Princess Ruby on counting calories – sex vs dance

15 Jan

I have welcomed the New Year with a rather monumental list of resolutions. I’m certainly a woman, or Princess as it may be, on a mission for bigger and better things. Gone are the days sitting around in a castle waiting for your fairytale to happen will do. You have to get out there…. glass slippers blazing and make it happen!

With an ambitious year ahead of me… I started out with one of the least extreme items on my ‘to-do’ list; learn to dance.  In hindsight, opting for a fast-paced street dance class may not have been the best place to make my debut – with the class resembling something out of Flash Dance; my two left feet began to sweat before we even started the warm up.

Trying to keep up with the class as they gyrated, jumped and spun was much more of a sweaty challenge than Beyonce makes it out to be. However two classes down…and I’m hooked! It also turns out to be a great way to release some semi-sexual energy, albeit in a slightly clumsy manner. And with little happening on the Prince Charming front, it got me thinking… which is a better workout? Dancing or sex?

Princess Ruby on sex vs dance

My research produced interesting results. According to one website (one which I suspect is yet to yield a scientific stamp of approval) you only burn 25 calories during the act if the woman is on top, add an extra 7 calories for bouncing, 22 for urgent begging, 33 calories for trying to keep your eyes open, and 27 for orgasm! Giving you a grand total of 114. However for someone my weight, an hour of fast dancing would have burnt 272 calories. Dancing wins!

Although according to the same questionable website, I could have upped the ante and produced better results if I were caught misbehaving with someone other than my partner – apparently trying to explain would have given me 165 calories, getting dressed in one large motion 300, jumping out of the window 15 (add an extra 5 if the window wasn’t open).

So if I were prepared to get myself in this messy situation, jump out of bed and into a closed window, sex would win hands down.

Therefore the results are open to debate, and of course a combination of both activities, with the dancing being the back-up, would be ideal. However in the meantime, I shall continue with my resolutions, which now may include testing out some of the above….perhaps minus the cheating.


Princess Sequoia’s New Year’s Resolutions

8 Jan

New Year = new ideas, fresh start, different perspective blah blah blah.. Yes, unbelievably, January is here AGAIN and here I am blathering on AGAIN about focusing on my career or the lack thereof and how I’m going to forget about relationships and the lack thereof. I was talking to a friend and I reckon she’s got the right idea; her current approach to men is to have a few on the go, like a variety pack – what they’ve got in common is that they’re all young, fit and different types.

Life is like a box of chocolates

So she’s got her accountant, her footballer, her personal trainer, her entrepreneur, her construction worker. Like a box of chocolates, she chooses which flavour she prefers on the day… If one guy lets you down, at least you’ve got another four to choose from. Besides, she told me, right at this moment she wants a lot of fun but no commitment – it means she doesn’t get distracted by emotional minefields like being in love or not being loved enough.

Don’t underestimate fun!

Isn’t it a bit soulless? I asked her, no real security, not having one person really care about you and you both know it’s just in the moment..? Her answer – of course it would be lovely to have all those commitment things…but in reality it doesn’t often work out that way, at least not for her. So why not have a good time with an array of gorgeous, hand picked guys who find her irresistible – it’s a huge ego boost and she can always get good er…sound financial advice for free…

When size really does matter – by Princess Ruby

18 Dec

The ‘size’ debate has never really been settled has it? From a woman’s point of view, I don’t think it’s as big a deal as what men perceive it to be.

Overall, the general consensus is that as long as it’s functioning; does not resemble a cocktail sausage (or the other end of the spectrum…the size of a small snake);  is clean and groomed (boys, we don’t expect a sack wax… but a bit of a trim is always appreciated) – you’re doing ok.

Size matters

However, it seems that since joining the London dating scene, I too have developed a bit of ‘size’ requirement – extending well beyond the size of someone’s, err,  feet. (While we’re on the topic, as you may know, this is not always an accurate guide).

For me, it’s not about the size of their arms or their height (but then again, as I’m five foot….I do think I need to give any potential future offspring a chance, so this does come into play a little). But when it comes down it, it’s all about the size of their bed. I need a man in possession of an ‘adult’ bed; I’m talking, at minimum, a double.

The reason for my prejudice is because my little room near Notting Hill doesn’t allow for more than a king single bed (having chosen location over practicability). I fully accept this is a double standard on my behalf, however dating anyone in a similar circumstance (or even worse…. with a single!!) begs the question… how is this going to work, logistically??

I recently encountered this issue with a struggling scriptwriter I went on a couple of dates with. He was really funny (big tick in the box), and also very creative and passionate about his writing.

However, as he was so devoted to his writing, he only worked part-time which meant he rented a room smaller than mine and slept in a ‘non-adult’ bed…. the dreaded single!  This only came to light after date number two, when we were talking about our dreams to one day live in normal accommodation.

Upon hearing our mutual issue, the same thought spread across our faces… ‘shit!’

As it is, dating in London can be a precarious matter; shared houses, thin walls and cramped living arrangements can make a night of romance an embarrassing affair for all the next morning. Just watch the grin on the faces of any lingering flatmates on route to the nearest exit – there’s a reason it’s called the Walk of Shame.

So it begs the question, am I shallow enough to let the size of a bed stand in the way of true love? Of course not – and in the instance of the scriptwriter, we were searching for different things beyond bigger beds. But it did make me think fussy Goldilocks was onto something during her search for the perfect bed, and that sometimes size really does matter!

Princess Ruby on: are you dating for love or for sex?

4 Nov

The dating business is huge – you can’t escape a tube carriage without an advertisement for online dating beaming down at you. However I’m starting to notice that for as many services there are devoted to finding ‘true love’, there’s an equal number of services looking to help you get your groove on….no matter how that might be. Here’s a few I’ve stumbled across this week…..

Are you dating for love or for sex?

Shag lotto anyone?

While scanning one of the many London lifestyle newsletters which bombard my inbox, I noticed a singles dating night with a twist – anyone for a game of shag roulette? For £1 (after all, these are frugal times), you can enter the ‘shag lottery’ where and you and one lucky punter are paired-up and sent off in a pre-paid cab at the end of the night. (Is anyone else hoping this also comes with a police check????)

Mood clothing – the dress that asks for sex for you

Also to pop into my inbox this week was an article about hypercolour clothing making a comeback. Somewhere between the hypercolour t-shirt days of the 80s’ and the naughty noughties, heat sensitive clothing has come a long way. Introducing the transparent dress’ – a dress that turns transparent when you’re getting a little hot under the collar and want to give your date the green light.

From what I can gather, it’s just the top half of this very low-cut crazed creation that radiates this subtle seduction technique.  Therefore if your come-to-bed-with-me eyes are letting you down, or, if you can’t find the words to say ‘it ain’t gonna happen sweetheart’ … this dress is for you!

Playing ‘dress-ups’ for adults

And finally, if hiding behind the privacy of your laptop is a little more your style before you hop into the hot seat (or bed) there are a host of websites that can cater for your individual needs…no matter how diverse. For example, ever wanted to slide down a fireman’s pole (literally)? Well, there’s a website that can help you do just that – by pairing you with someone who works in uniform. Now that’s customer service for you!

So it seems dating for sex is no longer a taboo matter. Gone are the days the ‘desperately seeking’ section hidden at the back of the newspaper is the only port of call for this audience.  And why should it be if conventional dating doesn’t float your boat?  However for now, I might leave the shag lottery and flashing transparent dresses to the more daring!

Princess Sequoia finds a new hobby – and it’s not men!!

23 Oct

Being a fairly physically active person, and one who spends a lot of time in the gym doing weights, I was disturbed recently by my lack of motivation exercise-wise and realised I had ‘gym fatigue’.

I needed a change of pace – but I didn’t fancy classes or swimming, and I’ve never been much of a runner. I really have to have a goal, a reason to exercise in order for me to get any enjoyment out of it, and I’d been going religiously to the gym for 3 years or so to lose weight. That target achieved more or less, I needed a new one.

I’d always wanted to try boxercise, if not real boxing, and decided to try out the KO Circuit class in a boxing gym near me. I’d known about this place for years, it has a fantastic reputation for bringing along young kids and keeping them out of trouble – the owner of the gym has local hero status. It has also trained all, and I mean all, the boxing greats at one time or another in their careers. For years I’d never quite had the courage to go and try it out, and frankly I had other things to do, like getting drunk and having a good time. And to be honest, I was slightly terrified at the prospect of having my nose plastered all over my face. But at the age of 44, I decided the time had come to stop being a sissy and give boxing a go.

The class is two hours long, consisting of 3 minutes on and 1 minute off (rest) – skipping, punch bags (murderous), shadow boxing, sparring, brutal abdominal work, weights. I sweat like never before – there’s no fancy air-con here, or paper towels to mop up with. It’s a proper, sweaty, man’s boxing gym with a ring smack in the middle – but the people are absolutely wonderful, the trainers have hearts of gold and they really want to see you do well. If they think you’ve got potential and you work hard and want to learn, you get fabulous coaching – in fact you get that anyway. And all for a fraction of the cost of a normal gym. Boxing is one of the most effective types of exercise I’ve ever done, in the shortest amount of time, even with me being over the dreaded 40 mark. And it’s given me exactly the reboot I needed fitness-wise.

The sense of community is fantastic, and it explodes any stereotypical myths one may have about people who box. I’ve come across the most diverse, interesting bunch of people – there are all sorts here.
If you want to try something very different while giving yourself a killer workout which is still enjoyable AND meeting fab new people, try boxing. It’s absolutely knock out.

Princess Ruby on: the demise of her dating mojo and how not to win the lottery

17 Oct

It is safe to say that on many occasions I’ve been more excited about going on a date, rather than actually going out with my ‘date.’ This is partly due to my belief that dating is like playing the have to be in it to win it… and I certainly love to play.

The adventure of the whole process – from date to potential mate – is really what makes being single exciting…. you just never know what might happen. Such thrills usually leave me beaming from ear-to-ear, however of late, my beam has gone – I fear I’ve lost my dating mojo.

After some careful consideration, there seems to be a few catalysts for my dating demise: the departure of a boy and Saturday night cocktails.

Let me start with the boy. Funny, cheeky and sweet – we really hit it off. Unfortunately our short-lived romance was doomed from the start – as he was moving to Australia..effectively leaving on a jet plane, not knowing when he’ll come back again!

Therefore returning back to the dating scene can be rather uninspiring when the same buzz….even with the aid of your favourite cocktail…just isn’t there.

And speaking of cocktails – this leads me to my next concern –  I tend to meet my potential suitors when I’m out on a Saturday night, and under the warm and somewhat misleading guide of a drink or two. Therefore if a date follows our initial hazy encounter, I often know so little about them and end up I’m thinking something along the lines of: ‘I could have sworn their hair had been a different colour when I first met them!’

Previously, this would be part of the thrill; the start of many comical mishaps (shortly followed by me tripping over) which would be relayed back in hysterics to my girlfriends.

Having experienced that very situation recently (however to be fair, blonde isn’t too far a stretch from red hair, right?), I’m starting to see how this may not be the best strategy to apply when looking for Prince Charming.

Best case scenario,  you hit it off (which after all, is the aim of the game)…however worst case scenario, the conversation sinks faster than the titanic and leaves you both relying on the aid of more alcohol to get you back to where you were when going out with them seemed like a good idea. Not surprisingly, this process is flawed on many levels – unless you intend to spend your entire relationship in a pub.

So it seems dating really isn’t like playing the lottery. While buying multiple tickets may help increase your chances of securing a win, going on multiple dates with someone you don’t know (or remember) does not. As when it comes to matters of the heart…it takes more than a sequence of numbers to hit the proverbial jackpot!

Princess Ruby on Great Expectations – the search for the English gent

11 Sep

While not a lover of English period dramas, when growing up in Australia I had been under the illusion that the English gent, aka Mr Darcy, was as synonymous as the black cab – stylishly roaming around London day and night waiting to pick you up. So when I moved over to London some six years ago with my boyfriend at the time, I was a little confused by what I found – there certainly were men roaming the streets, some looking for love, many searching for sex, however their disguise and behaviour threw me.

For example, the edgy and artistic East London type rocking the skinny jeans and drugged-up look; the sport fanatics who often socialise and chant in flocks while sporting football shirts stretched to their limit as a beer belly protrudes from beneath; the 20-something Chelsea lads with cardigans wrapped around their necks while wearing pink chinos dotted with birds; or the ‘city boys’ – your suited and booted traders and bankers cashed-up, and in some instances, coked-up to their eyeballs.

Duck trousers

Having dabbled with most of the above (minus men wearing pink chinos with birds), despite their obvious differences there seems to be a common thread– there’s a lad culture like no other and an unwillingness to commit until well past thirty and beyond. Could part of the problem be the city – one that offers too much choice and competition??

Having experienced some ‘cold feet’ issues of my own with that very boyfriend I moved here with all those years ago, I too got caught up in the pandemic. However having ‘matured’ a little (I just turned 30…gulp!), I now feel I’m ready to hang up my glass slipper so to speak. But with some of my male counterparts still caring too much about what their friends think while drinking to excess, roaming the streets like 18-year-olds pissing up against street corners….or worse… as I once experienced, on my new cushions… the English ‘gent’ has left me disillusioned – no matter their appearance or disguise!