After several years on the ‘dating scene’ I have come to both love and loath the male species in almost equal measure. I don’t regret any of my past XY encounters (well maybe one or two), however I certainly wish I knew back then what I have come to know now. But there lies the beauty of hindsight. I could get all corny and say those experiences have made me who I am today, but I prefer to see them as enabling me to finally weed out the bullshit and see what’s really there. I’m not claiming to be an expert on men-or some wannabe Carrie Bradshaw. However I have noticed an undeniable pattern which has lead me to believe that most men fit into one of several categories. I thought it was about time I put this knowledge to good use, as many of my female friends are younger than me. It is with their emotional and psychological well being in mind that I write this.
The first species of man I would like to address is that of Girlfriend Guy. Girlfriend Guy is the type of male who may literally fall in love with his own dinner. They are usually desperate for a romantic connection of any type, and will more than likely tell you they love you by the end of the first date. Thankfully for us they are quite easy to spot, and I advice you stay clear unless you are of course Boyfriend Girl but that’s a whole other article. The interesting thing about Girlfriend Guy is that more often than not he has no reason to be so desperate. They tend to be nice looking lads with normal social skills, the root of their desire to be ‘coupled up’ remains a mystery to me.
We now move on to The Mumma’s Boy. This species is a little more complex, as it usually takes time to identify it. You might not realise you are in the company of a Mumma’s Boy until months down the line. With this breed of man you will discover that the main woman in his life- the mother has likely been the one to make all major decisions for him. The danger with this lies in the fact that he has been unable to develop the initiative to think for himself, particularly when it comes to women. A Mumma’s Boy will happily take the back seat and allow you to make all the decisions in the relationship. Subconsciously he is replicating the relationship he has with mummy dearest. His lack of initiative also means that you will literally have to spell it out for him: It hurts my feelings when you don’t call or text me!!!!! A true Mumma's Boy has no intention of leaving the nest, and why would he when mother has made it so comfortable for him! So you might want to think twice before suggesting you move in together. Another factor to consider is that no matter what you will always play second fiddle to his mother, which is fine just as long as you like her and more importantly she likes you!
The next species we will examine is The Metro-sexual. I believe Metro-sexual Men fall into two categories Type A and Type B.
Type A: A guy who has a genuine interest in fashion and takes pride in his appearance. Let’s face it ladies there’s nothing wrong with that. When deciding whether or not we are attracted to a man, many women start from the bottom and work their way up. It doesn’t matter how great your body and face are-if we hate your shoes its all over red rover!
Type B: This is the type of Metro-sexual I advise you ignore. They tend to be completely image obsessed, and will most likely take longer than you to get ready. You also run the risk of having him steal you sacred hair straightener. A Type B Metro-sexual can be identified usually by the over-presence of hair product, cologne, and of course the turned up collar. Men of the world take note: the only man to rock the turned up collar was The King himself Elvis!!!!!
We have now come to what I believe to be the deadliest of all male species…..The Pretty Boy Player. These boys were blessed with natural god given looks. They achieve sexy with little or no effort, and can usually make even the most sensible woman weak at the knees. The Pretty Boy Player has never really had to work to gain a woman’s attention and or affection and there lies the problem, they’re lazy bastards!! On a night out he will usually position himself somewhere that allows him to be noticed-for instance the bar. He will then wait for the women to come to him-like flies to shit, and believe me they will! He has come to believe that he can get anyone he wants, and therefore you are disposable to him-at least until someone prettier comes along. The problem with falling for this specimen is that you will end up doing all the work. His dreamy eyes and sexy smile will interfere with your brain waves and in no time you will find yourself becoming obsessed with this creature. The majority of us women love a challenge, so the more aloof and uninterested he appears, the more we will want him. It is one of the great mysteries of life! We complain that all men are bastards and yet we have no interest in the ones that aren’t. With that in mind we must now move to my final specimen ….The Genuine Guy.
The Genuine Guy is considered by many to be the most rare species of man. However I disagree with this. In my view Genuine Guys are everywhere, they just tend to get over shadowed by the other species we have examined. Like their title suggests, they are genuine down to earth fellas. They are often quietly confident and self assured-this allows them to avoid playing mind games. With a Genuine Guy what you see is what you get, and you will always know where you stand with them. Unfortunately many women find this prospect boring and safe, they crave the danger and complexity of the above species. However Genuine Guys of the world fear not-in time us women grow tired of the antics dished out by the other breeds, we will come to our senses and learn to appreciate you! Just be patient!!!
Please be aware that some men fall into several of the above categories.
Yours Faithfully
Fiona
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Mirror Mirror On The Wall
As I sit here with one week to go before my 27th Birthday, I can’t help but think about just how far I’ve come in the last ten years. The 17yr old Fiona Cooney was a very different person to the one you see today. She had a mouth full of braces, hair so long it would make any traveller girl jealous, and let’s not forget a face full of caked on make up that was always a shade or four too dark. As you can imagine I was quite the vision! The braces were unavoidable, the hair and make up however were weapons I deliberately chose in an effort to shield the world of what I believed to be one of the ugliest faces imaginable!! Think ‘Cousin It’ and then you can get some idea of how I wore my lovely locks back in the day. The purpose of my hair was to cover up as much of my face as possible-paying particular attention to the hideous pointy thing sticking out of my face-otherwise known as my nose. You couldn’t have paid me back then to tie my hair up. During one of my earlier jobs, my manger insisted I wear it up in a pony tail-I remember this almost sent me into cardiac arrest. The idea of having my face fully exposed terrified me, to the point where I contemplated leaving the job. My manger wasn’t the only one who had a problem with my ode to Cousin It look. My mum and I fought constantly as she begged me to let my hair off my face.
The second tool I used in my mission to disguise the ugly truth of my appearance, was god’s gift to insecure women the world over-makeup! Inches of makeup were applied to my face on a daily basis in an attempt to mask my pale, freckly skin tone. I remember a boy in my class asking me if I had fallen into a puddle of makeup!! The funny thing is I wasn’t always like that. For the majority of my childhood I was a take no prisoners tom boy with one mission: make it to the Olympics as a gymnast! I couldn’t have cared less about what I looked like! I think this all changed once I hit High School. All of a sudden boys stopped being impressed with the fact that I could beat the majority of them in an arm wrestle-or that I could do 10 back flips in a row. Instead they turned their attention to the girls with the increasing bust lines and shapely figures. I did not fit into this category, infact there were lamp posts in my school with more curves than me! I always blamed the dam gymnastics for my lack of development!!
The point where my insecurity turned into obsession was around age 15. The mirror and I began an unhealthy rollercoaster of a relationship. I could spend hours looking at my reflection- picking out my flaws and trying to come up with ways I could hide them. There were days when the person staring back at me was so hideous that I couldn’t face leaving the house. I remember one instance when I had agreed to go with my friends to a disco, however I backed out of it at the last minute as I believed I was too ugly to go. I now know that what I was going through back then was a condition referred to as Body Dimorphic Disorder (BDD). BDD works in a similar way to Anorexia. It is a disease of the mind and results in people seeing a distorted vision of themselves when they look in the mirror. A person with Anorexia sees themselves as fat, even though the rest of us see a skeletal frame. People with BDD see nothing but ugly, even though to the outside word they make look completely normal if not attractive. For years I allowed this disease to rob me off a normal life. It affected my relationship with my family and my friends, as they struggled to understand why I was so hard on myself. It also resulted in me shying away from the opposite sex, I mean how can you accept that somebody wants to be with you when your convinced you’re hideous!
Luckily for me I had a breakthrough. Moving to Dublin and taking a job at a local cinema changed my life. In the past I had all but avoided male interaction for fear of being made fun of, however this particular job forced me to work alongside guys. It soon became apparent that the way I looked made no difference to them. As cheesy as it may sound they took the time to get to know me for me. Slowly but surely my guard began to drop, allowing my inner freak to break free! These days some of my most treasured friends are guys, which is a testament to the progress I’ve made.
Although I will never be able to fully rid myself of my previous BDD driven tendencies, I’ve certainly come along way. My relationship with the mirror-like any real relationship has its ups and downs. Some days I like what I see and some days I don’t. However I am so bloody happy that I woke up and finally realised life is too short to let fear or insecurity hold you captive. After all the greatest asset a person can have is their personality. In the words of the great Lady GaGa "I'm a free bitch baby"!
Yours Faithfully
Fiona
The second tool I used in my mission to disguise the ugly truth of my appearance, was god’s gift to insecure women the world over-makeup! Inches of makeup were applied to my face on a daily basis in an attempt to mask my pale, freckly skin tone. I remember a boy in my class asking me if I had fallen into a puddle of makeup!! The funny thing is I wasn’t always like that. For the majority of my childhood I was a take no prisoners tom boy with one mission: make it to the Olympics as a gymnast! I couldn’t have cared less about what I looked like! I think this all changed once I hit High School. All of a sudden boys stopped being impressed with the fact that I could beat the majority of them in an arm wrestle-or that I could do 10 back flips in a row. Instead they turned their attention to the girls with the increasing bust lines and shapely figures. I did not fit into this category, infact there were lamp posts in my school with more curves than me! I always blamed the dam gymnastics for my lack of development!!
The point where my insecurity turned into obsession was around age 15. The mirror and I began an unhealthy rollercoaster of a relationship. I could spend hours looking at my reflection- picking out my flaws and trying to come up with ways I could hide them. There were days when the person staring back at me was so hideous that I couldn’t face leaving the house. I remember one instance when I had agreed to go with my friends to a disco, however I backed out of it at the last minute as I believed I was too ugly to go. I now know that what I was going through back then was a condition referred to as Body Dimorphic Disorder (BDD). BDD works in a similar way to Anorexia. It is a disease of the mind and results in people seeing a distorted vision of themselves when they look in the mirror. A person with Anorexia sees themselves as fat, even though the rest of us see a skeletal frame. People with BDD see nothing but ugly, even though to the outside word they make look completely normal if not attractive. For years I allowed this disease to rob me off a normal life. It affected my relationship with my family and my friends, as they struggled to understand why I was so hard on myself. It also resulted in me shying away from the opposite sex, I mean how can you accept that somebody wants to be with you when your convinced you’re hideous!
Luckily for me I had a breakthrough. Moving to Dublin and taking a job at a local cinema changed my life. In the past I had all but avoided male interaction for fear of being made fun of, however this particular job forced me to work alongside guys. It soon became apparent that the way I looked made no difference to them. As cheesy as it may sound they took the time to get to know me for me. Slowly but surely my guard began to drop, allowing my inner freak to break free! These days some of my most treasured friends are guys, which is a testament to the progress I’ve made.
Although I will never be able to fully rid myself of my previous BDD driven tendencies, I’ve certainly come along way. My relationship with the mirror-like any real relationship has its ups and downs. Some days I like what I see and some days I don’t. However I am so bloody happy that I woke up and finally realised life is too short to let fear or insecurity hold you captive. After all the greatest asset a person can have is their personality. In the words of the great Lady GaGa "I'm a free bitch baby"!
Yours Faithfully
Fiona
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Dear Elaine
Today in work a customer wanted me to put aside a dress for her, she asked me to hold it under the name of Elaine. You instantly came into my mind. It dawned on me that I have not thought of or mentioned you in quite awhile, immediately a strong sense of guilt came over me. I worried that you must assume you are forgotten, perhaps as if you were never here. With that in mind I decided to write you this letter in the hope that somehow you will hear my words and know that you are definately not forgotten!
I often wonder how different things would have been if you had gotten to stay with us. What would you make of me? When Sharon and I were literally tearing each other's hair out would you have intervened? If so who's side would you have taken? I used to imagine that you and I would have had this unspoken bond, and that you'd have always stuck up for me anytime Shaz and I went to battle. I never took into consideration the fact that Shaz and you would have had five years together by the time I came along. Therefore your loyalty was bound to lie with her. Perhaps I would have thought twice about going up against my two older sisters! I'm sure Sharon's body would have had alot less scratches on it if you were there to referee!
How would Daddy Cooney have coped living in a house with four women? Somehow I think he would have done just fine! Dad has always doted on his lil ladies, and from what I've heard you had him wrapped around your little finger from day one! I'm told the admiration was more than mutual. Apparently you used to jump up in your cot the second you heard Dad come to your door in the morning. You also sat by the front door of our lil blue and white Nenagh house, anticipating his return from work in the evening. I remember Mum telling me that she could barely get a look in-you were daddy's little sweetheart and that was that!! The fact that to this day he finds it difficult to speak about you is testimate to the impact you had on him. Mum and Dad weren't even in their twenties when they lost you. I try to imagine what that must have been like for them, but it's too painful. I think back to when I was nineteen and I know with full certainty that such an experience would have destroyed me. However they had no choice but to be strong, Sharon still needed them, therefore falling apart was not an option. It only dawned on me that it must have been just as hard for you. It certainly wasn't your choice to leave such a loving set of parents and therefore your bravery astounds me just as much as theirs does.
I wish I had gotten to meet you, but yet somehow I feel like I have. Anytime something good happens in my life, I secretly believe you were behind it. I see all the good that is in our brother Matthew and I have no question that you have something to do with it. I hope wherever you are you are happy and that you look down on us-your crazy fellow Cooney's from time to time and have a little chuckle. The one thing I ask is that you never doubt your place in our family, you are my big big sister Elaine and nothing can take that away from us!
Yours Faithfully
Fiona
I often wonder how different things would have been if you had gotten to stay with us. What would you make of me? When Sharon and I were literally tearing each other's hair out would you have intervened? If so who's side would you have taken? I used to imagine that you and I would have had this unspoken bond, and that you'd have always stuck up for me anytime Shaz and I went to battle. I never took into consideration the fact that Shaz and you would have had five years together by the time I came along. Therefore your loyalty was bound to lie with her. Perhaps I would have thought twice about going up against my two older sisters! I'm sure Sharon's body would have had alot less scratches on it if you were there to referee!
How would Daddy Cooney have coped living in a house with four women? Somehow I think he would have done just fine! Dad has always doted on his lil ladies, and from what I've heard you had him wrapped around your little finger from day one! I'm told the admiration was more than mutual. Apparently you used to jump up in your cot the second you heard Dad come to your door in the morning. You also sat by the front door of our lil blue and white Nenagh house, anticipating his return from work in the evening. I remember Mum telling me that she could barely get a look in-you were daddy's little sweetheart and that was that!! The fact that to this day he finds it difficult to speak about you is testimate to the impact you had on him. Mum and Dad weren't even in their twenties when they lost you. I try to imagine what that must have been like for them, but it's too painful. I think back to when I was nineteen and I know with full certainty that such an experience would have destroyed me. However they had no choice but to be strong, Sharon still needed them, therefore falling apart was not an option. It only dawned on me that it must have been just as hard for you. It certainly wasn't your choice to leave such a loving set of parents and therefore your bravery astounds me just as much as theirs does.
I wish I had gotten to meet you, but yet somehow I feel like I have. Anytime something good happens in my life, I secretly believe you were behind it. I see all the good that is in our brother Matthew and I have no question that you have something to do with it. I hope wherever you are you are happy and that you look down on us-your crazy fellow Cooney's from time to time and have a little chuckle. The one thing I ask is that you never doubt your place in our family, you are my big big sister Elaine and nothing can take that away from us!
Yours Faithfully
Fiona
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
I'll Do It Later!!!!
First of all let me start by stating that I am infact the world's laziest blogger!! Have been meaning to add to my last entry for weeks now, but somehow I kept putting it off-just like I do with most other things in life!! I should really get the words 'I'll do it later' tattooed on my body! With this in mind boys & girls today we are going to discuss procrastination and why it affects some people more than others!! My dad will happily tell you that Fiona Cooney will find a way to be late for anything and everything. He often reminds me of how anytime we were going somewhere he and the rest of the family would be left waiting in the car while I ran around the house like a mad woman screaming "I'm almost ready", only to emerge several minutes later with my shoes in hand, pants still unbuttoned etc. "Why do you always leave it to the last minute to get ready?" he would ask.
My habbit for puttings things off was not just limited to getting ready, I managed to delay many other aspects of my life as well. None more so than when it came to anything academic. Assignments that were meant to be done over the weekend were always left to late Sunday/crack of dawn Monday morning. I even managed to put off studying for my final Secondary School exams until the morning I was due to sit them. I justified this behaviour by telling myself that I was better off waiting till the last minute-that way all the information would be fresh in my brain. Needless to say my results exposed several flaws in this method of study!!! I have recently discovered that there is in fact a title for this type of behaviour: "Student Syndrome" refers to the phenomenon where a student will only begin to fully apply themselves to a task immediately before a deadline. If only I had known this information earlier-would certainly have given more weight to my arguments with the parentals. "Fiona why didn't you do your assignment earlier?" "It's not my fault mum- I have Student Syndrome!"
Student Syndrome aside I still have to wonder why I do this to myself?? Perhaps I subconsciously love the thrill of the last minute panic? Unlikely. I dread any feelings of anxiety or worry, so therefore it would make no sense for me to intentionally bring them on. I remember Dr.Phill telling a woman with similar habits to my own that she was an attention seeker who got off on the thought of people waiting for her. I was disgusted with this diganoses- and felt that Dr Phill was making a personal attack on my character! However it did get me questioning my behaviour for at least a moment or two. But thankfully I can safely say the good doctor's diganoses does not ring true in my case.
There was a brief period right after high school when I thought my urge to procrastinate was fading . Before moving to Ireland I spent six months at Edith Cowan University (how I got into uni with results like mine is possibly the greatest miracle I've ever witnessed). For the first time in years I was studying something I actually cared about. Instead of putting off my assignments- I enjoyed spending time working on them, ensuring they were more than just a rushed last minute job. I even managed to do a little thing called 'research', something I had avoided for the majority of my previous academic life!! I began to console myself with the notion that I only put things off when I'm not passionate about them. However once the novelty of university life wore off, my desire to delay came crawling back. For three years I battled the voice inside my head that constantly told me to 'do it later', and somehow managed to achieve the qualifaction I needed.
After several years of absence from the college scene, I decided to once again hit the books last year. However it didn't take long for the dreaded Student Syndrome to rear its ugly head again. Years of an 'assignment free' existence had caused me to forget that I am infact the world's biggest procrastinator! Case in point this blog, which I am writting instead of an overdue assisgnment!! Will I ever rid myself of the urge to procrastinate?? Probaly not, nor will I ever understand why I do it. But one thing I do know is that I will get there eventually, it just might take me a little longer than others! Better late than never I say!
Yours Faithfully
Fiona
My habbit for puttings things off was not just limited to getting ready, I managed to delay many other aspects of my life as well. None more so than when it came to anything academic. Assignments that were meant to be done over the weekend were always left to late Sunday/crack of dawn Monday morning. I even managed to put off studying for my final Secondary School exams until the morning I was due to sit them. I justified this behaviour by telling myself that I was better off waiting till the last minute-that way all the information would be fresh in my brain. Needless to say my results exposed several flaws in this method of study!!! I have recently discovered that there is in fact a title for this type of behaviour: "Student Syndrome" refers to the phenomenon where a student will only begin to fully apply themselves to a task immediately before a deadline. If only I had known this information earlier-would certainly have given more weight to my arguments with the parentals. "Fiona why didn't you do your assignment earlier?" "It's not my fault mum- I have Student Syndrome!"
Student Syndrome aside I still have to wonder why I do this to myself?? Perhaps I subconsciously love the thrill of the last minute panic? Unlikely. I dread any feelings of anxiety or worry, so therefore it would make no sense for me to intentionally bring them on. I remember Dr.Phill telling a woman with similar habits to my own that she was an attention seeker who got off on the thought of people waiting for her. I was disgusted with this diganoses- and felt that Dr Phill was making a personal attack on my character! However it did get me questioning my behaviour for at least a moment or two. But thankfully I can safely say the good doctor's diganoses does not ring true in my case.
There was a brief period right after high school when I thought my urge to procrastinate was fading . Before moving to Ireland I spent six months at Edith Cowan University (how I got into uni with results like mine is possibly the greatest miracle I've ever witnessed). For the first time in years I was studying something I actually cared about. Instead of putting off my assignments- I enjoyed spending time working on them, ensuring they were more than just a rushed last minute job. I even managed to do a little thing called 'research', something I had avoided for the majority of my previous academic life!! I began to console myself with the notion that I only put things off when I'm not passionate about them. However once the novelty of university life wore off, my desire to delay came crawling back. For three years I battled the voice inside my head that constantly told me to 'do it later', and somehow managed to achieve the qualifaction I needed.
After several years of absence from the college scene, I decided to once again hit the books last year. However it didn't take long for the dreaded Student Syndrome to rear its ugly head again. Years of an 'assignment free' existence had caused me to forget that I am infact the world's biggest procrastinator! Case in point this blog, which I am writting instead of an overdue assisgnment!! Will I ever rid myself of the urge to procrastinate?? Probaly not, nor will I ever understand why I do it. But one thing I do know is that I will get there eventually, it just might take me a little longer than others! Better late than never I say!
Yours Faithfully
Fiona
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Reality Bites!
So my sister challenged me to follow in her footsteps and start a blog. Never one to shy away from a good challenge I accepted. Setting up the blog was easy, finding something worthy to write about however proved to be the real challenge! I'm told most bloggers write about what they're passionate about......problem with that concept is that as of this moment I'm finding it very hard to remember the things I am infact passionate about!! Perhaps my lack of passion has something to do with the fact that I am in the midst of a quater life crisis! Prior to entering adulthood I assumed I had at least until age 50 before I started to question my existence. Never once did I imagine that at 27 I would be sitting at a computer asking myself what the hell am I doing??
27 always seemed so old to me. However now that I'm here I can honestly say it looks nothing like I thought it would back when I was a 16yr old lying on my bed surrounded by posters of Leonardo DiCaprio. I remember establishing 22 as my cut off point for making it as an actress in Hollywood. I honestly believed that was my destiny- after a nose job or two Hollywood would come knocking, and all the people who had doubted me in the past would then marvel at my success. Well 22 came and went and I can assure you that I am a far cry from the glittering lights of Hollywood. So where did it all go wrong?? As of this moment I have no answer. The journey from 16 to now has gone so fast that it's hard to pin point the exact moment when reality came and bit me in the ass.
Growing up we are constantly encouraged to dream big, but the danger with that is that sometimes you dream soo big that the idea of a normal life just doesn't cut it anymore. At some point you have to accept that the cold hard fact that the fantasy life u had invisioned as a teenager might be just that-a fantasy and nothing more. So here lies my dilemma, do I give up on the pipe dreams of the past and finally accept a dignified normal existence? Or do I make a last ditch effort to ensure I avoid the 'woulda, coulda, shoulda' trap . I think I'm going to change my cut off point to 32!
Yours Faithfully
Fiona
27 always seemed so old to me. However now that I'm here I can honestly say it looks nothing like I thought it would back when I was a 16yr old lying on my bed surrounded by posters of Leonardo DiCaprio. I remember establishing 22 as my cut off point for making it as an actress in Hollywood. I honestly believed that was my destiny- after a nose job or two Hollywood would come knocking, and all the people who had doubted me in the past would then marvel at my success. Well 22 came and went and I can assure you that I am a far cry from the glittering lights of Hollywood. So where did it all go wrong?? As of this moment I have no answer. The journey from 16 to now has gone so fast that it's hard to pin point the exact moment when reality came and bit me in the ass.
Growing up we are constantly encouraged to dream big, but the danger with that is that sometimes you dream soo big that the idea of a normal life just doesn't cut it anymore. At some point you have to accept that the cold hard fact that the fantasy life u had invisioned as a teenager might be just that-a fantasy and nothing more. So here lies my dilemma, do I give up on the pipe dreams of the past and finally accept a dignified normal existence? Or do I make a last ditch effort to ensure I avoid the 'woulda, coulda, shoulda' trap . I think I'm going to change my cut off point to 32!
Yours Faithfully
Fiona
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)