Mitchell's Mustard Blog

February 4, 2015

The Grand Misconception.

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 5:49 pm

Ladies, there is, and probably always will be an unwritten rule – a man never chooses a woman, he can only show you that his interest and availability is there, and as much as most of us men would hate to admit it, the decision generally falls onto your lap. But with that, that doesn’t mean that the effort should only lay claim to the male. We all know that the instruction manual for the opposite sex will never be published in our lifetime, if I took a guess, the author is probably battling their sixth divorce and feeling quite like a fraud.
There is a grand misconception that us men do not discuss our likes, wants, and dislikes between each other, well, we do. Whether it’s in the gym changing room, the pub, or even a chance meeting in the magazine aisle in Tesco. We talk about you. From the women that have crossed our path, or the ones that are yet to do so. I’m not talking about the childlike ‘I’d do her!’ comment from the prepubescent jock, I mean the conversations that happen between like minded, early thirty somethings that have slayed their man mountain ego through their twenties and have come out the other side as a gent.
I thought I’d take this opportunity to give you a heads up, I’m not taking sides, I’m not selling out, just giving you something to think about.

We’re not as shallow as you think we are. Bold statement, I know. Nothing ever just comes down to looks. Yes, the way you look will always be our first impression, but if we’ve made that effort to open a conversation with you, that means we want to know who you are. Please don’t ever think that the way you look on that particular evening holds precedence over confidence and the ability to hold a good conversation. It’s always nice to have someone attractive on your arm but if your social skills are as strong as a chocolate teapot . . you’ll only ever be an attractive someone on the arm, nothing more. We want to be able to take you to a friend’s wedding and be in sound mind that if we nip to the mens room, or the bar, we don’t have to rush back to our ‘rabbit in headlights’ plus one.
If we’re dating you, amongst other things, we’re attracted to the way you look, so easy on the make up please, love. We all love a woman who takes care of her appearance, but there is a thick line between looking good, and looking like Boy George, yet you sometimes still try to cross it. Waking up next to your natural self, shows that you are confident around us, your confidence gives us confidence. . . . We want to get to know all of you, and we won’t judge. Please don’t misconstrue the point I’m trying to make, I’m not saying don’t wear any make up, as I said before, we all love a woman who takes care of her appearance. I’m saying, the less make up, the better. And don’t be coy about us seeing you without.
A high majority of us men find women that train attractive, whether you’re the woman in the gym on the cross trainer in the morning, or out pounding the pavement at night. Yes, you might be all red faced and sweaty, to us, we see the confidence, the discipline, the motivation to get up and make that personal effort to better yourself, or to keep in shape. This shows us that you are willing to go out and put effort behind making a difference, and while having that attitude with training, in most cases means that you also have that attitude with all aspects of your life. Next time he asks you to train together, run together, go to a class together, don’t over think it. Just do it. He’s not going to think about your level of fitness, whether you look red and out of breath. He just wants to share that motivation with you.
If you’re on a night out with the girls, on a work lunch, or just popping to the shops, and you see someone who interests you, don’t wait for them to come and chat you up, act on it. There’s a chance they haven’t spotted you so don’t automatically think they’re not interested. That confidence will speak volumes. We are the same as you, we all fear rejection, we all have our own insecurities, and because of this we all have missed opportunities. The fact that you have approached us is attractive in itself. The idea that a woman should never approach a man is outdated. Also, if you are approached by someone and you’re not interested, don’t be a dick about it. Just think of the courage that person has had to build just to come over and talk. Put yourself in their shoes. Being polite costs you nothing.

Above all, just be yourself. You don’t want someone to fall for the person you’re trying to be. We’re pretty simple beings, be honest, be open, and if you have any sense . . never sleep on an argument, a man full of doubts is a dangerous man.

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February 1, 2015

The murder scene . . a snippet of a crime story I’m toying with.

Filed under: My Work — Tags: , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 1:01 pm

The sweat in the room was heavy enough to soak through his shirt, a smell that he didn’t recognise, but didn’t need an educated guess as to what it was. He thought it was strange how he had never smelt death before, but he knew that’s what it was that caused the aroma that clung to the walls. Knowing that once he left the room, the smell would cling to his jacket, similar to how cigarettes do. What he was about to see would also cling to him, an attachment that couldn’t be removed at 40 degrees.
The beautiful shaggy grey carpet on the bedroom floor would never be the same, Charlie loved the feel of it on his bare feet in the morning. It was expensive, after feeling it between his toes for the first time, he knew it was well worth the money, it had become part of his wake up ritual. The blood was thick and had matted parts of the carpet, it was ruined, once it was cleaned Charlie would still know it had once been there. This blood should still be under her skin, in her veins. This blood had once pumped round every inch of her beautiful body, the blood that had kept her alive was now split, like unwanted wine. She was placed on the floor at the end of the bed, take away the bruises, the blood, and her lifeless body held a pose. Her left leg bent with her foot tucked under her right knee, her toe nails painted in her obsessive manner. Her little black dress had been pulled up to sit at her navel and her underwear torn, nothing covered up to hide the truth. Her left arm down by her side, her right lay across her chest, for a moment Charlie pictured her trying to defend herself. Red sore abrasions on both wrists stood out on her pale skin, finger nails painted to match her toe nails. Her long hair lay to rest across her face and neck, but not enough to cover up the incision on her neck, her skin looked so pale against the bloody wound. Her body looked cold, distant, dead. Her eyes were still open and blood shot, bulging with fear and pain. Seeing all this devastation in the room that the two of them had shared so much love took Charlie’s breath, causing panic, it was the look in her eyes that caused him to freeze, he couldn’t look away, mesmerized. He’d watched enough television to know that touching anything would be a bad idea, the temptation to pick her up, make her comfortable, it was hard to bare. Alarm bells ringing in his head to phone the police, but all his body was willing to do was drop to his knees, a single tear formed in his eye whilst his chin started to quiver.

June 1, 2014

In Bloom

Filed under: A Little Something — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 4:16 pm

As his heart started to bloom, he was always fond of her company. she sat opposite him, across the pub garden table. Her smile paving his next thought, enticing him down the old dusty road of love. Her sunglasses hindering his ability to view her true intentions. he couldn’t read her, but he could feel her, under his skin, gnawing at his bones. She will probably chew him up and spit him out, he was sure of this. But this didn’t change the rhythm in his chest, the bloom of his heart.
The day was warming up, the rays of sunshine curved around her form, as if they were in fear of disturbing such beauty. Like the sun, she became an eyesore if you were to stare for long. Her imperfections complimented her radiance. She started to laugh, a laugh that held his attention yet also caused him to want to drift off, grab the sound by the tail and let it drag him into the future, a sound he wanted in his life.
She is everything that he had never looked for before, an unlikely surprise, a pleasant outcome to being proved wrong, wrong for all these years while looking in the other direction.
He wasn’t looking forward to her departure, the goodbyes. He was comfortable where he sat, he had all he needed, but the goodbyes were inevitable. whether it was for a day, a week, or even months. He embraced these moments with her, he longed for them. He felt encased in the now, the moments where she sat opposite him, smiled, laughed, and whipped his life out from under his feet. He was punch drunk, his heart in full bloom. He didn’t need to say goodbye just yet.

June 12, 2012

Love Cage

Filed under: Just a Thought — Tags: , , , , , , , , — mitchellsmustard @ 5:43 pm

Feeling the presence of another can soon be taken advantage of, forever forgiven for the mistakes one makes can be a fool’s idea. Unconditional love flows only with blood and all others can be tested. The chain links that wear with the tide as well as the unpredictable and heavy waves of emotion that hit the walls of protection. Worn and used these walls around the enclosed hearts start to crumble and fall to uncover the raw and tender existence to the elements. Both a force to be reckoned with until the force turns on itself, best of allies but worst of enemies. Love is a strong word that binds the hearts to beat in unison, like two love birds that will still sing no matter the size of their cage. The songs will only turn to sorrow if one is taken or leaves, left is the uncomfortable silence of loss. It takes a moment to lose what you have but can sometimes take an existence to find what you want, most the time they are two in the same but you’ll only learn this when it’s too late. It’s not about what you haven’t got it’s about spending twice as much time appreciating what’s next to you . . . that’s love, passing the time, second thoughts, hiding the truth isn’t love. Everyone has their secrets but love is about cracking the spine to read you like a book, they may never get to the unwritten chapters but if they care they’ll try.

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