I swear on the God of all things flirty, that without the presence of those daft betesticled creatures we call ‘men’, I would be approximately 300 times more successful in my life. Without the constant brain ache caused by my neurons firing on overdrive, simply trying to figure out what those fools are thinking, I would be able to devote all my concentration beans to my job and no doubt would have been elected Prime Minister some time back in my late teens (not that it takes a lot of brain beans to be Prime Minister it would now appear…but that’s not the point).

Why do they have to be such tricky beasts anyway? Why can’t they just tell us what they are thinking and have done with it? It’d save a whole load of bother.

My mate James, however, reckons that it’s not boys who are the nutty ones. He insists that chaps are actually very straightforward. When they say they want a biscuit, they want a biscuit. So if they say they like you, they like you, if they say they don’t, well, guess what, they don’t.

I’m not convinced about all this. There’s been too many times I’ve been out with a seemingly lovely chap, we’ve had a cracking old time, got on well, enjoyed a mutually delicious tongue sandwich and gone our separate ways at the end of the night promising to see each other again soon…but surprise surprise, the follow up date never materialises.

At the other end of the ‘not being a git’ scale I am pretty darned sure that if I’ve been out with a less than smashing gent I have politely, but firmly, made it clear that he isn’t the one for me. Not through meanness or lies, but merely by leaving a bit early, not leaning in for snog action and certainly not passing on any details or agreeing to meet up the following week. Not exactly tricky to figure out, is it now. So surely this suggests that us chicklettes are in fact the uncomplicated ones and it’s the men who play all the screwy games.

Oh well, I suppose sometimes all this confusion and wonderment is part of the fun. But wouldn’t it be nice once, just once, to get involved in a relationship that was actually straightforward, what a nice change that’d make hey girls! But sadly, if past experience were anything to go by, I won’t be holding my breath. Sorry ladies, it seems we are doomed to spend our lives agonizing over those daft hairy testosterone-sodden skin bags.

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