"Get your arm swing just right when you’re walking and you occasionally touch a bit of minge by “mistake”, they love it." #BANTS

I'll be honest, I'm not a fan of celebrity. Less so of social media celebrity. I don't care about Zoella, the Londoner, whoever. They don't really have anything to do with my life or my industry, and while I find them annoying when they're thrust in front of my screen intrusively (can Rosie write? Technically yes, she can work a keyboard and write words. Is Zoella shrill and annoying? Not to 13-year-old fangirls), they get on with their life, and I do mine.

Except, there's a problem. If you're a twitter fiend you may have heard of Dapper Laughs. A guy who's famous for, well, I literally have no idea. Having a few social media accounts is the only thing I can come up with.

Up until about a week ago, I was totally oblivious to him or the fact he even existed. I ignored the hashtags that showed up on my journo twitter account until the RTs got too much and I had a peek.

But now I know he's from South London, and has a programme about ‘dating’ on ITV. His real name is Daniel. Oh, and he's totally ok with joking about sexual assault, rape, and abusing homeless people. FOR BANTS, innit.

See, two writers reviewed his Christmas album (proving anyone can, in fact, create a Christmas album), and when they heard him talking about giving a woman “one up the bum” and a tramp stinking of s**t in The Name of Bants, they told people to not put themselves through the torture. It wasn’t a harsh critique, and they even included the links in case people did want to make their ears bleed listen

Anyway, he took real offense and got his legion of insane followers (who’d give the puppy-killing One Direction fans a run for their money) to threaten and abuse the two writers, blaming them for the lack of sales and that he WAS going to donate proceeds to a homeless charity but he can’t now, innit.

When Shelter got wind, they refused to accept any donations from Dan, Dapper, whatever, which then prompted an apology from him, because seriously when a charity refuses to take your cash, you’re on slippery ground.

His fans couldn’t understand what went wrong...

@dapperlaughs I can't understand. If people don't like you. They don't have to watch/ follow you people just love a good moan! #teamdapper
— Robert Anderson (@robbie_93_) November 7, 2014

Can't believe how much grief @dapperlaughs is getting this week. If you don't like it, don't watch it? I personally find him hilar! #TopLad
— Liz Dodd (@Doddlar) November 10, 2014

If Dapper Laughs humour offends you don't fucking watch his vines or show and don't bloody follow him on twitter
— Andrew Crossland (@americanoandrew) November 10, 2014

My opinion is that people take life far too seriously if they're complaining about @dapperlaughs If you don't like it, change channel?
— Laur. (@LaurenMabs) November 10, 2014

If you don't like Dapper Laughs don't watch his material. It's obvious what his style is and if people enjoy that they should be free to.
— Mathew (@lowerthanmathew) November 10, 2014

Ah, the old ‘if you don’t like it don’t look’ argument. See, as I mentioned above, I get that. I don’t read certain blogs and I don’t watch certain tv shows because I don’t like them, and because I don’t like them, I don’t look. But then again, none of them advocate sexual assault.

Anyway, it’s now come to light that he said one of his audience members was ‘gagging to get raped’ and that she should bring two friends with her backstage as she was going to need them.

ITV seems to think there’s literally nothing wrong with this. That he’s a bastion of UK humour and that comedians need to be risky. They’ve refused to recall his show, and may have potentially given Dapper Dan two more series. BECAUSE HE’S A LAD.

So no more talk.

I’d love everyone to take a look at this petition, and, if they agree, stick your name on it. We don’t need a generation of men thinking this is what women should tolerate, for jokes, bants, whatever. We don’t want boys growing up thinking this cheeky chappy persona is an excuse to threaten and demean the women they encounter in their day to day lives.

Because ‘if she cries, she’s just playing hard to get,’ right?

---

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The Seven Unspoken Rules of Dating (that should probably be spoken)

It's pretty self explanatory, really. Dating can be a nightmare. What to wear, how to do your hair, where to go, and is that shade of lipstick too Dita? Is there even such a thing as being TOO Dita? So here are a few rules we think everyone, male or female, should know about the dating world.

1. Be honest

Ok, so maybe not, "Oh my lord, boy, what in the name of monkeys on motorbikes made you think wearing THAT shirt with THOSE jeans was a good idea?" territory. But there's no point trying to be someone you're not on the first date. Wear what you want, order the food you want, just be yourself. And don't cover lies with more lies - it's no way to start a serious relationship. Be honest about you, your plans for the future, your interests and hobbies. If they don't align with your date's ideal future plans, it's better to know from the off than having to make a really hard decision later.

2. Relax

Hey, self-absorbedeo. You're so busy thinking about what you want, and what colour your bridesmaid dresses will be and what you're going to name your first child you haven't even stopped to think about the other person. Sure, determine whether your plans are compatible, as above, (no one wants to have the we're-not-having-kids yes-we-are conversation once you've swapped house keys) but leave all the gory details to a few years down the line. Plus, it's a bit creepy to plan someone else's life for them.

3. Leave the past in the past

Ladies, he doesn't want to know about how much of a Scumbag Steve your ex was. In the same vein, guys, we don't care how into your ex girlfriend you were. And do not, whatever you do, say she was pretty. Don't even hint at it. I cannot stress this enough. As far as the world is concerned, she's fat and had terrible spots, and her dress sense was shocking. If the topic of exes comes up - and let's be honest, it really should do - be subtle, reassure your date you're not living in the past and although you had fun and it was at times special, that part of your life is over, for a very good reason.

4. Ditch the movies

What are you, fourteen? If yes, fine, sit in silence next to someone while wondering whether to make a move, and by move I mean doing that classing/cheesy yawn-I'll-just-rest-my-hand-here-oh-was-that-your-boob move. If dinner isn't your thing, meet up for a coffee, go for a stroll around the park, try a museum or Secret Nuclear Bunker. You know, something where you can interact and find out whether the person you're dating is someone you want to be dating.

5. Stealth stalk

It's pretty obvious we know we're all stalking each other. But whatever you do, and only unless you want to be seen as the crazy one, don't bring up the bounties of your stalking sessions.
"Hey John, lovely to meet you! I saw you really like diving!"
"Yeah Sally, er, how did you know that?"
"Oh, I just flicked back to your 2004 Egypt holiday... that girl you were with was so cute! were you dating her?'
[awkward silence ensues]
[staring intensifies]

6. Put the phone away

If you're on a date, ditch your phone. Because you know what? If those work emails REALLY can't wait, or speaking to your best friend REALLY deserves interrupting your potential long-term partner, then you shouldn't be dating. It's a sad indictment of how life is in the UK, that very often we're lost without a phone and everything needs to be Instagrammed, blogged about, or live-tweeted-  but this is one time, along with funerals, that phones should be turned off and left to rest peacefully in the bottom of your bag.

7. If it's not going to work, it's not going to work

It'll be pretty obvious after the first date if it's not going to work. Hey, with 5 billion people on the planet, we're not all going to get along. if you really didn't feel the spark, and if the butterflies wee happily tucked away leaving your belly flutter-less, then it's best to just say you didn't feel a spark and leave it at that. If you feel your date was more into you than you were them, it's probably good to hit the nail on the head and not meet again. There's nothing worse than someone you REALLY fancy inviting you out for friendly drinks if the feeling's unrequited.

So these are our seven dating tips. What rules would you say are necessary for the best first date impression? Leave a comment below and let us know!

Interested? Read on...

Wanderlust and making mum proud

When you're growing up, all you want to do is make your parents proud. You take the classes they want you to take, you do the chores to earn your keep, you go to university and get the job they've always wanted for you. That's how it's supposed to go, right? But what about when you don't do the things the way they were planned for you, how do you measure the pride then?

As a kid, I played the team sports as requested even though I sucked at them. I took the classes they wanted, and worked hard at school. I helped out and earned my keep too; at home and in the real world - part time on the minimum wage so I could buy my own dolls and books and... whatever teenagers bought back then (probably not dolls or books, if I'm honest). As hard as I worked at school, eventually, it wasn't for me anymore. I was doing it for someone else, and I was resentful of that. I didn't want to be wasting my time studying towards a life that I realised I hadn't chosen anymore; all I really wanted to do was work and earn the money I needed to do the one thing I really wanted to do... see the world.



I left home at 21. Not just, like, down the road - I moved out out. From medium-sized-town Australia to teeny-tiny-town New Zealand, into a en suite room in my cousin's flat just outside Wellington. I literally finished work on the Friday in Adelaide, and started up again on the Monday in Lower Hutt. I wasn't even scared about the move, I was too excited. What I remember most about leaving Adelaide though, is seeing my Mum cry. Before that day, I'd only ever seen her cry once before - when she'd accidentally left the grill on all day and blew up our kitchen. That day in the ashy remains of our beloved kitchen, and then the day at the airport, were the only times I ever remember seeing her cry.

Back then, I interpreted those tears as disappointment; I thought I'd failed her.

Now that I live on the other side of the world, I talk to my mum more than ever. We have a regular-as-clockwork Sunday-morning Viber date. I update my blog with the most inane of things, just so she knows that I'm eating and bathing and earning all of the money (note: I don't earn all of the money). We email. We text. We communicate more now than when I lived under the same roof as her. Although the physical distance is further now, it's brought us closer together emotionally. And you know what else? I've given her a reason to travel more. In the three years I've lived in London, she's currently packing for her second three-month-long stay with me. For a woman of a certain age, on a working class income, in a job that owes her a hundred years of long-service leave, she's certainly now milking the fact I live abroad... and I'm told it provides her plenty of the "my child is better than your child" fodder that we all know goes on when our parents have too much wine-of-the-boxed-variety (goon: Google it).

So, maybe I don't have the degree, or white picket fence, or 3.4 children and power husband to boot. I also don't have barrels of debt or an irregular sleeping pattern, which I'm pretty pleased about, just quietly. Instead, what I do have is a chance to offer my Mum something she'd only ever dreamed of having before; unlimited access to the world*.

She's English by birth, you see. Emigrated to New Zealand at four. Married my Dad and moved to Australia in her twenties. After that, it was backyard breaks and family holidays to New Zealand for her until her mid-life-crisis took us to The Disney Lands during my late teens. In all that time, she'd not once considered visiting the Motherland before I made the epic journey myself (this may or may not have something to do with the free accommodation I now provide her with) - but in the last two years has seen more of the UK that most of the UK ever have.

Why? She's been bitten by the bug that bit me all those years ago; she's finally got a case of...

Wanderlust.

And recently, after one of our bog standard weekly chats, I had an email from her drop into my inbox that changed my world; in it, amongst a recipe for tuna mornay, some grainy pictures of nieces I've never met, and an update on my Dad's 65th birthday platters (he wanted KFC, she convinced him to go with antipasti), were those four little words I had been angling for since I first boarded that plane as a 21 year old 'runaway'. It was in that email that I knew I had underestimated her tears at the airport all those years ago. Now, nigh on ten years, thirteen flats, and three countries later, I know I was wrong about my Mum; she was never disappointed in me. She was proud of me.

Well, you know what?

I'm proud of you too, Mum.

*unlimited access to world is for a limited time only.

Interested? Read on...

Dear everyone: stop telling me I'll change my mind about having kids one day, yeah?

In case you haven't realised, and unless you've been indoors all week then you may not have, it was half term last week. As kids, it was great. It was freedom. It was playing out with friends until dusk then mum having pie, chips and peas ready. It was mentioned on 8 Out Of 10 Cats as being the most favourite memory of being at school (which is stupid as unless you were in boarding school and lived at school (such hell) then school holidays were precisely all about not being in school).

Now, as a bona fide twenty-something, I can see just how annoying half terms are. Why? Because kids are annoying. They're like those half dead flies that no swatting will remove. They totally oblivious to the fact I'm walking behind them and then they stop to look at who knows what on the floor, a stone or something, causing me to trip over them and subsequently get glares off mother for harming precious little idiot Henry. They hang around McDonald's getting in the way, and make the queue in Starbucks a thirty minute ordeal. They're loud, dirty and in my way.

I recently found myself in charge of three children, from age 10 to age 3. It was a fate worse that death. The littlest kid got her dirty hands all over the glass doors. The oldest one, in fairness, sat there. The middle one ran around doing skids on his knees nearly knocking over a lady in his path. The ordeal lasted 20 minutes and by the end I was done for life, and done with life. The worst part though? Mother dearest telling me I'll know what her life's like when I have my own. I laughed, saying it wasn't going to happen in my lifetime. Then I got, The Lecture. If you're a childless woman who would rather spend her days trapped in a rat infested Room 101, you'll know what I mean.

So here are five reasons why I don't want kids and why parents need to stop telling me I should want them so we can all just get along. And because I don't think babies or children are cute (really) this feature shall have nothing but kittens and puppies and perhaps a rabbit.

1. I'm selfish

I love living my life on a whim. Fancy a trip to London? Let's go! Don't feel like staying in the country this weekend? Pack a bag and join me, baby! Except if you actually have a baby. In which case you'll need twenty bags, an arsenal of toys, a breast milk expresser, dummies of all shapes and sizes, formulas of all kinds, and those pink weird-smelling nappy bags. I would hate to lose that freedom, and to me, a kid is a massive millstone around my neck, keeping me in one planned home-by-7pm-because-of-the-baby night out to the next. I appreciate the sacrifices my parents made, purely because I can't imagine the number of plans they put on hold when they had me.

2. I just don't like kids. I never ever have.

'BUT YOU'LL CHANGE YOUR MIND' I hear a thousand mummy bloggers yell at me. 'WHEN IT'S YOUR OWN FLESH AND BLOOD YOU KNOW A BOND LIKE NO OTHER'. Well, Mrs Mumsnet, I happen to have a cat I love and that's good enough for me. The great thing about cats is they mind themselves, they take themselves out when they want and they're actually nice to cuddle and so damn cute and fluffy. But yeah, you carry on telling me how adorable Bobby is while he's screaming for literally no reason and little Alice is vomming all over you in Starbucks (actual experience).

3. I'm selfish, but not that selfish.

I don't see the need to carry on my bloodline, nor do I care if I'm the last of my family. I don't have that urge to breed, like a lion or mongoose, or jellyfish, or any other being with half a brain cell. So when people are all like, OMG UR SEH SELFISH, I remind them that the selfish thing to do would be bringing up a child I don't want in a world that's pretty crowded already to please the inane babble of friends who tell me I'm a moron for making a decision they don't personally agree with. Yeah, they may think it's my role to have babies and it's my PURPOSE as a lady. I say we're not in the 1800s any more and women are more than just baby machines. Way to champion feminism there, sisters.

4. Contrary to your beliefs, I know myself.

I'll change my mind. How many times have I heard that. Does having children automatically make parents spew this nonsense out at those who don't have them? Like zombies, crying out for norms to jooooooooin ussssssssssss, brrrraaaaaaaaains and bbbbaaaaaaaaaaaabyyyyyy foooooooooooddd, they just can't accept we're not all like them, craving a baby like a heroin addict craves his next fix. As a child, playing mummies and babies made me physically sick. I know I don't want children, thank you. I have a lovely boy in my life, I'm as settled as I'll ever be, and yes, those wrinkles tell me I'm not getting any younger! I don't care if that clock stops. I never asked for the batteries in the first place. Saying I'll change my mind just shows how arrogant they are in thinking I don't know my own self - thanks for that.

5. You'll never know the joy a mother and baby can have.

Nope. I'll also never know the joy of a private island with a butler called Leigh Halfpenny, nor the joy of what it's like to have wings and fly, nor the joy of my own personal Mr Whippy machine for 99s on demand, nor the joy being able to drink a milkshake without agonising stomach cramps, or the joy of painting. There are lots of things I'll probably never get to enjoy or experience, but, OMG this is so weird, life goes on merrily without them. Just because I'll never experience the joy in a semi-naked curly-haired Leigh Halfpenny bringing me a candyfloss cocktail doesn't mean I can't find joy in other things. Like a good night's sleep, an uninterrupted dinner with family, or knowing my life is mine for the next decade or two.

So please, keep the pictures of your kids on Facebook and out of my day. Remember that your little baby isn't the first one to have ever weed in a potty and some (most) people just don't care about this, and please don't assume I'll want to hold your newborn because not only am I terrified, I just don't see the point of it. Like, what am I meant to do, have a life-changing experience because I'm holding a smaller version of you with no teeth or hair?

So parents, you enjoy your life, I'll enjoy mine. Live, and let live. Right? Right.

Interested? Read on...

Oral sex, HPV and how only girls are protected (for now)

Via

 In the words of Salt ‘N’ Pepa, let’s talk about sex, baby.

According to a survey, the average number of sexual partners in a lifetime is 7.7 for women, and, perhaps not surprisingly, 11.7 for men. This is only an average of course, and there are some people (I’m thinking anyone who has visited Sunny Beach for a week) who are significantly higher. Twenty years earlier, this was only 3.7 for women and 8.6 for men. Our attitudes to sex are changing with the times, and while this might make for some serious time in pleasure town, it also has its ramifications.

In 2008, the cervical cancer jab for girls aged 12-13 was introduced to protect against the second most common cancer in women under 35. What you may not know is that the jab is called the human papillomavirus (HPV) vaccination, and it does more than protect against cervical cancer.

The HPV virus is responsible for genital warts, some STIs, anal and penile cancer, but of more concern to the sexually-liberal ones among us, it’s responsible for one of the few cancers on the rise.

When Michael Douglas told the world his cancer was HPV-related, it immediately set alarm bells off in newsrooms around the world. It wasn’t because of a ‘cancer lottery’, it was because of something more touching. And by touching I don’t mean a heartfelt tale of woe, despair and triumph, I mean mouth-to-second-lady-lips-touching.

Yes. that’s right. His oral cancer was caused by oral.

Cases of oral cancer have doubled in the last 30 years, coinciding with the rise of HPV, and strengthen the argument that there is not enough awareness of the risks we take when we're thinking about who to take home. Not to pigeon-hole our friends from across the pond, but the lack of knowledge (and promiscuity) is reflected in the fact almost EVERY OTHER WHITE WOMAN UNDER THE AGE OF 25 had the HPV virus.

In the UK one in five cases of oral cancer are associated with this virus, yet the general awareness surrounding it still comes up woefully short. Experts predict HPV will be the leading cause of oral cancer in a decade, predominantly because of this very subject. More than one in five men in the UK are under the impression HPV can be transmitted like man flu, which speaks volumes for just how little we know about HPV, as well as how dumb boys are.

It isn’t all their fault though. The vaccine for girls protects them from a range of diseases and cancers, but what about the boys? What if they want to send YOU to pleasure town? After all, they aren’t protected, and you are.

The HPV jab for boys has yet to be commissioned by the Government. Until it is, boys will be at greater risk of developing some of the nasties we’ve previously mentioned than the fairer sex. Does that put you off going down on him? Does it put you off going the whole nine yards without the safety net of Durex’s finest? Should it make you think twice about letting him head south?

These are all very valid questions. Let’s be honest, it’s a passion killer to ask him to pop a condom on his tongue, or for him to pop one on his Viking.

So what are our options?

Well, limiting the number of partners we have is a start. There is no shame in only ever having one partner, so don’t be afraid to tell him. You could also ask him about the number of partners he has had. His answer should give you an idea of how your sex life can pan out. Finally, you could always pop along to the clinic with him. If you’re serious about the relationship but not 100% comfortable with his Lothario past, pluck up the courage and ask. But at the end of the day, it really is up to you.

Ladies, we want you to tell us about your experiences. Are you unsure of your man’s history and don’t fancy bringing it up? Or have you approached him and things haven’t quite gone to plan? Get in touch (use the anon feature if you’re scared!)

Interested? Read on...

The importance of Being Nice

[insert handful of clichés about how being nice leads to a better life here] 

It's not a hard thing, you know, to be nice. It's as simple, really, as simply saying "thank you" or "you're welcome" or, "excuse me sir, I don't mean to harass you, but would you mind removing your umbrella from my shoe?" It's in the smile or wave as you acknowledge the cabbie or bus driver who's spared your life by allowing you to cross on the pedestrian crossing, even though they've been waiting for a few seconds aaaages.

That time that you - a twenty-something female - stood on the peak-hour commuter train so the soon-to-be-mother with her "mind the bump" badge could take your seat, and share with you that "I'm grateful to you but also embarrassed by The Men" glance that Us Women sometimes share; although it should be considered The Right Thing To Do, it was in fact considered nice by that woman. I think - according to The Men - it was considered to be a show of Equal Rights or some such bollocks, but that's besides the point. It was not expected of you, and therefore it was nice.

I've learned a bit about being nice recently. Mostly it was by accident, but that doesn't make it less important. See, I've been having a bit of a mare in my professional life which has sort of teetered over into my personal one. Mostly because the two are saaaah entwined. But, after being nice to a few people recently who - unbeknown to me - had the ability to help me change some of my woes, a few really amazing opportunities have now come my way. Which, is bloody nice (if you're me)(which I am).

I'm not naïve enough to think that if you smile at the right person you'll get that promotion you've been wanting, or miraculously win the lottery, or finally find that coveted pair of shoes - and in the sale no less! But I am of the firm belief that you Never Know what can happen if you just forget about what's in it for you. Behave in a way that makes you stand out from the crowd; because Lord knows the crowd are a miserable bag of misery, and have nothing good to look forward to.

By Erica, of www.imbeingerica.com

Interested? Read on...

Ryan Reynolds? More like Ryan Rey-no, amirite?

I can’t be the only one. I can’t be. I refuse to believe it. But for some reason, it seems I am. And I just don’t understand. You see, the men you girls probably fawn over, the Ryan Reynolds (weird head), the Harry Styles (ew, young) and the Robert Pattinsons (he played a sparkly vampire a little TOO well), I just don’t find remotely attractive. So while you dream about being the next Mrs Gyllenhall, just know that I have no idea what you find attractive about them.

Take Brad Pitt for example. Sure, a fairly decent looking guy if you’re in to foreheads, blondeish hair and varying degrees of manbeard. As far as an actor goes, I find him stilted. So that’s probably why the only film I’ve ever really seen him in is Mr & Mrs Smith, which I watched for all of ten minutes before checking out mentally. The Friends episodes he was in I found so cringe. Not the storyline. Just him.

Or how about Gary Barlow. A talented guy. But not appealing in the slightest, with a voice that sounds rather meh and samey.

Spencer Matthews. I physically can't look at his face without cringing. And that was before we all found out about the personality issues.

Prince William. No. Not attractive. I suspect his royalty and wealth has a lot to do with his attractiveness. If he was working in Screwfix handling orders for plumbers, would you look twice? NO.

Maybe it’s fame. Maybe I just don’t like people with fame. Because I see a slight arrogance in them. Like they expect me to fancy them because they feel they’re smart, hot and talented. So maybe subconsciously my brain says ‘Right men, we have a code 3. The guy is cute, yes, but memory recall from the Daily Mail’s Sidebar of Shame tell us he is famous and has enough fan girls. SHUT DOWN ALL LUST SYSTEMS. And Smitty! Delete those really important things she needs to do later!’

So off Smitty goes and I forget to write an appeal letter for the penalty fare I got a while back (see my tale of woe from last week to read about the most epic of fails). And I go through life with a kind of WTF face when girls start mooching on about how hot whoever was in that film when whoever did something for that girl (the Notebook, maybe?). I just don’t get it. Nor do I get Love, Actually. Or the fascination with Hugh Grant.

So tell me, ladies of the world. Am I a right weirdo? Or will you join me, virtual hand virtually in virtual hand, as we stand together and say to celebrities, ‘We don’t rate you, mate’?

(In the interests of full disclosure, when I was about 12 I had a crush on Leonardo DiCaprio. I bought the trading cards. I was fairly soon snapped out of it after I discovered I was being a right loser.)

Interested? Read on...

Would you prefer a night in front of the TV to a night out with friends?

Hello. My name is Amy and I am a telly addict. Yes I admit that, at the age of 23, I would rather stay in on an evening all snuggled up in my comfy PJs with endless cups of tea, Chanel the cat purring on my lap and the promise of a good night of television. Does that sound strange to you? Or are you like me?

My addiction started when the recession really hit back in 2010. Finances got tighter, there were masses of job losses, and I came to the conclusion that lavish nights out were going to have to be limited to one, maybe two a month. I couldn't have been the only one, because as a result of people trying to save the pennies, supermarkets and broadcasters (I blame you!) found a gap in the market. Sky started to up their game and show more and more quality content, and supermarkets jumped on the bandwagon by producing £10 meal deals for the Perfect Friday or Saturday Night In.

I easily got settled into a new way of life.

Even now, I still find money is very tight. And when it comes to paying for a night out, which can cost crazy amounts if you're buying rounds for friends, or sitting in with a glass of BOGOF wine and a tub of ice cream, I'm always going to choose the latter. So don’t judge me when I say I love television. Looking at it as I am writing this now seems pretty sad but if you could see how excited I get before watching a show or just thinking ‘two more days’ or ‘six hours to go’ before getting to watch my favourite show, it gives me a highlight in my working week.

At the moment my favourite TV nights are Wednesday, Thursday and Sunday. I'm a huge fan of Game Of Thrones, The Apprentice, TOWIE, and Britain and Irelands Next Top Model. But now most of these series have ended it has got me thinking what to do next? It was easy when it was hot and light until 9pm, just to go for a stroll, or sit in a park. But now nights are drawing in, I'm at a loss as to what to fill my nights with. Because for me, TV isn't just something to casually fling on. It's something I just can't live without!

Are you a fellow TV addict like me and having withdrawal symptoms when your favourite show finishes? Don’t know what to do with yourself now your shows have ended? If that’s the case leave a note below with your favourite show. Who knows, we might discover something new and exciting to occupy our evenings!

By Amy.

Interested? Read on...

Why having kids in your twenties is a bad idea. Seriously.

What would you say the perfect age to have children is? 21? 31? 41? Personally, I find it slightly worrying that women in their early twenties are having babies. The rise in 2013 alone of celebrities having children - Rochelle Humes, 24, has just given birth, Frankie Sandford, 24, is pregnant, and Peter Andre's missus Emily McDonagh, 24, is also expecting - worries me. Are they really ready for the responsibility of bringing up a child? Have they even grown up themselves?

I get it. You may choose to have a family now because in the future there might be difficulties conceiving or worries about getting pregnant. I can see why you wouldn't want to leave it too late. It could be your pregnancy was a happy accident, and you're making the best of the situation, even though ideally your plans were to wait until you were settled.

But if you've purely chosen to have a baby with a loving partner, I'm curious. want to know why. How it's affected you both. And whether you think you've matured enough to bear the responsibility of an impressionable little life.

Everyone is entitled to their opinions on the matter, and I by no means am I condemning anyone, but I just don't get it. Your twenties are supposed to be carved out to work on ‘you’, a time to discover who you are, what you want to do in life, and to live out your good qualities and refine those bad traits. It’s a time to learn from your mistakes, to have fun with your friends, and to fall in love. So at which point does a baby come into it?

I know my opinion might not sit well with a lot of people. But I am just going to come straight out with it. If you're in your twenties and you have a child, you’re pretty much still a child yourself. I don’t mean in the sense that you act like you're five years of age. I mean you need to still nurture yourself, to work on ‘you’ before becoming the person you are meant to be. Because trust me, the person you think you are at 21 may not be who you are at 25.

Perhaps I have become too modern in my ways. With a mortgage, steady income and loving partner in my life, all the signs point to having children. Maybe a baby is what I am missing.  But then again, I think I still need to work on ‘me’.

By Amy.

Interested? Read on...

Here's how to... move back in with your parents

It's a sad fact of today that a lot of us will have to move back home at some point. Whether we like it or not (and most of us don't), when graduation, unemployment or financial stress hits, the cosiness of mum and dad's feels like the only option. While it's wonderful to have a pile of ironing appear at the bottom of your bed, moving back in with the 'rents can be is a deflating experience to say the least. Here's how you can survive the dreaded move back (you're welcome).

Don't beat yourself up

Uttering the words: "I'm back at mum and dad's..." is usually followed by a nervous laugh and a hurried explanation. Going back to the nest feels like going back to square one, particularly if you've got high-flying friends.

It's important to remember though, that almost every graduate goes home for an extended period, and more and more adults are living with their parents as inflation rises and salaries stay the same. Don't be hard on yourself, and keep remembering that it's only temporary.

Understand

Parents nagging or not giving you any independence is frustrating, and can potentially damage your relationship. But, you are an adult now (and if you aren't, why are you reading this? You're supposed to be at home!), which means you're more mature than when you left. and some things have probably changed.

Your parents love you unconditionally, but even they aren't exempt from enjoying a little freedom. When you left they had more space, more independence to do things their way, and one less person to worry about looking after. Try and remember that the transition probably isn't easy for them either.

Compromise

At the end of the day, your name isn't on the mortgage. It's their house. So, they have a right to adopt the "my house, my rules" attitude that parents typically do. When you move in, though, sit down and lay out some ground rules. Moving back home and expecting to slip right back in the same routine and relationship you had when you were 18 is unrealistic. Tell them they need to respect that you are an adult now, as you need to respsect that it's their house. Implement some basic rules: knocking before entering bedrooms, cleaning up after yourself, giving them a little warning when friends are coming round and vice verca. Offering to contribute money towards food or utilties will also make you feel as though you have more of a right to be there.

Knowing where you both stand with each other will make the arrangement a lot easier.

Enjoy it

This one sounds a bit stupid - but enjoy it while it lasts. Your self-esteem is bruised and battered, but make the most of the home comforts as you can, while you can. You're lucky to have parents who are willing to let you come home, so enjoy spending as much time with them as an adult before you find your feet and move out (again). Plus, who doesn't like have a fully stocked fridge?

By Lauren Cope.

Interested? Read on...

Let’s have a chat about porn

The world is obsessed with sex. Whether we’re doing it, talking about it, reading about it or debating who else is having it, sex is a constant in our lives. Watching other people ‘do the deed’ has become a particularly topical subject of late, and David Cameron’s plans to ban porn in UK households has made me think that we all need to sit down, and have a chat about porn.

28,258 internet users watch it every single second and every 39 minutes a new pornographic video is created in the US. Porn sells, and not just to the 'pervy' man down the street as out-dated stereotypes would suggest – educated men and women of all ages are watching it.

Whether we like it or not, there’s a massive market for porn, one that isn’t going away any time soon.

The PM’s plans will force internet users to choose whether they want to activate porn on their computer and devices. If they don’t actively switch on access, internet service providers will block pornographic websites in an attempt to stop the “corroding” influence of pornography on children.

“It should not be the case that technically literate children can just flick filters off… Those filters can only be changed by the account holder.”

For a leader often accused of weakness this is a brave step, one that has divided the majority. A search through Twitter suggests there are two main arguments: firstly, that children are being exposed to the negative influence of porn too early, and that the ban is the only way to ensure childhood is kept innocent. The other, that blocking porn is a step backwards and echoes the strict internet controls of countries like China. So, where do I stand?

It’s hard to disagree that children, particularly young boys, are seeing porn at a young age. It’s also hard to dispute that blocking porn from home computers is likely to minimise the amount they see. The part that I have trouble with is the opt-out approach.

Whilst not ignoring the dangers of porn - exploitation of women, troubling stereotypes, unhealthy addictions - we must accept that it isn’t all bad news. Porn facilitates discussion; what we like, what we don’t like, how to spice up a long-term or long-distance relationship. It allows for conversation and independence, an outlet for fantasies. With a little knowledge about healthy sex and body image, porn is informative. And, as with everything, although there are exceptions, the majority of users are able to watch it, enjoy it, and appreciate it for what it is.

Admittedly, I don’t watch it, but it must be enjoyable – there wouldn’t be 25,000 of us watching it right now if it weren’t. This is where the ban becomes a problem for me – rather than presenting itself as a way of protecting children, it stinks of judgment. It comes across smug, as though it intends to punish the dirty, sleazy watchers of porn into stopping, so as to avoid the perceived embarrassment of phoning their ISP and actively turning it on (pun fully intended).

If Cameron had, instead, suggested an opt-in approach, we would be in a better situation. Concerned parents would be able to opt-in and block their children from watching porn at home, and adults would be able to do what they please. We mustn’t forget that the ban isn’t even guaranteed to work; home isn’t the only place that children will have access to porn. The school playground, laddish jokes and mobile phones provide the same access that a home computer would.

There are measures to limit porn access or, at least, the negative effects of it; parental controls, informative sex education from a younger age and more input from schools, to name a few. Imposing a nationwide ban on something that tens of thousands of people do a second, however, isn’t the way.

By Lauren Cope.

Interested? Read on...

It happened to Jennifer and Courtney. So what happens if you outgrow your best friends?

Your best friends are meant to be forever, right? So say sitcoms and rom-coms, so say chick lit novels, and so say you and your friends to each other when you’re in your teens. After all, those BFF necklaces you stayed up making that sleepover can't be separated, ever. As long as you have one bit, and your BFF has the other, you'll really be friends forever, right?

Take Friends, the series most people our age grew up on. Monica and Rachel were friends from school in their fictional world, through thick (literally in Monica's case) and thin. But with the Daily Mail today reporting Jennifer Aniston and Courtney Cox have barely seen each other, missing important events for trivial reasons, is that how life really is? What happens when you grow up into completely different people? Being honest, if you met each other now, would you be in any way interested in getting to know them?

At the age of 23, I would like to think I now have a clear idea of my beliefs, my philosophies, my goals, my taste in the opposite sex, and what I want out of life. And I would also like to think I surround myself with like-minded people and people who don't bring negativity and bad vibes into an environment. But it’s tricky when you start to realise your so-called ‘best friends’ are just the type of people you no longer want to be around, and in some cases, you find they’re dragging you down.

The saying goes, ‘schooldays are the best of your life’. Well, whoever said that obviously never went to university. I will treasure my university memories as the years I met some of the most wonderfully interesting and like-minded people, and whom I will call friends for life. These people I would have no hesitation in calling my best friends. Why? Because I have a laugh with them. I’m comfortable talking about anything with them. And best of all, I’m completely and totally at ease with them.

I went to school in a small town and met my ‘best friends’ as a painfully shy and awkward young teen, fresh out of primary school and desperate to click with someone, anyone. They were already friends from a young age, and so I latched on. We remained close as the years went by, and as I grew up I found myself coming out of my shell, gaining more confidence. My school friends seem to like to think that it was down to them and their taking me under their wings that I attained this new-found self-assurance. And in hindsight, I don’t think they liked it. Little jibes were directed at me whenever I seemed to show any sign of my own personality which was desperate to shine through. This would lead me to not only doubt myself, but also mock myself along with them. I thought it wasn’t intended badly, but in good humour.

I was always a creative soul, interested in the arts and media. As a teenager, I became involved in a drama and art. My school friends mocked the clubs I joined and branded the people I met there as ‘weird’. At an art exhibition showcased by myself and others, they spent the evening snickering childishly and narrow-mindedly at the various pieces of art. As the years went by, it didn’t stop. They scorned my interest in fashion, implying that it was a waste of time and money. They dismissed the humanities degree I studied, insinuating that a degree or career in anything to do with the arts was useless, in comparison to their areas of study (science). I also sensed they didn’t like when I made new friends in university, as though I were ditching them. Despite the fact they had no qualms about befriending people in their own classes. They took an instant dislike to any friends I made, treating them in a somewhat hostile way and assuming them to be arrogant before getting to know them.

It became embarrassing. When introducing these girls as my ‘best friends’ to my new friends, I worried about how it would reflect on me. Until last year, when I had an epiphany of sorts. I told myself life was too short to surround myself with people who drag me down. I realised these girls thrived on viewing me as a dependant little puppy, who relied on them for assurance and friendship. I now understood when they saw me blossom from a caterpillar to a butterfly, they did not like it one bit. They preferred me as the timid twelve-year-old whom they nurtured eleven years ago.

I don’t like drama, and these are not the type of girls who would be diplomatic and understanding if I explained my feelings about this situation to them. As a result, I’ve decided to live and let live. I don’t want to fall out with them,as there are also some very good memories I treasure. There were numerous occasions when I needed them and they were there for me. But rather than express sadness at the fact that we’ve grown up and drifted, I breathe a sigh of relief I’m able to paddle my own canoe. The life I now lead is one I carved out for myself, by myself. We still stay in touch and meet up every so often, but we have different lives now and all want different things. To put it plainly, we have nothing in common.

So, again, reality trumps fiction. The rom-coms and the chick-lit novels are proven wrong once more. The cold hard truth? Your BFFs don’t always last forever. But who says that’s a bad thing? Like me, you might realise they were holding back the real you, the person you kept hidden for so many years. This realisation might be the best thing that ever happens to you. It might set you free.

By Evanne Miller

Interested? Read on...

Is it good to be bad these days?

It's a question I've wondered a lot recently. Think about it, the media tends to love a drama and there are always stories about women being ‘bad’ these days.  Take Rihanna for example. In my opinion, she's an excellent singer and has great style. But all that seems to be shadowed by one thing: the attitude she has. Yes, she's talented and who doesn't love to party? But falling out of nightclubs, openly admitting and sharing images on Instagram (where many of her followers are in their early teens) she smokes spliffs and dating dangerously abusive men. But yet, for some unknown reason we still love and support her.

Don’t get me wrong, I hate judging people because really, no one knows what someone else is going through at any one point in their life. But I can’t help think the press celebrates when they do wrong.

Because of course, this leads to more coverage. Which gets people buying those papers and magazines. Which makes the celeb popular. And makes brands clamour to get them on board. In 2005, Kate Moss was papped using cocaine with Pete Doherty. It was undeniable, and she knew it. When she got found out, she gave no apology. Sure, she was dropped from one campaign, but gained several in return. Her contract was renewed at Rimmel London, she became the face of other brands, and even Sir Phillip Green offered her a clothing line at Topshop.

So if that’s the case, maybe we should all become addicts and we will get fame and fortune…right?

It’s not all women though. Take a look at Spencer Matthews or Mario Falcone, both cruel cheaters who had the most beautiful girlfriends (and fiancée may I add) but yet they played away. They denied it of course, and Spencer was filmed saying anyone would try and cover over when they'd done something wrong. When it got to the end, they then admitted all with a grin on their face, and to see a flock of another hundreds of girls pawing at them.

Maybe I come from a sheltered life, but since when has this been acceptable? I remember at the age of 12 a friend of mine's father had cheated on her mother and when her mother found out she threw him out of the house, cut all contact and the whole of the town shunned him. If that happened now, in 2013, he would probably get a pat on the back. Because it's just 'boys being boys'.

So what about me? In my previous job, my colleagues (who are a lot older than me) would always say 'Amy, you're too young to be staying in at home, go and live your life!' I felt like because I was being relatively tame I wasn't normal. I didn't need to smoke or drink heavily. I didn't need relationship drama or spats with friends. I wasn't fussed about meeting people in nightclubs. In fact, it got to me so much that I asked for advice off a trusted friend. She ended up giving me this advice which was passed on from Elle Magazine's editor: ’Don’t f***k it up! Go horse-riding, or jogging or start knitting. Just don’t start going to nightclubs for the sake of it, because it won’t end well. You got it all sussed. Don’t believe the hype - being normal is underrated.'

Since that passed down trusted advice I have continued as I am.

With the sad news of Corey Monteith dying from his addiction, which was nobody's fault but his own (even though it pains me to point that out) and with Tulisa ‘having a comeback’ from her addict ‘ordeal’ and being outed as allegedly sourcing Class A drugs, being 'bad' doesn't mean being exciting. So I'll still read about them, but I'll always be behind and support those celebrities who make the right decisions.

By Amy.

Interested? Read on...

Live in the Midlands? Then you'd probably prefer a shopping bag to fun in the sack!

Shocked? Then you need to read on. Because an Ultimate Shopper survey* taken by thousands of women all over the UK has revealed that one in three women of the Midlands prefer splashing their cash than indulging in sexy times with their special someone. Over half of women in London agree, with ladies in East Anglia being the least likely to put new shoes before their man. Lucky guys.

But that's not it. Oh no. When asked if they felt shopping was definitely better than sex, lasses in Northern Ireland were top of the polls with a whopping one in five saying a trip to the high street is way more satisfying than a night with their partner. Men of Ireland, you're seriously doing something wrong. Especially as a third of items bought on a shopping spree will languish in the back of the wardrobe, never to see the light of day again.

The survey also reveals how shopping is often front of mind - the average British female thinks about shopping six times a week compared with four times a week spent indulging in ‘sexy’ thoughts.

Andrea, 26, a trainee accountant from Wolverhampton, says she feels more satisfied in store than in the sack. And it's nothing to do with how her partner is in bed. "I love Charlie, my fiancé. We've been together for three years, so it's fair to say we've been through that whole 'honeymoon period' of not leaving the flat. But there's something exhilarating about shopping I just don't get from anything else. Especially in the sales!"

I asked Andrea if she could remember the best shopping trip she's ever had. "It would have to be the time I got a designer bag, while I was studying. I'd been saving for months, not going out and giving meals with friends a miss, because I knew once I had my hands on my new bag, it would all be worth it."

Andrea was dating Charlie at the time, but admits she did put him second. Often date nights would involve having to stay in and watch TV rather than go out as a couple. "It was tough at the time, especially as we were a new couple and Charlie is a night owl, so he loves being out partying. The thing is, going out is so expensive, especially when you're expected to buy a round or two. With such a large social group, a night out would really dent my purse. I'd be down about £100 at least!"

And how did she feel once she had her mitts on her prized possession? "I remember the day so clearly! It was my first proper expensive purchase, only ever buying bags from TK Maxx. I walked into the store, picked out the bag I had my eye on and went up to the till to pay. I felt on top of the world! It was a real treat, and something I'll always remember. Especially when friends saw it afterwards and were green with envy. But I'd worked hard for it, a lot of blood, sweat and tears had gone into saving for it."

So does Andrea think her love of shopping's had an impact on her relationship? "Well, I've got a ring on my finger haven't I? It's no different to me having a hobby, in fairness. Charlie has his football and has often put me on the back burner when a big match is on, so why shouldn't I do what I really enjoy? Sometimes it means Charlie has to wait, but then if he had a problem he wouldn't be marrying me!"

I asked Charlie what he thought of Andrea's admissions. Surprisingly, he took it well. "Andrea's a determined girl, so if she wants something, she'll get it. I'm a little surprised that she finds shopping more satisfying than being with me, though. I'll have to up my game!"

A few more stats:

• On average, those in the West Midlands fight the most with their partner while shopping, as over two in five trips to the shops end in a row.
• Couples in Northern Ireland shop together with the least drama, as fewer than a third of shopping trips end in an argument.
• Ladies in London are least likely to chose their partner as their shopping buddy, with just one in ten dragging along their significant other.
• Over half of women in Northern Ireland are most likely to shop solo. So long lads!

*The survey was specially commissioned by new TV entertainment channel TLC to mark the launch of Ultimate Shopper on 6th June. 2,000 women were surveyed.

Interested? Read on...

Drink sexism. Why is it so controversial to see women drinking beer?

It's sunny. Oh yes, it's sunny. So with the sun finally making an appearance and shining down on us with tepid warmth, us Brits take this as the perfect opportunity to ditch the jeans, throw on a summer dress and sunnies and head straight to the pub for an after-work tipple. Because the promise of a pub garden with friends and a cool glass of beer is just what we need. That's right. I said beer.

Welcome to 2013, where women of the world like to drink a cool pint of something without a synthetic fruit added for flavour. But is it become more socially acceptable to see women drinking pint without being called a ladette or tomboy? Often a choice of lads, builders and drunken groups of geezers on boys' nights out, there is still much debate on whether it is womanly to drink beer. Is it attractive or un-attractive when we opt for a pint over a large glass of red?

So I wanted to know what kind of reaction a woman with a bottle of Bud in her hand would get. And whether the ladies who drink it actually like the taste, or if it's just a case of drinking it to be part of the crowd (kind of like being the kid in school who smokes. Rebel). I asked a group of men and women what they thought.

Ben, 25, said : "If I see a women drinking a pint I think she's easy."

Mandy, 22, said: "I think we should be allowed to drink anything we like. Otherwise it's like saying a man can't drink a cocktail. As long as women aren't wandering around town with a can in hand in the middle of the afternoon, it's fine to enjoy a pint!"

Heather, 26, said: "I don't drink beer, but that's just because I don't like it! I much prefer a nice fruity cocktail. But I do have guy friends who drink cocktails with us while some of the girls have a beer, so I don't think gender matters."

Matt, 26, said: "In all honesty, I HATE to see a woman drinking from a pint glass, regardless of what's in it! Seeing a woman drinking beer itself I don't mind, I just think the pint glass and women do not mix. I don't drink beer because I don't like the taste of it. I'll drink a cider with lemonade mix, but only from a half pint glass! I'm not a snob, I promise!"

Sharon, 28, says: "I work in a bar and it seems to be common opinion that pints are for men and women should drink half pints. I've no idea who made those 'rules' though!"

Interesting results from those twenty-somethings. It seems most still cling onto the stereotype rather than just accept that perhaps some people love the taste of a cool pint on a warm day, or a bottle of the stuff with a curry, or heaven forbid, a beer while the match is on.

Whether you're a rebel or a fan, we've just been told about 1936 Bière, an all-new super premium lager brewed with the purest spring water sourced from deep within the Swiss Alps. It's lighter and more crisp than the traditional pick, which is why more women are grabbing a pint of this over traditional options. I know I'll definitely be giving it a go. (Rebel).

So what are your thoughts on beer? Do you love it or hate it? Is there a stigma attached to it? Let us know your thoughts in the comments!

Interested? Read on...

Do British women sorely need French etiquette lessons?

The stereotypical French woman just has a certain way about her, doesn't she. Sure, the food can be hit and miss (macarons yes, snails no), but there's no denying they're seen as poised, highly fashionable, full of charm and grace. And a cheeky holiday with the love of your life in the French Riviera is far more appealing than a weekend in Torbay, the English version of Cannes. I know. Doesn't really compare.

So Frenchologie, the luxury lifestyle website dedicated to all things French, has launched a French etiquette programme to bring a touch of je ne sais quoi to British women. Its founders, Beatrice Drovandi and Cecilia Cauville, have prepared the guide as an introduction for people who want to navigate the complexities of French social culture, from the correct number of kisses in a greeting to the right way to share a meal with friends.

Which is news to me. When I'm invited for a meal with friends it's usually a loud welcome, hands flying in the air, heads held in hands while cheeks are kissed, bottles of wine being exchanged, and straight into the kitchen to start the food. Followed by wine, spillages (food and drink), laughter, gossip, and rounded off with a whisky and some kind of game, usually made up by one of the girls. I blame my mental friends and Sicilian upbringing for this. That's how I share a meal with friends. It seems I've lots to learn.

Cecilia Cauville, co-founder of Frenchologie, commented: “French women are renowned internationally for their simple and classic elegance. Our guide to etiquette will allow women to learn a little more about how to comport themselves in a way that exudes the style of les Parisiennes."

The guide is available via the Frenchologie website if you want to have a read, where tips include:

• Bring flowers to a dinner party, but make sure you bring an odd number (as long as it is not unlucky 13).
• Call ahead to apologise if you’re likely to be more than 10 minutes.
• Don’t start eating until the host says ‘bon appetit’
• Greet your host with a kiss on each cheek if you have met them before, but a handshake is appropriate if it is your first meeting
• Make sure you keep wrists above, and elbows off, the table at all times.
• Eat with your fork in your left hand and your knife in your right.
• Don’t add seasoning to your food as this implies the food is tasteless or poorly done.

It seems like I've got a lot to learn when it comes to French etiquette. What about you? Do you think British women can benefit from our polished French counterparts? Or is your culture's tradition more free spirit than formal? Let us know in the comments below, or send us a tweet @sixoutoftenmag.

Interested? Read on...

Avoid those awkward first date disasters with our handy guide

D.A.T.E. Four letters, one word, and a whole lot of effort for all involved. Of course, you would have thought the word date would end up transferring to the word we always want to hear, L.O.V.E. Unfortunately to get Love we need to go on Dates, and this means embracing the good, the bad and ugly.

So what exactly makes a good first date? Well men, listen up. The rules are more simple than you'd think.

According to research from Cupid.com women worry about being stood up. So the first step for that all important date is to confirm it is still going ahead. Sounds simple, right? So make a note, guys. We expect you to confirm you're still intending to show, ideally from midday to 4pm. Leave it any later and there's a good chance we'll think you're going to leave us sitting at the bar.

Next step is where you'll meet your dream woman. Where should the beginnings of true love flourish? Almost all men would ideally like to arrange the venue near their date's home. (I wonder what they have in mind then...) But boys, while you may think this is a splendid idea, less than half of us want a first date to take place near their abode. So. How keen do you want to seem? The choice is yours.

Ok. So you've arranged a time and place, she's turned up and you're both looking good. The next step is to make sure you pay your lady a compliment. Trust me, it will earn you proper brownie points, as a staggering 82% of women wait to hear a genuine compliment when they first lay eyes on their man. Stay away from clichés like eyes and smile. They're totally overused and we can see straight through them. Use your imagination, but in case it's not obvious guys, that doesn't mean its ok to say 'your boobs look great in that dress'. Ever.

Whether you've had a quick coffee and a stroll around the park or a romantic meal, you should get a feel for whether you're into each other - if there are no sparks, then it's best to make sure she knows this. Keep things friendly and round off with a handshake, and a call or text the next day to explain.

BUT if it has gone well, the next potential awkward sitch is how you get home. While most of you lads want to walk your date to her door (how very rom-com) over half of us think that's a bad idea. So definitely find out whether she's a fan of a cab journey or romantic stroll up to her front door.

Whether you've taken a taxi or arrived on foot, the last moments of the date are in your hands. Over two thirds of women, a good 71%, want their man to lean in for a kiss. But you'll have to be the judge here. We can't help with this one.

So us girls know pretty much what we want from a date. It's just up to the guys to make sure they follow these simple rules, and hopefully banish bad dates for good.

Call her between midday and 4pm latest to confirm.
Try to pick a place that's an equal distance from where you both live. If in doubt, go with neutral ground.
Pay her a genuine compliment. Avoid boobs, eyes and smile. Try dress or hair.
It's half and half with the walk home. Try to get a feel for how the date has gone. If you're sensing ice, book a taxi for her.
A goodnight kiss will usually be well received, so if you're feeling brave give it a go!


By Amy.

Interested? Read on...

Here's how to... have an awesome date night without spending a fortune (and without seeming like a cheapskate either)

According to research by dating site Cupid.com, us Brits have completely changed our dating habits thanks to the double dip recession we've been dealing with the past few years.

Rather than splash out on romantic trips to Paris with our partners, we're more interested in saving the pennies. In a survey of 1,000 people, 83% of women said they wouldn't want to spend more than £20 on a first date. And while half admitted they wouldn't date a man who was unemployed, men were much more forgiving with 90% saying it didn't matter whether their lady had a job or not.

But whatever the financial climate, there's no excuse for giving love a miss. Try these tips for seducing that special someone.

Bring the romance home.

Nothing says lovin' like a home-cooked candlelit meal in the garden or on your terrace. Whip up your speciality dish or get a supermarket Dine in for £10 deal if your culinary skills aren't much to shout about. Your other half will appreciate the effort.

Don’t pay double for bubbles.

If you’re no wine expert, then don’t pretend to be! Most can’t tell the difference between good champagne and a bottle of plonk, so why pay more? Instead of pricey Veuve Clicquot, buy a bottle of Prosecco. It's much cheaper and still sparkles like the real deal. It'll be sure to put you in a romantic mood. If you want to splash out on more, Blue Nun (Alan Partridge's wine of choice) have a created a sparkling wine with real gold flecks in it, and it's only £7! Read our review here.

At the end of the day...

Traditionally, date night is Friday or Saturday meaning no rush to get to work the morning after. However there's a brilliant reason for changing your date night to mid-week - loads of restaurants offer deals. Even better, it means you can be spontaneous and surprise your special someone on a night they won't expect! For a double whammy, save.co.uk offers vouchers you can use at your favourite spots.

It's a free country.

There are always loads of free local events happening.  Visit a museum or gallery, go for a romantic stroll or find a local class you can get involved in. Trying something new with your other half is bound to make you feel closer.

Get personal.

If you want to spoil your loved one with presents, take a minute to think about what you’re giving them. Gifts like perfume aren't particularly original and can be pricey. Think about making your other half a gift that fits his or her personality and doesn't cost a lot of money; a picture collage, a meal in a fort built with your own hands, or an hour-long massage. Make sure you take the time and effort to create a gift he or she will truly love, and don't wait until the last second. No one wants to be in the same shoes as Chandler and his mixtape...

Wine and dine.

Of course, there will be those celebrations that deserve a little something extra. So if you really want to hit an expensive eatery but don't have the budget to do so, think about heading there for a few drinks and dessert instead. That way, you can experience the romantic ambience without breaking the bank.

What are your tips for frugal funtimes with your partner? Let us know in the comments below, or tweet your ideas and suggestions to @sixoutoftenmag.

Interested? Read on...

Can men and women ever be JUST good friends?

Well, I think so.

One of my closest friends in the whole existence of the world is a girl, and is like a sister to me. We laugh. We hug. We tell one another everything – because we like to be involved in one another’s lives. We cosy up – because penguin formation is so on trend. But we sure as hell don’t bump uglies.

I have faced strange stigma about this at various points over the last half-decade or so. The most telling of these occasions took place about six months into my university career, at a pub quiz with people from my block. I thought my mate could come along as well (not to help; she has staggeringly little knowledge of music, film or current affairs. She would agree with this, with added fake offence).

Her and I are originally from the same place – and had both been part of a dozen-strong group that had migrated to the promised land (Leeds) for further education. She had recently rekindled a romance with one of my best friends from home – they were always on and off, and had finally committed.

Across from me sat three friends whom I had known only since coming to Leeds, and next to me sat my ladyfriend from home. Now, we are good friends. Like, really good friends. She has seen me cry. I have seen her cry. I helped her through a break-up and held her in my arms as she made my shoulder sodden with tears. She is one of very few people that can be blunt with me about anything in my life, and I will listen. We have inside jokes. We have no boundaries in conversation. And we happened to sit there trading in-jokes for the duration, both of us nearing tears (happy ones) a number of times. As she popped to the toilet towards the end of the night, two of my friends leant forward.

“You two are close, aren’t you?” they remarked.

“Yeah,” I said, frowning slightly as to what they were getting at.

Almost in unison, they asked: “Have you gotten together before?”

I frowned properly now, and firmly replied. ”No.”

“Are you sure? Because she definitely likes you.”

“Yes, I think I’m sure – as she is ‘getting with’ my best mate from home at the moment,” I said, finally.

For some unbeknownst reason, they weren’t convinced by this – as if I was lying to spare any embarrassment, the truth, or any number of hidden facts – when I wasn’t. Forgive me the cliché, but we were, and still are, ‘just good friends’. And this is where I am at a loss.

I think there may be moments in a number of male-to-female – or female-to-male friendships – when those who are just good friends decide to try make it something more. Statistically, I think it is more often the male who instigates this; some sort of primal animal nature rears its ugly head, and one has inherent carnal desire appear in full view (…well, steady on. I’d rather not 'full view’ of it).

As for me? I cannot fathom why certain members of society feel that the male population must either fancy, pine for, or copulate with all humans that have breasts. We are capable of relating to people on other levels, you know, and of being just good friends. We do not need a tattered and torn sexual history with all females put in front of us to prove they are just good friends either – though I’m sure a few friends would beg to differ with this, backed with a defence of their own secondary school street cred, those blasted house parties, and a few too many blue WKDs.

It seems to me that from what I consider a normal male perspective, ie. my own, that men and women can be just good friends. I believe it is wholly possible to share a pizza and a bottle of wine with a member of the opposite sex without having to hold their hand, stick your tongue down their throat, or father their child.

By Tom.

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Social Networks: Whose life are you sharing anyway?

A new survey revealed that one third of UK women lies about their life at least once a month on social networking sites. The other two thirds were lying at the time of questioning. Because we all do it. The things they most exaggerate about are what they’re doing at the moment (like pretending they’re out having a good time when they’re home alone) and how much they’ve had to drink, as well as jobs and holidays.

We should probably all be terribly shocked that we’re deceiving our friends. But we’ve all done it, we all know everyone else does it, and we can spot it a mile off.

I’m not trying to make the women of Britain out to be creepy snakes in the grass. But where we do not out rightly lie, we do selectively share.

And it just so happens that we share the things we think are most impressive. When we share the bad things, we never say “I was an utterly foul madam this week, and no one deserved the barrage of abuse I gave them”. Or if we do say it, it’s probably to get brownie points from a public apology – because what kind of person really goes into that level of detail on the internet? Only the chronic over-sharer, and I’m a firm believer that such people thrive on any kind of attention, even if it means pretending their life is a car crash.
What’s more, I don’t just do it on social networking sites. I do it each and every single day:

I didn’t tell the woman on the train that most of the time I hate my degree and spend hours upon hours bored out of my tiny, little brain.

When I advise younger girls on how best to behave as a teenager, I certainly don’t tell them the kind of things I did (like not going to English class for two years... sorry Mum).

I don’t share all the times I mucked up baking: the Yule Log disaster of Christmas 2012 is never, ever, mentioned.

We live in a world defined by achievement and picture perfect, chocolate-box living. All social networks do is give another window into our world. But just like your Grandmother was selective about what she told the neighbours, I’m selective about what I tweet.

A leading psychologist has admitted that, while we get temporary happiness portraying all the positives in our lives real or not, it actually leaves people feeling more isolated in the long run. So, as a solution, Pencourage has been set up to get around the problem. It’s a completely anonymous online confession booth of sorts. And it ‘bridges the enormous gulf between what people actually say and what they really think’. There's commenting and interaction with other anonymous people, just as there is on any other social networking site. So you're free to keep your positive tweets, while confessing your deepest, darkest thoughts elsewhere.

Whilst people may start out with good intentions, once they build up a regular correspondence, it’s hard to see how the need to impress won’t raise it’s green head once more.

Plenty of social networking sites already allow anonymity. Very few of us want to admit we’re less than perfect. We need to stop striving for the impossible and learn to be comfortable in our lives and happy with our choices. Facelessness is not the answer.

Would you admit to selective sharing? Or have you outright lied about being at a star-studded party when you're actually sitting at home with a cuppa and six pack of Creme Eggs? Tell us in the comment section.

Interested? Read on...