Macho men

One thing that always makes me smile is when I see groups of lads trying to look ‘hard’.

I’m not talking about the ones that are serious, but the ones who look like they should be at home, having their tea cooked by Mummy Dearest and bartering to be allowed to go out to the local youth club.

You can usually spot them a mile off. They tend to be wearing the uniform of baggy jeans (nicely ironed with a crease down the front – thanks Mum!) that show off their boxers (buy a belt – I will lend you the money if you need it) and sporting a hat that’s kind of perched on the top of their head. The big giveaway is the fake ‘street speak’; they have all the right phrases but unfortunately can’t hide the fact that they were raised to ‘talk properly’ and are making a deliberate effort to drop their T’s and H’s.

I encountered such a group today. I was walking along, when I looked up to see 3 lads swaggering towards me (please stop doing this, I either assume you have a problem with your hips, or that you’ve bought those weird trainers with springs in the soles) taking up the whole path. I carried on, knowing full well that their training would mean they would stand aside to let me pass.

I had to suppress a giggle when all of a sudden I heard “Ow, that hedge got me”.

I glanced round to see one of them rubbing his arm, before giving the aforementioned hedge a very cross glare and checking that he wasn’t bleeding. It was all I could do not to offer to get him a hanky and a plaster.

Sorry boys, it kind of spoilt the effect…

Rite of passage?

God, you can tell it’s the school summer holidays. Not only is the shopping centre full of roaming packs of goth wannabes and scarily young girls dressed in clothes that I would blush to wear, there is a young invasion in the pubs. The other night I was out with Mr Flirt. We went for a drink before dinner and found ourselves next to a table of 15 year olds.

Two girls and a lad, obviously trying so hard to act older, they were signing a birthday card and ordering food. They then went on to look at the cocktail menu, finally deciding on some strange combination involving WKD (some kind of weird alco-pop thing I think) and port – what’s that all about? I know trying to get served in pubs is a tradition (hell, I started drinking in pubs at 14) but, please, at least order something decent and not so full of sugary shit that you have just confirmed your appointment with the God of the Toilet Bowl.

I’m one of those people that have always looked older than they actually are (great when I was a teenager, something I’m not overly happy with now!) and have been served cigarettes and in pubs since I was 14 and then alcohol in shops and getting into nightclubs since 15, not once have I been asked for id. Best Friend was asked only a couple of weeks ago; she was embarrassed, I told her to be happy as she obviously has several years before she needs to start worrying about her looks. Mr Flirt told me that when he was younger (I guess about 15) he had two fake id’s – one to say he was 14, so could get half price bus fares and one to say he was 18, so he could get served alcohol. In his words, the best of both worlds, he could go out, get pissed, then get the bus home cheaply!

I guess none of us are happy with our ages, when we’re younger we spend the whole time wanting to be older and vice versa. I’m 27, but spend most of my time feeling (and most people will say, acting) about 17 – but it works for me!

It's just a little kiss.

There is nothing more likely to scare and confuse us English folks. That’s right; I’m talking about cheek kissing. What was once the domain of the dreaded kiss from Auntie Mable, in which you desperately offered your cheek to stop the bitty, red lipstick and powdery whiskers from touching your own lips, is now standard practice. Everyone you meet seems to expect a kiss or two from you.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for kisses, and kiss my friends hello and goodbye on a regular basis. However, I don’t expect to have to kiss my colleagues, bank manger, waiter and the random people I meet on the street! Where do you draw the line? When is it acceptable? And how many times are you supposed to kiss?

We all know the scene – you’re at a party and being introduced to a friend of a friend. You both fumble and stumble, trying to decide whether a kiss is expected or not. Finally, feeling confident that you are about to kiss, you lean forward and deliver a quick (and hopefully, dry!) kiss on one cheek. Pleased that you have successfully negotiated a social minefield, you lean back ready to relax and meet a new friend, then realize to your horror that they are aiming for the other cheek now! Trying to cover up your gaff, you quickly move forward to administer yet another kiss. Then, disaster!, you bang them on the face with your nose, having misjudged the distance in your rush. Cue nervous and embarrassed laughter all round. The other scenario to this is you go to kiss someone and end up receiving one of those annoying, lovie kisses, you know, the mwah, mwah, air kiss ones. For Gods sake, either kiss or don’t. Unless you are actually an actor then do not do this, it looks pretentious.

We should all petition parliament to have a law passed that determines how many kisses are expected. The French kiss twice, the Dutch three times. Us Brits remain confused and seem to make it up as we’re going along! If we could have a legal number and also define the situations (and who with!) in which cheek kissing is expected, I’m sure we would all feel happier and embrace our inner kissers.