Sweet talkin’ guys // AKA bull-shitting bastards

Wow. That title was pretty intense. Soz!

You should view this as the sequel to my earlier post on how to tell when he’s just not that into you. It seems following in-depth discussions with my assorted girlfriends and their dating disasters, there is a definite recurring ‘type’ of cheeky bounder.
The wrong sort.
The one to avoid if you want a fruitful, long term relationship without having to relinquish your pride, standards and morals with an expensive stint in The Priory along the way.


Having had several conversations with The Girls – and different girls at that, in completely different situations – I started to spot a few patterns.

Call me a shit-sniffing Sherlock, if you will, but they were all moaning about similar sorts of things.

I thought it only right that I did some man maths to formulate the key characteristics to look out for when you next meet a sweet talkin’ guy. He’s most probably a bull shitting bastard.

99.9% good looking

They’re usually jaw-droppingly, eyelash flutteringly, gusset moistingly (sorry mum) gorgeous, right?

This immediately makes you think you’re dating w-a-y above your station (he’s the Premiership to your Championship League) and thus more likely to forgive them anything.

Y’know: cancelling dates at the last minute. Going AWOL for days. Shagging your best friend. That sort of thing.

However, there’s this teeny tiny flaw in their otherwise aesthetically pleasing layout. A chink in the outward appearance armour. It can be anything – from him being borderline midget, to a prematurely receding hairline; a Jimmy Hill chin, a wonky bottom tooth or… a really small cock.

It’s usually something that’s haunted them throughout their life and the mere mention of this problem area makes him resume the foetal position and cry for his mummy.

So usually, their philandering moronic ways can be attributed to the fact they’ve turned from spotty school boy into super hot stud, and they can’t believe their new found luck with the fairer sex. I say ‘new found’ but it’s most likely they’ll NEVER grow out of their shitty behaviour.

OR they feel the need to have a constant conveyor belt of girls at their disposal to somehow prove their credentials.

It doesn’t matter that I kiss like a dishwasher – I’ve got seven girls on the go!


Ha ha! I’ve got a mushroom sized wang, but look how many girls want a ride!


Female friends x 1,367,234,987,57463

Now. Don’t get me wrong. It’s A Good Thing  to have friends of the opposite sex, sure. Whether you’re in a relationship or not. Healthy, even. But when every sentence starts with:

My good friend Jennifer/Alison/Phillipa/Sue…

…and his Twitter follow list comprises of more birds than the dawn sodding chorus then worry, we must.

They like the attention, it massages their over-sized yet fragile ego. Surely you can’t help but wonder how many of the aforementioned harlots are being given the same bullshit lines that you heard, just the week before. Is Sue the new you? Is he, er, getting racy with Stacey? IS HE HAVING SEX WITH BEX?!!


100mph thrill of the chase

These losers like to know they can have any gal they want. They merely see disinterest as a challenge. They’ll chip away incessantly with cutsie DMs and the like, until they become a daily fixture in your life.

Eventually, you’ll warm to them or be so flattered that you relent and strike up a bit of banter. It darts back and forth like rapid fire Howitzer action. You quite enjoy it; you maybe start to consider marriage, and having his babies *cough*

Then all of a sudden, he’ll stop replying so instantly, even though he’s clearly onliiiiine cos he just replied to @thatfatslag and @somerandombitch on Twitter. But not your DM of seven million hours ago! Or he’ll now take days to reply to your text, rather than the usual ninja-like seconds you’d become accustomed to.

You’re then left wondering where it all went wrong. And start to get a bit stalker-ish: refreshing his Facebook profile page; sending another text message or five; posting ‘woe is me’ style attention-seeking updates to your Twitter feed. Ugh. Tragic.

But alas! It’s too late! Now that he knows you’re interested and you quite fancy him, his work is done. He doesn’t want to bother with the whole dating/relationship shite, oh no. He just wanted to know he could have you. And he could. And maybe did (uh-oh).

Zero commitment

The ol’ dangling of the carrot trick. Mentioning a place they’d like to take you to or that they’ll see you when they’re next in your ‘hood… but these times come and go as fleetingly as the successful singing career of an X Factor winner.

Whenever you try and firm up his kind, bull-shitty offers, there’s always an excuse. Or… he’ll just ignore you, only reappearing until the event in question is over. Repeat x 2,99,361 times. Or until you can stand it no more, whichever comes soonest.

Plus one girlfriend already on the scene

Always a bit of a tricky one this. It’s all going rather swimmingly until one day he casually mentions his girlfriend. And then maybe looks at you like you’re A Crazy when you have a teensy bit of a problem with this. As has happened to more than one of my afore-mentioned pals (WHERE are they picking these fellas up from, I wonder?).

So, dear readers. I think the main thing to take from all this, is to not bother dating boys. EVER.

What? You quite like them? Well, in that case, the one thing I noticed ALL my mates saying was that they kind of knew they were heading down a road to nowhere with Mr Wrong. The ol’ gut instinct pinged into action at some point fairly early on.

What did they choose to do? Ignore it. Mistook it for lovey-dovey butterflies in the stomach. Not realising it was their inbuilt BULLSHIT RADAR GOING OFF THE SCALE! Ignore it at your peril, girlfriends.

Of course, the above could all be wrong. I may have drawn inappropriate conclusions from an assortment of unfortunate situations. And sometimes, there are boys who seem nice… and really ARE nice! Imagine that!

But best not to get too carried away, too soon, I reckon. There’s a lot to be said for playing hard to get. Well, not too hard. But certainly not being the sort of gal that’s easy like Sunday morning. No one wants that.

What do you think?


  • Comments

  • avatar

    OMG. I *must* refer to this as my mantra and bible next time I find myself falling foul of the same old charm tactics. i totally get that gut instinct you mention and NEVER listen to it, only to end up being hurt some weeks or months down the line. Loved this piece, you should be an agony aunt, Nat! xx

    • avatar

      Glad we could be of service, Rachel. I probably wouldn’t be the most sympathetic of agony aunts. Though I *would* cut out the wishy-washy bull shit, right? 😉

  • avatar

    I could read a whole book on this sort of stuff. Love it. Thanks for the no nonsense advice Nat!

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