Breakups and Brexit

Every time I speak to Italians they ask me about Brexit and why we want to leave. I quickly and firmly tell them that Scotland doesn’t want to go anywhere. I’m like a freshly dumped woman “we had a great relationship… I wish this never happened…. don’t forget us”.

While I was out of the country I managed to stream in question time and as usual Brexit was a highly debated topic. One of the questions that got me was “should we have another referendum?” And that’s when I started to think that Brexit was becoming a bit like a romantic break up.

I think most people who’ve broken up with someone, will at some point in their life regret one of those breakups. I once broke up with a guy who’d just driven to Calais and back in one day for me because I felt he was a little immature. Yes because you see I’m pretty perfect, not. That man now lives in Dubai, has a lovely life, a good job and a partner who he’s taking care of. Regrets see, awful things. There’s also the breakups which have come along suddenly, when they’ve been in the heat of an argument and I’ve cried and begged said lover to come back, seen the error of my ways, deeply sorry etc. We all need that little fright now and again to remind us of what we had. I’m starting to think the Brexit vote has been a huge unromantic shock to our nation.

The brexiteers promised us a green land with lots of money. It was plastered on a big bus, money for the NHS they said, no more immigrants they nastily sneered. People were catapulted into the dream of more money and more self control. That’s what the single life promise me, wrong, it was all a lie. The grass isn’t greener, it’s scorched and dusty; with the tumbleweed of failure all around; Brexit that is, single life is marginally ok. None of the UK lead politicians have a clue, it looks like there will be less money in the pocket of an average family, the migrant population fill a vast skills gap, the pound is a stable as Mays government and this country is the laughing stock of the EU; and that’s only the tip of the nightmare. The UK leaving the EU is such an acrimonious divorce it makes even the most publicised Hollywood split look idyllic.

I think the British public should be allowed to ask for another chance. They should be like me when I dumped my high school sweetheart for not being exciting enough. They should be allowed to reconsider. Someone once said that if we had referendums all the time we would never get anything done, but politics isn’t stagnant; we have general elections every five years “yes I liked you, I thought you were the right man for me but now it’s just not working”. People should be allowed to change their mind when they are armed with the facts.

May and her cronies are making a right arse of Brexit but Nicola Sturgeon is like “relate” giving good council and showing us how a good relationship can work. The British public have all the facts now, mainly the fact that Brexit is an omnisbambles and it’s time they were allowed to say…. I’m sorry, I want you back, we can make this work!

Advertisements

Is chivalry dead?

On one of my “research dates” I went for a walk and the man insisted that he walk on the road side of the pavement, he took my elbow as I stepped off the kerb and held open every door. I loved it. The odd thing is that when my boss, my brother or a male pal does it for me I snap at them “insisting I’m a strong independent woman and I can open a God damn door”. Weird right?

So this date got me wondering, is it that chivalry is dead? Or is that women have become so independent we think we don’t need it any more? Or have some men just become lazy? Could it be a combination? I believe in all things Equality, I really do but the fact of the matter is I was raised by a man who brought me, my sister and my mum breakfast in bed every morning. Some may say I was spoiled, but my dad (who’s very Latin with his emotions) claims that Gods greatest gift to him was the ability to shower affection on his girls. So now when I’m in a relationship I expect to have a door opened, a chair pulled out and it seems to me I have to accept hats who I am. Blame Jimbo he perpetuated it.

I do toy with the idea that as a feminist we should take turns to walk on the inside of the pavement or pull out a chair. If I pay date night cheques then it makes sense to open a door right? Yes, on paper it does but in my heart I want to be swooning all over the chivalrous gent of choice. On my first night in Lucca I went to a pizzeria and there was a beautiful young couple. He stood when she went to the bathroom, he kissed her nose when she returned and he held her jacket on when she was leaving. The feminist in me didn’t even come to the surface, the young lady looked adored and cherished. Oh to be a girl of 21 again…

So if chivalry is manners, kindness, affection, love and care; then that should be a feminists dream. Wouldn’t we rather a man said “send the cheque” than “send nudes”? Well I would, I am so old school romantically I have mental visions of me sitting like Scarlet O’Hara in a buggy with Red while he drives me off to a paddle steamer. Scarlet is the best example of a woman who can accept chivalry and yet be hugely strong and powerful, she may have put on curtains to impress a man; but in turn that man saved her life, her family and her Tara… If you’ve never seen gone with the wind, you can’t date me.

So why don’t I like unromantically linked males opening doors? I don’t know, maybe it’s because there is no need for them to do it? Maybe it’s because I do everything else myself, so why should they get that? Maybe I’m a control freak? Answers on a postcard to Tuscany.

When it comes to Romance, for me Chivalry is a sign of the man. If a man can be rushing to work and stressed out his head; and yet still bring you a croissant and coffee, he is a provider. In Italy I’ve been overwhelmed with the chivalrous gestures, I’m not looking for Mr Zambonini the second here, but I am enjoying the romantic notion that chivalry does still exist. Yes there are a few creepy B’s but they’re everywhere. The key is to look for the one who looks left and right for you before you step off the road, not the one with the most money, not the one with the flashiest car or the one with the biggest….. house. The key is to look for the one who will treat you like his mama taught him to, with dignity, kindness and respect. That way your feminist self can be in harmony with your romantic notions….

So yes it exists but just let it happen when you find it…

Caio 🇮🇹

The Weinstein Effect

I’ve been doing a dating blog and some research this month, but it’s sex and relationships on my terms. During this period the world seems to be flabbergasted that a man in power has used his might to sexually abuse women. I say abuse because that’s what it is. It’s hard for a woman to make it in this world and if you think women are equal then you’re so off the mark your hitting the wall.

I love being flirty when I fancy someone, I love kissing, I love laughing at jokes and I love feeling desired. What I don’t love is feeling objectified, cornered and unable to say anything because the man in person wields power. In my job there have been men, powerful men, who have made me cry myself to sleep. Men who have taken my outgoing personality as a geeen light to talk to me like some poor girl from a cheap porno. Why did I cry because I could do nothing about it. If I said something it would cause a huge problem and I was terrified I would be black listed. Even worse I was horrified that people would think it was my fault. I’m blonde and I wear makeup, I’ve had a boob job and fillers; so it must be right? Even now I wonder if it is, it shouldn’t be, but maybe it is. Maybe I have to realise that even 2017 isn’t a place I can be myself without harassment.

Typing this now the tears are falling down my face.

How many times did I go to bed wishing I could run away? Too many. Even as I type this I’m frightened someone is saying “she’s such an attention seeker”. Do you know what it’s like to have to avoid a corridor in your place of work because you feel sick to your stomach? Do you know what it’s like to hide tears from your children because you’re scared you’re never going to be more than the blonde girl? Do you know what it’s like to worry you will lose your job because you can’t take “flirty banter”? Do you know what it’s like to cry to your friend and beg them to let you quit your job because men cannot behave? Do you? Do you think this is self pitty? It’s not. It’s abject fear for the future of girls, my girls, your girls, all girls.

when I was 14 years old my friends brother slid his hand up my top and I vomited for a whole day. I told my parents  and they made sure something was done. My mother and father told me it was never ever my fault that someone had mistreated me, and that it never would be in the future. This incident has made an indent on me so much, that regardless of who you think I am, I find intimacy a struggle until I have deep trust.

I work for a wonderful MSP. So many times I’ve heard stories, here are some: He is fucking her. He employed her because, well look at her. He is into her. She only got the job cause she’s a flirt. Let me set the record straight, my boss has more integrity in his little finger than most men I have ever come across. He is kind, loyal and respectful. So let the rumours come back to bite you, that’s what karma does.

I am deeply flawed, insecure and sometimes I make mistakes but I am a woman who hurts. A woman who cries. A woman who has nightmares. A woman who feels deeply. I deserve to feel safe. I deserve to wear heels, lipstick and big hair in peace. I deserve kindness. I deserve respect….. and so does every other woman who walks this planet.

Where do you find them?

So I’ve decided October will be a dating month, everyone needs someone to snuggle under a blanket with right? so it’s the perfect time to start this series of blogs and to “put myself out there”. The question “where are all the men?”  is probably one of the most asked in female (and gay) history. The real question should actually be: where are all the nice guys (and girls)? 

The first time I ever “got a number” was in the Hamilton Palace. The guys name was Steven and he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, apart from Luke Nijholt, who had the best legs on my teenage planet. Sidenote: if you don’t know who Luke is you aren’t a well fan. I digress, so I’m in the “Hugh Dallas” and Steven asks the barman for a napkin and a pen, and wrote down his HOME phone number. That’s right dolls, I had to do that amazing “oh hello is Steven in” phonecall to his maw. Swear, there is not  a nervous feeling that comes close to that phonecall but alas our young team will never know it. Yes I called, yes we dated and yes I dumped him for a hot doctor who I worked beside. I’ve always been the same, easily distracted.

It’s sad to think people will never again have to stand in Victoria’s or Archaos and will someone to pull out a napkin. I still go out in hope, dolled up to the nines, wishing that a milk tray style man will send over a bottle of champs. (Yes I can feel the rage of the feminists but this is my fantasy and I’ll think as I wanna). These days you go out and then you only need a name and you’ve got a Facebook, Instagram and credit check done on your potential date. Now it’s all internet isn’t it? I met one of the loves of my life on twitter. Yes, yes I don’t believe in one great Love, I’m an optimist. I met this man on twitter and he was lovely and delicious and funny and smart; the problem is that in real life the story can be different, a persons online persona is never the same but in this case he was as charming in real life. To be honest too charming and there lay the problem (that and a very mean ex-wife). Sidenote Im still friends with this man, and you can’t have too many of them. Facebook I hate because it’s a hunting ground for creeps, mate just because you like every one of my photos does not mean I’m gonna rush out for a Nando’s and back for a boxset. No sir. Oh and don’t get me started on the married ones, mate I only know you because I do the school run with yer Mrs! (For example…..) BOLT. 

So that leaves me with the dating apps. I’ve never tried them. I’ve heard such terrible things about tinder, grindr and the likes that I’m scared that just looking at the app will cause an influx of disgusting genital pics. FYI boys: girls hate seeing photos of your penis, if there is a woman out there who disagrees then fair enough, but I’ve yet to meet her. Sending a woman a willy pic will turn her on in the same way it would Donald Trump doing a strip tease. In other words, don’t, ever, never. 

So a few weeks ago a friend gets me on “bumble”. It’s like tinder, you swipe left and right like a human dating catalogue; this makes me feel really guilty. Seriously, every time I swipe left I think “Rosa you’re so shallow and mean, maybe he has a nice personality and a good heart”; but as my friend Joe said “you don’t walk a personality down the street”. Shameful, but true. You have to have a physical attraction, fact. So you plow on and then, out of no where you “match” he likes you and you him. You have a chat, you exchange numbers, date, fall in love and have babies. WRONG. You send a witty message only to be ghosted and then your insides fall apart because you think you’re no longer as funny or cute as you believed. Or they reply and their chat is as bright as winter night. Or you go on a date and you have to listen to the “im so wonderful, you’re so lucky to be with me” subtext of their date chat. Bumble proving to be a nightmare, well almost…..

I have had one date. It was fun, he was handsome and kind, there was beaches and walks. First kisses, hand holding and music. It was perfect bar one small detail, he lives over 2 hours away. Just my luck troops, but then that’s the joy of dating, if you could find it on your doorstep you would already have Love, but that might be mundane. If you want to go to the effort of dating then you’ll push the boundaries (and your  lease car mileage allowance) and expect nothing less than butterflies…

Wish me luck team… the month has only just begun….

P.S if you have a funny dating story or top tip, then guest blogs are welcome 

Iconic Award

Everyone has something to say about my life, often painful and hurtful things; but I guess that’s public life. However very recently something lovely happened to me. I was given an award for being a “straight ally” to the LGBTI community. The First Minister and Glasgow Provost were in my category but I won, a wee single mammy from Wishaw. I really do love this award but in some ways it’s odd, because really I’ve only been awarded for doing the right thing. My mum and dad have always taught us that if we are able, you do what you can for those around you who need a little extra love. I wasn’t able to make an acceptance speech as I was poorly but I still think it would be nice to say some thanks.

To my three Ks, three “sisters” Caz, Claire and Alison, and Conor who are never done texting me, for keeping my eyes on reality and for reminding me of who I really am. Thank you. To Amo who is my can’t live with, can’t without pal; I know you always have my back no matter what separates us. Thank you. To Jordan Daly and Liam Stevenson who always inspire me to do more for LGBTI young people, you are the epitome of change. Thank you. James Dornan MSP, my boss, my rock and my friend. Thank you. My pals across politics and beyond for always saying nice things on the twitter and fighting with trolls on my behalf. Thank you. Rhiannon V Who is the spark that makes me want to fight harder. Thank you. To my mum and dad who are sellotape that keeps my heart together when so many of my dreams and hopes shatter. Thank you. Pete and the three Gordon’s who love me and the girls and never fail to make us laugh. Thank you. To the LGBTI community who have allowed me to stand and fight in your name. Thank you.

Finally I’d like to thank my beautiful girls Skye and Charlie. They are courageous, kind and frankly the most beautiful souls to have walked this planet. Both with unique challenges and both not without struggles; and yet both so willing to allow me to use their struggles to reach others. Thank you. I’m not gay, I was born in the right body and I have a lovely life; but it is the duty of all of us to stand up for those who are unable to do it themselves. I beg of the straight community ask questions. Challenge homophobia and transphobia. Ask for your children to be educated in LGBTI issues. Be the change this world so desperately needs. If you are a man or woman, boy or girl, who is currently living in a secret, if you are scared to be yourself and you don’t know what the future holds because of your gender or sexuality then this award is for you. It’s to remind you that you are not alone and we are fighting to make this world less frightening. This award is for those who cannot be themselves 🌈

Men, Muslims and the Middle East…

Recently I travelled to the United Arab Emirates to see my best friend. Travelling to Dubai is a choice to see the girl I love, her husband and her beautiful, delicious baby. There is a lot to be said for the city of Dubai, it’s very presence is an assault on the senses, “bright lights, big city” doesn’t even start to cover it. From the thousands of restaurants serving cuisine from all over the world, to the noisy fountains, and dramatic buildings. I love a lot of it, I’m not afraid to say I’m dazzled by the beauty, and awe inspired by the maginututed at which everything grows and changes. I’m the type of person who loves shiny new things. Magpieitis.

However, every time I travel there I’m deeply concerned about the stories concerning human rights, workers rights and basically the threatment of anyone who isn’t a rich westerner or from a Gulf State. Being involved in politics you just have to check in at DBX airport and you’re being battered by the left for not having your moral compass set accurately. I just can’t imagine this is unique to the holiday town of Dubai, most tourist attractions are a magnet for those from poorer cultures who seek to gain employment in an ever hurtful economy. So is it right to travel there and enjoy the pleasures of the Middle East as long as we look after those, who look after us? I think so. The laws in the UAE are changing all the time, international travellers put pressure on the union governments to really think about their migrant workers. This happens not just in Dubai but all over the world; Mexico, resorts in Spain, Egypt…. I could continue. Even Blackpool businesses have had raids on the accommodation of seasonal workers and that’s three hours down the road from cassa Zambo!

So what about the men? It’s the joke I’ve heard a thousand times. “Oh Rosa you’ll come back with a rich Arab” and “think of the fabulous life”. Maybe it’s even a joke I’ve made myself, but the cold hard fact is that many of the “tourists” in Dubai come from all over the world and that makes it the most beautiful, cultural melting pot; but also the spark of a fuse which would ignite many a crossed wire. I was followed in the biggest mall in the world for over an hour by an Arab male. My daughter was frightened and I was alaramed, but mostly pissed off at having to evade him in my very painful but gorgeous Valentino Rock Studs. When we finally asked security to do something about it the opinion was very much “you can’t blame a guy for trying and you look Russian…. you know?”. No I don’t know. I’m not frightened to lie and say while I was seriously angry I text a male Muslim friend and asked him “would this have happened to me if I was in hijab? I think not”. Boy did that open a can of worms, he very quickly, rightly and swiftly reminded me that this was man problem, a  feminism issue and absolutely nothing to do with being in a Muslim country. You see I’ve been followed by a man in a mall before, I was with my bae of the time in Manchester and a young man decided following me around till he saw my boyfriend was a “grand idea”. That happened at “home”, just a feckless man thinking a blonde would drop at his feet. Religion? Nothing to do with it. His penis replacing his brain? Maybe so. It’s easy to blame religion, culture or upbringing for being a wanker but actually the truth of the matter is we just have to push on for equality globally.

Equality, the magic word eh? So where’s wee Charlie? Why didn’t she go? The answer is simple. I cannot risk taking a transgender girl with a male passport through the immigration of a country like the UAE. This Gauls me. It burdens my soul. Every man and their dug keeps telling me I must be utterly infuriated at the very thought of it, and yes I am; but what about the UK? You see we want to blame the Muslims, that be easy, but what about the country I live in that won’t give my daughter the passport she deserves. The passport that would allow her to go to any country, a little book of freedom. I’m only one woman, so yes I think LGBTI rights are shot to shit in these countries but we’re still not there in the U.K. either….. and while I’m on it she couldn’t live in Australia because she would never be able to get married and that’s meant to be one of the most “laid back countries on earth”. It’s just another global fight.

This has been a long rambling type blog but I felt it needed to be out of my system. In this world every single human needs these things to survive: water, food, shelter, love and human rights. It’s not my job to boycott every country in the world because I don’t like their governments treanent of the vulnerable, because to be frank I’d have to live on the moon. It is our job to continue to highlight inequality when we see it. Even to write about it, notice it and address it if and and when we can. 

I’ll be going back to Dubai. I’ll be going back to my second family. I’ll travel the world but I promise in my mind I will always be thinking that “some” men are just wankers (watch for the stampede of woman are too brigade) and I will always be thinking that we could do more…. Inequality isn’t a “Muslim” problem it’s a human issue.

PS did not find husband rich or otherwise much to mammy Zambonini’s upset 

Dear Polticians We Want To See The Real YOU! 

When I had my stroke-ish-thing I came off social media and stayed away from politics in general. One day a friend phoned me and was going on about Kezia resigning, I had no idea what he was talking about. I wasn’t living in the twittersphere. You see we think as politicians (or former politicians) that Social Media is this fantastic platform for spreading the word and your opinion, and yes it can work. However, quite often the very polished photo of a politician smiling away at some event or other means nothing to Sandra, Joe or Bill when they go to the polling station. Quite often your big amazing point is only liked and retweeted by people who agree with you anyway, I’m doubtful if it changes the mind of the opposition.

My job title, when I’m not ill, is “communications manager” and yes I love it and it’s important to let people know What James is doing but what James Dornan does best is talk to his constituents when he passes them in the street. Asking old school pals how their wife and weans are. Talking to his old pal about the football. Speaking to community activists and not using it as a pat on the back photo op. What constituents don’t want are politicians who are never off twitter using words they have to a) Google or b) give a flying feck about. They just want to know you’re fighting for them and that they can relate to you.

Now I know I’m a fan of the social media and very often I’m slagged for being so open. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s hindered my career progression in some ways, but here’s a story. In January I did a “diet diary”, it was literally me just moaning daily about my struggle with chocolate. I got more case work out of that than anything else. Women mailing me to say “hen I feel you, and while I’m on could you help me with my wee problem”. Why did this happen? Because it was relatable. 

Imagine if our politicians tweeted these type of things instead of the daily “smile in a group photo”

1) female politician tweets “late for committee cause the wean had me up all night with sore teeth and a sore ear”. Mothers up and down the land would be saying “on yerself doll for still getting to your work”

2) a male politician tweets “sorry I didn’t make it to the 17th gala day of the year but my wife was fuming that she’d been left with the weans all week herself so she took off to the spa”. Every man in the country with kids would be like “been there ma san”

3) young politicians “bit hungover after an amazing night out this weekend but I’ll be back on form at work Monday.” Showing young people you can actually have a life and still take an interest in the world around you.

4) single politician tweeting “do you think it would be ok for me to get on the Match.com cause tinders rotten”. Every singleton in he country would be howling and high fiving you. 

We are always talking about getting a variety of people into politics but in all honesty the political environment seems pretty hostile to the average joe out there. People would say to me “you’re no one of them hen you’re one of us” but the fact is all politicians are humans, and brave to stand up for what they believe in. I just wish now and again they would show that to the public.

When the “selfie queen” article was printed about me in the Sun I was livid at the approach; but what I failed to notice was the hundreds and I mean hundreds of young girls who said “canny believe a girl like you can be in politics”. It had its own impact.

I once watched Nicola Sturgeon notice a wee family on the door step of their house in one of the most impoverished estates in Wishaw. She bolted up and had a wee play with kids and a blether, I know for a fact that word of this action spread around Wishy like wild fire and probably achieved more than any of my pro snp election tweets.

Yes social media has its place. Yes it’s important for politicians to highlight good causes. Yes it’s important and great to raise awareness; but I’m telling you people would LOVE to see the real life of politicians. The side that wished they were good at diets but the Parliament grub is too good. The side that loves people but cries at the inequality around us. People love to relate.

When I was at work one day I was walking behind a female politician who I admired, revered, and wished I could be like. A woman who is smart, sharp and fearsome. Guess what? She had a ladder in her tights and so I loved her even more.