Overthinking. It can be a bit of an issue

It's a strange concept really, the definition is quite simply 'think about (something) too much or for too long.' It's a naturally simple concept to understand, define and ultimately pick out. But something which has occurred to me over the years, and I suspect many else, some do it without thinking.

So I should stress, I can only state this from a personal point of view, and I'm so sorry I can't keep it holistic for everyone, but please tell your stories as you see fit. 
Overthinking isn't something I'd ever even heard of until a few years ago, and firstly it came from my friends, and I laughed it off. It was from a notion of simply coming up with a few 'what ifs' on something that perhaps didn't matter or have any consequences, as I said, I didn't even think anything of it. What an ignorant prat, I can now retort, safely in the confines of 3-4 years later! 

Then it started happening with women I was romantically engaged with. Small things at first, innocuous things, but it was constant. Anything I'd be overthinking, you couldn't make a date, you couldn't answer my call, you couldn't do various things. To me it wasn't normal behavior, yet every time I was overthinking. 
You know what, I kind of agreed. I like to think I'm super laid back and chilled out, but sometimes I become almost militant, I can't explain it - I just like things to be as agreed. I dislike it when people can't stick to a plan, if you don't like the plan, change it - I'm fine with it, but don't agree then do something mental. Perhaps I've just overthought that and we should all just live life how we deem best, it's short, and should be fun. I agree, I just can't seem to express that, especially if it impacts me. 

And the worst impact? It can really impact things badly, even if you don't realize things. It's the reason you suspect things that never happened, or you considered situations that never materialized. It will drive you insane for answers you want but don't have. And eventually it'll filter into conversations, discussions, and ultimately arguments. Faux insinuations will be thrown around, insults will be made, people will be hurt. It's horrible, yet when overthinking it's all so very logical. Even when there is no foundation. I appreciate at this point it's a bit like saying if you say 100 bad things, something will stick, but that's not quite the jist, it's like in your mind you're saying 3 valid things, but in reality, all could be so far from the truth and by then, it's too late, no one needs to, or should deal with that. And for my part in that, I'm sorry. Because the funny thing is, to you, it's just me being a bit of an annoying dickhead, and that's partly true, as that's how it is perceived. Another common misconception is when someone will tell me to 'chill out', often women when I've said something they deem overthinking (it is, they are correct), but it's like I've done it on purpose to say all this stuff. I mean I have, to some degree, but I know I shouldn't, and it has 100% scared off women in the past, and women I really liked too, in fact I ended up liking so much I overthought everything and blurted it all out and scared them off - you see what I did there, that's how it works, it's an endless cycle at times. 
I actually think I've done it a slight disservice, because there are some additional impacts I didn't initially think about, which is ironic right? RIGHT?! Because overthinking is basically a daily occurrence. I do it almost obsessively working out dinner, as I get really anxious if I'm sort of 'winging it' - either I've planned it the day(s) before, or I'm going out, I can't just come home to no food and be like oh I'll get a takeaway, no no, there needs to be absolute planning (again, perhaps normal, but it doesn't feel normal, I feel it's weird). And that's just dinner! 
The final thing about this I think I should mention too, is that when you do overthink about certain situations, you will often come to the worst possible conclusion. And that in itself is an issue. It's unfair and often unfounded, yet, too late, we've gone and done it, and then used that as a springboard to be a dick. It's ridiculous, and perhaps that's just me, but it can be toxic, and it's not nice. 

Something interesting I found when doing some very basic research into this, overthinking is linked to depression, and anxiety. I think it's important that note that people should be aware of this, and Psyweb have an interesting article you should read this

To me this is eye opening, I never really thought the two things connected! But as I sat pondering if this topic had any legs to talk about, I did a little Googling (and mild introspective thinking) and it does, and it makes perfect sense. I hope anyone who's had this kind of situation in their lives can take this into consideration, it really caught me unawares. 

When we move then across into the realms of mental health, this is a quick piece from a football website I read (please don't scoff!), which really can be applied regardless of job/background/situation. It's short and straight to the point, which frankly is too often overlooked, so please do read this

From a personal point of view, I keep thinking that my point isn't some cry for help, or need for pity or even empathy, but the thought that my words might inspire, or help. But the more I think of this the more I come to the same conclusion, I'm expressing personal plight and dressing it up as a human cause, exasperated by my need to claim it's for everyone. As such I think I need to say, this WAS my own situation and I wrote this a few years ago, relating to mental health. I need to be clear, this isn't a lovely read, but also I'm so aware that on the 'bad stakes' life ballot, I'm doing pretty fucking well. I feel pretty great generally, and have a very nice life, and am blessed in 101 ways, but annoyingly that's how mental illness works - you know everything, but you're somewhat helpless. I'd like to stress I'm miles better than this, and I feel ok, but I do still have down moments (as I feel EVERY human being on Earth should do, it's natural, right?) and just wanted to share with anyone who may feel down now to perhaps give it a read and just know things will always be better. Please. And if you feel they won't, then you reach out to someone, anyone, me even, and you tell them. 

I should add, the post I wrote on depression is a few years old, and I've been feeling pretty good in relation to it for a good long while, I had some good conversations with people years ago that really helped me - and bear in mind at the time the only people in the world I told were about 4 of my closest mates, 2 of which was because I basically had a bit of a breakdown in front of them. My mum only found out when she dropped something round to my flat when I was out and saw my anti-depressants. My point is, don't keep it to yourself, speak to someone - I've been off them for years and am happy to impart any advice anyone may want. However the overthinking part  is still present but I do try and get a good hold over it where possible, as some people won't even ever notice I do it, and that's how I like it. You know, me, Mr Doesntwantattentionbutwroteafuckingblogpostandtweetedit 

Thank you all so much for reading, and I suspect I know how I come across. I re-wrote this outro around 20 times, in seriousness, as I'm trying to work out exactly what I can say without being a preachy fuck. Perhaps, and just maybe I agree, I've slightly overthought this one... and for those that know me in person, sorry again, just pretend it never happened! :-)

Dan

Sushi! In London? Sushdon? No. Just Sushi in London

I like foods from all over the world. In fact, I would go so far to say I love cuisines from all parts of the world, more so than the drab offerings we have here. Fish and chips? No, fish and Rice, get in me. I guess you’d then call me an international man of the people, and carry me like Ghandi. No? Well fuck you then.  

I guess that was a reach.

But in reality, a cracker of a question (but I’m sure boring to receive for some of you) is always “What’s your favourite cuisine”. It’s a tough one really, especially to those who can handle spice, and aren’t fussy, the possibilities are plentiful, yet one always jumps to the forefront of my mind – Japanese. Not even just Sushi, but the whole overall Japanese cuisine. In fact, I really like their diet generally, not in a creepy way, just the fact that they don’t really do Dairy, and they don’t have a huge tendency to get involved with red meats, or generally super awful foods. Dashi, the Japanese ‘stock’ which differs from chef to chef and is used in almost everything, including Miso Soup as well as various sauces and marinades, isn’t nearly as bad for you as most other standard stocks or baselines cooking necessities.

The Japanese (And now this is all from either memory, a book I read, or a little guesswork) seem to have fairly low obesity levels, higher average age, and low cancer rates than most countries around the world, and it’s in no small part to their rather sensible diet. In fact I highly recommend a book called ‘Sushi and Beyond’ by Michael Booth – it’s really interesting and very amusing, like Bill Bryson mixed with, I don’t know, Richard Osman.

Which brings me to what I wanted to write about, the food I actually eat. Down here in Brighton we have a really decent Sushi restaurant called Moshimo. It’s got the conveyor belt, a fantastic half price offer on Monday/Tuesdays, and very friendly staff with a good selection of food. If you live in Brighton and like Sushi, and don’t go/haven’t been, then perhaps we need to have a little chat. There is probably better quality to be found elsewhere, with a few others springing up, but for value for money I’m not sure anything else rivals it. I’m a regular frequenter and am often found raving about it to no one in particular, or certainly no one who cares to hear, and infrequently ranting (bring back my healthy salad you bastards!), but I’m a loyal customer who doesn’t really go anywhere else, aka I’m a lazy creature of habit.

Well, my mate who lives in London, knew of my love for all of the above, so invited me to try a place he and his other half discovered in Covent Garden of London Town. I naturally jumped at the chance (after about 3 months of moaning about coming up due to said laziness). However it came with a stark warning – this place isn’t like Moshimo, there’s no belt, and the menu is, for want of a better word, intimidating. Not a problem for this connoisseur, I laugh in the face of such things. What he didn’t tell me is that you can’t find said menu online to pre-browse. Because it’s just a big plastic book. But more on that later.

So we arrive at said location, after a couple of pints en route, and my first impression is ‘what the fuck’. So it is called Eat Toyko, and is a little tucked away place on a road somewhere near Covent Garden. We didn’t book (LIKE THE FUCKING MAVERICKS WE ARE) but rocked up willy nilly, and the waiter looked at us like we’re maniacs who had just insinuated a rude gesture with his next of kin, yet then simply looked to his left, saw a conveniently empty table and suggested we take that (assumedly quickly before his wrath put us all in a difficult position). My mate got us some beers in quick and a starter whilst we perused the menu, since he knew how long it would probably take me to make up my mind. He wasn’t wrong. Though firstly the starter of fried bread crumbed spicy squid was unreal. A portion probably larger than I’ve seen served in some pubs and restaurants and for £3, I basically just giggled to myself at the madness. Whilst his foresight was wise (don’t tell him I said that) since this menu is like nothing I’ve looked at before. It’s about 40-50 pages, I kid you not, and it’s ridiculous. The choice is just bonkers. Everything. No seriously, EVERYTHING, is in it. Including a lovely Japanese take on sea snails, I think. I basically took a beers length of time to go from one end to another, let alone actually choose things. I was sensibly pointed to look at the Bento boxes on offer, which if you don’t know is essentially like a mix up of a few dishes in smaller portions – I obviously chose the largest one they had because I’m a fucking lad. (I just eat a lot, it seems). I actually got really angry twice because I found the whole thing so frustrating, as I eat anything, I wanted to really try and pick out some things, but I just got too lost and was too hungry, BUT, if you know what you like then you should be fine, it’ll be there and it’ll be bloody glorious.

So the food arrived, and my word it was good! The menu proudly exclaims about the award winning chef’s, and the various accolades they’ve achieved, but it’s a disservice to the overall quality of the food. And it’s not tiny portions either. My bento box was £18 and for a gent of my appetite, by the end I felt like I might vom. That didn’t even include rice, and came with Miso. Though I did get a side of Chicken Liver’s, as we decided to all order something weird ‘for the bantz’ yet apparently I was the only one to actually end up ordering it, such is my life. But even they were awesome!

I managed to get a few rubbish pics I’ve included below to give you an idea of what’s what, but my overall opinion is, if you like Sushi, go for it. Really just try it out, especially if your experience mainly consists of Yo Sushi, Itsu or Wasabi. Don’t be put off by the menu, the staff are patient and helpful, and the bento box selection should satisfy most for a first time attempt – maybe just get a ‘fun’ side like me, or don’t, see if I care. (I do.).  And the price is incredibly reasonable, so for 3 of us to have what seemed like a ridiculous amount, as they had a bit of stuff from my box (oi oi) and I pinched a couple of their rolls, excluding the beers and the service charge, came to £22 each. Now I’m not even living in London these days but know good value when I see it!

So go, I urge you, or battle me in a Sushi-off (that should so be a thing), whilst I then will select another place from my list on my next visit. In fact it’s been selected, and it’ll be a very different story – bottomless brunch in London…..

Thanks for reading and here are some awful photos, including the weird water tank we sat next to!

The time I met a beautiful blo....oh wait, no, I got Catfished!

So, for some inexplicable reason whilst I was bored but wanting to write something, I decided to put it to Twitter to choose on what topic. Though I did slyly make a suggestion about something that happened to me once that I thought might get a few nods of approval – as I thought I’d written about it before, but I hadn’t. What was it you ask? Oh it’s a bit of a gem….I once got Catfished.

To set the scene, it’s about 5 years ago. I’m a young fresh whippersnapper. Ok I’m not, I’m a mid-20’s (ish, oi don’t laugh you prick) bloke who lives in the same place I live now, with the same hairstyle, single etc. i.e. not much has changed. ANYWAY… I’m still tweeting my little face off, merrily on high, loving life.

I had a mutual follower for quite some time who I’d seen tweet a few times about things like music, which I had the odd brief chat about, and some other nonsense which I remember sparked the odd bit of ‘ubermegaultrabantz’, you know, as I do. It just so happened that this follower was named Hollie, who was a blonde with an, erm, shall we say, attractive physique who over the course of Summer had posted a couple of pics wearing like skimpy tops and cut-offs, she had a shoulder tattoo and some wording down her ribs (OI I AM NOT SHALLOW OK!! IT JUST HAPPENED THAT WAY). I remember I was at home watching a film or something and checked Twitter to see she’d tweeted something along the lines of anyone bored and fancy a chat – I thought fuck it, if you want to win the lottery you got to buy a ticket, or at least reply ‘yes’ to a tweet, either or. So I did, next thing she’s sent me her number and said to call, so call I did. She lives in Wolves, that was on her profile, so the accent matched up, i.e. I could hardly understand a fucking word she was saying, but of course I knew I was speaking to someone I thought was alright, so I gave my verbal nods with absolute gusto and made sure whenever I had no idea what she was talking about to laugh and go ‘aww that’s BRILLIANT’. A tactic I’ve adopted to anyone I speak to on the phone these days. The call was fine, wasn’t awkward and a bit of a laugh, she was a nurse in Wolves who was big into music and had a Soundcloud as fancied herself a bit of a singer. Don’t we all.

We said bye and that was it, no harm. Then later on we started texting a bit, then she gave me another call the next day, and had another chat. Well, this carried on for a couple of weeks, texting and chatting – I figured there’s no harm, it’s nice to speak to someone who makes me chuckle (presumably, still, not quite sure what she’s saying some of the time). She’s explained her plan is to move to London and then to really push her music out there, which makes sense. Lovely stuff I chortle, to no one, she’d hung up minutes before.

Skip forward a month or so, and I get a text from her saying she’s found a place in London and work have agreed to her transfer! Buzzing, I say, probably, I can’t remember. And that was set, she was moving down in a couple of weeks. Meanwhile whilst this went on, she knew I was in Brighton and had said she’s visited a couple of times and would defo when she moved down, in fact her mate was down here and owned a bar I was partially familiar with. We had a brief twitter exchange and said hi etc, he seemed alright. She also said she was moving in with her mate who was already in London, a girl called Jess. Oh, I should note these are the names, I’m not hiding them or changing them or using silly nicknames like ‘Miss pants sniffer’ or ‘sir cheesealot’ or ‘BIG’ like I’ve seen some people do, on the basis that with a first name YOU STILL DON’T HAVE A CLUE, NOR CARE, WHO THE FUCK THESE PEOPLE ARE. (pet hate, stupid online nicknames). Add into this mix there’s another girl on Twitter who is Hollie’s mate, and they have a lot of interaction about how much they love one another. It’s a wonderful time to be alive, presumably.

She moves down. She’s in London, lovely. She’s living with Jess. Cool. Meanwhile I go for a job at work, I don’t get it (‘Don’t cry for me, for there are no more tears to give’ – is that a quote? Because if it’s not, it fucking should be. You’re all welcome) and she calls me to say sorry blah blah and says she’s going to cheer me up, and low and behold she sends me a pic, like all good women do. However, in hindsight this really should have been a metaphor for someone to just slap me in the face and call me a right pillock. I remember looking at it, it was a pretty blonde in lingerie but something just wasn’t quite right with it (alright lads, keep it in your pants) with no tattoos. I text her saying cheers looking good was it taken just now, and she’s like yep – which I then replied about oh where’s the rib tattoo gone? She kind of did that ‘lol’ reply (WHICH I FUCKING HATE, HATE HATE HATE ONE WORD REPLIES WHICH ARE LOL!!!!) then said something and I thought oh fair enough. God I wish I could remember what it was, but I just went with it.

A month passes, we speak a bit, she’s now been signed to a record label based on her Soundcloud which she’s buzzing about. Meanwhile bar bloke in Brighton has been asking me who am I to Hollie, it’s all a bit awkward as I’m not really anyone, I ask the same, he says they used to hook up when she came down. Fair play to that man, I mean by looking at him REALLY fair play. Jess has followed me on Twitter, and has lots of bantz with Hollie. Hollie’s mum has randomly followed me, she doesn’t say much, the milf. Hollie’s best mate follows me too and I can see their tweets where it seems they recently went to a Beyoncé gig together. I’ve decided by this time we need to hang out, as it’s miles better than these chats and texts and whatnot, especially as London isn’t far. She agrees, great. We make a date, 2 days before though she can’t make it as her shifts are crazy and she’s called into work (Nurse, London, works all hours).

Bear in mind we’re in contact daily, and there’s talk of liking one another and all this shit (Yes yes, it was years ago, I’ve learned. OR HAVE I. I have, shut up and stop laughing). Her Twitter followers have increased from like 100 to about 1500, which doesn’t mean a thing but she’s buzzing saying her music is getting her the attention, I ask what label as I ‘know a little about music’, you know, like a grandad might say. So I go to check it out, it’s cool, Tinie Tempah is on the label, I look through the roster excited to see her name, but funny, I can’t. I check the sub label to make sure, nothing. I google the name and not getting much. Maybe they haven’t gotten round to updating it, no bother. Well, some bother, as by now I’ve got a very sure feeling something isn’t adding up, the pic thing was bothering me, she also ‘tried’ to get Skype working for me but couldn’t, and not arranging a date to meet was frustrating me. I got annoyed at her, fucked her off, so we didn’t speak for a little while.

Then it all goes a little mental. She tells me out the blue on Twitter she’s coming down if I was around for a drink or something, whilst her Twitter followers have gone from 1500 to 40k. 40k?!?! How the fuck does that even happen! Jess her mate tells me she’s looking forward to meeting me too as she’s coming down and that Hollie really likes me. Hollie’s mum doesn’t say much but likes one of my tweets, that naughty little treacle. The bar bloke see’s this and he’s tweeting her about what a big night she’ll have if she visits him and I should come along too.

 I wake up the day she’s due to come down – and my Twitter has gone mental, but all from this bar bloke. He’s DM’d me saying what exactly was going on with her, as she’s promised him she’s staying at his and they will hook up– and I can’t remember how it went, but I said about how they used to go out anyway so if they were hooking up then fine as I’d cooled off a bit. He then told me they hadn’t ever met, she just used to flirt with him online but encouraged him to make it obvious they had been a thing on Twitter. But she had told him her and I had hooked up a few times which had driven him a little loopy, I was like wtf, NO. I then go and speak to her best mate and ask about what Hollie was like at the Beyoncé concert, where she says that about an hour before she said she couldn’t make it but her cousin was going instead, so that she was with her cousin who sounded a bit of a weird recluse, and had never actually met Hollie but just responded to her tweets. Then about half an hour later the bloke then tells me to call Hollie, and look at her Twitter. So I call, phone is disconnected, odd. I check her Twitter, it’s been deleted, very odd. Her mate Jess is deleted, and her Mum, the absolute salty potato is also deleted. Then he shows me to look at this other @ which I do, it’s Hollie – except it’s not. It’s some other name I genuinely forget, who is absolutely KICKING OFF at Hollie asking why she’s stolen all her pics and has called the police! Police then actually get involved and have found out who it is and shut off ALL her social media. Turns out she really was from Wolves and a nurse, but had never moved to London and looked a fair bit different, also had a Soundcloud but was awful, and apparently had bought her followers – she also created Jess and her mum (the bloke and best mate were real but had never met her). It was pretty crazy day I must say.

All in all this was probably around 4-5 months in total from start to finish, and whilst I had some nagging feelings, I genuinely thought as I was speaking to someone who I got on with, and ultimately it was my choice to carry on chatting away and whatnot. It just got so out of hand, but she had some things that I just hadn’t considered, Jess/Mum creations, the move all the other stuff, it just kind of convinced me she was real, well not convinced but enough to keep me keen. Ultimately it’s also a symptom of me being single, and dare I say it, fairly alone. It was nice to have some attention at a fairly rubbish time in my life, but never did I expect that to happen! However the beauty is, I’ve certainly learned my lesson – I’ve only been catfished 8 times since. I jest, I have not once, and I’ve learned to look for signs (that yes you’re probably all very familiar with now, and the TV show is pretty good at it too) but as they say what doesn’t kill you, makes you look a total fucking idiot. And women, see, you too could reach this lofty aspirations! 

The day Dan met a Troll, but not a bridge in sight.

Ah 2017, what a year. Full of hope, wonder and joy. Unless you’re on Twitter of course. Then it’s just another melting pot of madness, trolling and disagreement with a sprinkling of ridiculousness, attention seeking and narcissistic tendency. And frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way, since I (and as do you) choose to use it and choose who we follow and interact with.

This brings me to what inspired me to a write a little, and if you’ve read any of my other posts, you’ll know it comes with a huge dollop of rambling and going ‘off piste’, so you can either bear with it or do one. But don’t, stay, lay back and enjoy the ride… but recently I’ve had my first encounter with an ‘internet troll’. (I’ve been catfished twice, obviously, I’m a tool)

I know some of you must deal with them on a regular basis, certainly if you post anything that might, dare I say it, inspire discussion and debate! That seems to be their cue to come out the woodwork and generally be an unseemly mess of self righteous opinion, arrogance, and ignorance to the irony often encompassed in their bleating statements. But that’s the point isn’t, it’s the old ‘stick your fingers in your ears and scream loudly’ approach – I’m right and you’re wrong and I don’t care how valid your point is. And the tragedy of it all, is as human nature dictates, we react!  Why, I’m never sure, but by gosh we do.

Take for example recently, someone I follow who has a dating twitter profile (I have inadvertently followed/been followed by many many many of these, perhaps I should date them all and rank them, but that’s for another time…) who innocently asked the question, (and I’m para-phrasing as I’ve forgotten it) “what are your online dating dislikes”. The response initially was a few people saying they aren’t fond of dating anyone shorter than them, so if they see on a profile (POF, since Tinder etc don’t list it) they tend to not be interested – which is fair enough. It’s a response to a question, it’s their personal opinion. It’s nothing outrageous, outlandish or mental – it’s something that people have been known to be partial to for years, that’s why Napoleon never got any action. (I’ve made that up, don’t attack me history people).

So that set the stage, and in walks our protagonist, oh the affliction it was to be. He interjects on the twitter discussion (all very friendly and easy going about whether height is important, or if it’s SOH, or bad shoes, etc etc) and says how as a shorter gent he dislikes it when people will pass him over due to his height. I think initially it’s a fair point to some degree, I believe that women who only date guys covered in tattoo’s is a bit strange, but I respect their opinion and move on, it’s not up for debate, that’s their choice and there’s plenty of women who don’t care, so into them I plough. Well, this chap started reasonably enough, but then I noticed something odd. The oddity in question was that more and more people were being involved in this discussion, all with very valid points and suggestions, yet his point never changed. He focused on these things. 1) Why don’t you give shorter guys a chance. Oh sorry, that’s it. THAT IS HIS ONLY POINT. Oh you were waiting for more?! Perhaps a list of valid points that he could bring into the conversation and start to get people thinking on his level? Oh, no, that would be far too easy. No no my friends, he had his point, and now he was going to really drive it home. He achieved this to maximum effect by essentially debating with these women who’ve already said they prefer guys taller than themselves (PLEASE NOTE THIS IS NOT “TALL GUYS”), which incites him to repeat about giving someone shorter a chance if it’s not working out with taller guys. Like it’s being tall which makes us complete twats. Oh yes all shorter chaps are really lovely, tall chaps are awful pricks.

This ‘discussion’ rages on for days, weeks, FUCKING ETERNITY, IT IS STILL GOING ON AS WE SPEAK. And this is where I finally clocked I/we were dealing with a troll. The points people made were so valid, made so much sense and done in such a logical way – yet all his response were just the same as before. There was nothing new, nothing that was an amicable discussion. There is a constant attempted evocation of pity, then there’s his quip for stating he is merely standing up for what he believes, which in this case, and I kid you not, is “heightism”.

“Heightism” – Noun, it means, being a dickhead. OK SORRY THAT WAS A JOKE. I jest I jest. It doesn’t, it actually means ‘Prejudice or discrimination against someone on the basis of their height.’ – Which I can understand.

“Discrimination” – Noun, it means ‘The unjust or prejudicial treatment of different categories of people, especially on the grounds of race, age, or sex’

“Prejudicial” – Adjective, it means ‘Harmful to someone or something; detrimental’

Right, just so we’re clear. So in the space of a day there were accusations of heightism flying about, which then became discrimination comparing at one stage WITH THE PLIGHT AND DISCRIMINATION THAT MARTIN LUTHER KING FOUGHT AGAINST. Yes you read that right. What the flying fuck was going on. Apparently they are exactly the same thing. A young lady would prefer to date someone taller than her, AND ESSENTIALLY THE RACIAL DISCRIMINATION THAT COUNTLESS PEOPLE HAVE SUFFERED FOR GENERATIONS. I’d like to point out that this person is 5’6” and white.

I must have missed the declaration that women having a preference became harmful to him, apart from harming his feelings. Man the fuck up. Oh and to add, his passing rejection of a couple of women who did say that height doesn’t bother him because they weren’t pretty enough. Double standards are everywhere.

Without losing sight of everything, I’d like to make a couple of observations. If I was to go to 100 women who had stated they ONLY date guys with dreadlocks, and said “but I’m super awesome, why don’t you give me a chance” they will politely tell me to fuck off, it is their preference, it’s not harming me, and is quite clearly not leading me on, it is simply saying sorry pal, not my type. If I then repeat my point AD INFINITUM, I do not think that a) they will think I’m an awesome non dreadlocked chap b) suddenly respect me c) agree with me and get all up in my dating world.  

And the biggest elephant in that particular room is, my sample size was 100 people I KNEW had stated I was not on their radar. I can’t then, having known that information, state how none of them fancy me. That’s already been pre-established. THAT IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS. I can’t then use that to moan at life and say well I asked 100 women, and 100 women said no. That’s what is called creating a self-inflicted pity party with you being the only attendee. It’s otherwise known as being a right little troll.

Add into the mix the mild mannered attack on my choice of tie in my Twitter profile pic, which was provided to me as an usher at my mate’s wedding. Beef with him, not me. Additionally at least I don’t try and hide who I am. Typical behaviour. Additionally after I’d noticed (and said) how he’d get in these mass group discussions which were picking up steam which many people saw, he’d then  start following them and segregating them, suddenly taking a softly softly approach in order to solicit pity – he’d accuse me of the same. It’s just such obvious ‘attack is the best form of defence’ when things aren’t going his way and he doesn’t have a response to various valid points. It’s childlike behaviour and is typical once more, of a keyboard warrior.

Anyway, I think I’ve raved and ranted enough. Some may not agree with it, some may think perhaps I am prejudice or petty for writing this – and that’s fine with me. It’s not really about taking sides, it’s about awareness of what people can be like on this crazy social media platform. Sometimes it just blows my mind what it allows people to essentially get away with, and really enforces the exaggerated opinion from some. You cannot force opinion, so why try? The craziest thing is, if they would have just a bit of self-awareness, or an ounce of humour about the situation, I guarantee they would have had far more agreement. Yet all they do is appear belligerent and forthright.

I’m still waiting to tell him how a couple of my mates are his height, and they have never ever struggled for women, but I think that’s easily solved: they aren’t cunts.

Cheers.

Dan