“You don’t just walk up to a buffet and pick up a chicken leg, you check out the sandwiches first!” by @amyecharles

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buffetIt’s three years ago now but after only a week as a University student I’d managed to bag myself a boyfriend. Crazy, I know, but with a two year break from guys under my belt I came to Uni totally on it (a phrase I believe fits well here). He was tall, good looking, had nice eyes, and a delightfully southern accent, something exotic to a girl where the word ‘the’ doesn’t exist in her verbal vocabulary. Ok, so he might have ignored me a bit too much around his friends, a long with other things that left me thinking – what you playing at, mister? Peering on it with a blind eye just seemed the easier option, because quite frankly I couldn’t believe someone who looked like that had chosen to be with me.

For a good four months things went (sort of) happily along, with me ignoring peoples advice telling me not to rush. However, it was at a certain party one night, full of older, wiser, and more experienced creatures of the student lifestyle, that I began to doubt. It was at this party a very smart person put my relationship into ‘buffet’ perspective. He pointed out quite clearly, if perhaps a little drunkenly, that I’d picked up a chicken leg from the relationship table when I deserved something a lot nicer. Surrounded by all these people who really did know what they were on about, I finally realized that I’d been too eager in changing my relationship status. Knowing this didn’t alter my actions though, as I’ve mentioned before I’m too much of a hoper. I really should have ended it before giving him chance to dump me the day before valentines day. (Enter bad word to describe an ex here).

The philosophy I was given that night became a vital part of mine and my friends experiences during University, helping us to distinguish the ‘dating’ world in a way we could fully understand. In other words we started walking into nightclubs as if we were going over to a buffet, our choices laid out before us on a large (sticky) table. Now, I know I run the risk of talking about men as if they were food products, objects to pick and choose from as we please and dismiss when we get full, but please know that I mean no offence. I’m merely speaking in metaphorical terms to help get my point across.

So, to paint the picture, at the lower end of the table you have your chicken legs. Now these aren’t all necessarily the unattractive ones (as stated above), you often get some trying to disguise themselves as all the goods at the other side of the table. Don’t be fooled though ladies, in the end all chicken legs have a bone hidden beneath waiting to prod you in the mouth.

Next up you get your sandwiches. These are the ones I believe we should all be aiming for, at least. Attractive – to you, doesn’t matter what others think! – makes an effort, you know, asks to buy you a drink, doesn’t attack you with his tongue at first sight. These tend to be good boyfriend material, not that I’m saying you should purely go looking for a boyfriend in a club. This is Britain, however, and it’s very rare that a guy will come up to you in a café during the day, sober, and ask for your number. All that romantic nonsense belongs in American movies I’m afraid!

On occasion, if there’s any left, you will get your vol-au-vents; those alluring delicacies which, with one glance, have your knickers trying to free themselves from under your dress. I’m pleased to admit that I’ve had a couple of these beauties in my life time. They literally had me clenching my thighs together and biting my lips, I hadn’t a clue that men could do such a thing to me without saying a word! Naturally though, me being me, I messed it up. More often than not using the excuse – ‘They’re that good looking I can’t see straight! It will never work!’ If I’m being honest, this is quite true. I couldn’t go out with a guy who’s out of my league, they made me feel about as attractive as a lamppost stood next to them. None of that, thank you.

So, coming to the end of this blog I’ve realized that once again I haven’t really given any advice. But if I am to make a point it would be that there are all kinds of men out there on the dating/relationship table. Take it slow, don’t go picking up the first thing you see and stuffing your face as quickly as possible. It will only end in sickness and heartburn. Also, stay away from the chicken legs, try and bag your self a nice sandwich at the very least!

Peace and love from your Yorkshire Monkey

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Born and raised in West Yorkshire. Day of birth - 6th November 1989. Related to loving and kind people, but perhaps a little insane - during my three years studying English Literatire and Creative Writing Dad thought she was doing a degree in reading and drawing pretty letters. 'Writing letters creativley' were his words. Calligrahpy is what he meant, but alas, this is a subject I did NOT partake in. Studied at Lancaster University, where I met many wonderful people. Very lucky to find another who obsessed over Jane Austen as much. Only had three jobs in my twenty-one years of life, all working as a waitress, which is also my current job. Being able to carry five glasses in one hand is a rare talent, apparently... Other than this I am an avid admirer of the visual arts and love to write poetry. In my spare time you will catch me painting, sketching, writing or taking photos. When I have spare time of course, serving people food I can't afford to buy myself has taken over most things, along with volunteering. I have done more volunteering than I care to admit, currently I am on a specialist placement at the Theatre Royal in my home town. My parents believe I find it hard to accept working for actual money.

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