Green doesn’t suit you

My name is Nicola and I’m jealous.

Yep. That’s right. I’m a green-eyed, petted lipped jealous monster and that’s just the way it is.

There are many things I’m happy with in my life. I really enjoy my job, I own my own flat, I have a reasonably nice boyfriend when he behaves, and my close friends and family are really grand. So why am I such a petulant child about everything else?

Let’ start at the very beginning. A very good place to start, as Julie Andrews would say.

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Long-term relationships: the facts

For over three years now, I’ve been going out with the same boy. You could say we’re nipping on a permy, Bf/gf, partners, MVPs, you know.

As I approach my 27th birthday at an alarming rate (less than a month to go), it occurred to me that I’ve been with the same chap since I was 23 years old. 23!

It’s the longest relationship I’ve ever been in, and it’s the first relationship I haven’t had internal thoughts that it will all be coming to an end eventually. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I want to absolutely leather him, but most of the time he’s actually pretty great.

Cred: Sarah Andersen sarahcandersen.com

This all sounds fabulous, right? Wrong! As much as I love the guy, occasionally it takes a little work to keep the ship afloat. Here’s what I’ve learned about relationships since setting sail with this one:

Getting to grips with feeling like shit

Hello. Remember me? I know, it’s been a long time since I posted anything here. I’m not the first to admit it, but I’ve been complacent. I’ve been focussing solely on writing for my job and not writing outside of the office. And I should be writing on here more because I loved this blog. I still love this blog.

So I’m going to kick start this post with explaining to you how rotten I feel.

I feel like shit.

Foreveranitchynose buys a flat

Bonjour! And a happy New Year!

Towards the end of 2016, I became what society deems an adult. I bought a flat. Hurray! Isn’t that marvellous?

It is marvellous, but it’s also scary. So, for the next wee while, I’m going to lay out why it’s scary so that when you get round to buying property, you can hold your nerve. Much unlike I did.

So, let’s start from the beginning. As of July 2015, I (with Davit) had rented a lovely wee flat in Mount Florida. It’s nestled sweetly in the south side, is walking distance to three chippies and a Tesco. Bliss.

Well, as of October 2016, everything changed.

(Insert crackly voicemail message from letting agency here): “Hi Nicola, listen, the landlord needs to come in and have the flat valued. When is the best time for you to let her in?”

Oh bollocks. That can only mean on thing. She’s selling up.

Landlord comes a week after, has flat valued and leaves. Tells me she’s selling her house so is getting her finances sorted. Nicola breathes a sigh of relief realising she won’t lose her lovely wee flat.

WRONG!

Things I wish I’d never done

When you make it to your mid/late twenties a lot of things change. You realise that alcohol makes you bloated, it takes a week in the gym to burn off a fish supper, you enjoy curling up on the couch watching gash Channel 4 documentaries on a Saturday night and separating the recycling gives you a feeling of self-actualisation.

Upon realising these things, I have also come up with a list of things I wish that I had never done. Sure, I should forget about them and move on, but where’s the fun in that?

My list ranges from the sublime to the ridiculous so feel free to agree, laugh or feel downright sorry for me. Fine by me!

Right, here we go. Things I wish I’d never done. Ugh jeez, I can feel my teeth clenching in cringe already.

I’m happy in my own company

Oh no, no. Before you say anything, I’m not back on Tinder just yet.

This blog post was inspired by this weekend I have just spent mostly to myself. I’ll play it out for you.

I woke up on Saturday morning, helped the bf to pack for a trip up north and I raced away to our letting agency to sign a new six month contract for the flat we share. How very grown up of me. I enjoy this.

Then, I came back, said goodbye to bae and started work.

I was working pretty much all Saturday from around 1pm to 7pm. I got lots of work done, thanks, and made my deadline. YES! I was in my own company here, yes, but we haven’t got to the good part just yet.

Things I do in the car

Since passing my driving test at the rip old age of 22, I have’t been without a car for any length of time. As soon as I passed the horrendous test, my legs soaked in my own sweat, I was nipping about in a faded, red Corsa. The car leaked when it rained and I tore the arse out of the exhaust but it served me well.

Now, as a slightly older adult, I pay finance on the most beautiful duck egg blue Mini you’ve ever seen. She’s such a doll.

Speaking of which, like most drivers, I carry out many ridiculous tasks whilst in the car I’d never normally do. These include, yet are not limited to:

Advice to my younger self

Startling as it may be, in three short months I will be joining the 26 club. I am so, so not ready for this.

I’m also not ready for being called a ‘lady’ in shops, in my head I’m still a ‘girl’, and having to manage my own miniature stash of money.

There are so many things I wish I could go back and change when I was younger.

Some being: not to jump out from my gate to give my neighbours a fright as they walk down the street (this still haunts me to this day), not to spend an extra £20 on a shitter laptop I bought for college, (I left college seven years ago, this should not still bug me) and many, many, many horrendous fashion choices that I cannot get over (mismatched Converse anyone?) *shudder*

And here we are! Somewhat older, somewhat fatter but a lot/little more wiser than what I was ten years ago. So here is my advice to my younger self, and for those younger than me (I’m looking at you Tara Cameron! You’re my cousin so I’m here to save you from years of teenage angst) to let them see that it’s not always as bad as it seems. Not like I’m worth basing your life on. I’m still struggling to work out if I’ll make it to 26 with my kinda good credit still intact!

So here it is, my top 5 points of advice I’d give to my younger self had she not grown into myself. I’m working myself up in circles now, aren’t I?

Things I enjoy massively as an adult

As some of you may or may not know, I am the ripe old age of 25. I am a quarter of a century old, I’m closer to 30 than I am to 20 and I sustain a, fairly, adult life.

This, at times, has brought me sorrow and joy.

Sorrow as in those, “What the hell am I doing with my life?!” moments and sorrow as in, “Shouldn’t I be able to understand this car finance statement without my mum?” life questions.

On the other, thankfully happy, hand, I take great joy in being an adult and living away from home.

Here are four of my most favourite enjoyable tasks that being an adult entails:

Foreveranitchynose at the Job Centre – Part 4

Bonjour my little babies! We have come to the end of our four part series of Foreveranitchynose at the Job Centre! Are you sad? Well, I’m not! As some of you may know I have just completed my first week at my new job. Wah! Yay!

So anyway, let’s get to the juicy stuff, ya know?

For our final instalment, I’ma tell you about my appointment at the Job Centre, the only one that really matters BECAUSE I GOT A JOB! YAY!

As I’d told ya’ll in Foreveranitchynose at the Job Centre – Part 2, the boyf and I were told we both had to be at my appointment as we were essentially claiming as a couple. So, I drag the poor sod on the 10 minute walk to the Job Centre. My appointment is for 10:10am but the lady on the phone told me to, “Head there for about 10 to 10 Nicola, there’s some forms to fill out so that will give you a bit more time.”

So! We make our way to the job centre, me moaning at him for making us leave slightly later, to get there for bang on 10 to 10! Yes! I walk to the door and the stupid thing doesn’t open. The door says the Job Centre opens at 9am, there are people inside walking around, yet the blinds are closed. Crafty buggers. So here we are, waiting out in the cold until some smarty pants opens the door 15 MINUTES LATER! I have never felt more unemployed in my life. All us jobless wasters stood outside in a line waiting for our dole money. Yay! Love life!

Ok, so we get in the door, I give a lady my name and we’re told to take a seat. Another 10 minutes go past and we are told to go over to Gillian’s table as she will be my advisor. Smashing! Hiya Gillian! How are you?