"Women like to be complimented on both their looks and their intelligence. I'm sure you've heard the question "Do I look fat in this?" before, most men have.
The reason they ask this is that they need to know that YOU still find them attractive regardless of what they think or anyone else thinks. They just need positive reinforcement from their partner to feel better about themselves."
How true is this for you? Are trust, intimacy, respect and positive reinforcement the standard, or is there something missing? And does it differ from woman to woman? Some women I know want someone who "won't be bothered by the fact that I probably earn more than them". Some want acres of personal space, while others like to be joined at the hip with their other half. One friend's entire relationship is based on the understanding that her boyfriend will never, ever request or offer a foot massage (she's a bit phobic).
So what about you? Take our poll and contact us to let us know what you want out of a relationship:
Spark, fireworks, magic, thunderbolts. Call it what you will, I need them. All of them if possible. In any relationship, I have to be hit in the face with something the completely takes me by surprise or I just don't think I'll ever feel it. I need that thing, that buzz that keeps me interested. There has to be...something. Doesn't there?
They say (whoever 'they' are) that a sneeze is one-seventh of an orgasm. Which seems a bit random really, like saying one pea is about one-twelfth of an artichoke.
But I digress. Some rapscallion with a thousand-frames-per-second camera came up with the idea of filming people sneezing, from the first tickle to the final, er, ejaculation, then sloooowwwwiiing down the playback. Check it out. What does it remind you of?
Earlier this week, a group of girls had a conversation on Twitter about first dates. Granted it would have been better placed in a bar with enough white wine to block out our most embarrassing moments, but there was a general consensus: They're usually AWFUL. But why is that first date so bad?
I'm not going beat around the bush with this: I think size matters. So do the lovely people behind this dubious 'dating' site who let you pick your man according to their penis size! Genius idea! Yes, it's all a bit tacky, but if you had the choice of knowing what you were getting before you, ahem, 'took the goods home with you', would you?
The male contraceptive jab was always going to attract a lot of attention. And it's been talked about a lot on TV this week. ITV seem to have an axe to grind about it, with one of the Loose Women stating yesterday "I wouldn't trust a man to take it. I can't even trust a man to put the rubbish out". I wasn't expecting a (male) doctor on This Morning to say the very same thing. Why wouldn't you trust a man to take a contraceptive jab?
'He's just not that into you' that familiar Sex and the City phrase and now the title of an entire film.
I was reading a piece in Style magazine on the train back to London last weekend which centered largely around the topics said statement and film title bring up. I must admit I don't usually read the editorial, more glance over where I can buy what that week but I got stuck into this one when I read the first paragraph.
'This, I promise is exactly what he said to me "right, I m calling you tomorrow and you'd better have your phone with you. I absolutely adore you. I have to know when I m seeing you again'
HAPPY VALENTINES DAY DOLLYMIXERS! Or, if you're not attached, Happy Single-Awareness-Day! For yes, the so-called most romantic day of the year has rolled its bandwagon into town once again. Whilst I do have a boyfriend who managed to get me a present so mindboggingly brilliant, I almost got down on one knee and proposed to him (see photograph), I'm not totally ignorant of the fact that if you're not attached, the culture around Valentines Day can make you feel a bit worthless.
Prior to meeting my ex in Summer 2007, I was single for three long years, and know all too well the horrors of working in an office where everyone apart from yourself is surrounded by sappy cards and red roses. All these things appear to designed to make the single girl feel like crap whilst simulatenously worrying that she'll die alone and end up being eaten by her 55 cats.
I try not to "do" Valentines Day for a number of reasons. Mainly because I'm not particularly girly, and believe that there's more to life than wasting my hard earned money on overpriced tat. Plus, I told Mr. Cay in no uncertain terms that if he bought me heart shaped chocolates, flowers or (perish the thought!) a novelty teddybear, I'd have no hesitations in feeding them to his next door neighbour's dog.
Monday, bloody Monday. Monday is never the best day of the week (although I have a rather compelling argument put together that Tuesdays are worse), but I always tend to feel it more acutely than most people. Every Monday morning I stand at a cold railway station located somewhere in the North West of England and wave goodbye to Mr. Cay for another week. Mr. Cay lives in Liverpool. I live in Manchester. In lamens terms, you could say that we are in a long distance relationship, although (as many people delight in telling me), if I lived in America, the 40 miles between us would practically make him the boy next door.
I've always been a one for long distance relationships. Perhaps it's because that I, myself, am the product of one. The tale of how my Mum and Dad met is your typical boy-gets-house-robbed-by-gypsies-boy-uses-insurance-money-to-fly-to-Florida-boy-meets-girl-whilst-he-is-kicking-living-daylights-out-of-fag-machine-in-a-diner-boy-proposes-to-girl-two-weeks-later-and-then-gets-her-knocked-up love story. Just for the record, yes, I still think that my mother is absolutely mental for choosing to move from the sunny climes of Miami to the not so sunny climes of Manchester, but then again, love makes you do crazy things.
My parents are a living testament to the fact that long distance holiday romances CAN work. Twenty six years later they are still together. They run their own business together, go clothes shopping together, and occasionally chase each around the house attempting to hit each other over the head with items of crokery together. For them at least, it's all worked out ok.