I don’t wanna hear it anymore

1st Nov 2021 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Sometimes when I’m at a house party, people come up to me and ask me about my blog, often interested in how I decide what to write about. The only way I can describe the process is that a topic will pop into my head, and I’ll feel a compulsion to type something about it: I guess it’s like a diary in that sense. Unlike a diary though, I know that these words will be read by others so I edit them and I rationalise them in an attempt to not sound like a prat. I can’t promise that I manage it every time, but we do our best. Although today, I’m not going to edit and I’m not going to rationalise: we’re just gunna go with it.

To make an extremely long, and tumultuous story short, in the past couple of weeks I’ve come to realise that I’ve never really been in a romantic situation with a lad where he’s tried as hard to get to know and understand me as much as I have him. I’ve consistently been the one who’s been actively interested in a bigger way than the physical sense; asking all of the questions, noticing the small things, and making an effort to work out what’s important to the person I’m interested in. And this realisation came to me when I was cleaning my room, sorting my shoes out, listening to music. I was feeling so relaxed and so honestly myself, and it made me think that there are so many parts of who I am that I’ve never shared with someone because I’ve been too busy trying to get to know them, and they’ve never asked.

That feeling was of course, kind of sad, but at the same time, it made me realise just how stressful ‘dating’ can be. How people have spent so much time and energy messing with my head, telling me yes then telling me no then telling me they would if they could but they can’t so they won’t; making it seem like I’m involved in the situation when really it’s just about them. I’m involved by name, but I’m never particularly relevant. Yawn.

So I went upstairs to my housemate the other day when I was feeling a little low, and I mentioned all of these feelings to her, and after listening to me she thought over all of the romantic relationships she’s had with boys and she completely empathised with me. Then without even bringing up how I’ve been feeling, multiple girls just this week have told me how they’re tired of being wanted physically; being told they’re hot by a drooling drunken boy at 2am, but never being given the time of day once the sun comes up.

Fortunately, I’m pretty emotionally robust so I can deal with the rejection. However, just because a person’s self-esteem is in decent condition, that doesn’t make it indestructible. And being told by someone that they’re really into you, or they really fancy you, is lovely for 2 seconds but it very quickly becomes hurtful if all it is is words. What I mean by that, is that the words become less believable if you don’t do anything about them. I’m flattered in the moment, but I’ve been in so many situations like this where boys have put my hopes up so far, then at best ignored me, that at this point I don’t trust words.

I don’t really understand why this is a thing, and I don’t know why I seem to attract it, but god almighty it’s a headache. Not least does messing with someone’s head like this fuck with their feelings, but it made me feel completely objectified at points. After the excitement of the moment had faded, I’d wake up and wonder if what’d actually happened there was a young lad only saying what he’d thought I wanted to hear because he wanted to sleep with me. Making that dramatic confession untrue, and all the emotional turmoil completely unnecessary.

All of this isn’t to say that I hate every lad I’ve had a situationship with; I’m still quite fond of a few of them, but I have to say my piece because I’m tired. Not to mention the fact that a healthy level of self-esteem doesn’t just happen; it’s incredibly fragile and takes a lot of work to maintain. So I refuse to allow the yeah-but-no-but treatment I’ve had from lads this year, to morph into self-criticism and thus take a toll on my self-esteem. Naturally, this is always easier said than done but once again, we do our best.

Thus, I want to finish with a request for all my readers (no matter your gender): please think before you speak. Decide whether what you’re about to tell a person is beneficial to them, or do you just want to say it to help yourself? Go into things with the correct intentions, and try not to fuck with someone’s head in the process. You might not always manage it, but it’s always worth a try. Because personally, I don’t need or want to hear it anymore, if you’re not going to do anything about it.

It gets a little too loud

24th Oct 2021 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

A few days ago, I lay down to go to sleep but couldn’t because all I could hear was talking. I tossed and turned and I tossed and turned, but the whole time I felt like I was trying to go to sleep in a crowded room full of people talking, laughing, and arguing with each other. Then I realised that all of that noise was in my head. So I breathed, and I calmed it, and I went to sleep.

Now before anyone refers me onto a psychiatrist, I don’t suffer from any mental health problems which would mean that I hear voices; the only thing I suffer from is trying to constantly keep myself busy. I fill my days with activities to avoid being bored or feeling like I’m squandering my time (or that I’m alone), then in my head I plan, organise, and evaluate everything. Once I’ve thought about all the things I’ve done, or need to do, the next brainwave is all of the internal conversations about my friendships or boy tediums, and if I’ve exhausted all of that (and am nearing the days of my period), some cheeky insecurities will pop up to say hello.

It gets pretty noisy.

All of this isn’t to say that I’m unhappy, though; coming back to a more normal version of a university life this year has been something that so many of us really needed, and I’m glad to say that I’m pretty content at the minute. I no longer need to worry about the stress of a year abroad, or the fact that my degree makes me feel stupid. I’m able to get out of the house, go to lectures I enjoy, and socialise with people without breaking the law or having to cover half of my face. I’ve had insanely exciting news which has made me feel like I’m actually going to be able to have a career doing something I love – and I’m not going to go into details about it in case I jinx it. I get to see and laugh with my friends all of the time, and I feel like I’m getting pretty good at this whole adult-ing thing. But even the good times are mentally trying, and it pays to recognise this before something happens and your brain goes bang and you end up crying on the floor eating ice cream.

As is the case with many things, I’m not an expert in how to help yourself calm down and relax because I’m constantly trying to find something to fill my time. However, yesterday when I was doing my eye make up, I realised that I’d forgotten to breathe because I was trying to make my eyeliner perfect, whilst also thinking about an argument I wanted to (but never would) have with a lad. Needless to say, (once I’d remembered to exhale), it was clear that I need to work out how to slow down a little.

When I was younger, my granddad used to take me and my brother camping in the Yorkshire Dales a lot. I think of those times with an immense amount of fondness, but possibly the most influential part of those trips was the fact that when I get overwhelmed, I feel an intense need to go to those hills because of the silence. It’s so quiet up there that it kind of hurts your ears. But as much as I want to, I can’t be driving an hour to the middle of nowhere every time I feel a little claustrophobic: I’ve got a dissertation to write. Thus, I drive half an hour to the beach to look at the sea, I go home to sit with my parents and watch TV, or I read a book I want to read (not one that’s been assigned to me); I play guitar, I listen to music, or sometimes I just sit and stare at the wall for a bit. Although, that last one does sound like something out of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest…again, I don’t need a psychiatrist, I promise.

Whatever it is, and whatever age you are, all I can say is that you should probably find something that gives you a moment of respite not just from other people, but from yourself too. Otherwise eventually, as everyone’s mum used to say: it’ll all end in tears.

You free later?

18th Jul 2021 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I’ve written many a blog about romantic relationships, men, flirting, sex: all those topics which easily draw a crowd. But often my writing shows, as I’ve said before, the more logical part of my personality. I conveniently omit moments when I’ve failed to follow my own advice because everyone likes to present the neatest version of themselves to the internet and honestly, I can’t see myself regurgitating every detail of my life on this blog or my social media pages any time soon. This isn’t because I’m trying to mislead anyone, it’s because I’ve no obligation to and it’s nice (healthy, even) to keep some things private.

Obviously I’m going to tell you about something today though…

For over a year, I was subconsciously slut-shaming myself every time I slept with someone and I didn’t even acknowledge it. The logical, feminist, part of my brain always knew that it was a misogynistic and nonsensical thing to do, given that every time I’ve had sex with someone it’s been consensual and feeling guilty about it afterwards was never necessary. I never cried about it or said really hurtful things to myself; my method of slut-shaming was way more insidious than that. In the days after having sex I’d low-key pretend that it didn’t happen, give in to embarrassment, and avoid any contact with the boy ever again. But doing that started to feel silly after a while.

I’d realised what I was doing through the conversations I was having about sex with the young women around me, and decided it was time to stop partaking in this form of psychological self-harm. I know why I was doing it though; it was because I’d really rather not sleep with different people, so every time I did, I felt guilty straight afterwards. I’d have this stressful internal monologue of not regretting the sex, but wishing it’d been something more interesting than just that, with someone I knew better. However, I don’t know anyone I’d want to date yet, so does that mean that I should numb all urges I feel for physical interaction until prince charming comes along? No, that doesn’t seem right either.

The ideal situation for me earlier on this year was to engage in a good, old, friends with benefits relationship. Yet, there are so many unspoken rules when having sex with a person that the idea of sending the ‘you free later?’ text just made me cringe. Frankly, I thought I didn’t have the personality to ‘pull that off’ – an idea no doubt derived from the patriarchy suggesting that it’s abnormal for a woman to want to have sex simply because she’s horny – something I recognise as complete bullshit, of course. But we’ve got a lot of internalised patriarchy to undo here on the daily, so yes, when I texted a lad I trusted asking if he was free later for the first time, it felt weird. No regrets after doing it though heyooo.

I know that I’m fortunate to have so many sex-positive people in my life and that it’s a luxury not everyone has. There continues to be countless women out there who spend a stupid amount of energy telling themselves to stop feeling what they’re feeling. But you’re not only horny when you’re in a relationship and you should never make yourself feel guilty about when or who you want to have sex with. It’s a toxic way to waste your time, and even though stopping doing it hasn’t made me want a relationship less, it’s made sex a lot less associated with guilt and embarrassment in my head. Which is definitely a win. So go get your kicks with whoever you want, whenever you want, and start taking better care of yourself by taking control of your sexuality.

Oh, and if you and a couple of your friends order vibrators at the same time and split delivery, it’ll be cheaper.

See you later!

4th Jul 20214th Jul 2021 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

As I write this, it’s 30th June 2021, and it’s the last day of mine and my housemate’s tenancy for our second year of University. When we first moved in, it came at the end of an intense 5 months for the entire world; we’d been robbed of our third term of first year by the coronavirus pandemic, and we were moving in not really knowing what our second year would look like. Some of us came straight away, but it took until September/October for us to have pretty much a full house. First term was absolutely riddled with lockdowns and being ill with coronavirus, though we still managed to have some hectic nights-out before everything shut and make our university house start to feel like our home. We even cooked a Christmas dinner and got all dressed up to feel some semblance of normality – shout out to Rish’s brief stint as a mixologist. Then second term came and we had to STUDY. There were countless library trips, hours spent staring at laptops, withering attention-spans, and a whole lot of delirious laughter in between some snowball fights and getting lost in the woods as we searched for some alpacas. Obviously, we also had plenty of seshes, but that’s standard Lavender House activity.

Finally, we got our first summer term at university together. The exam period was exhausting, but it came and went pretty quickly overall, and I must say that sitting next to each other as we all attempted completely different exams was surprisingly enjoyable…Though not as enjoyable as when we finished and were able to just relax and spend time with each other.

Completing a year of university during a pandemic has been a real struggle for my friends and I at points. I can’t speak for everyone, but I know that I’ve felt moments of intense physical and emotional exhaustion, boredom, despondency, and isolation. But through all of that, we managed to laugh together every single day.

I was speaking to one of my housemates the other day about it, and we were saying just how strange it is that we come to university and we meet all of these people, and make all of these memories, then we all go off into the world and it’s unlikely that we’ll ever see each other again. Here, I probably sound super dramatic, and you’re probably wondering why I’m getting so sentimental when I haven’t even graduated, but next year is my year abroad so a lot of my friends will graduate before I come back, and also a little sentimentality wouldn’t hurt the English once in a while. After all, as much as we shy away from deep or intense emotion, it is true that we may never know what becomes of these people we’ve come to really care for in the past couple of years.

For me, if it weren’t for my university friends, then I don’t know how much I would’ve kept up with these blogs, or how confident I would’ve felt in making a podcast or being on the radio, and I most definitely would NOT have walked on a stage in front of everyone at our college fashion show. They’ve helped me to stop slut-shaming myself if I get drunk and feel like sleeping my with someone. They’ve let me cry to them about how difficult my degree is more times then they probably could’ve been bothered with, and they’ve forgiven my occasional tendencies towards passive aggression. But most of all, they’ve made me feel safe and loved, and they’ve made me laugh until my stomach hurt.

So whilst I know I will see many of you again, I wanted to take a second to give you some love as we all move out and go on to the next bit – whether that be a final year at university, a year abroad, a placement year, a masters degree, or the start to life as a university graduate. Regardless of how often we see each other again though, I’m going to steal the words of a friend I met and said goodbye to in Ukraine two years ago, and say that in the moments when I miss seeing you all the time, it’ll cheer me up to know that you exist somewhere.

See you later my loves x

Love letters

30th May 2021 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

You know, it’s come to my attention that sometimes I’m not very kind to myself. And I’ve also just realised that that was a really deep way to start a blog… 🙂

Over the last decade or so, it’s become very fashionable for people to recognise when they’re being really hard on themselves and to rectify those moments. We start to do yoga, we meditate, we go on holiday (lol, imagine), we buy an adult colouring book, we have a good cry, we talk to each other. But still, no matter how self-aware we are, and no matter how many affirmations we say to ourselves in the mirror – although, I’ll be honest and say that I’ve never personally tried the talking to yourself method…seems a bit intense to me, but anyway – humans still don’t seem able to escape from those self-criticism shackles.

I was speaking recently with one of my housemates about this and we both noted that for each of us, part of growing up has been coming to terms with who we are: the good and the bad. Generally, I’m very comfortable in who I am and I like to think that I’m a pretty decent human being, but I know that every trait I really like about myself does have a side effect. For example, when I care about things I really care about them: I work really hard for it, I’ll spend hours on it, I’ll do everything I can to make it work – whether that be a friendship or my degree. However, the flip-side of that is that if I can’t control it and if something goes wrong, I lose my shit. I pin part of my self-worth on the success of that one thing, and if it fails then I get angry and I’ll probably end up sobbing until my eyes swell-up and the colour of my skin resembles Clifford the Big Red Dog. It’s intense.

Another thing I like about myself is that I’m pretty good at rationalising situations: I can be objective, and am decent at understanding why I’m feeling the way I do. Still, my overactive brain is very skilled in ignoring and doubting my own rationalisations, so I’m also pretty bad at practicing what I preach. Therefore, sometimes when I write a blog and I’m able to give what I hope is decent, pragmatic advice, that’s me writing a love letter to myself. Obviously, I’d love to always be as calm and measured as I can make myself out to be, but these words are carefully considered and they’re not always a reflection of my actions. But then, do any of us always follow the advice we give to our friends? Probably not. Do we know that we should? Yep. So why don’t we? Fuck knows.

I suppose I’m saying this because the more blogs I write, and the more advice I inadvertently give, the more I realise that I’m setting myself up for a fall when my friends see what I do and say ‘do I have to send you your own blog?’. (Which, though cutting, is always kind of hilarious when it happens.)

These blogs are the times when the rational part of my brain is able to take over and make sense of everything; to try and keep my anxieties and insecurities at bay. But, in this age of crafted opinions and convenient omissions, I’d like to make the disclaimer that I’m 21 years old and whilst I may know something is the right thing to do, that unfortunately doesn’t mean that I’ll always do it. What’s important, is that we each at least try to take care of ourselves as much as we can, and that we identify when we’re not doing such a great job of it. But as Hannah Montana wisely said: everybody makes mistakes, everybody has those days.

Enjoy the sunshine! Xx

Age is just a number

21st Feb 202121st Feb 2021 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 1 Comment

In the months before I started my second year at Durham University, I decided that I wanted to know more about the place where I was living and studying. Already, I’d spent the best part of a year as a Durham City resident and even though I was born here, I hadn’t really explored the town at all – at least not sober or in daylight teehee.

However, I didn’t just want to go on more drives or go into town more often – although I have done both of those things – I wanted to meet more of the people, and feel like a proper part of the community. Plus, I’m acutely aware of the fact that I attend a very rich university with lots of very privileged students – some are even part of that 1% we hear about so much. But that institutional and familial wealth isn’t reflective of the North-East; like a lot of the north of England, County Durham is no stranger to poverty. So, for all of these reasons, in October I started to volunteer at a foodbank every Friday morning in Chester le Street.

But there’s this really funny thing about volunteer work: publicly announcing that you do it, can make you seem like a self-righteous tosser. And I didn’t really fancy having that description in my bio, so I haven’t really been telling people about this part of my weekly routine. Even though it has made me look forward to Friday morning every week.

At the foodbank, I volunteer with three other people; two older gentlemen, and one older woman. We wait for people to walk in, ask them if they have a food voucher, pack food parcels to last them three to four days, give them the parcels, and then we sit down to wait for the next ‘customer’ – I always found this a strange turn of phrase for the context of a foodbank, but we won’t analyse vocabulary just now…

Obviously, handing these food parcels out is very rewarding, but I’d have to say that it’s been the moments when the other volunteers and I have just been sitting and chatting that have been the most interesting for me so far.

I was always raised to give older people the same respect that I wanted to receive. I was encouraged to treat everyone – no matter their age – like a person, and to try to refrain from assuming an individual’s personality just because they look or sound a certain way. But no matter how much this was drilled into me as I grew up, I was influenced by the media and politics, and became very aware of the fact that in this country, people from different generations are encouraged to alienate themselves from one another and sometimes, to hate each other.

So it’s no surprise that the second I walked through the door and the other volunteers saw my age, that they assumed I was just another student looking to have something righteous to add to their CV. I was going to come for a couple of weeks, stand about on my phone, not contributing, and then eventually I’d just stop coming. Not only did I see these assumptions on my colleagues’ faces, last week they literally told me that that’s what they had thought. Thankfully, I’ve proven to them that not all students are lazy or entitled. Although, they do take the mick out of me for coming in hungover, so I don’t think I’ve broken the ‘students drink too much and too often’ stereotype. But hey, I still show up every Friday at 10:30am and get involved.

Then on my part, it’s become so much clearer to me that British society completely writes off older people. After people get to a certain age, we deem them irrelevant and stuck in their own ways: they’re almost dead, so why should they be listened to? But this is such a damaging narrative and it’s only helping to alienate people from each other more. Yes, the older generation grew up in a different time, and there are so many ways our society has progressed positively which may be against what the baby boomers have always known. However, just because we assume this, doesn’t mean that we should assume we already know what every person in this generation thinks.

Over the past few months, I’ve spoken to the other volunteers about a whole host of subjects. We’ve discussed ageism, sexism, homophobia, racism, classism, ableism, politics, the coronavirus – to name only a few. And in many ways, we’ve been able to have these conversations with total honesty because we’re not related, so there’s absolutely no pressure for us to agree on everything just to ‘keep the peace’. There were disagreements at times, but more than anything, hearing the perspective of someone at the opposite end of their life has been really beneficial for us all to be able to understand each other more. Youth has always been the time when people seek and fight for change, and when they criticise the shortcomings of everything that has happened before them, but people age, and life is complicated, and it’s important to understand and listen to every perspective – not just that of your peers.

Volunteering at this foodbank is one of the best decisions I’ve made at university so far, and it’s made me realise that we really need to stop hating everyone before we take the time to get to know each other. Old people aren’t just interesting because they’re old, they’re interesting because they’re people with thoughts, feelings, and opinions. Obviously they deserve respect, but once again that’s not because of age, it’s because it’d be nicer for everyone if we just started relationships with respect for each other.

Age is just a number, after all.

The vibes are immaculate

24th Jan 2021 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

There are times when I come onto this site, and I feel pressured to write something with a serious, moral bottom-line. This can lead me to feel like I need to address some intense issue or some moral question, so that then in the moments when I feel really good, I end up thinking that I’ve got nothing to tell you.

Feeling this way probably stems from the fact that the act of writing or publishing something for people to read, comes with the added pressure of trying to ensure that whatever you say, is interesting for others. But this week, I don’t want to be analytical or complicated, I just want to show my housemates some appreciation because I love living in this house. Without meaning to sound like a total wet-wipe, I’m very aware of how lucky I am to live with 6 people who all make me feel so loved, safe, and valid. This isn’t a luxury everyone gets because the people you choose to live with, in your second year of university are often the first friends you made in a completely new place, and sometimes those friendships don’t end up being as fun as they first seemed. But if anything, the vibes in this house are so immaculate that we’ve become way closer friends than any of us ever were last year, and I want to make sure I give a little love to that.

So, this week, I’ll keep my point short and sweet: no matter how annoying or stressful life is, make sure that you take a second to recognise and appreciate the people in your life who make you feel good. Then once you’ve given them some love, you can go back to taking the piss out of them. Ah, the circle of life.

And if any Lavender kids are reading this – as I’m sure they are, since they’ll love the ego stroke of having a whole blog devoted to them – then big love to you, kids xxx

Oh and Jai, please will you come downstairs and mop the kitchen floor?

Not my favourite birthday present

20th Sep 202022nd Sep 2020 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

On Monday I turned 21, had a lovely time, ate lots of food, got a free shot thanks to my birthday badge: all-round good time. Unfortunately however, I woke up the next day to find a huge blister on my right foot. 😦 And for most people, this probably wouldn’t have put much of a downer on their week but in my world, a blister can seriously ruin my life for a while.

This time I didn’t cry or freak out about it when I saw it, I just kept saying ‘it’s okay’, ‘it’s fine’. And it is okay because I know how to deal with it, plus it’s lockdown anyway so it’s not like I’ve got lecture halls to go to or anything. But it’s upsetting and annoying, and I don’t live with my family anymore, so I don’t have anyone close by who actually knows how upsetting and annoying it is.

I guess that that’s part of growing up though, isn’t it? You move out, and you experience things on your own – without that safety blanket.

It’s not like I’m completely new to this; I went travelling for a huge chunk of last year, and am going into my second year at University now. However, I’ve been lucky for a long time with my feet because I’ve not had any big complications. This has largely been due to me looking after myself, and having all the correct things in place to make sure that I’m not caught by surprise. But sh** happens, and it can happen completely out of the blue.

What can add even more stress and annoyance to times like this, is the fact that if I continue to be optimistic around people, that can imply that the situation isn’t a big deal. But I won’t sit and mope about this blister because I don’t want to waste my time like that, and I don’t want people to think of me as someone who whinges all the time. Plus, most have never seen me in a wheelchair or with an infection anyway, so they couldn’t understand if they tried.

Saying this though, last year I remember feeling really frustrated and lonely at times when my new friends didn’t understand my disability. It wasn’t because they weren’t trying to learn about it, or trying to help me out, it was because I know that they need to see it be bad before they can better understand what help I need. But then obviously, I’m not itching for it to get bad enough to show them…

You have to acknowledge that getting to know people properly takes a lot more time than freshers week, or a few months at university. It can be difficult to realise that the people you view as some of your closest friends don’t actually know you that well. But people do their best, and what they don’t know now, they’ll learn after time.

Question 1

26th Apr 202026th Apr 2020 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

We all know that horrible (kind of exciting) feeling when you see someone, think they’re fit, and you want to go up to them but don’t really know what to do once you get there. And normally, I’m pretty clumsy about it: I’m probably too loud and giddy, or too flirty or too subtle and then I spend hours after the time I saw the boy thinking about how I should’ve acted, or what I could’ve said, hating on what I actually said…it’s just a big old mess to be honest hahahah.

So I wanted to know, whether the boys us girls are embarrassing ourselves in front of, feel the same way in this situation…

And oh my god they do.

The overriding feeling coming from the answers I received though, was that they’d rather not feel like they have to make the first move. And I don’t blame them. We all know that this is a pretty toxic expectation of our society, but it’s also not an easy one to change. For example, I wrote an entire blog on how when I’ve made the first move it’s often made me seem like a slut…so…

But unfortunately, this huge pressure on young men has made some of them ‘not even bother’ because they ‘don’t know how’. Some boasted confidence with comments such as ‘I don’t approach, I get approached ;)’ but then went on to talk about how terrified they are of rejection. Not only that, they’re extra frightened that other people will ‘find out’ about it. And they’re especially wary of girls and their friendship groups because as they said, ‘once the girl hates you, so do all of her friends’. (*not always true, but fair assumption*)

Many were frightened of ‘having the piss taken out of them’. Or not being able to ‘come up with the most interesting conversation starter possible’. They don’t want ’embarrassing stories’ made up about them ‘failing’. And nobody wants the ‘reputation’ of always being the guy to ask lots of people out because then they look like a ‘f***boy’ and that’s not going to help them much either. Others also spoke about fears of ‘coming on too strong’, or seeming ‘creepy’ and accidentally ‘making the girl feel uncomfortable’.

So first of all, I’d just like to say that the fact all of these things are even thoughts going through your heads means that you’ve all got very little to worry about. You’re clearly decent, considerate, lovely people. A fact I already knew. Still I recognise, that my saying that won’t make the paranoia disappear.

Clearly, many of these boys don’t want to be that hyper-masculine, pushy version of a ‘man’, but they’re also not that comfortable with being the opposite. They fear that if they go in completely the other direction, they might be deemed a ‘coward’, ‘too quiet’, or just plain ‘awkward’. And finding that middle ground is difficult to do when you’re only 20.

It would also be entirely futile for me to respond to them and say ‘just be yourself’, ‘just relax’, or ‘try not to overthink it’. Since telling someone to relax in this situation is about as helpful as ‘where’d you leave it?’ when you’ve lost something.

But if these boys will allow me to give them a little piece of advice, since I’m part of the gender many of them are trying to pull, I’d say that awkward is not a deal-breaker. It’s not ideal, but it’s not a deal-breaker. Pushy and rude is a deal-breaker. So defo lean more towards awkward.

It’s completely unfair and pointless that we still have this social standard where boys are expected to make the first move. So I want to end this blog by making a request to all the girls reading this: do us all a favour and just risk it sometimes. If boys can be brave enough to put their egos on the line when they find someone attractive, then so can we. We’re all going to suffer some blows and experience rejection. It never feels great, but you don’t die either.

So f*** it: ask him out.

Boys are just as scared of you, as you are of them

19th Apr 202030th Nov 2022 by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 2 Comments

When I talk about my experiences, they’re always from the female perspective – a very important one to hear. However, it’s not the only viewpoint out there, and I’m aware that a lot of lads read my blog. I’m also aware that young men are renowned for hiding their thoughts and feelings – and that this contributes to a lot of them having poor mental health.

So as a feminist, and a big fan of the male species, I’m going to try and make this a space for them to voice those thoughts. Not just so that they can see themselves reflected in what I write about, but also so that as a young female with brothers and lots of close male friends, I can understand them better – and help them if they ever need me.

And also because girls want to know what goes on in their heads anyway…

This week I asked as many boys as would let me (surprisingly ended up being 25 of the buggers) a set of questions focused on how they perceive themselves, and how they think they’re perceived by whatever gender they’re trying to pull.

There were so many interesting details in their answers; far too many to summarise in one blog. So I’m going to give them lots of attention and scrutiny in the coming weeks, writing blogs discussing each question one by one. Plus some of these lads are eager to have a feature on my blog anyway, so that’ll give me plenty of opportunity to quote all of them…as well as making them obliged to read more than one and up my ratings hehehe.

What surprised me most when I received all of their answers though, was seeing how grateful many of them were to just be asked. A few of them even straight-up thanked me, and that really plucked on my heart strings.

It became so clear that many of these young men lack someone who just asks them how they feel, without having any exterior motive like wanting to pull them or get some gossip out of them. They have amazing groups of friends who they love and trust, but they don’t always have spaces where they feel like they can just give their opinions – without judgement.

Some of them appreciated the fact that I wasn’t about to call them a ‘fboy’ or a ‘pr**k’ for saying that they didn’t want a girlfriend right now. Since, at our age, everyone’s entitled to make mistakes or just want to flirt with whoever. Many appreciated that I’d keep it anonymous, and they liked that all I wanted to know was what they thought. I didn’t want them to cloud it with jokes or euphemisms.

Young men are the same as young women. We all want to be made to feel interesting and relevant. We all have good parts and bad. We’re all in the middle of learning who we want to be and who we want to love. But more than anything, at this point in our lives we just want to work out all of those things without fearing judgement.

With all that in mind, in the coming months I’ll do my best to write some good blogs with the information you gave me lads: I hope I do you proud.

(If not, then I’ll do a wottle……jk, I’m not doing that hahahaha)

*wottle*: young person’s terminology for downing an entire bottle of wine as quickly as possible a.k.a a death sentence

An Indelible Friend

Tag: friendship