Amore

Three words, eight letters.

Eight letters which mould a hell of a lot of films, books and lives: we all know the famous moment where Rose tells Jack in the freezing water. Some of us recollect when Chuck Bass is unable to tell Blair (mainly because we wish it was us). A few of us have been subject, or at least we claim, to its powers.

The nearest my friends and I have come to it is the discussion of when you should feel it. It is an anticipation: a constant question. One of my close friends had her boyfriend say the magic words to her after three days - she was delighted, where as horrified suited my expression much better. Firstly, it was on the phone and nothing life changing should ever be determined over phone call. Secondly, it’s taken me well over three days to decide whether or not I like my new Topshop dress, let alone boyfriend - I’m all for carpe diem but there are limits.

Another story comes from the ability to read a text oh so wrong. After receiving ‘ILYF’ on the end of one message, my beautiful friend thought it was time to say it back. Only problem was, he had meant ‘I like your face.’ Awkward doesn’t describe the proceeding days.

But we are subject to constant pressure about when, where and who we should deem worthy. Open any magazine and there will be at least one feature on ‘the ideal man.’ What’s more but we are told how to gain him, how we should look when we gain him and how long to wait (months, days and seconds) until we can say those fatal words.

However, I’m more than happy to maintain the frivolity often linked with the words. Yes, in films and books it is sad when a couple who are ‘destined’ to be together can no longer be. But for now, my flatmate will continue to love professional rugby players and I shall love Topshop forever.

Gone Fishing

Fresher's week: seven unadulterated, barely memorable (but only for alcoholic reasons) nights out with people you don't really know.

Look at any form of social media in the weeks proceeding the biggest freshers weeks and you'll find condescending words. 'An excuse to drink' is a popular phrase but against the assumption that all freshers have unsafe sex with as many people as physically possible, one too many vodka and cokes is only a small issue.

But this year, we are hit with a new phenomenon. 'Fishing,' or the act of older students attending freshers week to pull those intoxicated or naive. It's true to the point that I know many second years and above who enjoy the, let's face it, much better entertainment that will ever be put on again throughout the duration of their time at university; when else would S Club 7 (alright, 3, but still) grace the sticky floored student union. But to attend in order to pull? Possible. But even that's not horrendous.

We certainly can't pretend that above years wait for the 'lightweights' to fall before reeling them in and taking them home. Firstly, vomiting is not an attractive look (I learnt that after a particularly unfortunate incident but luckily lack of memory equals a slightly smaller dent in my pride) and no one wants to take someone home who can't stand up.

Secondly, sex with someone a different age is not unusual. For 14 years you are subject to 'what year are you' being one of the determining factors in the opening conversation with any person you might be intimate with. Later on, age is less of an issue.

I can't deny first years go home with second, third, forth years. But in comparison to some of the things happening in the world, I'd take sex with a guy three years older than me any day.

Sexting

noun: [ mass noun] informal the sending of sexually explicit photographs or messages via mobile phone

Forty years ago (probably ten), the new craze would have never happened. Perhaps it was due to the fact that mobile phones weren’t glued to everyones side but it’s more likely that the chastity belt has been removed from society. Or so we like to think.

Now, sexting is deemed a legitimate word - well it’s been added to the dictionary at least. I don’t know how, or why, we didn’t think of it sooner. With power and sex becoming closer than ever, we can’t deny it’s good to know the other person is thinking of you when they shouldn’t be.

However, we must be aware all dirty texts are cheesy. If someone actually ever said one out loud to me, I would die of embarrassment but read on a screen? Absolutely fine. In fact, better than that: a force to be reckoned with. Of course, a few small white lies are needed - it is very rare for someone in an office to be wearing no underwear. But with reality bent and the other person miles away, suddenly you can feel the sexiest woman alive.

Of course, we all know it can go wrong. My personal favourite is the proof that you should never run simultaneous conversations at the same time as sexting someone.

wrongnumbertexts.com

 But still. It’s a pretty good way to occupy time: just be careful if your boyfriends name is 'Dave.'

Trying to Make It

You know it's bad when the alarm announces itself in the middle of a dream about Ed Westwick. After four hours sleep and rather too much champagne the night before, the only thing I succeeded in doing in the first confused minutes of the morning was thinking the wall was my pillow when throwing myself down in frustration at the fact it wasn't light and commitments required me to role out of bed. Quickly.

This was it - I'd been offered a dream opportunity marketing for an amazing, dynamic company. Any normal person would be brimming with excitement but the tube virgin I am caused me to feel only dread. I should probably mention at this point the only time I've visited London before was to go to the zoo when I was rather small and even then I had more than one 'responsible adult' with me.

Now, I was expected to navigate the tubes, streets and people by myself; I had a bad feeling. With no time for breakfast I practically ran out of the door, heels clattering and trusty hand written (read: messy scrawl) directions in hand.

But with the train pulling into the platform I felt slightly more optimistic; the new suit jacket I'd rushed out to buy did it's purpose by hiding the fact I was a 19 year old amateur with no clue and the lack of rain at least meant my perfected messy bun had stayed in place.

Unfortunately, this didn't last long. As I stumbled along the carriage, my mood was darkened slightly by the fact my neighbour on the train suffered from a love of knitting and was engaged in stitching a cardigan (or rug) the duration of the journey. With her elbows out and needles clicking away I don't know how I managed to sleep but the unattractive mouth open pose and occasional fall onto her shoulder certainly made up for the incessant clicking.

Two and a half hours of head bobbing later I arrived. Revealing I didn't know where I was going to a lady in the carriage proved to be a ridiculous idea with her mouth dropping at my inability to determine exactly what colour the circle line was.

'But it's a circle, I can't get lost' didn't satisfy her horror and she proceeded to guide me off the carriage until I'd found the correct coloured line on the floor. 'Think of yourself as Gretel' she shouted hopefully after me as I side stepped people in suits. The only problem was I wasn't heading towards a house made of sweets.

Inevitably, the tube came next. As I watched three tubes pass by I mustered up to confidence to master the 'every man for himself' approach. With the third tube pulling away it dawned on me that all I had to do was loose my politeness and pretend that my commitment was more important than everyone else. Head held high I even succeeded in gaining a seat: and with only a small lapse in moral integrity.

I proceeded to listen to the small talk so that’s so rare on the tube.My favourite snippet coming from a friend telling his boss he was late to work as he 'looked in the mirror and realized I'm a tiger.' Brilliant.


The day continued on a positive note. Not only were we provided coffee and wine (key ingredients to a successful business day) but the other employees were interesting and friendly. The sheer size and beauty of the buildings made me feel very humble, as i was transformed from girl on an adventure to aspiring individual in minutes. After a day of services, systems and strategies it wasn't just my brain that was pumped but my determination to succeed too. It wasn't until I stood on the tube on the way home that I realised how exhausted I was and exactly how much my feet hurt.

On the train home two things struck me. Take every opportunity however daunting it is. And don't pretend you can wear heels slightly to small just because they look pretty: telling yourself to 'walk through the pain' just won't work.