New Podcasts, New Blogs & Old Brian

At a recent wedding in Ireland. Drank all of the Guinness. 

At a recent wedding in Ireland. Drank all of the Guinness. 

After a wild six months full of fun, sun and a bunch of alcohol - I have neglected my old website. I moved to a new job and wanted to enjoy my summer, so lay off! 

However, we are back with a bang. I thought I deleted all my podcasts and thought I did not back them up. I lay, motionless on my kitchen floor, thinking that there is no record of me spending the day in a gay porn studio except for this blog post and the final thing I think about before I go to sleep. 

Thankfully - I was able to restore them all. I need to do a tad bit of editing and whatnot but they are all there and shall be uploaded this weekend (Dec 2nd / 2016) and then I shall start uploading even more! I have plenty of interviews pre-recorded that I did over a year ago, which are awesome and I will put them up. 

I shall be working on a bunch of new projects also to upload. Lots more fascinating things to learn more about. 

Upcoming podcast topics include - 

Pitcairn Island 

Car Bombs in Yemen 

Rickshaw Through India 

Leaving Love to Travel 

Crossing America in a Cab 

and much more. 

I am playing around with a few other ideas to put myself in some more uncomfortable situations. I really want to do something with my friends. I like the idea of just getting some wine, a mic and a friend and just chatting about stuff. Ideally, I would like to stray away from topics and discuss personal stuff. May not be that good though. 

Maybe I just want to talk to my friends. Maybe I should try do that without the use of a mic. 

Two other ideas that I am thinking about is to do something on me. I am thinking of the mechanic where I basically ask my friends to talk about me and their experiences of me. My faults - strengths, memorable moments and impressions of me. It could be insanely self indulgent. It may also only interest my close friends. 

I have also been toying with the idea of doing a piece on relationships breaking up. I think the ending of relationships is such an interesting thing. The emotions and thought processes involved. Why did people break up and how people move on - is just interesting. Maybe I am just being nosey. 

I think the majority of these podcasts and whatnot are just me being bloody nosey. 

Anyway - onwards and upwards!

Depression: Just Because You Don't Get It, Doesn't Mean It Doesn't Exist

This is an uncharacteristically serious post. I shall try my best and not sprinkle it with hilarious comments. It is sometimes tricky to keep this razor sharp wit in check. 

Admittadly, I have already tried to be funny in this post already. But we shall move on. 

Mental Health & Depression are two fairly topical points at the moment. Despite Irish politicians clearly not giving two shits about it. 

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It is really great to see many people coming out and trying to end the stigma with mental health. And unfortunately, until recently, I think I also had a stigma against mental health. I may have phrased this poorly, let me desperately try to dig myself out of this hole. 

I was out recently for drinks with a friend and we were chatting about positivity and positive thinking. I am a HUGE believer in positive thinking. I would classify myself as an extremely positive person and I am always pushing myself to be happy. Now, I was not always like that. I was definitely an angry little twat for the majority of my youth. Some relatively unpleasant things occurred in my youth which definitely made me very bitter for a long time. I reckon for about a year or year and a half, I was a pretty unhappy chap. I cannot imagine that I was good company. Now, I was far from depressed. Just not delighted. This is a crucial point. And a point that I think I missed until very recently. 

I associated mental health issues with this period, in a weird way. So, I was unhappy for a period and I made an active decision to change some things in my life in order to smile more. Essentially, I forced myself to go from glass half empty to glass half full and fully embrace the challenges and rockiness of life. Very little gets me down nowadays as I try to see anything negative as a positive. Finding something to learn or improve about even a crappy scenario. 

Now, that is all lovely and isn’t Brian such a great lad for having this sorted out. In my often vacant head, I thought everyone can do that. Which is a ridiculous thing to think. While I understood mental health issues, I only considered the extreme mental health issues as….well, issues. I thought most other people just needed to shift some emphasis on to positive thinking. 

Christ, even writing this, I feel embarrassed. But hopefully by showcasing my naivity, I can highlight someone else and assist in shifting the stigma in some small way. 

So, I have never been depressed. But I have been sad. Quite sad and unhappy. These are very very different things. And I think it is easy for people to think they are the same. 

“Just cheer up!” 

It doesn’t work like that. At all. Depression and mental health is so complex. And just because you don’t get it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. And just because you have been low at certain times of your life, doesn’t mean that you understand the complexities of what is happening. Depression is a very real thing and the “ah sure, you’ll be grand” thing doesn't cut it. 

I would consider myself a very understanding man of the world and I thought people could just “cheer up”. 

Anyway, so I was telling my friend that I think people take life too seriously and put too much stress on themselves. Worry about things that can not be controlled. I try not to worry about things that I cannot control. I will talk and analyse it over and over much to the delight of my friends but at the end of the day, fuck it. 

I have a pretty bad knee. I can no longer run the wonderful great distances that I used to. My friend is able to run great lengths. If I run too much on my knee, it feels like its about to explode and I must stop. She, because she understands my issues, doesn’t say;

“Just keep running!” 

Not the best analogy in the world, but you get my drift. 

So, while drinking and being no doubt hilarious, I launch into my thoughts on positivity that goes roughly along this lines. Please imagine a leprechaun saying the below to receive full effect, 

“I just think it is all about perspective. I think people take life too seriously. If you relax and roll with the punches, you will be shocked at how happy you will be. Just enjoy every challenge and make the most of your time here! You will be amazed how easy it is to smile when you tell yourself to smile!” 

In my mind, this is super motivational and incredible. What a true inspiration. Unfortunately, for the majority of the world, they are not talking chimps and are far more complexed than KING KOLLIN$, and it is not as easy to say; be happy. And then you smile. Especially if you are diagnosed with depression. Fuck, I am unsure if I want to post this as I am coming across as an absolute twat. 

But look, there are probably other twats out there who don’t know they are twats. I was once like you. I never actually realised how ignorant I was about mental health issues. So, I expect my friend to agree and say “you are right.” 

Unfortunately, she looked at me and looked quite upset. 

“It is not as simple as that for everyone, Brian.” 

And just like that, it completely hit me. My friend had depression for a few years and still battles with it. 

I was stunned. I don’t know why one sentence hit me so hard. I think it just highlighted how clueless that I was about it all. You can’t just “snap out” of depression. It is not something that people can control and it can be incredibly overwhelming and debilitating. It sure as hell ain’t anything personal also. My friend is a gorgeous, intelligent and incredibly nice girl. In my mind, my stupid ignorant mind, I was thinking; 

“You can’t be depressed! You are great!” 

Like, what a moronic thing to think. That depression can only occur to certain people because of certain reasons. If depression did strike people due to specific reasons, I should have bloody depression. A greying, increasingly chubby talking chimp with some very ignorant thoughts.

All of the above, I did not consider. I shall consider in future. 

And taken from the same article, a good way to try and help if any friends or loved ones have depression. 

If struggling with Depression or any mental health issue, please talk to someone. Hopefully they will be not as insensitive as myself. If you feel “embarrassed” talking to a friend or family member, please chat to someone. There are plenty of support services and plenty of people who can help. And I know it is said a hundred times but there is genuinely nothing to be ashamed of and it is incredibly brave to talk about it. 

And it is OK to be sad sometimes. 

I hope we learnt something today. Apart from me being a dope. 

Take care of yourself 

B x

What Did I Learn From Tinder & My Tinder Podcast?

As my online dating horrors piece is due to go up next week, I decided to put a close my dating blogs with a blog about what I learnt from doing the podcast and from my own experiences also. Unfortunately, I am fresh out of online dating tales for the moment. 

Anyway, so what did we learn? Not necessarily dating tips, but what did I learn about the human condition? 

We are too eager to get the other person to like us

This appears to be a running theme throughout my experiences and speaking to others. I, of course, have been guilty of this also but I think it important to address. I think this may be strictly linked with online dating because you are going in somewhat blind. Back in the old days, and you ask a girl out, you have a decent idea that they may already be interested but we are plagued with;

“What if he/she thinks I don’t look like my pictures?” 

You probably don’t look like your pictures, but who cares? You still look great and your date is lucky to have you. Please remember that. You are awesome, so allow your date to basque in your awesomeness. Do not desperately try to sell yourself to your date. Just chat and if you get along, brilliant and if they want to take you home and “Roger the F**K” out of you, even better. But do not put pressure on yourself. Be you and talk like a normal conversation. Dating is about trying to find someone that you like more than the rest. Not trying to find someone to like you. If they don’t like you, its their loss. They clearly don’t want someone super awesome. 

Losers. 

Dudes are f**kin’ Mental

Guys, please. Please pull it together. If she does not like you, get over it. Accept it and move on. Do not keep at the young lady. Unfortunately romantic comedies may have taught us boys that the weird stalker who is uber persistent will get the girl. Unfortunately, this is not the reality. Otherwise me and Taylor Swift would be married. I sent that poor girl so many dead kittens to express my love for her. But instead of receiving her love, I received a police investigation and a restraining order. 

Dudes, be cool. And if she does not respond to you on whatever dating app you are on, don’t insult her body type or comment on how permiscious she may or may not be. 

Crazy dudes being mental does dramatically assist my chances in dating as you make me look sane in comparison, but for my many female friends, I beg of you, please be chill. 

Focus on finding a particular person and not a label

Don’t just think - “I want a boyfriend/girlfriend”, find someone that you like more than others and that you would be stoked to have them as your partner. Chase the person (but don’t be creepy, boys) not the title. You will ultimately be much more happier. If you are looking for a title rather than a person, you are unfortunately more likely to settle. Make sure the person you pick is awesome, because you are awesome! 

Do not get too down hearted from the bad experiences

Also an unfortunate running theme. I have also been guilty of this. Dating fatigue is very much a thing and that is fine. For every bad experience you have, just embrace it. Think about what you will tell your friends around a few drinks. Everyone loves bad dating stories so you can be centre of attention. And we know how much you love that. 

I think it is fairly common and understandable to get down trodden by a negative experience, but life my friends, is all about perspective. If you are on a date with an absolute freak, embrace it and enjoy it. You are out with someone you ordinarily would not have met in real life. Sure, he may not be prince charming or whatever the female equivalent to prince charming is…..Taylor Swift? But meeting new people is fun and you can learn more about what makes people….people. Feed your curiosity and enjoy a chat with someone you will never see again. Tell them things that you cannot tell anyone else. Make the most out of a bad situation. 

Dudes are f**kin mental. Seriously

Seriously, lads. PLZ. 

Do not let someone else (someone you barely know) determine your happiness

So you went on the date with the love of your life and you know this is it. But they do not feel the same. And stop texting you. What is wrong with you? What could you have done different? 

And ultimately, all this thinking makes you sad. And sad is bad. 

You do not know this person, and we have no idea what is happening in their life. Timing is everything. I went out on a date with a really lovely girl and she was great. Proper girlfriend material but I was just out of a relationship and I was in no way ready to get back into anything even remotely serious. I went out on a date with another wonderful creature but I was moving house at the time and just got caught up in that. We never know what is going on in their lives, no matter how trivial, it can put them off the sense. 

And even if they didn’t like you, fuck them. You are awesome. 

Be happy in yourself and enjoy your own company. If anyone gets to join you in your journey, lucky them! But count on yourself first. Make sure that you can provide your own happiness and anything else is a bonus. 

So, with this article, we wrap up my Tinder experiments and Tinder tales. I found it all very therapeutic and thanks to everyone who sent such lovely stuff. I got a really surprising and lovely amount of feedback. It kept me warm throughout those cold lonely nights. For the moment, I am hanging up my online dating boots. I have been fortunate to go out on many dates with many lovely people, and more importantly batshit crazy people who inspired this blog but I wish to enjoy the summer with my many wonderful friends. 

Being in a relationship is awesome. But so is being single. 

Everything is awesome. So enjoy it. 

Love 

The Date Where I Was The Weird One

There are plenty of blogs writing about the weird and wonderful people that we go out with. Dating stories are often hilariously tragic, and it is usually the other person. Or is it? What if your date goes back to his/her friends and explains what a mental case you are! Obviously that never happens. You are perfect and a sane individual. 

Well, I recently had a date where it dawned on me that right after the date ends, she will explain to her friends what creature she went on the date with. I met her on Once. An app that I have little love for. The idea is nice, they send you a match a day, and you chat away. However the instant gratification of Tinder, Happn and now Bumble leaves me with a small attention span. She was very attractive and we had good chat, so we opted to go for a drink. I had a fairly mental day in work. It was a day of client meetings and alcohol. I was meeting two different companies that we were trying to woo so I had to pretend that I was intelligent and interesting. It was draining. Then, I needed to do it all again on a date. 

It is truly draining pretending to be a nice chap. 

Five minutes before the date started, my older brother texted the family whatsapp group (which is usually reserved for pictures of the dog) and dropped the bomb that he and his wife are having a baby. WOAH! What amazing news. Startling, even. And I was startled.

I yelled “Holy Shit” in the bar that I was waiting in. Obviously, very excited and happy, but taken totally off guard. My date, of course, arrived at the moment that I had my hands on my head in shock. 

Now that I think about it, I hope she didn’t think that my shocked reaction was upon seeing her. We hug and she sits down. I instantly start talking about the incoming arrival. 

“Sorry, but I literally got THE biggest news” 

She pretended to care about the person she doesn’t know’s brother incoming baby. Unfortunately much of the beginning of the date was me going;

“Oh my god. This is mental!”

She was explaining what it was like to scuba dive off the coast of Honduras (sounds amazing by the way) and I would cut across her with; 

“Jesus, a baby!” 

I have added this website to my online dating profile, in an attempt to appear interesting, and she did her research and checked out the website. Naturally, she wanted to talk about my gay porn experience . I walk her through my day. Again, naturally, she is shocked. It is a funny story and I explained other memorable podcast experiences, such as my day with a nudist or my interview with a vampire hunter. 

It then dawns on me that we have been talking about gay porn for a while. I am unsure if this is the most seductive conversation. All my charm was used up in my client meetings so this poor girl was getting unadulterated and uncensored Collins. I tried to change the subject and talk about the beautiful beaches of Thailand but gay porn kept finding itself in the conversation. But by me. I would make weird jokes and references. 

“The beaches in Thailand are just incredible”

“Yeah, they are amazing. Would make a great backdrop for a gay porn”

Like, what? 

Our very patient and understanding date recently bought a place (who the f**k are all these adults?) and then I proceeded to try to sell her a couch. We had a couch in my current house that doesn’t fit through the door of my room. So, it is annoyingly placed in our narrow hallway. Completely not thinking that I was on a date with a very attractive and interesting woman, I started showing her pictures of the couch to wet her appetite. Bizarrely, she did not want the couch. 

I couldn't shift this bloody couch for love nor money. It was a really nice couch, like. 

She was nursing the f**k out of her red wine and when I was getting my second drink, she said that she was fine. You cannot judge her for wanting the eve to end. She appeared to be enjoying it but maybe the laughter was nervous laughter. 

“I best laugh incase he gets his imagery friends like the Vampire Hunter after me”

I had the day off the next day (I was off to Manchester to watch United play) and I was meeting a friend afterwards so I got another drink. Probably another weird thing to do but whatever. Love makes us do funny things. The date ended very nicely. We had a hug both pretended that we would see each other again and went our separate ways. 

I, obviously, tried to do one final pitch for the couch. She didn’t buy. I was not actually trying to sell her the couch, I was offering it for free. Still, nothing. Some people, eh? There are starving kids in Africa with no leather couches! I have this weird thing where I think I love rejection. It was fairly clear that she was not into my flow and that there was no real spark, she was lovely and gorgeous but you know, just wasn’t there, probably because we spoke about gay porn for 60% of the date but despite all this, and knowing this, I feel I need to offer a courtesy second drink. 

She did not seem keen. 

Maybe talk less about Gay porn. 

Or more? 

The Date who I THOUGHT was Booty Calling Me

This is a particularly funny one. 

Now, I am Facebook friends with this particular Tinderette so….sorry about this if you read this. But nothing to be wary of. This was actually my first Tinder date ever….or at least, I think it was. Suitable that it would end with a hilarious situation. Begin how you mean to continue. 

So, I matched up with this girl. She was very easy on the eyes and lovely. Great scenes. We went out on two dates but it wasn’t really there. I think we enjoyed each others company but there was no spark or whatever. But great company. The second date ended with a “OK, well, I guess we will see each other later”. 

Y’know how it is. 

After a very, very long week, I collapsed onto the couch in my old place, and began catching up with housemates. I tucked into a few cans and chatted away. I was all set for a nice relaxing and short evening. It was about 12.30am, when a text came in from our earlier Tinderella. We had not seen or spoken to each other in a few weeks so it was very random. I shall put her texts in italics. 

“Hey, how was your week?” 

Wut? 

“Yeah, it was grand. How was yours? Any scandal?” 

“Fine thanks. Do anything with your Friday?”

What is happening here? 

“I had a horrendously long day so figured I would just flake out” 

“I may have a proposition for you that will make your Friday better ;)” 

WUT?!?!

Alarm goes off in my head. This is a booty call. Alert, this is a booty call. I stand up to alert my housemates. They celebrate. Someone hands me a bouquet of flowers. There may have been rice thrown. 

Say something not retarded, Brian. Please don’t ruin this for us. 

“Always interested in a proposition that will improve my day”

WHAT?! 

That is what you say? Christ almighty. Brian, you deserve to die alone. And I think everyone who reads this blog, also agrees. So, we obviously screwed that up and she did not text again. 

“Oh great! I am at a gig at the moment, give me a few minutes as my reception is shit”

OH HANG ON. My horrendous way with words did not make her want to vomit, pull her eyes out of her skull and jump in front of oncoming traffic. 

 Right, second chance Collins. Don’t “Pull a Brian”. Here goes…

“Yeah, sweet.”

Oh nice. Superbly done. Somebody has spoken to women before. A regular James Bond. Obviously the next questions is asking where I am and how long it will take me to get back to her place and rock her body. 

Rock her body? 

Christ, you suck. 

The text comes in. 

“OK, so my work is having a charity pub quiz and I would love you to host it! I think you would be great!! :)” 

Oh wow. Hosting a pub quiz. Admittedly, I have done that and it was a tonne of fun. But when you are thinking it is a booty call. It is a particular come down. Especially having announced it to the room. 

The bouquet was taken back off me, we cleaned up the rice and I went to bed. 

I did not host the pub quiz. 

The Date where I met another Tinder Date. With a Bondage Fetish.

As I am encouraging you all to share your online dating nightmares or hilarious tales for a new podcast project, I feel it is only fair to share mine. You show me yours and I will show you mine. 

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I received the ultimate swipe. A small blonde Scandinavian. She was an incredible looking creature. After playing it cool for a few texts, I asked to see if she wanted to go for a casual drink. In my mind, I was already picking out destination weddings.

 We went for Monday night drinks in the glorious Covent Garden. 

We were chatting and getting along quite well. I was just happy to be out in public with this beacon of delight. I went to the bar to get us a drink and a guy asked me; 

“Is she with you?”

“Yeah” - I said as if I wasn’t as shocked as him. 

"Bloody fair play” 

“Just another Monday, pal” 

I didn’t say that but I wish i responded in a cooler way than I did. I cannot remember how I responded but I can imagine I awkwardly smiled and probably spilt a bit of my pint. Always wear dark clothes on a date for when you inevitably spill something on yourself.

It would be great to be quick witted and being able to speak like a true LAD to another LAD. Unfortunately, LAD BANTS is not in my repertoire of skills. For example, we had a very nice chap from Kerry deliver furniture to my new apartment. Lovely guy. He figured he would chat to us about London life. 

"The women here are fierce hot, aren't they?" 

Now, a simple nod and yes would suffice. Nothing else, Brian. Maybe throw in a "Jesus, you haven't seen half of it!". 

But no, this is not how our hero responds. He digs deep, and comes out with; 

"Yeah, boiling." 

A silence falls over the group. "Boiling", impressively, is one of the few words similar to "hot" that cannot be used appropriately when describing an attractive member of the opposite sex. Our Kerry friend, stared blankly at me, expecting me to joke about it but I stood staring back at him, confused what I said. 

Anyway, this is not really related to the story but I just mainly want to brag and relive being in the company of the Queen of Scandinavia. Upon my return from the bar, I see my date chatting to another couple. I can only assume they were congratulating her in securing me on a date. No doubt.......

It appeared that this other couple were also on a Tinder date. My date was completely fine with discussing the Tinder situation with the others. The male was English and the female was Australian. Me and the other dude sat awkwardly as our dates discussed the struggles of the online dating world. The Australian revealed that she has a hotel booked and was planning on “Rogering the f**k” out of her date.

I specifically remember her using the term "Rogering the f**k". It really resonated with me. Rogering is such an odd term. A popular Australian term maybe? I never heard it on Neighbours anyway. 

Myself and the male exchanged an awkward smile. How is one to respond to such a statement? The Australian, who obviously started drinking far earlier than us, then explained how she had handcuffs and a whip in her bag. 

Myself and the male exchanged an awkward smile. 

The male, who I am sure is dying for this interaction to end was in an unfortunate pickle. As this conversation now had my attention. 

“Handcuffs and a whip?!” I lean forward. I am hooked and want more juicy details. She quickly flashes me the insides of the bag and I can see the shimmer from the handcuffs. She clearly gave them a good polish beforehand. Not enough people take enough pride in their fetish equipment nowadays. Back in my day….. 

Now that I am fully invested in this other date, I can see the male feeling lost at sea. He was clearly a relatively shy chap who was just delighted to be getting the ride. However, this date was turning far more sinister, and fast. I think he was still delighted but would prefer if his date was a little more low key. The opportunity for her to be low key was well and truly gone as I was thirsty for details and kept asking a variety of questions. Unfortunately, they had to leave as she wanted to make the most of the hotel room. I give her my card and told her to please update me. Now that I think about it, my current date could have thought I was gaming this other girl and also concerned why I wanted to know so much. Curiosity, man. I cannot get enough of it. The rival Tinder date depart and our date goes on. Our date was great, but it was the next morning where our story ends. 

The following morning, I receive a WhatsApp voice mail from some random number. Our date went on late into the evening and featured many drinks, so I completely forgot that I gave our fetish Tinderette my card. I would upload this voicemail for you all but I changed phone since then and the glorious data went with my previous phone. But, the voicemail went something like this; 

“Hey Brian! It’s AUSTRALIA (that is not her name, I cannot remember her name. Australia would be a weird name. Especially for an Australian) from last night. So, I thought I would give you a quick update. Me and DATE had a great time. I am currently having breakfast and he is tied up on the bed. Say Hey….(I hear a male say “Hey” in the background)…so yeah, I hope you and the Scandinavian had a great time. She was gorgeous. Go you!” 

Mental. 

I respond with a voicemail in floods of laughter and appreciate that she kept me in the loop. 

Over the next few days, she began texting me more and more. Asking about how it went with my date and then making a joke saying; 

“You need to find a girl who will tie you up ;” 

I did not respond. 

The Date that was Baby Obsessed and Convinced I was Gay

The title says it all.

As I am encouraging you all to share your online dating nightmares or hilarious tales for a new podcast project, I feel it is only fair to share mine. You show me yours and I will show you mine. 

It was a beautiful sunny Sunday. I had been texting another Tinderette for a while and we opted to go for some early Sunday drinks. Great job. Unfortunately, I had quite a big night the previous night. And I was feeling QUITE tender. I cannot necessarily remember what the night entailed of but I remember roughly ending up in The Dolphin in Hackney. For those of you who know The Dolphin, know what that entails. It entails plenty of alcohol and not plenty of sleep. 

I was desperately trying to fill myself with food and rise above the crippling pain of my hangover. Our Tinderette, a gorgeous blonde Canadian kept texting me saying that we should move the date forward to maximise the sun. I completely understood her desire to catch the rays, but I feel she did not understand what a post Dolphin hangover is capable of. Like a true hero, I pulled it together and threw myself into the shower. Inside, I was dying, but outside, I looked fabulous. I tend to be an odd beast when it comes to being hungover. There are two types of hangover Brian. 

A) Lying motionless awaiting the sweet release of death 

B) Crazy talkative….like, will not shut up

If I did not have a date, I believe option A would be my destiny, but I needed to pull it together and B came out to play. Unfortunately, I literally could not shut up. I explained to our date that I was extremely hungover and when hungover, I talk, too much. It is not the worst thing for a date as there will be no awkward silences. In fact, there will barely be gaps between words. She thought that I was super nervous. I assured her that I wasn’t. If I was nervous, it was merely nerves about this hangover potentially killing me. We did a mini pub crawl in the sun in the lovely North London. It was very enjoyable and my hangover slowly seemed to fade. Obviously, it only faded because I was in the process of getting drunk again. 

The more drinks that were consumed, the more…..honest…..I guess, she was getting. 

“I want kids”

“What….like, now?”

“No, obviously not but I want you to know that I want kids” 

Not entirely sure what to do with this information, so I smiled and nodded. Ideally, I would like to have kids at some point but i do not really wish to discuss it on a first date. Weirdly, the kids thing came up a few more times. She was lovely and very easy on the eyes so I was happy to listen to what she will call all her kids. We were getting along swimmingly and I was allowing her to speak more, which is a treat, for her. 

“Can I ask you a personal question?” - She asks. 

“Yeah, go for it”

“Have you ever been with a man?”

She looked me dead in the eyes at this point. She wasn’t joking or anything. Dead serious. 

“No of course not! Why would you say that?” - I laughed it off. Many people have thought I may have been gay in the past. But this is the first time it happened on a first date. Good to get it out of the way. 

“Are you sure?” - still, dead serious. 

“No…..I haven’t been with a dude before” 

“I think you are maybe gay”

I just started laughing. I didn’t really know how to respond. No joke, she continued to grill me for a further 15 minutes about it. She had a completely straight face throughout and appeared to be almost concerned that I was not being true to myself. We continued back and forth for a bit before she said; 

“Whatever, I do still think you are gay by the way” 

Haha, ok sweet. Weirdly, that is when she went for a kiss. What a truly perplexing moment. Still, when a hot blonde makes a move, even if she was certain that you were gay, you still have to go for it. Afterwards, I made a joke about how she kisses like my last boyfriend.

There was no laughter.

Just staring.

I wish my writing was good enough to properly explain how she was looking at me. The closest thing that I can compare it to is when a dog does something bold. At first, you are annoyed with it but then realise that it is a stupid dog and it doesn’t know any better.

The date was running on and it was a school night so we opted to call it a night. We made plans to hang out again and go to the cinema in Notting Hill. Despite it being a fairly odd date at times with babies and being accused of being gay, she was super attractive, very nice and I am shallow and clearly have a thing for crazy women, so I was more than happy to see her again. 

I texted her asking were we still on for the cinema trip a few days later. She wasn’t available. Nor did she appear to be particularly arsed to make herself available. 

I guess she didn’t believe me that I wasn’t gay. 

I did not see her again. 

I am still culminating online dating nightmares for a new podcast project, so please get in touch and share any you have! 

The Science Behind My Tinder Profile

As I am encouraging you all to share your online dating nightmares or hilarious tales for a new podcast project, I feel it is only fair to share mine. You show me yours and I will show you mine. 

This post is very tongue in cheek. Please don't take seriously. 

I shall not post the profiles of those that I match with on Tinder. Do not worry, Ladies. I know how you worry. I figure to begin the series of blogs about my online dating exploits, I best man up and post my profile. I hope this doesn't effect my Tinder pulling power. I have my website address in my bio but that is so I can gain some sweet extra traffic. Imagine how many people swipe past you a day? Think of the BRAND AWARENESS and other buzz words. There has been very little mention of Tinder on my website except about how my Tinder profile can help your business.

However, I have blogs on the site about the time I was almost in the Eurovision and my day in a gay porn studio. One more deterrent won't really matter. 

I would be interested in what people make of my profile. Any recommendations or tips are welcome.  A friend & I sat around and compared profiles recently. It is interesting how people think they should sell themselves. I thought my friend was drastically underselling herself and she thought I was gross. So, I was on the mark, obviously. 

So, let us begin. 

THE BIO: Let us start with the most important bit, the bio. Come on guys, let's not be shallow. We can see right off the bat, the job title. It is a nice job title. It is a generous title. While I sound super impressive, I actually work for a very small company. An awesome company who do magic things, but still small. She doesn't need to know that. 

"How many people do you manage?" 

"Between 2 - 300"

Phrasing is everything. I am not technically lying. The amount of people I manage does fall in between those two numbers. By saying "two to three hundred", emphasis is on the HUNDRED. And it leaves it open for it potentially be two hundred. Which, obviously I do not nearly manage that many.  The job title also insinuates that I am a baller. I am not. At all. And I am fairly cheap.

One at a time, ladies. 

I added my website. Controversial, considering what is on my website, especially with this new dating content. But we may change it. A super nice and hella cute girl commented on how much she liked my podcasts after conducting the necessary research following our match. This will be awkward if she sees this as I think I am seeing her soon. Hopefully she assumes that tonnes of females compliment my blog and podcasts. Maybe they do?

They don't. 

Anyway, we also mention that I am Irish. Being Irish has certainly been a benefit in my dating experience. I include my love for Travel. Because, well, I am obsessed with travel. RE: All my travel blogs. I do not crave a relationship or anything, but the worst thing about being single is holidays. When you get to my age, everyone is in a bloody relationship, so finding people to go away with you, can be tricky. I mention how I am always laughing and that I do not partake in Kareoke as much as I would like to. These are true facts. And I feel necessary to insert. When pitching to new clients, I always to end on a joke. My pitching to women is no different. 

I think that is a pretty funny way to end it. So, we have them with our wonderful words. How will we visually captivate our victims.....DATES.....dates! How will we visually captive our dates? 

EXIHIBIT A:

Oh Collins, you old dog. A strong start. Smiley but professional. Black and white is also slimming. Good stubble / beard. You have their attention. This article is getting weird, I am just beginning to compliment myself. But come on, that is a good opener. 

EXIHIBIT B:

I am not 100% about this one. I think it is a great snap but you cannot actually see me in it. Will people also think that is me with my ex-girlfriend? It is not, btw. One of my closest compatriots. I am also unable to jump like that anymore now that I am older. I am also fatter. Is my jump camp? We are over thinking this now. The picture was taken in Paraguay in a very remote area called Villa Florida. 

EXHIBIT C:

This is what I actually look like. You have to let your poor victim....DATE....christ, I keep making that error. You have to let your date know what you actually look like. I tend to be more bearded than that usually but that is me. I am also tremendously hungover in this picture. If you look around my mouth, we can also see I did a horrendous job of shaving that morning. Goddamnit Collins. Some "almost goattee" thing going on. The big redeeming feature of this picture is that I am standing beside my friend who is shorter than I am. This gives the impression that I am as tall as a mighty oak. 

EXHIBIT D:

Hahaha, yes I know. I know. I probably should get rid of this picture because it is so cheap. We all know what I am trying to do here. I just am unable to remove the picture because it is too funny to show people when the topic of Tinder comes up. Everyone always has the same reaction. I am sorry, even if it is detrimental to my love life and cheap, it is too funny. In my defence, I worked in a Cambodian orphanage for a few months ages ago and I did absolutely adore it. These were my favourite class. I will be honest, I didn't teach the that much english but we played a tonne of football. 

EXHIBIT E:

No huge science or funny story behind this one but it is just a recent picture of me with a beard. I look like I am about to say something hilarious, and I undoubtably did. 

EXHIBIT F:

Sunglasses?!?! HEY COOL DUDE! And where abouts are you? What a world traveller you are and clearly super cool. 

That is the message that I wish to portray from this image. And I think this objective is clearly attained. 

I am still culminating online dating nightmares for a new podcast project, so please get in touch and share any you have! 

The Date that had quite the Drug Debt

As I am encouraging you all to share your online dating nightmares or hilarious tales for a new podcast project, I feel it is only fair to share mine. You show me yours and I will show you mine. 

Another tale of love folks. A hungover Sunday is when I do most of my online dating. After I drag myself from bed, I sing “Man in the Mirror” into my mirror, butt naked and begin swiping. 

I'm Gonna Make A Change,
For Once In My Life
It's Gonna Feel Real Good,
Gonna Make A Difference
Gonna Make It Right . . .

The internet obviously knew that I was lonely and hungover. And it supplied me with an email offering me 3 months free on Match.com. 

“Oh delicious! A new app to play with!” 

Match.com is a completely different beast than your other apps to find love. People on Match.com are legit looking for love. I joke about looking for love but I actually just want to go for a drink with pretty people. Now, I am no supermodel but I was inundated with Match.com requests and messages and hearts and all sorts of weird emojis. Some of these messages were from very attractive ladies. I was very flattered but when you actually read the bio of these women, we see things like 

“Seeking long term relationship” 

“NEED BABIEZ ASAP” 

Woof, no thanks. I always wonder about people who “really want a relationship”. Surely the point of a relationship is that you have found someone that, at that point in time, you like more than other people? So, you should want a specific person not a title or whatever. Anyway, I am moving from the point. I received a message from a very attractive Irish girl. Irish. Maximum points. Any date that I have gone on with an Irish is always so much better. We are just a better standard of human. Sorry, rest of the world. But we are gas craic. 

Anyway, we were chatting for a bit and unlike many of Match.com, did not mention babies within the first few sentences. 

“Oh you are from Ireland? I love the Irish accent”

“Haha, yeah. I am from Ireland. I apparently have QUITE the Irish accent”

“Wen u wnt kidz?”

We went for a drink in Covent Garden. My god, I love Covent Garden. A superb date place for all you Londoners. A strong recommendation from Brian. 

The date was going really well. She seemed sane and we had plenty of Irish things to talk about (Potatoes, The Famine, The Queen, 800 years of oppression, you know, the usual stuff). We got along very well and we had a smooch or two. 

The next day, it all went sour very quickly. We got the tube together in the morning and all seemed rosey. We were discussing where we should go on our next date. She received a text and she looked shocked. 

“You OK?”

“Nah, I owe my ex boyfriend aload of money”

“Oh….”

“Yeah, like loads. He is a drug dealer. I was getting a lot of stuff that I assumed was free. But it wasn’t. And he is mad. More so now that we have broken up” 

“Oh…..” 

Like, what am I to say to that?

“Cheer up champ! At least you had plenty of sweet drugs for a while!” 

Instead, I sat and pondered my life choices and how I ended up sitting beside a women who was in a serious amount of debt with a drug dealer. Suddenly, She quickly jumped up and ran off the train. 

“Oh…”

I remained sitting. Confused. The doors closed and we pulled out of the station that was four stops before she was due to get off. Dating is weird and I have experienced plenty of weird situations, so I figured this was going to be another one. I just sat there and looked forward to texting my friends when I have reception. I hop out at my desired stop and grab my sacred morning coffee. I receive a text from our debt ridden princess saying that she had to get off because she had to vomit. Followed by a sick emoji. 

Right. 

Again, what do you say to that? The combination of last nights alcohol and a threatening text from an ex, made her feel sick. I have never been in such a situation but I can imagine that it is unpleasant. I was beginning to wonder whether I should actually see this girl again but she was very attractive (Yes, I am shallow. I have made my peace with it. You should to) and we had fun so why not? 

We were texting throughout the day and she was going back up in my estimations. I know, what a glorious achievement for her. We once more were planning when to see each other next. I had a crazy day in work. We signed a new client and this new client (who I loved) forgot that we have other clients and I needed to put out a fire. Not literally. I would be an awful Fireman. I did not respond to her for several hours. It went like this; 

I did not respond. 

Does that make me a bad person? I don't think so, but I would think that. The evening part of the date was lovely and she was great but I don't want to be found buried in the back garden of her ex boyfriend's house. And who gets kicked out of their house? And who asks if you are busy, and then when you do not respond because you are busy, texts you to let you know that you are busy. 

I wish her all the best. And I hope she found somewhere to live. 

I did not see her again. 

I am still culminating online dating nightmares for a new podcast project, so please get in touch and share any you have! 

The Date that Couldn't Handle her Alcohol and Threw Shoes at Me

As I am encouraging you all to share your online dating nightmares or hilarious tales for a new podcast project, I feel it is only fair to share mine. You show me yours and I will show you mine. 

Following my big move to London, the opening few months mostly consisted of settling in to a new job, trying desperately to find somewhere to live and drinking far too much alcohol in the sun. London gets proper tropical summers. And you can drink in public places. I became far too accustomed to purchasing a can of Heineken on my walk from the train station, following my after work drinks in a beer garden in London. 

I sound like a character in Sex & The City. What is the name of the chubby Irish one?

At this point in my Tinder career, I was mostly swiping and then cowering behind my couch, unsure what to say to every match. In my defence, I literally had NO time to pretend to be interested in what they have to say, let alone meet up with them. The time came when I had…...well, time. So, it was time to put these apps to the test. Around this time, I matched up with a fairly incredible young lady. Very out of my league. Thankfully she was not as shallow as I was and agreed to go out with me. She suggested dinner. Which I thought was weird. Pretty much all of my dates that I have ever gone on, at the beginning anyway, just involved consuming a tonne of alcohol followed by poor choices. 

I know many, many bars in London town but very few places to eat. Christ, I am really painting myself out as an alcoholic but look, it is what it is. I think going on a first date for dinner is a disastrous idea. It is too adult for me. Yes, I am almost 30 but…..it is what it is. We matched on a hungover Sunday (when I do most of my swiping) and agreed to grab food on the Wednesday. She was efficient. She lived and worked out of the city so we went to Highbury & Islington as it was a midpoint. H&I is a lovely part of the world and I know it slightly better than other parts of the world, so I did not get too lost when trying to find the restaurant. 

I obviously still got lost though. Just less so. 

I tend to be 15-20 minutes early for everything I ever do in London. Sorry, that is a complete lie. I INTEND to be 15-20 minutes early for everything, and I should be, but usually involves me desperately running somewhere and pondering about what life would be like if I wasn’t so stupid. I always leave at the right time to get to my final destination but something will happen en route. Without fail. Unfortunately, these events are almost certainly my fault. 

A personal favourite is when I organised date down the road from my house. Perfect. How convenient. I left the office and headed home, to get changed before meeting my date. This is so convenient. I get the tube home everyday from work, so nothing can go wrong? For some absolutely bizarre and unexplainable reason, despite doing this journey 5 days a week, I got on the tube going in the wrong direction. 

Like, why? I sat on the tube and saw “Pimlico” pop up as the next station. 

“That’s weird. I could have sworn Pimlico was the opposite direction.”

I was correct. Well, I got on the wrong tube like a moron, but I was spot on with my discovery that I was on the wrong tube. 

Anyway, back to our date. 

Naturally I lied about knowing loads of places and asked our date to choose what type of food she wants. Asian was the choice. Perfect. I love Asian food. I jumped onto DoneDeal or some bargain website and spotted that there was a Teppanyaki place that was doing 20% off. 

Bingo. 

I had never done Teppanyaki and that is so cool and hip and different. And I am so cool and hip and different. There was literally no way that she wouldn’t fall in love with me after this. For those who don’t know, Teppanyaki is when you sit around a table and they cook the food in front of you. This is a super date idea. But an absolutely atrocious first Tinder date. 

We sat down and the first question asked was; 

“Are you guys a couple?” 

“errr….”

Obviously, we are not a couple. So I do not know why this shit is awkward, but it is. I mumbled something and thankfully, the chef was aware of the uncomfortable situation that was developing. We sat and had a really great date. She was very funny and more importantly, she found me funny. This, unfortunately, is very important to me. How sad. I fear writing about my dating experiences is merely going to highlight how insane I am. 

Anyway. 

The date was great. Few glasses of wine and plenty of chats. There was no awkward silences or anything. It was the best date I had in a while. Great success. And she was gorgeous. And I am shallow. Great success. 

However, what happened next was to shock me. I asked for the bill and it came out. This was no shock. As the waiter placed the bill down on the table, she stood up. 

“I am just going to pop to the toilet” 

OMG! The oldest trick in the book. I was trying to work out whether she innocently needed to tinkle right as the bill came out or whether, what was actually happening was happening. Disastrously, even with 20% off, the bill still came to £70. Bloody hell. I am the worst like this on dates. Thinking that I am a baller, spending a tonne of money and then secretly stewing in self hatred for the rest of the month until payday. 

I paid the bill and shock horror, our date returned. I was a bit put off by that. Even allow me the opportunity to offer to pay for it. To be fair to her, I definitely would not have offered. I am happy to pay for dinner but I feel on a first date, and via the internet is a bit much. 

Brian, your cheapness is showing. 

We vacated the restaurant and walked towards her car. Oh, she drove. She did not drink more than the legal limit, so put down the phone, nark. 

Post smooch, we hopped in her car and she dropped me down the road. I shouldn’t have gotten in the car as in order to get my bus, I needed to only cross the road, so I ended up getting dropped 4 seconds down the road before walking back in the direction I came from to get the bus. 

An expensive but relative success. 

However, it was date 2 where everything went mental. Following our solid opening date, we opted to walk around a few markets on East London. A day date. A refreshing change to my usual dating experiences. Too much alcohol and too much bad choices. 

We pottered around East London and checked out a variety of different markets. We had mulled wine. It was all very lovely and very chilled. She suggested that we go get food, my heart began to race. What if she did it again?! 

Brian, cheapness! 

Like a champ, she split the bill. I was due to head back to my housemates birthday which was happening in the house so our date was winding down. The date was very keen to keep hanging out, so we went to a bar mid way from my house and hers. We had a few more drinks and had plenty of great chats. However, the time came for me to go. I had to head back to my housemates thing. I didn’t know a tonne of his friends so I offered her to come back and join. She agreed but said; 

“We will go after one more drink. It’s my round anyway” 

Be still, my beating heart. 

She came back to the table and began telling a story. It was mid way through this story that I realised that she was completely hammered. Like, not making any sense. I don’t know what she had in that sup of wine but it seemed powerful as f**k. I suggested that she goes back to hers and I will go to the party. I was not that keen on bringing a crazy wasted Tinder date back to a party where I don’t know many people. Not a great look. In fact, it is a very creepy look. She insisted on coming back to the party. Not a whole lot I could do but she was super fun and party’s are fun so it should be fun. 

Fun! Right? 

So we come back to our house and she wants to drop her stuff up to my room. She is stumbling all over the place. So, like the absolutely legendary gentleman that I am, I grabbed a tonne of water and tried to give it to her. She wanted wine and not water. I suggested that maybe water would be better than wine, as she has drank a lot of wine and is struggling to stand up straight. I should have known that telling a drunk woman that she is too drunk, is like waving red in front of a bull. 

Our date then started picking up my shoes and throwing them at me. It was confusing and mildly painful. Thankfully I do not have that many shoes so she eventually ran out of her bullets. Like a true psychopath, she started laughing and came over to hug me, apologising. Dodging a variety of shoes appeared to sober me up and I was eager to get the date out of the house so I could enjoy my night. Oh, in the shoe fight, she knocked over the water that I brought up. She requested another water. But she was being sweet and not psychopathic and I sort of had to do what she said in case she threw a TV at me or something. 

I went down to get water and spoke to some of our guests. I explained that I had a super drunk girl from Tinder in my room and that I am not a rapist. I went back up into my room, and she was gone. Confused, I popped my head into other bedrooms to see if she was there. Alas, no where to be seen. Concerned and secretly relieved, I wonder where she is. I find her in the living room, talking to two other girls and drinking a bottle of red wine. 

Who are the girls? 

Where did she get the wine?

None of these things were important. She was grand and I could go and socialise. I crack open a beer and chat away with some people there. Suddenly, I see my housemate waving at me frantically. 

“She is on the move!” - he mouths. 

Godamnit. Christ, almighty. I head out of the kitchen and see our date trying to make her way out of the house. She was struggling. I offer to walk her to the train station. We walk to the station and she asks if I will get to the train with her to Camden and she can get home from then. I pretend to be fine with that decision and we jump on the train. The poor girl is so bloody wasted at this point and turns into a horny toddler. I will not go into graphics but she put a malteser into my ear and then sucked it out. I was making eye contact with an elderly Carribbean woman sitting opposite me. She looked disgusted. I mouthed “sorry” and tried to occupy the drunkard. I tried my best to sit still and ignore her. 

At this stage, I am fairly fed up and eager to get away from her and return to the party. We arrive at Camden, she needs to change to her train and I will head back. She is, obviously, still wasted and she asks can I go slightly further with her to her home. She lived in Barnet. Now, I asked how long Barnet was away and she said it wasn’t long. And I foolishly believed her. 

We continued our epic journey back to bloody Barnet. I am completely stone sobre now and fairly fed up. She has passed out asleep at this stage. Drooling on my jacket. That can be cute and adorable. After the evening that we had, it was not cute nor adorable. We finally bloody arrive at some station near Barnet, Narnia, I believe. I still have plenty of time to head back to the party so I give her a little kiss and run back to jump on the train back to society. 

“Briannnnnn”

I stop in my tracks. Turn around praying that she is just saying “Goodnight!”. If you are screaming at the computer and encouraging me to go to hers and do the deed, I cannot stress how drunk she was and how eager I was to go back to the party. There was a gang of youths standing near the station and she asked if I could walk her home. Again, I fear this is sounding like she wants to seduce me. But I promise you, she isn’t. She claims that she lives near the station and despite her telling me that Barnet is near Camden, I believe her. 

In her defence, in the grand scheme of geography and in comparison to Camden and Barnet, she did live close to the station. About 15 minutes or so. I drop her to her door and run off. Despite all these delays, I still had more than enough time to catch the last train back. Or so I thought. 

It seems the Northern Line from Barnet or Timbooktoo or wherever the hell I was, stops running earlier than other lines. Absolute disaster. I quickly check Citymapper to see how long it would take me to get home. 7 weeks and 4 thousand buses. Obviously not, but it was ages. I think close to three hours (because I am using night buses also). Just an absolute ‘mare. It would have cost a fortune in a taxi. So, this was my life. I was going to need to set up a new life in Barnet. I phone the date and ask does she mind if I sleep on her couch. She acts weird and almost as if I am being some creepy dude who planned all of this as a way to sleep in her house. But I was stuck. At this point, I felt only resentment towards her, so did not mind pissing her off. 

She was super nice and lovely when I got there and offered me some wine. Maybe this won’t be so bad. She passed out asleep fairly soon after and I was left, drinking wine, watching Couples Retreat, in Barnet. 

Couples Retreat is a f**king terrible film. 

I did not see her again. 

I am still culminating online dating nightmares for a new podcast project, so please get in touch and share any you have! 

Modern Dating in Ye Olde London Town

Dating blogs appear to be all the rage currently. Are they? Maybe not but two of my new favourite blogs focus on Dating. You should definitely read (if you did not hear about) 30DaysofTinder and the lesser known, but still great, The Adventures of Kelly and Nelson

I was talking to some pals about different content for my website. You can tell that I have worked in Marketing too long that I refer to posting personal stories online as “content”. I have been single for almost 2 and a half years now, and on all your regular dating apps. Well, not Grindr

yet.

I moved to London about 2 years ago (it will be 2 years in May) and have experienced much hilarity with these dating apps. 

Unfortunately, I attract madness. I say unfortunately, anyone who knows me, knows I love any opportunity to tell a good tale. And my dating life has not let me down. Over the coming weeks and or months and or years, I shall begin posting a variety of experiences. I promise all are real. Some may appear fake or made up. Unfortunately, they will be all true. I say unfortunately. See earlier point. 

In saying that, I am sure the majority of my dates would claim that I am mental also. I am almost 30, have a Blink 182 tattoo, love Taylor Swift and went to a Gay Porn Studio

Upon first arrival into London, I was more eager to experience life as a singleton in big bad London. I also moved to London with the aim of conquering the world via Marketing (still a work in progress) and that mission does not lend itself to much time to focus on tricking another poor individual into a relationship. I do thoroughly enjoy dating on a variety of apps. While in a relationship, Tinder was in its infancy, and like everyone in a relationship, it fascinated me. I couldn’t believe people were on it. And that internet dating was acceptable now. 

“I would never do it. It is so shallow” 

After me and an ex parted ways (very amicably, she is great. Part of me will be eternally jealous of the dude who ends up with her, but in the nice way, not a jealous creepy way, and also worried for his mental health, because she is batsh*t), I spent a few months lamenting the loss of her and wondering whether I would ever fall in love again. Y’know, the usual stuff. 

I have fell in love since. Many times. In fact, I fell in love this morning. I walked past her getting off the tube. The connection was electric. She was going down the escalator, I was going up. A modern day Romeo & Juliet. Nothing was said, nor did she see me, but we could both feel it. 

The idea to document some of my dating tales was not only inspired by wanting to steal the ideas of two other successful blogs but came from me beginning this project. My friends recommended that I upload some of my Tinder Tales or Happn Hangouts, so it seemed like a natural progression. I have plenty of stories to tell, so I will not be short of CONTENT. 

I suppose a brief bit about me are required. We have already established that I am hilarious (see above CONTENT). Personal descriptions are always difficult to write as you always just write the ideal version of yourself, but the ideal version of myself would be very ambitious, a hard worker, pretty laid back and I would like to consider myself a good laugh and a loyal pal. 

In reality, I am an egotistical dick who only wants to entertain himself on dates. I have been described as a “High Functioning Retard”, more than once. Not to be insulting to those with mental health issues but I suppose I have gained such a label because I have achieved some pretty cool stuff, professionally and personally, have a good job that I am very good at (there is that ego shining) and yet, I once put a lit cigarette behind my year while boarding a bus. Before wondering where the smell of smoke was coming from. 

My housemate could add a million more of these things to the list. 

I am also not smooth. At all. Not to say that I am bad with the opposite sex, but I think I succeed with my ability to chat rather than looks or charm. 

"But Brian, you appear so smooth and charming. Like an Irish James Bond..."

I appreciate that, but see below in a classic attempt at flirting. 

*Sigh*

Thankfully our very attractive estate agent did not let that deter her from going out on a date with me. The first date was great. The second.....not so much. I will explain about that later. That particular date made me realise that I clearly attract crazy, but crazy is more enjoyable, and will inspire blogs and funny stories. And I obviously love crazy. I have made my peace with that. 

I find a lot of blogs that focus on dating mainly highlight who they are dating and laugh at them. This is not my intention at all. We shall all laugh at each other, unfortunately mostly at me. I, personally, have had a few nightmares on dates so I am not angel, and I shall share accordingly.

Over the next weeks while I am piecing this project together, I shall be posting some of my dating stories. Please, get in touch and share yours here! 

Speak soon.

New Tinder Related Podcast / Social Experiment.....sort of

Screen Shot 2016-03-04 at 12.54.59.png

With my most recent podcast series finale going online recently, I have decided to take a small break from podcasting. And by break, I mean work on a new series. Which takes time. Research, recording, editing and scheduling. I am currently beginning the research process to find new guests. I have some fairly excellent people lined up. It shall not disappoint. 

However, it will not be until June that they will be online. So, I am going to create a few random projects in the mean time.  One off documentary sort of things. Or maybe I will just make one off separate entities rather than another series. Well, I will work on another series but.....look, it is not important. 

A very common and popular talking point within my group of friends (or any group, no doubt) is dating, specifically online dating. There is nothing more glorious than when a friend or a colleague has a truly bizarre dating story. I have plenty, which I shall start blogging about and these tales got me thinking. 

What if I do a podcast on online dating mares? They do not even need to be nightmares. They could be amazing, interesting, weird or whatever. 

What a delicious idea! 

Now, where do we get people? Some of my friends will contribute but that is not enough. We need to widen our net. So, as an added interesting facet to this project, I am going to contact all of my Tinder matches. 

OH, IT JUST GOT INTERESTING. 

I shall send a message to all 286 Tinder matches. No exceptions. Well, I shall exclude the matches that I am hoping to get out on a date soon. But all the historical matches, shall receive a message. From the ladies who I should have called back to the ones who didn't text back. 

I shall send the following - 

I am feeling a little bit nervous about sending it around but YOLO. It is all about the art, I suppose.  I shall update you as I go. 

However, these are just the women in my life. If others would like to take part and send a similar message to their contacts, let me know. It can be a fun / weird experience. Particularly, I need a female so I could have some male contributions. 

Tinder is merely a hook to hang the piece on. Any dating tales are welcome! Please get in touch here! 

Peace

 

Inside: Eating Prawn Sandwiches / Outside: Chanting about "Murderers"

                       Me: Pre-Game

                       Me: Pre-Game

One of my oldest friends’ parents have season tickets for United and his parents opted against seeing United play Liverpool in the Europa league. Liverpool won the first leg 2-0, so it would be a fairly historical evening for United to get through. And this United team are far from a historically good side. Still though, a tonne of positives to take 2 days off, meeting up with some old friends, have a few drinks and watch some football. 

Plenty and plenty of positives. 

I got the Virgin train up. It was a bit of a steal also. Only about 55 quid return. I was going up on a Thursday and back on the Friday, so I was avoiding the main rush. It was not as relaxing as I was hoping it be, there was some stress; 

If I could give any advice to people, I would recommend getting more long train journeys. There is something incredibly peaceful and enjoyable about sitting on a train with a coffee or a beer and a good book or your laptop. I love typing on a train. For whatever reason, I love writing while on the train. By train I mean big proper trains, not the train from Ashtown to Leixlip. I manage to get a load of work done be it for my day job or my website. Productivity overload. All my 2016 holidays look already planned but I think in 2017, I am going to just hop on the train from London to Paris and just train around Europe for a few weeks. I can begin my book; 

“Do Tigers Roar? Do Giants Cry? The Chronicles of the Dance Floor.” 

Anyway, so I arrived up in Manchester and met my pals, Joey and Neil. It was great to see them. I am very lucky to have a wide group of friends, but there is something different when you hang out with your oldest pals. We do not know as much about each other as we used to but the same old in jokes are always there and we would spend hours talking about different things that were relevant back then. Neil’s parents have VIP suite season tickets, which was the best. 

We walked into the VIP suite and Neil (who is a few months older than me) was asked for ID while being searched. When it came my time to be searched, I was not asked for ID. The VIP suite is an odd place. Don’t get my wrong, it is great, but it is weird. Essentially, it is a big room with plenty of tables. As we entered, we were handed some champagne and ushered to our seats. This is slightly different to my experiences of Dalymount, watching Bohs. I opted for the lentil soup with a meat pie. It was phenomenal. As I was finishing my second pint and waiting for my second course, I figured, that this is not a bad way to watch a football match. When GOD16 (Roy Keane) would complain about the “prawn sandwich brigade”, I would always agree with him. But now, I feel Roy should maybe opt for the pie instead of the prawn next time. 

I may have missed the natural phenomenon of the Northern Lights in Iceland (I was busy dancing in a Gay Bar, obviously), but I managed to witness a different kind of phenomenon, the ex-pro dinner chat. In the hallowed VIP section, an ex-pro will walk around and chat to people. As they eat. So, as you are tearing your pie to pieces, you will have some chap telling you about the time that he took a foul throw against Charlton Athletic. I wonder how they feel about it? Being St. Patrick's Day, we had two ex-Irish international players, Gerry Daley and Frank Stapleton. I must admit, they did not particularly excite me. I am sure they were both super players but well before my time. I was aware of Frank Stapleton but more so for his character on Apres Match. Gerry Daley & Frank Stapleton must have been used to playing in front of thousands of adoring fans and scoring big goals for United, but now they spend their evenings chatting to a bunch of tossers. I know that may be harsh but we were all a bunch of tossers guzzling down as many free pints as possible. One of my friends, Joey, was wearing a Deadpool T-shirt and is a Liverpool fan. United legends surely deserve better. It is tinged with a layer of tragedy but I say this not knowing how much money they get paid to do it. Also, they probably love it. I assume it is great for people to ask you about your accomplishments and talk football. And get paid for it. We avoided them as we felt too awkward, and we were also trying to piece together a strategy that will allow us to get additional free pies. 

I could not keep my eyes off the ex-pros as they made their way around table to table. Having idle small talk. How does the conversation start? Do they ask you about your food? Do they jump right in with a reference; 

"That chicken reminds me of the FA Cup semi final in 1972 against Arsenal.....tough" 

Big Frank Stapleton having banter

Big Frank Stapleton having banter

Do they pretend to care about our insignificant lives? If I played for Ireland, I wouldn't care how your flight to Manchester was or that your wife is pregnant and always moaning. Also, this is all happening during dinner. How awkward. Talking to someone who is standing over your table does not lend itself to a natural conversation flow. I will also, almost definitely, spill gravy on myself. These United legends deserve better. 

Our seats were brilliant. Such a good view of the pitch. Despite the team being brutal and managed by a horrendous chancer, the atmosphere was great and we were beginning to believe. The game started great, from a United point of view. Watching a game in the flesh is such a different experience then watching it on TV. You see so much and can really appreciate how bloody good some of these footballers are. Unfortunately, when you play poorly in the flesh, it also looks a million times worse. United’s Uruguayan right back, Varela had an absolute shocker. Seeing Anthony Martial in the flesh was a real experience. The chap is pure class. Martial has obviously been great this season but when he see his movement off the ball and how often he takes on his defender, it is a joy. Anthony Martial also scored the first goal with a penalty. 

I decided to take a picture of the penalty, forgetting that humans celebrate when a goal is scored. Thus, we are left with a very blurry image.

I decided to take a picture of the penalty, forgetting that humans celebrate when a goal is scored. Thus, we are left with a very blurry image.

The stadium began to rock. The comeback was on. United began to dominate and created some really super chances. It was enjoyable to watch United actually play enjoyable football as this season has been very grim at times. Seeing a United in full flight in person is truly a joy. Now, United were far from the Ferguson era but they were passing the ball forward. Beggars can’t be choosers. 

The sucker punch came just on the stroke at half time. Countinho scored a lovely little goal with seconds left in the half. Gutting. United now needed another 3 goals to go through. Even for the most optimistic of supporters, that would have been a stretch. Thankfully, I had a fresh pint os Singha waiting at my table inside at half time. It eased the pain. The atmosphere in the suite was very different. Very quiet and solemn. I had a feeling that everyone in the suite was feeling and thinking the same as me; 

“Ah, that sucks that we are going out. But free food and booze is great fun!” 

Frank Stapleton walked around and chatted with a few punters. I think I saw him shrug his shoulders more than 10 times. We downed the rest of our pints and headed out for the second half. The atmosphere was completely different. The away supporters were singing louder or appeared much louder as Old Trafford sat in silence. It is a bit disappointing that it was so quiet as I remember anytime United were struggling under Fergie, the place would still rock but a very different team now. And the tie was completely dead. There were a few half chances throughout the second half but nothing much. 

The atmosphere was beginning to get quite nasty. There are some genuine chants that I heard that made me feel uncomfortable. Football fans are so weird. Grown men screaming at each other. Grown men holding up signs. Do these people sit at home the night before, on the ground, and create these posters? 

"What is Dad doing?"

"He is working on his Louis van Gaal Out poster, dear."

I am unsure if you heard about it but United fans presented a "Murderers" banner over a bridge for Liverpool fans to see upon their arrival into Manchester. I do not see the "Banter" or funny side of this at all. I am sure Liverpool fans are just as bad with the Munich song but the whole thing is so classless. There was a guy behind me, who was wearing a suit, and before the game gave off the impression that he was a normal upstanding citizen. However, throughout the game he was screaming curse words at the "Scouse Scum". There did not seem to be an ounce of "banter" in his voice, just pure hatred. It was quite pathetic really. The whole thing was pathetic, apparently hating a group of people because they support a different team in red AND United had no bloody chance in getting through the tie anyway. 

The full time whistle blew and United whimpered out of another tournament. Thankfully, another fresh pint of Singha was waiting for me inside to ease the pain. Despite it being a poor performance and an exit out of the tournament, it was a really enjoyable evening with some old pals. My actual friends. This current Manchester United team are no friends of mine. We began to sink a few more Singha’s as we were supplied a post game pie, for some reason. At this point, I am fit to burst. I just cannot refuse free food and alcohol. Being Irish, and classy, on our way out, we grabbed a few pies from some other tables for our breakfast. It was incredibly optimistic to think that we would wait for the morning to consume more free food. 

The Time I Was Almost Entered into the Eurovision Song Contest

The title says it all. 

I was thinking about different bits and pieces to write for my website and remembered a few interesting tales from my past. I really think my life is / was a bit mad. Definitely some of the odd things I have experienced have been instigated by me but some have been put upon me. 

And this is no different. 

OK, so let’s give you some background. I used to play in a band called DropOut. We were terrible. Absolutely awful. I sang and I was awful. Absolutely awful. Our unique selling point was most certainly our stage presence. We picked up a semi-decent following because our stage show was a lot of fun. Our live show was a mix of Blink 182 jokes and Busted jumps. Except at a much lower quality, obviously. I went on to play in a far more popular band later in life. I may write something about that later, as I have some decent tales about that. 

We made it into the Irish charts top 20 which is still a bizarre thing to say aloud. 

That was my later band, Emily, not DropOut. DropOut had a song called “Pen15”. Y’see, that spells out Penis. A new generation of poets, we were not. God, my lyrical content in my youth was horrendous. I found an old song book while cleaning out my room recently. 

I wrote a song in my first band, Almost Useful, called “1 Less Personality”. It was about a girl who I thought was boring. The opening lines were - 

You’re so sad

You’re so bad

You’re so sad

You’re so bad

Christ. 

Thankfully enough time has passed to laugh about it. God, playing in a band when you were young was literally the most exciting thing in the world. I think it is way more fun when you are shite and no one likes you. You are desperate for any attention, gigs or momentum. I was in the band with my best mates Pete and Jojo. Myself and Pete were absolutely desperate to become a popular band. Not world famous or anything. We just wanted our friends to not think that we were dreadful. 

There was a local gig company called “Blast”. After Pete & I attended our first Blast gig, we were obsessed with it and were desperate to play one. I am sure the bands getting attention from girls had something to do it, but in all honesty, I think we loved the idea of playing with a load of bands that we liked. It feels weird to say now but we definitely idolised these bands. Essentially, these were shitty bands playing shitty venues. But we loved it. 

Anyway, I am yammering away off point. Eventually, DropOut managed to play Blast and the owner of Blast took a shining to DropOut. He was fully aware that we were useless but knew that there could be something done with our stage presence. I remember staying up until the early morning, chatting to Pete about how excited we were that the Blast owner liked us. Gas stuff. Oh, we both had girlfriends at this period. But instead, we just wanted to chat about plans to each other. 

We played a junior cert celebration gig which is always a pretty big occasion in the Blast calendar. 

Haha, I feel almost embarrassed writing about Blast now as an almost 30 year old. It was the time, man. 

So, after the gig. Mr. Blast suggested to me that he had an idea. He was going to create a super group of the best local bands and enter the super group in the Eurovision song contest. 

What? 

I was obviously honoured but extremely perplexed. What a random idea. I was torn between my hardcore punk ethics (or trying to be torn anyway) and wanting to play a big stage in front of loads of people. I heard who the other members of the band were and jumped in immediately. It was a composition of members from other bands I admired. I think I just wanted an opportunity to be friends with them. 

I don’t think that I am painting myself in the best light here. But I was a bit of a loser when I was young. With horrendous hair. 

So, we had our first supergroup band meeting. I have no idea where the Eurovision was being held but I remember it was exotic. Everyone was very confused in the meeting. It was just a random idea and I think everyone took themselves very seriously and did not fancy it. I obviously would have loved the idea of it, but naturally pretended that I was not that eager and needed convincing. The supergroup were going to be a mix of pop punk and trad music. There were some people there from a trad band and then the rest of us were members of a variety of pop punk bands. Christine was supposed to be the singer. Christine went on to front my later and more successful band, Emily. Another chap from a different band, we will call him “Jim” was a bit annoyed that he would not be the singer. There was tension in our stupid fake imaginary Eurovision band already. The manager of the supergroup had key contacts and he was almost certain that we would easily get selected. To be fair, the competition for the Irish Eurovision is bloody useless. I can imagine we would have been a sure thing. 

Jim was still not a happy bunny but agreed to organise a practice session. I was obviously playing it cool but I was super excited to go on the Eurovision and become super famous. Maybe secure a modelling contract? Become the spokesperson for a dishwasher company? The possibilities would be endless. 

After the meeting, the cool kids were having cigarettes. The cool kids being the pop punk ones. The trad people were obviously far more talented but they didn’t wear their cap sideways, so we had no interest. Jim suggested that myself and the drummer meet him for a drink afterwards as he had a proposition. Another proposition? 

We pop over to a bar across the road. Jim explains how the supergroup is bullshit and the Eurovision would be a stupid thing to do. 

The drummer agrees. 

I, obviously disappointed, pretend to agree also. Jim has another idea. He was offered a solo record deal and wanted to turn it into a band. 

What?! 

A record deal?! I nearly wet myself. A record deal was the biggest thing in the world to me back then. Not just any record deal. A major label. We were going to work with Avril Lavigne’s song writers in Sweden on an album. 

WHAT?! 

I was very confused, but so in. We set up another meeting with Jim’s manager to explain in a little more detail. This deal was insane. We were going to write songs with The Matrix. Apparently they are a super famous song writing group for the stars. We were going to move to Sweden for 3 months to write and record it. Afterwards, we were going to do a tour around Europe. 

WHAT!?!?!

Urine everywhere. I couldn’t believe my luck. It was insane. I sat there trying to not lose my sh*t. There were contracts in front of us. The manager we were chatting with, at the time, represented some of the biggest Irish acts, so he was legit. 

“What about my songs? I got the record deal. Surely they want to use some of my songs?” asks Jim. Who seemed a bit annoyed at this ridiculously amazing opportunity. 

“Sorry Jim. They will write the songs. You will play them. Just like any pop deal”

“Thats bullshit, my songs are better” 

Jim stands up and is fairly furious. He walks out for a cigarette. I am extremely confused. Let’s play their songs to begin with and start filtering our own in. I explained this to Jim but he wasn’t hearing it. His ego was flaming at this stage. We received the CD of the songs we needed to learn for our upcoming trip to Sweden. We organised a band practice to rehearse. 

Jim shows up late and appears to be not in a good mood. We start playing the songs we were given. To be fair, there were a few absolute bangers. Some horrendous ones with some awful lyrics. I was the bassist also, so I didn’t need to sing these awful lyrics. Easy for me to say it is easy to sing cringeworthy lyrics when I don’t need to do this. Also, Jim was no James Joyce himself. 

“Fuck this. Let’s play something I wrote last night”  

We start playing a song Jim wrote. It sounds great but the nerd in me is panicking. I don’t want to get in trouble. 

The manager pops down to say hello. Jim flat out ignores him. The manager, understandably, is perplexed. He asks to speak to Jim. Jim asks like a child and storms out to him. We hear them shouting in the corridor. Jim comes back in, picks up his guitar and storms out. The drummer, myself and the manager are left standing in the practice room. We make stunningly awkward conversation in an attempt to ignore the obvious problem that we are having. The manager leaves and obviously talks Jim into coming back in. We play a few of the songs, and they are sound great. The manager is delighted. He announces that he will book the flights to Sweden in the next few days. I am extremely excited. 

We were due to practice again the next day. I text Jim to confirm. 

No response. 

This was to be the last that I ever heard from Jim. 

I continue to text and call him in a desperate attempt to reach him. Days pass and I do not hear anything. Myself and the drummer are perplexed. And feeling heartbroken. I call the manager and he doesn’t answer. He used to ALWAYS answer his phone. This awful feeling started creeping in. 

It’s over. 

I eventually get a text from the Manager just saying 

“Sorry mate. It is not going to happen. Best of luck” 

Shock and horror ripped through me. The whole thing seemed so surreal. I was on the verge of moving to Sweden to record an album with renowned hit makers and then return to tour the world. Or was I? I still wonder, how close was all this to happening? Was any of it ever going to happen? 

Why the fuck didn’t Jim just play the songs? Even for a free holiday to Sweden! 

You win some, you lose some. I went on to form a band with some of my best friends which made it to the charts and did loads of touring. That was way more fun.

Eurovision would have been a great story to break out on a date though.  

So, I Spent The Day in a Gay Porn Studio

My alarm goes off at 07.30. I fly out of bed. Despite only having a few hours to sleep, there was no issue arising. The concoction of emotions that I was feeling was unlike anything that I have ever felt. 

Not surprising, as today I was going to do something that I have never done. 

 I was going to spend the day in a gay porn studio. 

As I hope you are aware, I am currently releasing a new podcast series, Brian Meets. When I decided to revamp the website and dust off the mic, I figured that I would really push the boat out for content. I wanted to find the maddest, weirdest and most interesting people to interview. I have been very lucky to tick all these boxes. 

My day in the gay porn studio is easily the most surreal piece that I have created. And most surreal thing that I have done. It is going to make a great piece. Well, hopefully. 

I opted against having breakfast. I was not particularly hungry. I am never much of a breakfast guy but this morning, in particular, I had no appetite. 

As I pulled the door behind me and walked to the studio, I was in a state of disbelief. 

“Why am I doing this?” 

I don’t even get paid for my podcasts and while I am working on monetising my site, there is no guarantee that it will ever make any money. 

So, this is essentially my hobby. 

I am going to a gay porn shoot as apart of my hobby. 

Interesting. 

Remember when I mentioned earlier how I wanted to interview the maddest & weirdest people? I should really interview myself. 

"Brian, why do you hang around gay porn studios with podcasting equipment?"

I am a straight male, by the way. Gay porn is not something that I frequently view or have much interest in. Well, I have an interest in the people involved, their stories and life. When the actual camera starts rolling, less so much. 

It was a wet and fairly grim morning. I find it weird that people film porn in the morning. I would have assumed that it would have been done at night. On my walk to the studio, my mind was racing. I was quite concerned about what my parents would think. Social media is a very powerful tool for my website and my mother is on social media. She shared the article I wrote about my time in Iceland. I can’t see her sharing this particular article. I best hide what my poor mother can see. 

After being given this opportunity to do a piece on this topic and with such access, you just have to do it. 

Deep breath. 

And we knock on the door. 

Ben greets me. Ben appears to be in his mid 40's but I am terrible with ages so apologies if you are 21, Ben. He is extremely welcoming. He greets me with a big smile and brings me upstairs. Ben is the CEO of Twisted XXX Media. 

Instantly, I feel much more calm. I was stupid to be so nervous and anxious. Of course these are just normal people with a slightly different vocation and passion. I have a passion for podcasting and storytelling, they have a passion for gay porn. And storytelling, I guess. 

A slightly different passion. 

Interestingly, both our passions have lead us to a gay porn studio in Manchester. 

Ben makes me a coffee and we chat about what I require, what I want from the piece and my background. I don’t usually do a tremendous amount of research before an interview. I, obviously, research my topic and pre-prepare any key questions but I prefer the interviews to be spontaneous and natural. 

The coffee was fantastic and I felt right at home. I hit record on my recorder and away we go. Ben shows me around the studio. The studio is divided into 2 stages. Upon entering the studio, the first stage you see is a standard bedroom. Similar to a hotel bedroom. Except with cameras and a soundstage. Ben takes me through to the stage that we will be using for the day. 

It is considerably more grim. 

Exposed brick wall, dirty floor, a wooden cross, hot wax all over the floor and a mattress on the floor. This film is apart of the “Boynapped” series. You can guess the rough plot from the title. Still, I ask Ben what the premise is. 

“We have one actor tied up, and another shall get pretty rapey”. 

“Pretty rapey” 

The anxious feeling returns. 

A lot of my energy from the day was spent trying to not look as anxious and uncomfortable as I was feeling. 

Obviously I didn’t succeed. 

I have a good chat with Ben about the industry, his life and background. I learn some fun porn facts. 

You are not allowed to put your whole fist up an anus. You can only put 4 fingers. That fifth finger, must stay outside. I love that. I love that some politicians sat down and debated how many fingers legally should be allowed enter an anus on camera. 

“3 is not enough but 5 is too much! Let’s settle with 4. All agreed say “AYE”.

“Aye”. 

Our stars arrive. I was nervous about meeting them. I assumed they would have thought I was going to be a hinderance and in their way while they work. To be fair, that is exactly what I was doing. I was mistaken. The three guys were absolutely lovely and incredibly welcoming. We instantly started chatting. They seemed as interested in what I was doing as my interest in them. 

What they do probably makes more sense. They are getting paid, like. 

Anyway. The three guys were Kris, Ryan and Ashton. Kris & Ashton were going to be on screen and Ryan was going to be on camera. Ryan is also a porn star. Kris jumps down beside me, eyes as wide as his smile. Kris is one of the “prettiest” men that I have seen. Very feminine features. I asked Kris a few questions. He responds laughing and smiling. It is clear that Kris loves what he does. Kris is from the Netherlands and has been flown in for the shoot. His passion and positive energy is infectious. 

His kidnapper, Ashton is considerably more low key. Ashton has done 170+ movies, so he is a veteran. Ashton is also a very good looking man. Far more masculine. Ashton explains to me that his character in “Boynapped” is not a particularly nice guy. From watching Ashton’s character in action, I can confirm that he is not prince charming. 

I don’t think Kris & Ashton were supposed to be shooting today. Kris did a shoot yesterday. He was hung from a cross and had hot wax poured all over him. 

“Phew, I am glad ours is just a rapey scene” - I thought. The first time that I had that particular thought. I think. 

Ashton was parachuted in last minute as someone cancelled. There was a straight actor from Leeds who had a crises of confidence. He was straight and was concerned about family and the morality of the situation. Ben received a text message in the early hours of the morning from him, pulling out. Excuse the pun. 

Is that even a pun? 

“He usually contacts us when he is running low on funds. I think he got his hands on some cash”. 

Ryan and Ben begin preparing the studio, Kris and Ashton mentally prepare themselves. I stand awkwardly. Gripping my mic for dear life. Kris lies down on the mattress and Ben begins to tie him up. Ben and Kris flirt as the ropes are tightened. Kris, continues to joke and play around as the ropes are tied and Ben leaves the stage. Kris begins to look terrified and uncomfortable. He is now in character. 

The stage goes very quiet. Ryan has all the cameras set up. Ben leaves the stage and goes to the office. Ashton, who was incredibly friendly at the beginning, also gets into character. A dark mist clouds his eyes. 

Ashton marches onto the stage. Kris looking petrified. Ashton grabs Kris’s face and spits on him. 

Oh jesus. Here we go. 

What happens next? I am afraid you will have to wait for the podcast episode to come out. Unfortunately, it is looking like the series finale. You will have to wait until Feb to hear everything. 

And I mean, everything. 

Subscribe to the podcast here. And it is online now

It is never too early to prepare for series 2. If you want to be featured on my podcast, get in touch. Or alternatively, if you have any ideas or topics that you would like to hear me investigate, let me know! 

Contact Moi! 

4 Ways to Tell if your Date is a Prehistoric Sea Creature

So, a dating website asked me to write a piece for their website. They said instead of money, I could get exposure, so I wrote this. And fair play, they published it. 
"4 WAYS TO TELL IF YOUR DATE IS A PREHISTORIC SEA CREATURE"
http://goo.gl/MCT9pI

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It happened again. It happens to us all. We get too drunk at our friends wedding, start crying and soil ourselves. As we are dragged from the dance floor during “Roxanne” from our oldest and closest friends, after trying to make a move on one of the many taken men at the wedding.

“I might become a hooker like Roxanne. At least men will want to hang out with me!” – you awkwardly joke with the man you are trying to seduce. He has had considerably less to drink than you, and his partner is considerably a nicer person.

Ruth, the bride, decides that enough is enough and sets you up with one of her husbands work colleagues. Her husband, Jeff, doesn’t know the colleague very well, but who cares, you are desperate.

The wedding hangover finally leaves you and it is time to go on this date. You act nonchalant to your friends, but inside you are desperate to have this person’s, that you have never met, babies.

What to wear? Always opt for the revealing dress that is ten years old and looked great on you then, when you were considerably slimmer. This look is still easy to pull off. Just don’t eat anything that day, suck in and never sit down. NEVER.

You show up to the date, ready to mingle. You had a cheeky few shots of vodka beforehand, for courage and to make you appear more confident and interesting. Then, your date shows up and its that old chestnut, he is a prehistoric sea creature.

Now, I am a dating connoisseur, so I know all the signs, but if you haven’t been around the block as much as me, here are some tips to tell if your date is a prehistoric sea creature.

 That smell. This is quite the giveaway.

Considering that he/she lives in the sea, they will smell quite fishy and salty. In their defence, you can’t shower underwater and sea water is different to shower water. So keep your “Why do they need a shower when they are surrounded by water?” argument to yourself.

That attitude.

Unfortunately, being from the prehistoric period, your date will have some fairly out of date opinions. In the prehistoric period, there were no women with jobs or foreigners, so expect some racist and misogynistic opinions. They also didn’t have restaurants, cars, electricity or buildings, so there is a really high chance that your date will be freaking the f**k out.

He/she is dead.

It is easily to be fooled by this sign. You may think that your date is a superb listener. They are just soaking up all your super interesting and hilarious stories. They’re not. They’re dead. It is from the prehistoric period. They don’t generally live this long. It is also a sea creature, so it cannot breath when out of the sea. I am actually interested how it even made it this far into your date.

It is clearly a prehistoric sea creature.

Are you stupid? Are you blind and lack a sense of smell or touch? A prehistoric sea creature is fairly easy to spot and is generally something that you shouldn’t go out to dinner with. However, you are on a date with something that can earn you some sweet cash. Grab your date and head to the pawn shop. See how much you can get for it. I traded in a Playstation a while ago and got £100 so, a prehistoric sea creature has to be at least…… £150?

And £150 is enough money to go to some random bar afterwards, drink yourself stupid and ultimately wake up alone. Again.



New Site & Plenty of Updates

After months and months....and months of desperately trying to get this site done, we have done it! Well, it is not 100% complete but the main sections are complete. I will be slaving away in the background to fix little bits and pieces but this is essentially it done. 

I hit a slight crossroads with the website & podcasting side of things. I was really struggling to make time to work on the site, write blogs & create podcasts. There was time, there always is. No matter how busy you are, but I found it hard to justify the time to do it. Since moving to London, I was doing it very half heartedly so I never felt pushed to take a finger out. I was bored one day and was having a look at my analytics. I noticed that I was still getting a really healthy listenership and growth to the podcast. It seemed like a waste just to toss it to one side considering that I put so much into it many moons ago. 

Whilst working in RTE, I once got up at 3.30am before work, to do an interview with someone in the Singapore. Dedication, baby. So yeah, I figured to re-boot it and really do it properly. Dedicate time to it over the week to push out more content. I am going to do one blog a week under the headings of Digital Marketing, Travel & Life. Simples. 

I shall also be pumping out way more podcasts. This is where it gets a bit messy/busy/exciting/terrifying. 

So, I got a new class job. Hooray! And apart of my new job is I get to take my travel podcast model to the amazing World Travel Guide. It will be similar to my previous but a much higher quality. I have recorded almost 3 months worth of interviews so far and they are sounding so good. Having a well known travel brand behind me, has brought all my guests A+ game out. Some of the interviews are really mind-blowing. The layout of the show will be myself and my co-host introducing the show. It shall then be the interview with our guest for 10-12 minutes followed by a chat with some of the WTG writers about what is featured on the site this week. I am hoping to make it a weekly podcast. Every Tuesday to coincide with the popular travel #'s like #TravelTuesday & #TTOT. I am pretty excited to get it going. I am hoping that considering the minor success of BTSTravel that the WTG podcast will be way more popular, considering the huge amount of traffic that WTG gets. Writing a blog like this is always dangerous. When the podcast is a massive failure, this can be used as a stick to beat me with. Not to sound corny, but it is a bit of a dream come true. I am sure many people reading this probably think that is a blood lame dream but alas, when I began researching guests & topics for the podcast, I thought; "wouldn't it be class if I did this with a huge travel brand?". I was in talks with Lonely Planet to do a podcast series with them to align with a campaign that they were working on. Unfortunately, nothing really came of it as I think they wanted a safer vibe. My podcasts are fairly.....mental in terms of topics, but I do believe there is a gap in the market for crazy travel stories. We have enough "12 beautiful cafes in Santorini", let's get more edgier and mental stuff. Anytime I go travelling, it is always about the insane experiences and wild stories to share upon return. Not always, now. Chilling on a beach is always wonderful but we all know what that experience is like. Thankfully, the people at WTG are on the exact same wave length as me. Edgy, funny & crazy stories. For example, one of the editors is doing a story in Amsterdam. He spent the day with two recently retired sisters who were prostitutes in the red light district. You want to read that, like. I shall post it when up. 

Solid stuff. 

Right, so here is where it gets complicated. So, I finally managed to get a travel brand to work with me on a podcast. Amazing work. Aren't we delighted? The podcasting in my life should be filled. Unfortunately, working with WTG takes a while to get going. No ones fault, it just takes a while to work out the logistics and website stuff. In this time, I got slightly restless and thought maybe to create a mini series for this website. And so I did some research. Crazily enough, I managed to pull together some incredible guests and it has turned into a far bigger creation. I have been coming home from work and locking myself in my room to work on this bad boy. I. am. so. excited. I am so stoked for everyone to hear it. It is frankly absolutely mental. I am using this opportunity to just be curious. Just being nosey but with a mic. The interviews that I have done/will do are: 

- Pick up Artist 

- Vampire Hunter 

- Alien Abduction Support Group 

- Satanists 

- 60 year old female sex line worker/escort

- Ex-Scientologist 

- A Magician (Going to to some tricks on the podcast) 

- A prostitute support foundation 

I am also going ON THE ROAD in search of some guests. I am going to Malaga between November 8th-12th. While there, I am hoping to spend the day in a proper hippy commune. I am very excited to do this. It will be a bit odd lugging the mac and the mic to a hippy commune but they seem up for it. It is not 100% confirmed yet as there are some logistical issues but I am hoping it will get going. 

But the most amazing one will be taking place at the end of November. I chanced my arm emailing some companies and you know that nothing will happen. But, let's give it a go. However, one time, someone got back to me. On Saturday 28th of November, I am spending the day podcasting in a gay porn studio. Woof. THAT will make some episode. Very excited and quite frightened. But it will make a great piece. The producer who I have been speaking to has been so sound so I am excited. I think they are going to film one of their more hardcore scenes in my presence. I shall suffer for my art. Maybe it will be lovely though. One of the actors up there is an ex-priest so that shall be interesting. Very excited. 

Other leads that I am chasing are swingers, people who go dogging and a few other warm leads. The topics that I am chasing are obviously not the kind of subjects that people are comfortable chatting to ransomers. My networking and relationship skills will need to be 90 to pull some of these off. I am confident in pulling it off though as the podcast series is purely from a curiosity point rather than to mock or laugh. 

I am excited for you all to hear it. I think that will come out every Friday morning but I am not entirely sure. I want to make it weekly but with WTG, it may be too intense. We will see how we get on. 

I am also doing a bit of travelling soon which will be great for the soul. I am hoping that this blog will almost encourage me to travel more. After a year in South America & NZ, I attempted to sort my life out and hung up the travel boots. Life is sorted now.....well, kind of......so, more freedom to travel. I will blog about those experiences more also. I am aware the travel side of this blog is CRAZY outdated. I am also aware the blogs are far too long. I think this blog is turning into a dousey. Before the year is up, I am off to Malaga, Brussels, Bruges & Iceland. I found writing a blog also forces you to do more stuff so you can write about it. I know that sounds a bit lame but anything to use for motivation to do more than just drink a tonne of pints. 

Right, I best sign off now. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the new website. I shall be a tonne more active in future. AT LEAST a blog a week and I think the Brian Tells Stories podcast will be back running next week. WTG podcast may be a little later but we are very close. 

Exciting times. 

Have a great weekend, kids. 

B x

This is where I finished this blog. Not bad. 

A Special Place in Hell

Oh dear god. 
I start every post by apologising and saying I am too busy. Today shall be no different. In my defence, I have no laptop so it has become increasingly difficult to write. Yada yada yada. Very busy. Sexy London life and so on. I have almost living in London for a year. It will be a year in May. How incredible. It is easily the best decision I have ever made. However London does have some downsides. I literally have no patience yet. I appear to be always in a rush. I remember visiting London before I moved and seeing sprinting for tubes that arrive every 2 minutes. Is it really important being 2 minutes early or late? 

Turns out. It is. It is super important. 

There are 3 types of people who need to eradicated from the world. When I become King of London, these shall be the first 3 to go. My apologies if you are one of these people but it is your fault and I am not actually sorry. The world will be a better place without you. I appear to spend most of my life running for or on the tube so these people are tube related. 

3) The one who is Not Ready. 

You walk through the tube or train every single bloody day or you know that you will pass through some form of electronic ticket collection. Those who approach the beloved machine and do not have their ticket ready. They need to go. They stop right at the machine and search through their pockets. Have this done far in advance. We all now have to stand behind you as you go through last nights receipts. My next tube is not for 2 bloody minutes! I need to make this one!! 

2) Yer man who is sitting and stands up too early. 

You are sitting on a packed tube. I am already jealous and already not your biggest fan but good for you. The tube pulls out from the stop before yours. You stand up right away. WHY?! Why are you doing this?! There is no space for anyone to move. You start making your way to the door. Again, no space for anyone to move. You move straight towards the door. Once more, no space for anyone to move as no one has left this occupied space. I am getting off at the same stop as you but you insist on pushing past to be close to the door as we stop. Sit in your seat until the tube stops, people can get off, freeing up space for you to easily hop off. Goddammit do they need to go. 

1) Yer man or yer one who doesn’t hop off

If you are this person, I seriously hate you. You are the worst person in the world. You are standing by the tube door. You already have a terrible spot. The doors open and it is not your stop. So, you just stand there. In the middle of the bloody doorway so the rest of us need to climb around you. You are the worst. Just get off the train for a moment and let people out. 

Even writing this has raised my blood levels to an uneasy high. I am also writing this before my commute home so I will be like a bull in a china shop. However, in saying all of this. I may be on someone else’s list as I run part of the way home so I usually smell pretty awful on the tube. But at least I will hop off the tube in your bloody way. 

Keep it cool kids

B

x