Six not so sexy things men might want to avoid.

band mid-80s
Okay, we’re almost going from the sublime to the ridiculous as far as these photos are concerned. This is me in the band making an awful noise circa mid-80s, Germany.

Ladies! Would you say I’ve covered most things here?

To the majority of the male species:

Farting in front of your girlfriend might be permissible after you’ve been going out a few weeks but it’s a bit of a turn-off when you’ve just met. Not to mention it can be especially awkward when there’s no dog around on which to blame it. You boys are quick to point out what you don’t like to see in a new girlfriend such as the above breaking wind, her clothes, how she wears her hair and make-up, so I guess it’s only fair I give you a few pointers in return.

Got a minute?
Good! Use it to read my list of what not to do in front of the latest lady in your life.

Bare and Share!
Okay! When your lady is in the bathroom getting ready to go out or you’ve had what you deem to be a successful night and she’s getting ready in the morning… say no more… leave her alone to get on with it!

Not so much mysterious but mandatory.

I mean, do you really want to see the new lady in your life flossing her teeth? Plucking those stray little hairs from her chin; upper lip; nipples… what! You thought they came hair-free naturally? And neither would she want you to and certainly not at this stage of the relationship.

Picking!
Don’t pick. Not so much on what she’s wearing although that’s not a good move but I was thinking more along the lines of something else.

Attempting to find my way out of Brest Bretagne airport I was horrified to witness a man pushing his luggage trolley with one hand whilst the index finger on his other was in a vertical stance rooting about inside his nose like he’d lost something and was expecting to find it there. On his face he wore a dazed almost hypnotised expression. Was he perhaps encountering the delights of a nosegasm? It’s hideously disgusting! Don’t do it.

Breaking wind!
I think we’ve covered that. Treading on the proverbial frog is a turn-off but let’s face it we all do it and we wouldn’t be human if we didn’t. However, if you are suffering from an overload of flatulence I suggest you revise your diet. Have a cup of fennel tea, quit blaming the dog, and to help discharge any lingering odours burn a stick of incense or light some scented candles.

She’ll think you’re being romantic.

Espousing virtues!
When it’s about a previous girlfriend keep your endearments to yourself. We don’t want to hear about it. Like you, in the beginning of a relationship, we’re not overly confident whilst doing our best to put across the good vibes and hopefully hiding our less attractive ones. And hearing about the merits of your past conquests will only serve to put an emotional and possibly a physical distance between you and your lady. Wrong direction, right!

Manners!
Make sure you have them. We appreciate, and notice, manners in a bloke.
Be courteous. Open doors and allow the lady to go first. But be polite to others as well. A little courtesy will go a long way.

Personal hygiene!
I know I’ve covered this partially with the nose thing and the trumpet blowing but personal hygiene is a must. Keep your hands clean and all your other bits and bobs too. Nothing turns a woman off more if the bloke she’s about to kiss has breath on him that would challenge that of a yeti. And when in bed, boys, if the scent of sweet roses is noticeably absent and strains of what’s been put on them to make them grow is more reminiscent – be prepared to sleep alone.

And you’d deserve it!

And so ends my list of helpful hints in how to keep that new lady in your life just that little bit longer. So happy hunting and good luck! But basically, boys, just be your friendly and charming self and she should love you just the way you are.

Personally, I can’t be doing with all these dos and don’ts it does my head in.

So, if you need me, I’ll be here farting like a fox that’s just caught sight of a red jacket whilst leisurely plaiting the hairs hanging from my nipples.

Rosemary as a daffodil  Littlebrooke  circa 1965
And here I am again dressed as a daffodil as one does. Mid-60s, Crowthorne, Berkshire.

Podcast? YouTube? Me, talking on the Internet? Like being on telly? Not on your nelly!

Still with the jewellery. Here below is my “Bistro in France” and “Egyptian Sea Princess”. Do you like them? Would love to know your thoughts.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Many thanks to each and every blogger out there who took the time to read my stuff, like it, follow me. Don’t follow me I’m lost too. Boom! Boom! In the 70s I wore such a patch on my jeans depicting a rather hairy caricature of a figure looking like Russell Brand who’s just come in from a hurricane below which said just that. “Don’t follow me I’m lost too!” It summed me up at the time. And on and off since. Anyway, my old fruit cakes, I will get round to visiting your blog maybe not this week or even month but in six months time but I will visit. What’s the big deal it only takes a couple of minutes I might hear some say, hmm? And fair point except it doesn’t take me just a couple of mins. I like to make my visit count and do it right. Properly look through your stuff in return and perhaps spend up to an hour on your site. I tried to keep up and cut corners but it didn’t sit well with me and it doesn’t work. Again, thank you.

Happiness to you and do something nice for yourself and at least one other.
X

And apologies for missing last week’s blog but energy took over or rather the lack of and I was completely incapacitated when I did a silly thing in pulling a muscle. You never appreciate how much you use your muscles until they are damaged. I’m talking about the muscle under my breast bone but fear not! I was fine just as long as I didn’t lie flat or sit up, cough, sneeze, talk, blow my nose or breathe too deeply. Apart from that it was fine. When I did have to sneeze or cough or blow my nose I soon discovered the only way to achieve this with the minimum amount of pain was to squat down and stick my bottom out behind me. I mean, can you imagine if I had to do that in public? Really!

Anyway, blog as below. It’s all true apart from the time frame. Allow me a little artistic license.

What was behind this podcast? Well, as a professional writer, I… oh, go on! You can let me dream, can’t you? As a writer, I am supposed to have what is called an ‘author’s platform’. Okay, I thought, a platform, is it? Podcast? YouTube? Like being on telly? Me, talking on the Internet? Ooh, I don’t know, might damage my sales. Dry mouth. Voice on me like a hinge that’s in need of oiling. Grinning like a chimpanzee to cover up the dry mouth and voice on me like a hinge that’s in need of oiling.

As tempting as it is I’ll have to think about that.

Each time I switch on my computer and dare to venture out of my safety zone I manage to come back feeling either bewildered or that I wish I hadn’t bothered. However, unbeknownst to me, I already have a platform. Due to the fact I have up and running a few blogs, my own websites, LinkedIn, and I’d unintentionally become a member of Facebook.

Yes, I joined Facebook but can’t get my head round it. And on the one occasion when I was making a valiant attempt at doing whatever it is Facebookians are supposed to do or even allowed to do (ridiculous amount of rules and regulations involved) a rude message popped up stating I was trying to enter on an illegal computer.

Eh?

“Whatever!” I believe I may have muttered seeing as I was using my own PC at the time. So, I exited on out of there, determined someone’s medication should be stronger, and have never bothered again. Far too much hassle for something I don’t even enjoy. Or understand! Or have any desire to spend my time doing. Am I signing my death warrant where author’s platforms are concerned?

No doubt. But I can live with that.

It’s not easy these days to scrape a living from writing. Scribbling alone appears to be insufficient. It’s all so complicated. You have to be an expert in self-promotion, publicity stunts, angles, and a computer whiz to boot. Plus, joining every available communications network appears to be expected and mandatory. But, if that’s the case, when you are out there tweeting, trending, twitting and twotting… is there such a thing? Not yet perhaps but just give it time – when do you actually find a moment to write?

Bring back the days of the old quill and ink.

Not quite, but it sure is tempting. I mean, Mr Shakespeare didn’t have to put up with any of this, did he! Telling Wills he needed an author’s platform would have had him pointing at the stage of the Globe Theatre wondering if you’ve been spending too much time with the fairies.

And Skype! I don’t know what Skype is. Or, at least I didn’t.

You can laugh, berate, and exclaim, as per the norm these days “OMG!” but that doesn’t change the reason why I do my best to avoid immersing myself in all these techno gadgets. I don’t have the energy or concentration to spare. It’s why I don’t actively encourage relationships over Facebook or with fellow weirdos who subscribe to the same writing magazine as me because there will always be at least one individual who will get an idea about me into their head. And when I don’t fit into their picture or category in which they have me pinned… they get peeved!

One particular individual comes to mind, a delightful character that expected me to be this busy bee who had nothing better to do than to correspond with him. I was bombarded with his work which he then expected, nay! He demanded that I give him a full appraisal. Hinting strongly it had better be good.

Eh? I kept my cool and told him most courteously to cease communication. It was the most polite way I’ve ever told someone to “bugger off”. I mean, really? I wouldn’t have minded but he didn’t even ask beforehand!

What is it about me? I’m thinking of posting this standard message. As follows:

Hello there!
Lovely stuff that you’d like to be my friend on Facebook / correspond via my writing magazine, but it appears I’m not cut out for it, as sadly, like every man’s nightmare – I can’t keep it up.

Oh yes, I’ve tried this twittering, tweeting texting-type of chatty “let’s keep in regular touch!” type of thing but alas it’s no good. Not for someone with ME. I need all my energy for getting on with everyday things like getting up (not always possible), getting washed, not putting cat in the fridge instead of milk and scribbling this stuff here.

So, if you don’t mind carrying on a somewhat one-way conversation do feel free to continue to visit my Facebook page or do pop by my website and blogs. Sorry I can’t offer more than that. But seriously, you’ll thank me in the end.

At which point I would paste a grinning ‘smiley’ face if I only knew how. Hmm… on second thoughts, I won’t bother. It’s not worth it for the one and a half Facebook requests I get a year. And one of those was in error.

Keep things simple. Keep to the job in hand. Employ a publicist.

And this is one twit signing off.

Be well and be good or at least halfway competent,
Wolfie.

N barkham road 17 3 95
Ninja, six months old, March 1995, Wokingham, Berkshire. In a perfect backwards arc hanging on to her fish on a string and showing how to be graceful. I could learn from that strong little minx.