all my heroes are weirdos

We're All Mad Here


Ghosting is a noun that’s been added to the urban dictionary since dating became digital.

Ground Control to Major Tom

A friend of mine has been seeing somebody for a few months and it seemed to be going pretty well. He wasn’t a raging psychopath and she’d managed to tone her anxiety down to an acceptable level. They were both investing time and effort, and things seemed to be moving forward.

Then all of a sudden – Radio Silence 

It’s socially unacceptable to be talking all day every day, meeting up for dates (two, three or even four times a week), and then all of a sudden drop off the face of the earth. And not only is it really bad manners, it’s pathetically and very unattractively cowardly.

In a twisted way, it would be much nicer if people told the truth.

I’m bored of this…. I’m not exactly gushing over you…I’m scared of getting hurt….I have a wife I just didn’t tell you about….. And if the truth would be too painful, then just go for the classic – it’s not you, it’s me.

A little bit of common decency is all I’m saying.

You can’t knock the Hussey

This is definitely not the first time I’ve heard of this happening and won’t be the last. I count myself lucky for only really having fallen victim to it once. But before I explain that, I want to introduce you to Matthew Hussey.

Essex Boi turned world renowned Dating Guru with his own channel on Youtube and a New York Times bestseller – Get The Guy. He’s got fans and followers all over the world, who no doubt love his spray-painted t-shirts as much as they do his advice.

And although I don’t necessarily agree with everything he says, he does speak for the masses of males that inhabit this planet.

Back from the Dead Text

So as my words of wisdom were going in one ear and out the other, I sent her a link to Hussey’s Youtube channel and forced her to binge watch it. Which is when I stumbled across this little gem.

It’s the Back from the Dead text that first made me laugh out loud because this actually happened to me last week.

I was walking back to my hotel and got a message from an unknown number with a well-known picture.

you jinxed my bitcoins

(eyeroll emoji)

The Ghost of Stag Do’s Past

Last year, by far my greatest achievement in life was being invited to a stag do.

And okay, it wasn’t exactly LADS LADS LADS, lager and strippers – it was more of a civilised champagne breakfast and copious espresso martinis with a load of perfectly lovely Banker Wankers, before moving on to Sunfall Festival and a rave in Brixton.

But it was still a stag do, and it was absolutely BRILLIANT.

No stupid penis straws, no organised fun that isn’t fun, no tacky limo, no sashes, no overpriced cocktails or pretentious bars where a rowdy hen do isn’t welcome anyway. The invite was simple – turn up, get pissed, have fun.

And that we did.

Anyway, being one of the lads for the day I got fully involved and came away with the phone number of one of the Banker Wankers we were with.

Messaging Masochism 

The next day we went for a hangover cure lunch and hair of the dog together, and made a plan to do something when I was back down in the capital for the wedding a few weeks later.

A few zillion messages, voicenotes and phonecalls were exchanged on the daily…..and then…… just a few days before I was heading down for the wedding, I was GHOSTED.

Literally nothing. nada. nichts.

Of course I was hurt by it – I’m a human with an ego, but the majority of thoughts in my head were centred around the fact it was a tossery thing to do. He’d contributed to my impending premature arthritis with four weeks of incessant thumb tapping for absolutely nothing.

And the thing with these ghosts is is that they end up haunting you when you least expect it.

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