'd break out the "but I've had such a terrible life and I don't know any better" line.  If you're wondering why I hate Fifty Shades so much (have you READ it?!), this is the crux of the matter.  It mirrors the worst experience of my life.  And it paints it as a love story.  A love story featuring a "heroine" who magically fixes the abusive man.  Why did I stay with my ex so long?  Because I thought I could fix him.  When I left, I felt like I was a failure for not having succeeded.  So thanks for reawakening all of those memories, EL James.  But hey, back to the matter in hand...

One thing I get accused of by Fifty Shades fans, is lacking compassion.  Because God knows, it's very important to have compassion for the fictional childhood of an abusive man in a badly written book.  But seriously, that argument is ridiculous.

I had bucketfuls of compassion for my ex.  I pitied the childhood he'd had and I still do.  I will always think that if he was treated as badly as he said he was, then that's awful.  As an innocent child, he in no way deserved that ill treatment.  But you can look at what happened to a person in their past and feel sympathy, without going so far as to allow that past to erase their bad deeds in the present.

Victoria Coren landed herself in hot water this year, when she wrote about Roman Polanski and his tragic past, as well as the fact that he drugged and anally raped a child.  Victoria's argument seemed to be that we should feel sympathy for what Polanski had been through in his life and that having done so, we shouldn't allow ourselves to be angry or to have violent thoughts of retribution over the fact that he became a rapist.  Although she says that his past is "not an excuse," she trips over her own shoelaces by going on to say that "a complicated factor" is that his films are full of beauty, as though that fact makes it harder to be angry that he raped an underage girl.  The message of her piece is that we ought to learn not to box people into categories: Good or Bad, but to instead see the whole picture.  The thing is, most of us are perfectly capable of looking at that whole picture.  I see it thus:  Roman Polanski lost his parents in the holocaust.  That is tragic.  That is awful and I feel very sorry for that little boy.  As an adult, his heavily pregnant wife was murdered.  That's an utterly terribly thing for someone to experience and I have huge sympathy for him.  Then he anally raped a child.  And I think he is despicable for doing so, because I cannot, WILL not excuse him on account of his having experienced tragedy in his earlier life.

Whilst we may be coloured by our pasts, we are more than what we have lived through.  It is perfectly possible to feel total sympathy for what a person has been through in his or her life.  It is not acceptable to use their past as an excuse for their present.  My ex went through a bad childhood and I feel sorry for him for that.  He then grew into an intelligent man, capable of attending university, making friends and functioning as an adult in society.  And yet he still chose to emotionally manipulate me.  He chose to treat me the way he did.  His past doesn't excuse him any more than Christian Grey's past excuses the way he treats Ana.  

To suggest that a person's past means they cannot help their behaviour in the present and future is an insult to those who suffer abuse at that person's hands.  I'd even go so far as to say it's an insult to an abuser's intelligence.

We are masters of our own destiny.  We make our own choices.  Deciding to rape is a choice.  Deciding not to consider the feelings of another person at any point is a choice.  We are responsible for our own actions and we become what we choose to become.  And when we choose to abuse, there is no excuse.

Feminism - Why The Likes of Kelly Clarkson and Little Mix are Wrong.

I am a feminist.  I have never burned my bra.

I consider myself to be a feminist.  I'm a woman (at least I was last time I checked) and I believe in equality between the sexes.  I believe that women should never be reduced to simply their looks or sex appeal (as though that is their only worth) and I don't feel we should force our children to conform to gender stereotypes if they do not wish to.  To me, feminism is about freedom and respect.  It's a desire for women to be free to dress as they choose, work in whatever job they choose, love whomever they choose and live their lives in the manner they so wish.  It's about wanting women to be treated as equals not only when compared to men, but when compared to each other, regardless of sexuality, ability, looks, race or religion.  It's about wanting women to be safe.  It's about seeing men and women as equally important, equally worthy and equally deserving of opportunities and respect.  In fact, you can boil it down to one word, really.  Equality.  That's what feminism means to me.

I'll tell you what it's not about, as far as I'm concerned.  It's not about hating all men.  It's not about wanting women to be seen as superior.  It's not about reading a misogynistic slight into every criticism of a woman (because sometimes, criticism is justified).  

I also don't conform to any of the outdated stereotypes that are generally thrown at feminists.  I shave my legs.  I wear make up.  I like pink.  And even more shockingly, I like men.

I like some men more than others, admittedly.

The idea that all feminists are man-hating, hairy-legged hippies is massively outdated and frankly offensive.  In this day and age, you wouldn't get away with tarring many groups with the same, distinctly negative brush; so why is it okay to do it to feminists?

Unfortunately, one of the reasons is that the media frequently likes to wheel out the "ALL FEMINISTS HATE MEN" argument and every now and then, they find a willing celebrity to sit upon that rickety old chariot and say something utterly stupid to give said argument an undeserved air of credibility.

And that's why we get the likes of Perrie from Little Mix, loudly declaring: "I wouldn't say we're feminists.  We don't hate our men."  Or Kelly Clarkson telling us: "When people hear 'feminist,' it's like 'get out of the way, I don't need anyone.'  I love that I'm being taken care of."  Oh Kelly.  You know what, sweetie?  You can have a man who takes care of you and STILL be a feminist.  But hey, thanks for perpetuating an unhelpful myth!  

And there are more examples - many, many more.  From Taylor Swift referring to feminism as "guys versus girls," to Lady Gaga informing the world that she's "not a feminist...I love men.  I celebrate American male culture and beers and bars and muscle cars."  

Because, in case you're wondering, being a feminist means you must never drink beer, or go to a bar, or like anything manly, such as cars.  In which case, feminism must be about to kick me out on my backside, seeing as I quite like beer.  Oh and bars.  Oh and I went to see Top Gear being filmed once and met all three presenters.  I SIMPLY CANNOT BE A FEMINIST, BECAUSE I DO NOT HATE MEN OR STEREOTYPICALLY "MANLY" THINGS.

I hope you ladies are proud.

In a way, I want to laugh when I read quotes like those previously mentioned.  I want to shake my head in amusement at how utterly wrong those women have got it.  Because I know that feminism isn't about hating men, or wanting to be alone, or distancing oneself from anything that might be considered un-girly.  The problem is, there is a really serious point made by feminism and it's one that gets completely overlooked every time a stupid statement about man-hating gets plastered across the tabloids.  Feminism is about wanting equal respect.  And in truth, I don't believe we have that yet.

Sure, women can be doctors, lawyers, headteachers...  But this month, it was revealed that there is still a national pay gap of 15% between men and women.  Men still earn more than women do, in spite of women doing the same jobs as them.  George Osborne suggested that by 2015, he'd like to see women making up 25% of all boardroom seats.  That's not something we've achieved yet.  And even if we reach that, it'll still mean that women are vastly outnumbered by men.  That doesn't sound very "equal" to me.  

And that's just the UK.  There are still countries in the world where women are very much second class citizens, when compared to men.  In Saudi Arabia, females make up just 17% of the national workforce.  Under the Taliban, women in Afghanistan were prohibited from leaving the house without a male chaperone and any woman found committing adultery could be stoned to death.  Although the Taliban have long since been ousted, Afghanistan was still named in 2011 as "the most dangerous country to be a woman."

Whilst we're much more fortunate in Britain, there is still a sense of inequality that creeps into everyday life.  You only have to take a look at the @EverydaySexism account on Twitter, to see how much women put up with on a day-to-day basis - things that men just don't experience.  We're talking about cat-calling, the sexualisation of young girls walking home from school, inappropriate and unwelcome physical contact...  The list goes on and it is not okay.

It's not okay for a girl in her early teens, wearing her school uniform, to have adult men ask her for sex, then yell "SLUT" at her when she says no.  It's not okay that I was once pushed against the wall of a nightclub by a man much bigger than me, who proceeded to shove his hand up my dress and tell me I was "asking for it," whilst a male bouncer stood by and laughed.  

When I say that women deserve equal respect, I mean it.  And incidents like those described above show a distinct lack of respect for women and girls.

I'm not saying for a second that all men commit vile acts like those discussed.  All the men I know would be appalled to hear stories such as those mentioned here.  The men who behave so horribly shame their sex.  It's also worth mentioning that women are just as capable of behaving in a sexist manner towards men.  But the prevalence of male harassment of women is of deep concern to me.  If it wasn't so common, we wouldn't need campaigns such as Everyday Sexism and if women had achieved genuine equality, it surely wouldn't be happening at all.

I've blogged about No More Page 3's campaign to take the topless girls out of The Sun before, so I won't go too far into it again; suffice to say I agree with Lucy Anne Holmes' affirmation that boobs are not news.  There's an argument to be had for women making the choice to model with or without clothes and of course, what a woman does is entirely up to her.  But by featuring a topless girl on page 3 of the UK's biggest selling newspaper every day, are we not simply reducing a woman to something to be ogled over?  What other reason is there for it?  Although the "news in briefs" piece was scrapped earlier this year (the quote on the news story of the day, placed beside the model's topless photo -using words that obviously didn't come from the model herself- as a sneering, mocking assumption by editorial staff that women couldn't be sexy and clever), we still have women being presented for the enjoyment of men, plonked incongruously amongst the headlines.  Where is the male alternative?  Where is the daily photograph of a man without his pants on?  There isn't one.  There never has been and there never will be.  it's okay to reduce women to a comically large pair of tits every day, but best not offend the blokes by suggesting they're just walking willies, eh.

My point - and I realise I've deviated a little - is that feminism will continue to be necessary as long as there is the slightest little bit of inequality between the sexes, be that here in the UK or anywhere in the world.  If women are seen as sex objects and little else, we need feminism to counter that.  If there are countries were women are genuinely seen and treated as second class citizens, then we need feminism to point out how utterly wrong that is.  And every time a celebrity opens his or her mouth and loudly declares feminism to be about man-hating, it makes it harder for us to get our very important message across.

Feminism isn't about hating men.  It isn't about wanting to be better than men, either.  It's about wanting to be equal.  And equality in turn, is about humanity.  All people deserve to have the same rights, the same respect and the same opportunities, regardless of their background, race or sexuality.  And regardless of their gender.

So, Perrie from Little Mix (and your similarly-minded celebrity friends), when you say you're not a feminist because you don't hate men, I have only this to say in response:  

I am a feminist because I don't hate men.  I don't judge people based on their gender and I don't actually know anyone who does, because I simply wouldn't associate with someone like that.  So next time you're asked about whether or not you're a feminist, ask yourself what that question even means before you answer it.  Because if you believe that everyone, regardless of whether they're male or female, should be treated equally, then I hate to break this to you, but you are a feminist.  Stop setting us back decades with silly, untrue statements and wear that badge with pride.

Why Some Acronym's DMC (drive me crazy!).

Aah, acronyms.  Helpful, fun abbreviations of common phrases.  Or at least that's what a lot of people consider them to be.  Having talked about embracing my weirdness in my last blog, I think we can confidently state that I am not like a lot of people.

I have issues when it comes to acronyms.  Specifically those used online.  In fact, even more specifically, the ones used when something is funny.  You know the ones:

• LOL
• PMSL
• LMFAO
• And so on.... (ASO?)

My issue - and I realise I'm being massively anal about this - is that they're simply not true.

I mean, really.  Did you really laugh so hard that your arse fell off?  Was whatever you saw or read online so utterly hilarious that your buttocks removed themselves from the rest of your body, such was the ferocity of your ensuing mirth?!  I'm going to go out on a limb and say no.

Equally, when you type "PMSL" in response to something online, have you ACTUALLY urinated in your underwear?  

Even when you write "LOL," are you seriously laughing out loud?

And don't get me started on people who say "LOL" in actual conversation.  If you're doing so with a bucket load of irony, then fair enough, but if you say "LOL" as a genuine, serious response to something in conversation, please rest assured there is a special place in Hell for you.  

So, in the interest of fairness, I've come up with some more truthful acronyms for you to use in your everyday online life.

• LABTS: Laughed A Bit Then Stopped.
• CQTM: Chuckled Quietly To Myself.
• SAB: Smiled A Bit.
• DEL-WIFAT?: Didn't Even Laugh - What Is Funny About This?

I'm sure you'll agree, these are bound to catch on.  You are MOST welcome.  LOL.

Embrace Your Weirdness!

I have something to tell you.  You're weird.

Wait, wait, let me finish...

You're weird and it's great.  I'm weird, too!  If you're sitting there, reading this and thinking: "What the hell does she know?  I'm not weird in the slightest!" then I'm afraid I'll have to break this to you as gently as I can:  Yes you ARE.  We ALL are.

I ride little wooden animals.  Of COURSE I'm weird.

I was musing over this subject earlier this afternoon, after briefly debating the use of the word "normal" to describe anyone.  The fact is, the only standard of "normality" we have to go on is the one that society (and by that, I mean the media, to be honest) has given us.  Do you dress a certain way?  Do you go to work?  Can you tie your own shoe laces?  What bothers me about the word "normal" is that it's used as something of a one-size-fits-all word and frankly, well...  It doesn't fit, does it?  

There's a serious debate to be had about the word "normal" and whether we should lessen our usage of it to describe people.  In certain contexts it's fine (he had a "normal" heartbeat, for example), but in the way we live our day-to-day lives, who's to say exactly what normal even means?  

People are, by their very nature, both intrinsically the same and powerfully unique.  We all need food and water to survive.  We almost all feel human emotions, such as love, anger, sadness and desire.  But we're also all shaped by our environments, our family situations, our beliefs and a whole multitude of other things besides.  That means that whilst humans are instantly recognisable as such, what makes us us differs wildly from person to person.  How can we ever find such a thing as a human to hold up as an example of "normal" to judge others by?  More importantly, why would we even want to?  Whilst the similarities we have can bring us closer together, it's our differences that often spark interest and debate.  It's by talking to someone from a totally different background that we learn new things and challenge our own views.  If everyone was exactly the same, the whole world would be populated by nothing more than a very, very long chain of those paper dolls we used to make in school.

Oooh.  I feel so special and unique...

And then, because this is me we're talking about, whilst thinking about this quite serious subject, my mind went off on a wild tangent and I wondered how many people I'd need to form a flashmob and what song we should sing in order to impress someone.  And I realised that that's because I'm weird.  We all are.  Because if there's no such thing as "normal" (and I don't necessarily believe that there is), then the alternative must be that we're all just a little bit strange.  At least, we must all have the potential to seem that way to others.

The thing is, we should be embracing that weirdness.  Because all of those funny little habits we have, or those phrases we use that seem to have been made up out of thin air, are exactly what makes us us.  When we factor in our likes and dislikes, our hopes and dreams and our silly little ways, we're adding colour to those paper dolls.  We're making ourselves individual and that can only be a good thing.

All too often, we explain away some of our odder hobbies or quirks in a self-mocking tone, as though we're ashamed or embarrassed by them.  But why should we be?  A person is a wonderful mess of influences and opinions, mashed together inside a body that's all too often longing to be changed in order to fit an unrealistic idea of beauty.  Whatever makes you different, whatever it is that makes you stand out, that's something to be proud of.  Worn like a badge of honour.  Do we want to be blank paper dolls, or do we want to put colour and patterns out into the world?  Yes, there'll always be people who don't like the particular colours or patterns we put on display.  And that's okay, too.  Because you're not displaying yourself for them.  You're doing it for yourself.

I've reached a point where I'm not that fussed whether people think I'm odd anymore.  I know I sometimes say or do strange things.  My point blank refusal to walk past an "hilarious" photo opportunity is testimony to that fact.

I believe I've made my point...

And a fondness for stupid photos is just one of my odd quirks.  There's also the fact that I can't drink a drink if it has "bits that aren't supposed to be there" in it.  Or my secret wish to live in a musical, in which everyone bursts into song at random and somehow everyone knows all the words and the dance moves.  There's the fact that I can never resist an opportunity for fancy dress, plus my weird desire to have someone magically "find" a coin behind my ear.  There's my habit of reading children's stories at work in various regional accents "just for fun" and my penchant for "YouTube karaoke."  There's a hundred other things about me that some people would just find strange, too.  And I'd probably find a few things weird about them, as well.  Because we're all unique.  We all paint our paper dolls in our own colours.  There is no "normal."  

So embrace your weirdness.  Don't ever try to conform to something that doesn't really exist.  You're you.  You're strange.  And if you won't take my word for it, listen to Dr Seuss:

"We are all a little weird

And life is a little weird

And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours,

We join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love."

"I've noticed you around... Um..."

Essentially, the subtext of this blog is: I NEED SOMEONE TO TAKE ME OUT FOR A DRINK, PLEASE.

Last night, I found myself having a conversation about crushes.  Not the "squeeze someone until they can't breathe" sort of crush, but the "OH MY GOD, I WANT TO SQUEEZE HIM" variety.

And yes, before we go any further, let's face the facts: I'm 28 (plus three... Okay, so I'm 31.  Ugh).  I am way too old to be all gooey eyed over someone I barely know, right?  WRONG.  You're never too old to have a crush!  To suggest that there's an age limit to getting all excited about seeing someone who makes your knees go wobbly is just ridiculous.  Frankly, if there is, then whatever the cut-off point is, I don't want to get there.  Stick me in a time-manipulating vortex when I get close; I'll stay one year below that age forever.

Anyway, I digress...  The fact is, chatting about crushes made me reminisce over a few of mine.  Bizarrely, my first sort of crush was on Boy George.  Yes, Boy George.  I didn't fancy him, I hasten to point out, what with being about two or three years old at the time.  I just loved him deeply enough to name one of my dolls after him and to sing Karma Chameleon to myself constantly.  My first proper celebrity crush was on Matt from boyband Bad Boys Inc.  Followed swiftly by Richie from Let Loose...

Looking back...  Yeah, I approve of my taste, back then.

And then there comes a point in a tweenager's life, when he or she has their first real-life crush.  I'll be honest, mine was on a boy called Robin, who I went to school with.  I was about 11 and he sat on the same table as me.  Ooh!  It was clearly destiny.  Except it wasn't, because when I discovered that my family and I were moving away, I realised, with shocking clarity, that I hadn't actually had a crush on him at all.  I'd had a sneaky crush on a boy called Martin, who I thought I only saw as a friend.  Only when I was driving away (well, my dad was driving; I was 11, keep up kids...), never to see him again, did my pre-adolescent brain treat me to the truth:  It was him I liked all along. Let me tell you, dear readers, there is nothing more dramatic than an 11 year old girl, sobbing over her own lack of self-awareness, where these things are concerned...

I'll go out on a limb here and say that huge, hormone-fuelled crushes during your teenage years are possibly more of a girl thing than a guy thing.  Ask most women over 20 and they'll be able to reel off a list of popstars, rockstars, actors or - shock, horror! - people they knew in REAL LIFE, who they privately fantasised about, or obsessed over.  It's something of a rite of passage; an awakening of feelings we might not have experienced fully before.  Crushes are confusing, a little bit scary and amazing all at the same time.

Of course, they can be a bit devastating as well.  I remember having a crush on a boy called Matt in the year below me at school.  Looking back on it, he was a bit of an arse, because he'd happily hold my hand and say nice things to me, but when asked one day whether he and I were "going out" (I was about 14 at the time), he laughed, called me ugly and pulled a face that made me concerned that he might be violently sick at the idea.  And that, friends, is the story of why I spent an entire French lesson, scribbling over the lovehearts I'd drawn in my homework diary.  Bastard.  It's also why I largely stuck to having crushes on unattainable popstars...

Yes, I practised signing my name "Emma Brennan."  I was OBVIOUSLY going to marry Lee from 911.

The thing is, I've always been quite shy when it comes to this sort of thing.  Whilst I'll happily dance like an idiot on a night out, or play the role of the chatty, sociable one in my friendship group, or impress virtual strangers with my (awful) jokes, if you put me in front of someone I have a crush on, one of two things will almost certainly happen.

1.  I will develop a severe case of verbal diarrhoea and talk at the poor boy.  This usually involves me saying the most ridiculous thing my brain can possibly conjure up, only to then attempt to dig my way out of whatever silly statement I've made, in a vain attempt to appear "normal."  In almost all cases, I fail miserably.

OR

2.  I will become almost mute.  Any sentences I do manage to form will be punctuated with a dazzling array of "ums," "ers," and "aahs." Hence the title for this blog...  Well, okay, it was inspired by the Touch And Go song, but also the mute thing.

TWO THUMBS UP, EM.  WELL DONE!  HOW ARE YOU SINGLE?! No, that's not my real hair...

So yeah.  I'm really not good at the whole "I like him, therefore I shall ask him out" thing.  In fact, I'm atrocious at it.  I can flirt like nobody's business, but only if I'm either not so besotted with the guy that it may require waterproof mascara should he turn me down, or if I'm fuelled by alcohol or hyperactivity.  Basically, what I'm saying is:  Plonk me at a Manics gig, or send me to Alton Towers to ride on a rollercoaster or three, hand me a glass of wine and then watch me go into THE ZONE.  But under normal circumstances, expecting me to actually speak to another human whose face I like?  ARE YOU CRAZY?!

There is, of course, a serious issue to this whole thing.  I'm not a confident person when it comes to my looks/bodyshape etc.  We live in a society where women are kind of expected to be stick thin, with massive boobs and shiny hair and perfect skin, thanks to the ridiculous images the media happily pump into our brains.  Add to that the fact that my last relationship was abusive and therefore it took a while for me to even want to be with anyone else and you can kind of see why I'm not the type to sidle up to someone attractive and just slip him my number.  At least not without running away, shrieking, which would totally ruin the moment...  "CALL ME!  AAAAAAARGH!"

Crushes are a safe way to feel things that you don't always get to feel when you're single.  As long as you're prepared to accept that nothing may come of them, they're an enjoyable distraction from the world.  There's something genuinely lovely about feeling a bit light-headed because someone you secretly fancy has smiled across the room at you.  It might have meant nothing.  It  might have been wind.  But in your head, it can mean the start of something fabulous.  And that's okay.

Frankly, I think we should embrace our crushes (literally; that would be nice!).  Life can be amazing, but let's face it, it can also be full of things like working when you've got a stinking cold, or having to pay bills you'd forgotten about.  Allowing your world to be brightened, even in a small way, by the secret object of your affections, is quite a nice break from the norm.

And whenever we feel sad, because we'd like a crush to be something more and we're not sure it ever will be, we can at least console ourselves that the version of the person we keep in our heads will never hog the duvet, force us to watch something we don't want to watch on TV, or fart.  Ever.  Everyone's a (slightly lonely, slightly sad) winner...

And just in case my crush is reading this:  "I've noticed you around.  Um...  I find you very attractive... Um..."

Worth a shot. ;-)

F*R*I*E*N*D*S

I'm starting to wonder just how many photos exist of me holding in the giggles...

I'll be brutally honest with you...  I'm writing this blog partly because I've had the theme from Friends going around my head for the last twenty minutes or so and I'm hoping that this process will remove it from my brain.  It's bad enough that I hear the opening line and then feel the need to clap like they do in the song.  I've had it in my head long enough for my dog to keep looking at me like I'm some demented performing seal.  CLAP, CLAP, CLAP, CLAP, CLAP!  

And because I like to share, here is I'll Be There For You (aka the theme from Friends) by The Rembrandts.  And now you can have it in your head, too....

The thing is, once I'd forced myself to sit on my own hands in a desperate effort not to do the claps, I did actually stop and think about the lyrics to the song and how they really do have a lot to say about friendship.  You see, for all the trite quotes you'll find on the subject, it really boils down to one thing: I'll be there for you.

Last year, I fell out with someone I'd been friends with for over half my life.  I put a brave face on it, but truth be told, I was pretty devastated.  I'm obviously not going to go into personal details here, but suffice to say, it became clear that the friendship seemed to be beyond repair, despite my efforts to fix whatever had gone wrong (and I'll be honest and say I'm still not 100% sure how it came to break down so irrevocably).  It ended and I was heartbroken.  In the 16 months since then, I've thought a lot about friendship and what it really means.  

It means wearing tops I gave them no choice about.  Apparently.

See, in both ancient Latin and Greek, the word "friend" is very close to the word "love."  And that's what I think is vital in a friendship.  If you don't love someone, just as they are, in spite (or sometimes even because) of their flaws, then is that person really a friend?  Or are they just an acquaintance?  

When I had that fall out last year, it made me resolve to cherish my friends even more than I already did.  To tell them often just how much they mean to me.  To see the good in them, even when they can't.  To "be there" for them, just like the song says.

I'm not saying I'm a perfect friend.  Far from it!  Oh my goodness, I imagine I'm incredibly irritating at times...When I think of all the things my friends have put up with over the years, I sometimes wonder how I've got any left!  From confidence crashes to unrequited loves, my friends have been there through it all.  Sometimes with a hug.  Sometimes with chocolates.  Quite often with a metaphorical kick up the backside.  Because that's what friendship's about.  It's not just about saying everything will be rosy.  Sometimes, it's about telling you what you need, rather than want to hear.  But it's always about having the other person's best interests at heart.  I know that my closest friends would tell me if I looked awful in a certain dress.  I know they'd give me a damn good talking to if I was being all "woe is me" and putting myself down too much.  But I also know that if I told them my dream was to do a one woman stand up comedy show, they'd be in the front row, desperately trying to laugh even if everything I said was about as hilarious as a slice of slowly moulding cheese.  That's what friendship is; supporting each other and loving one another enough to be honest.  Ish.  

Friendship is also about spinning a boat in order to soak your friend as much as possible.

I've been incredibly lucky.  I've found a group of friends who don't mind me obsessing over the Manics (in fact, one actively encourages it!), making naff jokes, dancing like my Nan, being a sensitive so and so from time to time, or going off on bizarre rants about nothing in particular.  In other words, I've found a group of friends who accept me for me, with all of the little oddities that make me unique, just as I love and accept them for all their funny little ways.  And they prove how much they care in all they say and do.  From Lydia literally picking me up off the pavement after my abusive ex had left me in such an emotional state that I could barely stand (and Kirstie admitting to sleepless nights, worrying about that situation), to Lizzie taking me to Butlin's for my birthday and making me giggle until I ached, they are each worth their weight in gold.

If your friend won't pose in a toilet with you, your friendship is not real!

That, to me, is the essence of friendship.  Being there for one another in good times and bad.  Sharing in-jokes that make you laugh until your tummy hurts.  Knowing that you can be yourself, without judgement.  Feeling supported and encouraged, however crazy your dreams might seem.  Anyone can be a mate.  But it takes someone special to be a friend.

Someone special.  And Lizzie.  MWAHAHAAAA!

So now that I've written about how great my friends are and how empty life would be without friendship, I've finally gotten that theme tune out of my head.  Result!  All that's left is to tell my friends that they are awesome, that I appreciate them more than they could ever know and that I'll always be around for them.

In fact, you could say: "I'll be there for you.  Because you're there for me too."

Oh bugger...