Sunday, 6 August 2017

Six


See previous instalments here: FIVE, FOUR, THREE and THIS one. The article I refer to is HERE

This anniversary post has been a little late in making an appearance. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to make an anniversary post as I have done for the last three years but somehow not acknowledging it didn't feel right either.

But anyway, here we are. I'm pleased to say that I've made it to another year of being self harm free. We can now say that I've been self harm free for more than half a decade, which sounds a lot grander than just saying "six years" so just let me roll with that.

In all honesty, the reason why this post is later than normal and why it's been harder to write than usual is because I nearly didn't make it to six years. This year life really got on top of me and I felt like I was loosing my grip on it. It's been the closest I have ever come to relapsing and starting that awful twisted cycle all over again.


I'm back in counselling/therapy. It was the only thing I could think of to help me stay on track. I've been to three sessions so far and I'm booked in on a weekly basis for all of August.

My counselling sessions have been exhausting but enlightening all at the same time, which is a difficult combination because it all feels a little overwhelming. I've realised that part of my sinking feelings and lack of control are heightened partially by the big song and dance that I make each year about my recovery.

The article that I did with the national newspaper of Wales and these posts means that at times, when I'm down and close to relapsing, I feel like a fraud. I put forward this image of having my shit together and being past it, when in reality I'm not. I felt like I set a standard and I didn't want to disappoint or let people down.

The counselling has helped because I'm coming to accept that my self harm will always be with me. I had previously hoped that by going to therapy and by doing the article, that my self harm issue was a closed chapter, that it was over. But that's not the case. Now I'm almost comfortable knowing that this can't be 'fixed' and that spending time fighting and pretending it can go away is just time wasted.



My scars continue to fade and time does continue to heal me, sometimes with more success than other times. But the flip side of time is that as I said last year, the further I get from the last time I hurt myself the harder it sometimes becomes to remember that this was something I lived through, that it actually happened. That it's not just a bad dream.

Going back to a therapist initially felt like I was waving the white flag of surrender, that I couldn't do it alone anymore. Obviously I know that's not the case. It doesn't make me weak and it doesn't mean I've failed.

I'm approaching the future with some trepidation. A big fear for me is meeting someone and having to explain this part of me. Because that's what this is, this is something I will carry with me for the rest of my life. It's not like a broken bone, which once fixed you can take the cast off. I worry it will push someone away, because I'm always going to have to keep a vigilant eye on my mental health. I'm in this for life, and that can make me difficult to be around. I don't expect my future partner to save or fix me, but all I really want is understanding and support. We'll see.

But I'm also approaching the future with timid hope. I got this far, I will get even further. Now that I've accepted counselling as a stepping stone, it can only get better and I can only start to feel stronger mentally.

The best thing I ever did was ask for help. It was so hard back then, and it was just as hard this year. But I was so tired of fighting this alone, and now I'm not.

I know life isn't always going to be this way, I won't always feel like I'm fighting against the current, I won't always feel like my mind is letting me down. I hope that next year, when I get to seven years I will be in a better place and that I have learnt how to move on to the next stage of my life.

There is so much to be happy about and life is for living after all.

"They told me life is tough, I told them I was tougher"


Support for dealing with self harm, whether you personally struggle with it or know someone who does can be found here:

Mind | Heads Above The Waves | The Samaritans | Befrienders (worldwide)



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Sunday, 30 July 2017

Back To Counselling


I've never made a secret of the fact that I have been in counselling. 

I started seeing someone in 2010 for about 20 sessions spread out over a year and a half. Speaking to a professional in my early twenties really helped me work through some issues that I'd locked up in a box and tried to ignore. 

But that help has only got me so far. Over the last few months I've felt that I've been unravelling slowly, and then suddenly all at once. 

My grandmother passed away unexpectedly in March and that really set that descent off. I've felt stuck in a rut professional and personally. Hitting 26 years old was also profoundly underwhelming and I have this irrational fear that for some reason my time seems to be running out in the sense that I feel like there's so much more I should be achieving by now and before 30 comes knocking. Like I said, irrational.

In the 7 years since my counselling sessions I feel like I've forgotten the coping techniques I was taught and this year especially I've struggled very hard with not relapsing to self harm. This year is my 6 year self harm free anniversary and being frank, I nearly didn't make it. 

That frightened me. I make a big song and dance about my recovery anniversaries, and this year I feel a bit like a fraud. I came so close to relapsing and felt so out of control that the only thing I could think of doing, besides relapsing was to seek help again. I'm not even sure in the end what made me keep it together and not relapse, but I came so close it really frightened me. People say that I'm strong and brave but the truth is, the last few months I've felt far from it and I don't want to let people down.

Going back to seeing a counsellor initially felt like a defeat. I'd managed this long and thought that I'd worked through my issues by myself. I thought my mind and I were finally back on track and that those chapters of my life were closed, finished, done and dusted. Clearly not. That was disappointing to me. I've always been independent and done things by myself, to accept that I needed help again was a tough pill to swallow. 

Obviously I know that asking for help doesn't make me weak or that I've failed. I know that counselling is an emotional and rational 'top up'  that I need but taking that first step was hard. I cried after I sent the counselling appointment request email, but I'm exhausted of fighting this by myself. I put so much effort into putting a brave face on and pretending that I was fine, when in fact I was exhausted and just not myself.

I'm in a very privileged position where I can afford to pay for the counselling myself, and I've gone privately rather than through the NHS (National Health Service for you non Brits). I had previously spoken with my GP about getting counselling through the NHS but was told that because I wasn't an urgent case, that I could be waiting up to 6 months for an appointment. I'm so lucky that I can pay for these sessions myself, but it breaks my heart to know how stretched the system is and how difficult getting help is for those who can't go down the private route.

I've had two sessions so far and am booked in for a weekly session for the foreseeable future. 

My second counselling session already touched on a few nerves, in fact I was so emotionally exhausted after it that it took me a whole day to recover. We're digging up some old deep roots and it's tough. All my issues and challenges are one big spiderweb, it feels like I pick up on one thread of the web and understand it by itself, but it's attached to so many other threads that I get caught up in them that it's hard to know where to start. 

My biggest worry is that I will always feel like I'm damaged goods, but even if that's the case I hope that my counselling sessions will help me be at peace with that.

Accepting that I needed to go back to counselling was the hardest thing I've had to do in recent times, but I know that means I'm ready to fight. After all it can only help me get back on track and feel truly like myself again.


"Tough times never last, but tough people do."


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Sunday, 16 July 2017

Nina Eats - Brunch at Jamie's



Possibly to the disappointment of my personal trainer, brunch and breakfasts foods are a staple in my life. So when the invite from Jamie's Italian came to try out their newly launched brunch menu I instantly cleared my calendar.

I usually don't come into Cardiff city centre on a weekend, it tends to be too busy for my taste but when my friend Steph and I went everyone was in the pub watching the Lions game.

Jamie's has a fantastic location, it's situated right on The Hayes near Cardiff Central Library. It's great for people watching and you can also sit outside (weather depending). It was fairly quiet when Steph and I arrived, to be fair as I said the Lions game kept everyone in the pub. In summer Cardiff gets a large inflicting of visiting hen and stag dos so I can imagine that there's a large customer base that is in disrepute 'morning after the night before' feeding.


In terms of what's on offer, Jamie's isn't re-inventing the wheel. There are 3 pan cooked breakfasts on offer, 2 breakfast sandwiches, 2 'classic dishes' and a side of fruit. It's pretty much all staple ingredients that you expect to find on a breakfast menu. 

I think I was expecting something a little more inventive from Jamie, but when breakfast is done right it doesn't need to be fussy.

Steph and I kicked things off with a mimosa and made our choices. The staff were attentive and we got seen to very speedily.


Steph went for The Fully Monty whilst I went for the avocado on toast with a bonus side of 'market fruit'. 

When my avocado on toast arrived it was served with a fried egg rather than the prescribed preached egg as stated on the menu, but this got rectified immediately when I pointed it out. 

Steph's not a fan of black pudding so she was given some replacements in the form of extra sausages and bacon which she let me poach some of.  I can confirm that the sausages were delicious, as a German this is something I'm very particular about. The golden potatoes were also a nice touch and very tasty.

My avocado on toast was just as it should have been, fresh and creamy avocado served on delicious toasted sourdough bread. I also added a rasher of bacon which was superbly crispy and the small additional of greenery was also a nice touch.

I've been to Jamie's Italian a few times and one of my gripes is a small one but I always struggle with some of the ambiance. The restaurant is pretty big, and so when it's not busy it feels very empty. It doesn't help that the choice of music is very much chart music, which doesn't add much atmosphere.

Breakfast in Cardiff is now getting pretty competitive, there are lots of places mere metres from Jamie's that also offer a similar menu. But Jamie's has a good grasp on the prices on the menu so a visit here won't break the bank and the service I've experienced has always been good. Breakfast is served from 8am to 11am. I was initially a bit surprised at how early things wrap up for breakfast, but the kitchen needs enough time to prep their extensive fresh menu for the lunch and dinner services.

My small gripes aside, I enjoyed our visit. It's always good to have a number of breakfast options and you're not likely to be disappointed in your food at Jamie's.


I was invited to eat at Jamie's but all thoughts and opinions are my own

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Thursday, 25 May 2017

We Loves the 'Diff


When my Dad dropped me off at my university accommodation when I was 18, I never thought that Cardiff was going to be my permanent home.

I'd come to university with my suitcase and the thought that Cardiff was just a temporary stop over. But instead it's become my home, a place that's adopted and loved me as if I was a real Cardiffian. I have my routine, I'm a regular in coffee shops and farmers markets where people will speak with me and truly know me. It's a true community and I love this city with all my German heart.

Print by I Loves the 'Diff

What I love most about Cardiff is what an amazing and caring city it is.

Cult local superstars I Loves the 'Diff have partnered with St. David's Shopping Centre to come together and raise money for 3 local charities that work tirelessly with the homeless of Cardiff, providing support and care - the Huggard, Llamau and The Wallich.

They've done this by creating a run of limited edition Cardiff based prints, my favourites are Chippy Lane which brings back fond (but hazy) memories of chips at 3am whilst holding my heels in my hand. The other favourite is the red Cardiff Skyline, there's a little nod to so many Cardiff landmarks that every Cardiffian, where born and bred or adopted like me will recognise and know immediately.

So how do you get your hands on the final Cardiff Skyline print?

Easy - just head to St. David's on Saturday for the chance to get your hands on an exclusive, limited edition print. In return all you have to do is drop in a donation of at least £3 and you're good to go. You get a beautiful print and do some good. Win win! There are still some of the other prints left so just ask!

Prints are limited to a run of 1,000 and it's first come first served so make sure you get there early.

If you can't make it to pick up a print you can donate online via the GoFund me link which is here. All donations are greatly appreciated and will truly make a difference, the target to hit is £20,000 so please make it happen!

Diloch in advance for all the support!




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Sunday, 7 May 2017

First Dates: The Worst One Yet


I don’t think I’m particularly high maintenance. 

Feel free to ask those who know me. They’ll say that I like to talk a lot and that I like nice things, but I don’t think they would say that I’m high maintenance.

In as far as first dates go, I’m not expecting to be picked up in a helicopter or a fancy car before being whisked away to a Michelin starred restaurant in a different country. Although that would be nice. In fact the truth of the matter is that since the last date I went on, I’ve now learnt that it’s best to go into a date with zero expectations because otherwise you will just end up severely disappointed.

So let me tell you about the worst date that I have been on so far. 

I know that I said I’ve deleted my dating apps, but in a fit of loneliness I re-downloaded Bumble in the high hopes that everything people said about the app was true. Namely that the standard of men was higher. 

Well let me just nip this story in the bud, the above rumour is a lie. Or maybe it’s just a lie in Cardiff.

Bob (not his real name) and I had been chatting on Bumble for a few days. He was receptive to what I said and made smart references to what was on my profile, or references to things I’d mentioned in passing. He didn’t use text speak and didn’t seem like a weirdo. Result, I thought. Even if this doesn’t become ‘a thing’, it might result in a good first date.

We’d talked about meeting up and going for a drink, our schedules didn’t match up much so we ended up agreeing to a drink on a ‘school night’. This doesn’t actually bother me because it stops me getting overeager with the wine and getting accidentally drunk. But we didn’t actually discuss where we were going for a drink. With hindsight that was already a warning sign. He also mentioned playing pool, which at the time I didn’t pay too much attention to. Also a mistake I would later learn.

So the night of the date rolls around, I get ready listening to my ‘Single Ladies’ playlist on Spotify. Again with hindsight this was me foreshadowing my own date. Dressing for dates is hard, but I go for trusty all black with leopard print boots and my bright pink ‘Jackie Kennedy when JFK got shot’ coat. Classic with a dash of ‘fun’.

Despite my German-ness which means I have to get everywhere exactly at the time I’m supposed to be there for, or be there early, I deliberately arrive 10 minutes late. He tells me that he’s outside of Live Lounge (if you’re from Cardiff or have visited this will be extremely telling to you), this makes my heart sink a little. When we do meet in person I know instantly that I don’t fancy him, and I accept that I just have to get through the first round of drinks. There’s a couple of nice places near to us so how bad can it get?

Well…

“So where are we going for a drink?”

“I was thinking Wetherspoons.”

I want to die on the spot and run after my taxi that’s already halfway down the road. I ask if he’s being serious. He is. I start wondering at what point I can make a getaway. But I hate being rude. It’s a conundrum of epic proportions. If you know anything about Cardiff, or even any city, it’s that there is always a better bar for drinks. Wetherspoons is the kind of place I used to go for a £5 bottle of wine before a student night. Now as someone in their mid to late 20’s this is not a place I choose to frequent. 

So fine we make it to Wetherspoons. I deliberately order an expensive gin, because if I’m going to be here I might as well get something out of it. He orders a pint of cider. When it comes to choosing seats I pick the tall tables with high chairs located in the middle of the floor. The last thing I want is to be sat in a cosy booth. Personal space is everything.

We make some small talk, he shows me photos of his family holiday to one of those islands in the Med. He’s using a Blackberry and for some irrational reason I have a mistrust of anyone who still uses a Blackberry.

Whilst talking he either over gestures or tries to reach for his more than half full pint of cider. For whatever reason, instead of picking it up he knocks it over. 

The cider goes all over the table and all over me. From my shoes to my coat that’s hanging up on the back of my chair, nothing is spared. A small pool of Mangers cider collects at the base of my chair. 

I’m not often speechless but in this case I am. He stammers out an apology and I ask him to bring some napkins. Whilst he makes a quick dash, I do my best to mop up the damage and look around to assess if everyone in the pub saw. They did, the old man sat directly behind me is shaking his head as I get up to wipe down myself and the chair I’m sat on.

Bob comes back with the napkins. I resume my seat on the now dry chair and down what’s left of my gin, we make some more painful small talk.

“Do you want another drink?”

I have never wanted another drink less in my whole entire life.

“No thanks, it’s a school night and I have to be up early for work.”

We wrap things up in Wetherspoons and to my dismay he reminds me that we said we’d play pool. I curse myself for wanting to be polite, but find myself saying: “Sure, let’s.”

We walk two doors down to the rock bar. If anyone knows anything about me then it’s that my rock bar days are long gone. I’m not even sure if I ever had ‘rock bar days’.

The saving grace of the rock bar is that it’s loud so we don’t have to talk much. As it turns out he’s pretty much a pro-pool player whilst I miss the ball on my first couple of attempts. I worry he thinks that this is cute, whilst the reality is that I just hate being shit at things. He sinks the balls in a rapid game that couldn’t have lasted more than a couple of minutes. 

“Another?”

“Sure.” Why do I keep trying to be polite??

This game he let’s me win, he’s so good that it’s painfully obvious what he’s doing. When I had the customary date debrief, some of my friends thought this sweet. As I was standing in the rock bar, still stinking of cider, sweet was the last thing I thought this whole thing was.

I take my victory, pretend that I get an emergency text from my Mum (not actually a lie - I did get some bad news that evening) and plead out of having another drink somewhere else.

He escorts me to a taxi and to my great great relief doesn’t try for a kiss. I make it home in time to take off my carefully applied make up and double cleanse my face. I’m in bed with my teeth flossed by 10:30, fuming that I went on such a grim date when I could have stayed home watching Netflix in my pants.

The next day as I regale the office with my date story I get a text:

“Hey :) So apart from me knocking my drink on to you I think it went well last night, would you like to go on a 2nd Bumble date.”

I know ghosting is the worst but I couldn’t even bring myself to reply. My favourite colleague tells me that I need to find someone normal to date, let alone somebody good.

The result of my date: a pair of jeans which even after a wash still smelt faintly of cider and the fact that I haven’t been able to bring myself to go on another date since.

I’m not even wanting to go on a good date at this point, I just want to stop going on disastrous dates.

If there’s anything to be learnt from this: don’t take your date to Wetherspoons and be extremely careful when gesturing.


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Tuesday, 11 April 2017

Truly Tried and Tested with M&S

Easter eggs provided by M&S

Each year we start January with the best intentions, it's all 'new year. new me, new body'. Well by the time easter rolls around those good intentions are best thrown out of the window. It's all about the hot crossed buns, racks of lamb and of course eating all the chocolate known to man.

There's something I absolutely love about easter, maybe it's all those fond childhood memories of egg hunting and getting carried away stuffing chocolate in my face, but that easter excitement has stayed with me well into my late twenties.

So when Marks and Spencer invited me to test some of their special easter eggs, how was I to say no?


First up to the taste test was 'Bendy Bob'.

Bendy Bob is clearly the egg aimed at the kids in your life but that didn't stop this 26 year old tearing into him. Bob is a hollowed out egg decorated with strawberry laces connecting his little limbs. The sugary bendy laces add a new element to the easter egg that I've not seen before. It makes it fun to eat and actually breaks up the eating process so he wasn't gone within the blink of an eye.


Next was the 'Dark Chocolate Quirky Bunny', who was almost too beautiful to eat. The key word being almost. This gorgeous little bunny is made from single origin chocolate and has a modern edge to it. I really enjoyed having this displayed in my house until it was socially acceptable to crack in to it. 

I feel like it's quite hard to find Easter chocolate that isn't tacky and which can look beautiful amongst other easter decoration. Well this little fella certainly has added some class to my easter decor. The other plus side is that because the bunny is made out of dark chocolate you take your time eating it as dark chocolate is that little bit richer. I quite like dark chocolate as the bitterness comes as a bit of relief when you're eating sweet all the time.


I've saved the best for last because trust me, this is the most amazing easter egg I've ever had. What came first, the chicken or the egg? Who cares when you can get your hands on this?

The egg is made up of half milk chocolate and half dark chocolate - perfect for sharing when you're either indecisive or when the person your sharing with prefers a different type of chocolate to you. The milk chocolate is from Ecuador and the dark chocolate is from the Dominican Republic. Then once you crack the egg open a special little golden chicken reveals it's self. Hidden centres are a pretty popular theme at the moment with easter eggs and when the finished product looks like this it's easy to see why.

I'm still coming down from a sugar high from testing all of these, but it was all worth it. Get yourself to Marks and Spencer before the easter weekend and get stocked up on your easter eggs, these will go down a storm with friends and family.

Hope you all have a wonderful easter!




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Sunday, 12 March 2017

Men My Mother Thinks I Should Date


My mum and I enjoy a good relationship. But that doesn’t mean that we agree on things. In fact, the truth is we don’t agree on many things at all. 

We don’t have the same political leanings anymore, at Christmas we managed to only have one heated discussions about refugees which in itself is a Christmas miracle. We don’t really have the same taste in clothes and we don’t tend to agree about what to eat. We occasionally do agree on what TV show to watch and recommend each other books.

One thing we most certainly don’t agree on, is the type of guy I should be dating.

Historically I love a dark soul. I’ve always been attracted to guys who I can sense on my radar are damaged, and who I think (think being the key word here) I can fix with my endless supply of love and affection. That’s also why I’m still single. But that’s beside the point.

My mother, in her infinite wisdom and experience seems to think she knows exactly what kind of guy I should be dating.


A bird watcher:

When I told her I was being ghosted by John Doe (see here), my mum texted me: “Just lead an active life where you meet new people. Maybe start bird watching, interesting men among them”. Her and my father (who have been married for 30 years and did not meet whilst bird watching just for your information) went on a wildlife trip and met some bird watchers from the BBC and that got her imagining her future son in law. A possible son in law who loves spending time in the outdoors, hiding in trees patiently waiting for that elusive bird to show up. There are far too many parallels here to my own waiting life so I’m just going to leave it at that.

An earth scientist:

She’s extremely biased when it comes to this, because as it just so happened she’s married to a geologist. For 30 years this year. Every now and then when we start talking about boys she’ll say things like: “Why don’t you go to the earth science department and see who’s around?”. The irony of her pushing an earth scientist my way is that my dad back in the day wasn’t her type at all. In fact her type was the dark broken soul so it’s no wonder where I got that taste from. In my mum’s mind earth scientists are smart, kind and educated with good job prospects. Everything my father is. Which is fine, but somehow I think that me just hanging around the corridors of the geology department at Cardiff university isn’t going to go down well. 

A German:

I think that if I were to bring a German boy home my mother would implode with pure happiness and book the chapel in my German hometown which has a two year waiting list. I’ve never had a German boyfriend, I haven’t even ever been on a date with a German boy. I think the thought process behind me dating a German is that it’s meant to connect me with my German roots. But German boys are hard to come by in Wales, for some strange reason. 

A Chilean:

This one caught me by surprise too. Mum and Dad had taken a trip to Chile and before I knew it text after text was coming my way about how handsome the Chilean men were. One of her texts read: “Nina, seriously Chilean man are really attractive! They are small and funny!!! You need to come here!” This was then followed up by her sending me photos of various Chilean men that she’d seen out and about. My personal favourite was of a man selling a cannabis energy drink.


No doubt with my luck I will end up living my happily ever after with one of the above and then my mum will be able to say ‘I told you so’ for the rest of her life. Because sometimes mum’s are right but I’m also willing to prove her wrong. 

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Sunday, 19 February 2017

Dear Future Partner In Crime II - Things You Should Know About Me

Dear future partner in crime,

There’s probably a few things you should know about me. You’ll learn some of these as we go along but knowing a few of these things right off the bat should be reasonably helpful.

I get overly emotionally invested in almost everything I do - the TV shows I watch, my work, dogs I follow on Instagram and people in general. On a date a guy once said I was hard to read, but once you get to know me it’s clear that that’s a lie. I’m a open book but I’m also learning how to invest my emotions in to something without draining myself. 

I watch too much TV. Not even highbrow TV programs, I watch the awful stuff. I sobbed my way through three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy in two weeks. My favourite TV show growing up was that show with Fran Drescher as The Nanny. I know too much about The Bachelor franchise and don’t even count it as a guilty pleasure any more. As problematic as that is for a feminist. 

I spent time in therapy. It changed my life.

I own more shoes than a woman with size UK 2.5 feet living in a one bedroom open plan apartment should own. 90% of them are black and look identical. If we’re shopping I might need you to step in and make me put down the boots that I’m eyeing up.

I’m super needy but at the same time you need to give me space. Over the last few years I’ve learnt to live alone and that’s something I’m really proud of.

I don’t think I want kids. The thought of having children, especially a girl, scares the shit out of me.

My biggest relationship fear is living in fear that I’m the one who cares the most, and therefore the more vulnerable party. 

As a result of that, I’m mad good at being passive aggressive and can be mean, I don’t mean to do it on purpose, it’s more of a defensive mechanism so I’m happy for you to call me out on it.

I need someone in my life who is happy to take beautiful candid photos of me for my Instagram.

I hate seafood.

Sometimes I want to be the centre of attention at the party and entertain everyone, somedays I don’t want to be around people at all.

I own a life-size cardboard cut out of Queen Elizabeth the II. And a life-size cardboard cut out of a corgi. They used to live in my hallway right by my door, but I had to fold them up and hide them in my wardrobe when a guy stayed over. If you come into my house and see them, it probably means I’m sure about you.

I buy books that look good on my book shelf with a short lived plan to read them. War & Peace is definitely more useful as a door stopper.

I think I have massive partly unresolved self confidence, identity and feelings of not belonging anywhere issues. I don’t need you to fix me or save me, just bear with me whilst I work it out. Or even better, be there to support me through it because that’s what I’m looking for: a partner in life that won’t jump ship when the going gets tough.

All my quirks aside, I’m looking forward to getting to know yours inside and out. If you’re willing to overlook my love of the Bachelor franchise and shoe obsession that is.

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