Tinder Stories – I Got A Boyfriend

Yes, you read that correctly. 

I, Seren, got a boyfriend and it was nothing like I expected.

You see when you have been single for three years – you are very used to doing things on your own.

You handle life and everything it throws at you. From stress to health problems. Even just having to keep on top of life duties by yourself is exhausting. If you know me you’ll know that I hate, with more passion than you can imagine, folding my washing.

But listen, you can’t sleep next to a pile of laundry when you have your boyfriend coming over for the night.

At times I thought I didn’t have space for a partner. There were so many moving parts of my life that I knew it would be hard to find a man who could keep up.

It got to the point that I wrote in my Hinge profile “I am looking for a man who can keep up”.

If you pick my lane we are going fast and not slowing down.

But he changed everything. He asked me if we were going fast enough together.

Getting a boyfriend was far more soppy than I thought it would be. Quietly the world changed and it took more than a long hot second for it to sink in.

I think I said “what the fuck” about 23 times when we became offical.

You see, I spent so long processing how it feels when it doesn’t work out that I had no idea what it would feel like if it did work out. 

It was safe to say I was completely overwhelmed.

There were things that I actually never thought about till I had a boyfriend.

Because at one point or another I never thought I would get there.

I chose to share my private life with you all on here. My tales of trying to find someone to call my partner and now I have one.

Yes this dumb dumb did it. Who would have bloody thought?!

Clearly not me. Which is kinda sad actually.

I have always stated that whilst I write these very funny and shocking stories, I do intend to write my success story.

So often I get asked if I go on dates to just be able to write stories, but that is never the case. I go on dates because I want a relationship.

You see I want to write the story of how I met him, our first date, when things just fell into place. I have always wanted to give you guys a happy ending.

You have been there with me, along for the ride, every step of the shitty date way.

But now it was real life, there is another person. Him. My boyfriend. Would he want to be known to the public from the blog? Would he be comfortable with the fact that I wanted to write all about him over the internet?

It’s beginning to sound like I am famous or something which I am most definitely not.

I just knew that changing my relationship status would absolutely cause a ruckus because I have been writing about my single life for so long.

We were officially together for a week when my father asked ever so nicely but in true boomer fashion “why isn’t it Facebook official?”.

Because y’all are a curious bunch and this sort of ‘announcement’ needs to be agreed upon. I had to have a very awkward but frank conversation about taking our private lives public. In short we decided to keep our socials on lock so we could just feel it out.

After all, the blog has never been in real time.

So congratulations to me, the dating apps finally worked.

Here I am, publicly announcing it.

I, Seren Powell-Jones, am a taken woman.

Yup, who would have thought. I was being introduced as his girlfriend and well honestly, it was a dream.

I finally had my person and they had me. It was a really nice feeling. A feeling I had spent a long time waiting for.

When we first started dating he was only going to be in the country for 6 more weeks. He said, and I quote, “I am looking to date but I am not looking for a relationship as I am leaving”.

But why was he on a date with me if hes leaving so soon?

He loves to eat out, having company and great conversation.

Whilst it was a gutting moment, ever the optimist I wondered.

What if we fake dated for six weeks.

What if I dated him like an experiment and get as close as I can to figuring out what I really like in a partner and what I can’t stand? Either way he’s leaving to another country and well, then I will have obtained all this information for my future endeavours.

So the plan was hatched between us. He wanted to experience some of Auckland’s top restaurants, I, a woman who lived and breathed fine dining for two and a half years, would educate him. In turn I would live my best life and really enjoy the act of proper conversation. It was a win win.

In that time we experienced four top restaurants, many drinks and he stood by my side at events and parties. It was a stunning match where we both played the part for each other.

But then we had a small pandemic and he was delayed in leaving. In fact that happened four fucking times.

During this time I was strung along for the ride holding on to the fact that maybe it would work out.

Yeah. I am a dumb dumb.

However, after every hurdle that we faced and climbed over, we would always find ourselves back at square one.

We tried pseudo dating.

Don’t bother.

We tried just being friends.

Stupid idea.

We tried just being friends with benefits with clear lines in the sand.

You too can laugh at that one.

I even called the entire thing off and cried for three weeks.

But nothing stuck.

Drawn to each other, like stupid fucking magnets.

Stuck in the same country, in the same city, where we had absolutely fallen for each other.

We were 8 months down the track when reality found us.

That is because he was now actually going to leave. For real this time.

Not that the other times weren’t real, but this was different because we were post pandemic.

Things were more certain.

There I was finally standing in front of a man who had the capacity to love me and he was leaving the country. I was helpless because there was nothing I could do.

He had three months till he was due to leave.

And there is nothing like a countdown to having your heart broken to push you to throw all caution into the wind.

So I yeeted all caution to the wind.

Poof, gone.

It got to the point that I said to him, I would rather have an actual boyfriend for three months and then watch you leave. Rather than to be stuck in this limbo of purgatory of thinking “what would it have been like if it had worked out?”.

After all, he said we were perfect together. That we clicked like you wouldn’t believe.

But then, because there is always a ‘but’.

Which is when he took this moment to remind me what he said on our second date. “I am looking to date, but I am not looking for a relationship as I am leaving”. 

But things are different now and way more complicated. I kept asking myself, what happened? How did we get to this point? Did I miss when he reminded me time and time again that he didn’t want a relationship?

Did he say something to me when we went on day trips? When we were staying at each other’s houses four nights a week? When he picked me up from work because I was too sick to drive? When he sent a photo of us to his parents? Did he say it before or after “I love you”?

No Seren, you dumb dumb.

He had never reminded you.

We had fallen for each other, head over heels love.

So I challenged him on his thoughts of not being in a relationship. All he could say was “it’s not you, it’s me, I don’t know why I don’t want to be in one”. And like the stubborn and stupid human I am, I wouldn’t accept that answer. After everything I thought I was owed an answer to why.

We walked away from that conversation with less clarity on what we were going to do for the next three months and more emotions on the table than before.

God dammit I almost screamed “if you love me then love me”.

And then before we could recover from exploding with emotions his boss called him and threw yet another curve ball.

For the 5th time, he had his life turned on his head. His boss called told him “sorry but you are to stay here in New Zealand, in Auckland”.

He took it all in his stride, water off a ducks back. I took that news like I had just been slapped in the face by a seagull.

He is no longer going overseas. The pandemic was going through its second wave in many countries and it was too risky to send him.

As soppy as it sounds we had experienced the universe giving us more time and now after so many setbacks he was no longer leaving the country.

He was staying and it was going to be permanent.

We could actually have a happy ever after.

He stood in front of me and told me about all the things hes excited for now he is staying.

The topic of ‘us’ wasn’t on that list.

Honestly I felt like an after thought and when I brought it up, he told me that he needed to think about things. Because he thought he was broken because he didn’t want to be with me.

I said he can have time and no matter what I will always be here to talk to him and hear him out.

But I knew he would friend zone me.

Because if you are not all in, you are all out.

Being an afterthought isn’t my vibe.

The only thing that was clear was that he and I don’t work as friends. I don’t even know what a friendship between us would look like.

About a week later he messaged me.

He had just moved into a house he had bought.

In the seven days that had passed, I had made peace with the idea that he would never chose me. That despite being a picture perfect match he was about to crush the last tiny bit of my heart that seemed to love him so much.

He invited me to come round to celebrate with a bunch of his friends and family.

Yes, I was going to meet his parents for the first time and they knew exactly who I was.

He had proudly sent photos of us to them after one of our dinner dates.

I’d just like to take a moment and ask what the actual fuck is the logic here?

Why would I go?

Because I knew it was ending and I wanted to walk away knowing I did absolutely everything I could. That me turning up meant I never wavered on the idea of being by his side.

If you need to know anything about me, it’s that I need closure.

It’s my biggest downfall.

So I was going for closure.

But not the pretend type where you fuck your ex for closure.

Rather the ‘ah yes, this is what your happy ending looks like and I definitely do not fit here’.

But good to know you will be happy, I can take peace in that knowledge.

I said I would only come if I could bring a friend, I also had an early start the next day and we cannot stay late. Always have an escape route.

How hypocritical of me.

Him and I found ourselves sitting watching everyone eat and getting to know each other when he said we should properly have a chat at some point.

I said now’s good for me.

Why? Because I am not going to waste any more time on a guy who clearly cannot figure his romantic life out, but can buy a house in Auckland.

He was shocked and turned to me, putting down his dinner plate.

“I have been thinking Seren”

From his tone, his body language and the fact that I had been left on read for a week, I knew this is where it was going to end.

As he was talking I was mentally disassociating.

In fact I was counting how many steps it would take to reach the fridge and pick up my drinks, nodding at my friend to indicate it was time to go and then ordering an Uber and counting the steps out the front door and down the driveway when he said “I love you and I want you to be my girlfriend”.

“Sorry, can you say that again? What did you just say?”

He now had tears streaming down his face, he was turning away from the party so no one would see.

“I want you to be my girlfriend, it makes sense, I love you Seren.”

I grabbed his hands and said “I love you too and yes I will be your girlfriend”.

I spent a long time waiting for this moment. But I never dreamed it would be like this.

Especially when I thought I was about to be friend zoned.

It was like being back handed by the same seagull again.

Kissing him on the cheek and wiping away the tears he pulled me into a hug and, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, the world had come into focus and things were finally going my way.

That night, even now feels hazy. I can still hear him introducing me to his friends as “this is Seren, my girlfriend”.

I excused myself to the bathroom and pulled out my phone. I took a deep breath and went onto my Hinge profile where we matched and deleted my account.

Taking a screenshot of this momentous moment in the hopes that I would get to share with you all. A very small but mighty victory of overcoming the algorithms and finding love.

I deleted the app off my home screen and came back out to the party.

To my partner who kissed me on my forehead and asked me if I was going okay.

This dumb dumb was for once was okay.

Then he broke up with me a month later.

Yup, you read that completely right.

He broke up with me in my bedroom on a Sunday morning.

Only after he slept with me.

Like the absolute gentleman he was. 

I can’t believe this is even our story.

He had confessed the night before that whilst he is unbelievably happy when he is with me, he is just not happy in a relationship. We talked for hours about changing the way we communicate, doing things differently, taking a whole different course to this relationship thing.

In the end, I had to spell it out for him by asking him if it was over.

Because he couldn’t spit it out.

He didn’t cry because he was sad. He cried because I was sobbing.

He was just about to leave my house, when he said I need to remember to take care of myself and that he needs to hear from me soon.

That he needs me to be his friend.

Because we were best friends.

But I said I need an unknown amount of time before we can even approach that. I can’t be his friend right now, it’s too painful. I had barely stopped crying.

He said he would always be there for me and if I needed anything I should just ask.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry till I dissolved or scream into the wind and fly to a different country. That tiny fragment of my heart that had finally started to regrow was now obliterated.

I was blindsided and utterly exhausted.

Whilst I stared at the man who is now my ex, I then realised I had to be at brunch in 10 minutes.

The world really doesn’t stop when you have your heart trampled.

Fuck me.


I am such a dumb dumb for ever thinking it was going to work out.

But also where are my sunglasses because I look incredibly sad and can’t face the world like this.

I could have canceled. But how do you construct a message about your boyfriend of just a month breaking up with you?

It’s fucking embarrassing.

I was embarrassed for being proud of my relationship. I felt like I was an oversight, a decision that was made in haste. That he just wanted to give me what I wanted and then immediately regretted it.

Which I can assure you does amazing things for your self esteem.

Two weeks later I still hadn’t spoken to him because I was still crying on my way home from work everyday. RIP to anyone who made eye contact with me at the traffic lights. In my head I was wondering how he was going with work and if he had done any more work on the house.

He watched every single Instagram story I posted and I thought a lot about the day when it would not hurt to think about him and the time we spent together.

During a catch up with a friend that weekend, who is also a reader of the blog, she asked me when this had all happened.

I explained the dates when she said “I really don’t know how to tell you this…”

She said she turmoiled over telling me because it might be nothing. She had taken screen shots and then deleted them because pulling all of this up is clearly painful to me.

I had finally managed to stop crying. An accomplishment I tell you.

But there are no secrets in my friend group. Even if they will hurt you.

She said that three weeks ago he came up on her dating app. Three weeks ago was when we were still very much together.

In a committed relationship.

To each other.

She thought it might be one of those cases where people’s profiles come up but they don’t use them.

That’s where I stopped her.

I had moved off Tinder, off Bumble and all the way to Hinge because of their algorithm. It only ever showed you people who had used their profile in the last 72 hours. That’s how they ensure you get more matches.

Go and google it if you don’t believe me.

That night he asked me to be his girlfriend in his bathroom. I deleted my profile that had been inactive for 9 months.

My boyfriend, the guy I was in love with, the person I finally chose to be with.

To stand by my side and be so incredibly proud of.

The person I really thought I could write the success story about to people who live in over 100 countries and allow me to close the chapter on Tinder Stories.

The man who said he would take a bullet for me and would seriously consider putting a knee in the dirt for me.

I shit you not, he said that to me.

Was discovered by a reader to still be active on a dating app whilst we were very much officially together.

I wish I was making this up.

That it wasn’t true and I could write something else.

But this is the truth.

The heart wrenching, very harsh reality of dating.

I found out and thought about confronting him.

But what is that going to achieve Seren?

We can never be together.

We can never be friends.

There is absolutely nothing left to fight for or save.

Maybe me three years ago would have popped off.

But Ive learnt that doesn’t need to happen.

So to this day he has no idea that this dumb dumb knows the whole truth.

I was head over heels, madly truely in love with a man who turned out to be a dud.

For the record he will never get a name.

Not even a fake name.

There is no excuse in the entire world that could ever allow him to crawl out of the bin I have put him in.

Please note that this bin is on fire.

And even if we take away the active dating profile, which really is the kicker here.

I dated a guy for ten months only to have him waste my time, leave me single and now with a super spicy amount of defensiveness.

Don’t love that for me.

The final thing to note is he read the entire blog and quoted it to me on our very first date.

I am almost certain he’s reading this one.

Tinder Stories – The Worst Date Ever – Part 2

I have tried to recreate events, locales and conversations from my memories of them. In order to maintain their anonymity in some instances, I have changed the names of individuals and places. 

Welcome back to part two, Marc is in the bathroom and my best friend is giving me step by step instructions better than Ikea on how to leave.

But what you might have forgotten is that my name for the evening isn’t Seren. It is dumb dumb.

Why you may ask?

Because you know what I didn’t do.

I didn’t leave.

You know what I did do, don’t worry I will just tell you.

Marc came back from the bathroom and a new round of drinks are on the table. Like, two children, we sat in silence pretending nothing was wrong and things would be fine.

Then he said, “so how’s your day going?”

And I picked up my gin and replied “you know what, I have had better Fridays”

“Oh, how come?”

“You are actually kidding right?”

“No, I want to know why you think you have had better Fridays”

I genuinely thought he was taking the piss.

But then I realised he was asking because he wanted me to tell him, to spill my emotions so he could act like it wasn’t any of his fault for the way I felt.

Looking back it took me a long time to realise what happened that evening and to be honest, he did warn me that people that got close to him always got hurt.

I just thought I was smarter.


I was a dumb dumb.

So we are sitting there halfway through dessert which I have just pushed around the plate when I finally say:

“you are being an absolute dick right now and you aren’t making this unpleasant experience”

“Oh really, you were laughing before when we were throwing peanuts at each other.”

Side note: I act like up when I am not in check on my own emotions. 

“You of all people should know, that isn’t something I normally do. Yes, I love to have fun and act silly but this isn’t a time when I would normally do that.”

“Why are you getting so upset?”

“Because you made me feel like this and you don’t even care. I just think we should get out of here and pay the bill. I need some air”

Yes, finally I am making moves out the door.

So we get up, split the bill and stand outside on the sidewalk.

And I relax my jaw for two seconds and word vomit.

“let’s get a drink and talk this out”.

I, being a Libra forever thinking that another person can understand my own point of view just invited Marc a god dam mother fucking Leo for another drink.

Now if you know anything about astrology, then you will know a Leo cannot see any other point of view other than their own and I being a Libra will ALWAYS try to put myself in another person’s shoes.

Sitting down I realise just how upset I am that I have wasted my evening on a dude who clearly thinks the sun shines out of his ass and all I want at this point is an apology but what I got was far far worse.

I won’t go into detail mostly to protect this person but also because I don’t want to remember it. We get into an argument over this entire evening and he lends back in his chair and he spits out.

“I think you’re angry at me because you are holding me to an expectation that we are in a relationship.”

“But we aren’t in a relationship”

“Yeah but I think you think you are.”

“But I don’t want to be in a relationship with you, especially if you are like this.”

“Well, then you can’t be angry at me for tonight.”

“Are you out of your fucking head? 1. I did want this to be SOMETHING more but we cleared that up months ago. 2. I would be angry at you if you did this to me even as my best friend. 3. You cannot be in a relationship if neither of you wants to be in a relationship.”

“Well, I think you think we are in a relationship, so you can’t hold me to the expectation of one for tonight.”

And out of pure frustration and I break. It’s a Friday night and I am crying at a rooftop bar looking too good to be with a blood-covered ass hole.

“This isn’t going anywhere, we are just going in circles and I don’t want to cry, I am cold and this is bullshit.”

So Marc pulls me forward to be under the heater that he is under but in doing so I flail my arms causing me to knock my drink into his crotch.

And you know what my dumb dumb Libra self does? Offers to buy him a new one whilst spitting out apologies over and over again.

We give up on the conversation and being the kind person I insist that he stays at my house because now we are both drunk and I would much rather know he’s safe than rolling around in a gutter somewhere. Yes, I know he deserved to be in the gutter with his bloody hands.

Que next scene: I would like you to welcome back my best friend.

Who I had updated her that Marc and I were going home to mine.

I am passed out in bed and I wake up to a phone call.

It was from Laura.

“Wake up bitch, my mums’ flight got cancelled this morning so you are coming to Fashion Week”.

Bruh. My head hurt, I had a fuck tard in my bed and absolutely nothing to wear.

Laura, could not give a shit.

This woman literally got her outfit in Wellington five weeks prior and she is now giving me 40 minutes to get ready.

That’s what Laura does.

So you know what I did.

What I do fucking best.

Problem solve in a god damn crisis.

I get out of bed, put my contacts in and turn the kettle on. I tie up my hair and stare at my open wardrobe waiting for Queer Eye guys to leap out and take me.

I put some music on and get a wriggle on pounding my face with makeup in the hopes I will learn a god damn lesson.

Then Marc wakes up and the first thing I say to him is:

“I am going to a fashion show with Laura because her mum’s flight has been cancelled so what are you doing today?”

And as he checks his phone he says something about going to the French markets with his friends and I then stopped listening because all my brain is thinking about is how the hell do I get a dude who is hungover, out of my bed in the next 12 minutes.

Simple; as you stand there naked as the day as you were born you ask him if he wants to uber home or be dropped off at the bus station. Because I am sure as hell not giving him a 30-minute lift in the opposite direction after last nights performance.

Putting on his own clothes Marc told me how pretty I looked which was something I had never heard him say before and by this point I couldn’t care about anything that comes out of his mouth.

The moment I woke up that morning, Marc was no longer. He just didn’t know it yet. You see a night of blood, tears and pure frustration can do magical things to you whilst you sleep.

If you ever want to know if someone is worth your time, ask yourself:

“would this make Seren’s blog?”

And if the answer yes. then change his name to Completely Irrelevant after you drop him off.

The never-ending​ date – Tinder Stories

Seems unfortunate that it was Snapchat that reminded me of these suppressed memories. Forewarning and a word to the wise, don’t do what I did.

It was a Saturday night, I was at my best friends house and her flatmate brought home a bunch of people who had been at an awards ceremony that evening. As we all know people get sloshed at these sorts of things and this was no different. Having a yarn to these people on the couch one person, in particular, caught my attention. We chatted and he was clearly white boy drunk on wine and unlike some men who walk this earth, I didn’t push the situation. Instead drove everyone into town on my own way home and left them to it.

What was to my surprise was that the next morning, lying in bed I was swiping through Tinder and saw the guy I had been talking to the night before. Chuckling to myself I swiped right to him (that’s a yes I would like to match with you, for those of you who do not know how Tinder works) and we bloody match.

Now if you know anything about Tinder, matching with someone actually doesn’t mean anything. So I messaged him asking about his hangover. He was indeed, very dusty.

We get chatting and find out we are both from the South Island of NZ and that we might indeed have mutual friends and if you aren’t picking up what I am putting down we then added each other on Facebook to compare friends. Tinder messages led to Messenger and that led to getting a drink and talking in person.

Standing once again in Ponsonby I hugged the dude who was well over 6ft and asked what bar he would like to go to. Settling on a spot we arrived, ordered and proceeded to get ID’d because Seren looked not her age when wearing pink apparently.

But just so we know that I am not perfect in any light I left my fucking wallet in my car which has enclosed, my ID. So within the first 5 minutes of meeting *Clyde, I have to ditch him and run back to my car and get my wallet.

So there I am jogging down the road to get my wallet, snap chatting my best friend because my mistakes make her laugh.

I get back to the bar and we start chatting. Jogging to your car and back really settles the nerves which were quite apparent as Clyde was bouncing his leg so aggressively the table was shuddering like a small chihuahua.

We were a drink deep, talking about what we have been doing with our lives for the past 3 years and he spills the tea on his ex-girlfriend. You could see it on his face, just how much that girl hurt him. It’s very confronting but also refreshing seeing someone wear their emotions on their sleeve.

Now what caught me off guard was him asking me if we wanted to share a bottle of wine at his house. So we went to the bottle store, brought two bottles of wine (because we couldn’t settle on one) and drove to his house.

Yes, I told my friends what was going on and yes my snap maps were on. I also told Clyde that if he murders me, he couldn’t get away with it. He wasn’t expecting me to say that.

What I can tell you is what follows.

Clyde and I drove home, wine bottle clinking and then it occurred to me that I was standing in a garage that was a workout room/ laundry/entryway. Then Clyde began to whisper. We went from a normal conversation to barely be able to hear him. Then I remembered people don’t have as chill flatmates like I do.

So he grabbed some glasses and waved me through to his room and I was like “wow, Clyde with some big moves over here, ushering me through to his room, not so timid in his own home”.

But ladies and gentleman, girls and boys, he should not have done that.

  1. why does he have a $4000 computer set up (and before anyone disputes this, Dad runs a computer business, ya girl grew up around tech) but his bed is on the floor? He had a bed base but no legs. In fact, the legs were sitting in a bag in the corner of a room.
  2. why had he insisted on me going first when he should have taken this opportunity to hide the pizza boxes – AND I MEAN PLURAL AS THERE WAS MORE THAN ONE – from my very observant eyes?
  3. why he tried to kiss me whilst juggling two bottles of wine and their glasses as he clearly wasn’t from a hospitality background?

Now if you need to know anything about me, its that I generally pay attention to all of the things all the time. Which didn’t bode well for Clyde because his dim lighting was not helping the situation rather making me look harder because it was like he was trying to hide something from me? WHICH HE CLEARLY WAS. Pizza boxes cannot be disguised as anything other than pizza boxes.

So I am standing in a room full of empty pizza boxes, just been kissed by Clyde and I haven’t even taken my jacket off, let alone put my wallet down. He then puts his wine glasses down – almost smashing them and says he’s just popping to the bathroom, to which I take the opportunity to send a snap and my location to my best friends.

Once again, take the time to check how to get out, check in with your friends and remember no means no. I will forever remind you of this.

I also take this opportunity to pour the wine because I don’t know what the hell else to do with myself and the Clyde appears in the doorway super chuffed, to say the least. Now I am trying to be as open-minded as possible these days and I think “bugger it, give him a chance”.

That my darlings was a big mistake.

It’s 1am. We are talking, cuddled up, I am wondering how I should start making tracks when he clearly was reading my twitching lip and said “you’re staying right?” and guys I let my wine brain talk and she said yes. Please play in your head ‘That wasn’t me it was Patrica’ from Split about 8000 times.

Now wine + wine + wine = Seren fighting to be the last one asleep so she can go home and be hungover by herself. But Clyde he had other ideas. Gave me a t-shirt to sleep in and was insistent that I couldn’t leave at this time in the morning as he wanted to take me home, his mother raised him that way and well at this point Patrica is in full control.

Fast forward to the most intense cuddles I have had from any man in my entire life. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t going to die of hypothermia in my sleep, nor is anything going to get the chance to attack me but at one point when my hair was definitely stuck for the 47th time that night. I did begin to think we started to become one being. Very dark times. So I wake up 7am and immediately would like to go home but no.

First I got the “I had an amazing time” to the somehow letting Patrica say yes to a fucking shower but FINALLY it was time to go home and we are driving and I’m like the joker in the back of the cop car, practically high from thinking about my own house when the car stopped.

Bless his fucking soul. Clyde said, “so your picking where we do breakfast this morning…”. The bubble popped, I was not at my house, I was not dreaming, I was not by myself, the date is approaching the 12-hour mark and I took a breath in and asked Patrica to take control. She blurted out a brunch spot.

Now don’t get me wrong, Clyde – lovely guy but I am now not wearing any make-up, in last nights clothes and desperately in need of time to reflect. I would call Clyde politely persistent and me a lost lamb who looks like a raw potato.

So finally, we are back in the car, yes we are driving home and then I remember, I can’t go home.

My hopes and dreams stop and gasp when I yell in the car “WE HAVE TO GO TO PONSONBY”. Like a manic motherfucker without a filter on. Clyde literally just cracks up laughing and asks me if I am okay.

Oh, but how silly Seren forgot that her car was where she left it last night at the start of the date. Its been so long I thought my car had just magically driven itself home like I did in my own head 400 times over the past 14 hours. YES, 14 HOURS.

I had almost forgotten where I had parked my car and I was like the kid who spotted Wally after everyone had been looking for him for so slightly too long. I almost punched a hole through the windscreen when I saw it.

We pulled up alongside and Clyde looked like he was going to cry, he double checked he had my number and asked me out on another date there and then. I said I would need to check my schedule and get back to him but that I was also going to be very busy that day/evening so don’t panic if I get back to you later tonight.

I hugged him, trigger reminded me of being snuggled to death and got into my own car.

Watched him drive off, turned my phone off and stared out of the front window waiting to be teleported home. Honestly, I have no idea how long I sat there for. But I finally turned the ignition, drove home in some sort of daze and practically sprinted up to my stairs.

And I can tell you now, there is nothing that can top the sound of my front door closing and the sound it made as I knew the date was finally over.

I then shred my clothes, put a robe on, put my washing on, ran a shower, recleaned my soul, boiled the kettle and made myself a cup of coffee.

It was now almost lunchtime, I rolled my blinds down, crawled into bed and vowed never to let Patricia take control ever again.




To Men: Pt 1 – women plan the death of men over brunch.

Today I bring you a little bit of a different blog post. One that has been in the pipe line for many moons and now I feel appropriate to share with you. Now as I understand you all like it when I tell stories, whether it is about old flat mates, the amount of kids who are engaged, married and or pregnant or the many lessons I have learnt so far. But today we are going to get down and dirty. I mean I don’t want to alarm any one but I may or may not be writing this with no pants on. In the light of recent events it is now that you must be informed more than ever.

But remember kids you can’t get angry at individuals who don’t know, so you should educate them if they are willing. 

This will all make sense in a few paragraphs.

Shall we begin with a story.

About 6 months ago I was at work where I was having a conversation with the general manger. We were making small talk and I was asking him what he likes to do on his days off. He explained he loved to kite surf, jet ski, and fish but his partner doesn’t share as much of the same passions. What follows is our conversation

S: what does she do when you are out on the water for hours at a time?

GM: oh she does womanly things.

S: what would that be?

GM: she goes to brunch and does shopping.

*now at this point I have decided that this man, needs a few lessons in womanly things”

S: I didn’t realise woman were allowed to brunch and shop.

GM: well, you know thats what woman like to do.

S: Mmm. Yes. We sure do, but last time I checked men go to brunch as well. In fact I went for brunch with Jordan just this morning.

Though he is my boss so I literally have the upper hand because he can’t give me a warning for his. So I wondered into the bar area of my work where the lone female bar tender stood.

S: do you think that going to brunch and going shopping is a womanly thing Al-Nis?

A: ha. no. Why is that Miss Seren?

S: oh you know who thinks it is.

A: yeah I would believe that.

S: it must be a small world he is living in, without eggs Benedict or a catch up over coffee

A: he really is full of thrilling conversation.

Now what you should know is that I work for a company dominated by men. OLD NEWS. Most woman do. Why? Because we are still playing catch up. Still hustling for the same wage. The same rights. Damn we still can’t do anything to our bodies without the male permission. I mean, yes their are some men who are up to scratch. But there is still the majority who think that just because I smiled at you, that I am now your property.

If you are a male and reading this. Good. On. You. Well Done. Though if you are reading this and thinking how wrong I am or that brunch and shopping is a womanly thing. I am here to break the bad news to you. Its scary and I hope that you can handle it. No honestly, you may want to put your dick in your hand and hold on for dear life.

At brunch woman are up to things. I mean they are unto a whole lot of things and one of them include you. Now do you have your dick in your hand?

Have you ever wondered why there are mostly female wait staff or retail assistances?


Well you are going to be shocked by this.

At brunch woman are planning. They are planning your death. Your demise. Your downfall. Your ruin. They are plotting and gathering strength. Together. Over their flat whites and fruit salads.

Shocking. I know. Take a deep breath. Hold your dick a little tighter. Its scary. But we are coming for you.

Yes you may think brunch is womanly but it is really our battle ground. We talk about how pretty your head would be under a red or black heel.

What you need to think about is that it is 2017. Change is happening. Woman are happening. Are before you even start thinking about how cute and pretty we must look. We are all nasty girls. Waiting. Patiently. To take you down.

Yours sincerely,

Seren aka another nasty gal.

My teeth fell out.

I closed my mouth and that is when the crunch happened. My tongue rippled through my mouth collecting all the shards of broken bone that my body had rejected and spat them out into my hands. I am 21 and these are meant to be permanent. And they are currently sitting in my hand. Then my tongue traced my mouth and found a tooth that had fallen apart and was now sitting as a sharp very tender reminder that I had done this to myself. But then on the other side of my bottom jaw I could taste metal which meant I was bleeding. I walked to the mirror, opened my mouth and gently pulled against my tooth that should be strong in my gum and it lifted. The blood pooled in its place and then trickled into the space where my tongue  sat. The shards of tooth were sitting in my hand and my lips were red with blood. I thought about how much this is going to cost me, that I am meant to have perfect teeth yet right now I am holding bits of them and I can not put them back together. A wave of anxiety rush over me.


Then I woke up. I was staring at a very grey sky and my heart was in my throat. I ran my tongue over my teeth, carefully at first then all at once because they were all there.  I grabbed my dream diary (yes I have one, there is some really strange stuff in there) immediately wrote down what had happen. I grabbed my phone and  googled “broken rotting teeth dream meaning”. Yes I think your dreams mean something and yes I look them up. Sit back down. I know you do to.

Broken teeth:

Implies that aspects of yourself need to be corrected. It may be a metaphor as others can see the problem but you cannot. It could also mean that your mouth is getting yourself in trouble.

Crumbling teeth:

Fear of getting old. Or growing old too quickly.

Spitting out teeth:

Admitting something that you may have held back on that may have or still is causing you stress. 

So I  rolled over in bed and thought about what they hell is my subconscious up to? So I need to correct something, I fear getting old and I have held back of something that is causing me stress; apparently.

I was thinking about a conversation I had yesterday with a gentleman (though he wont call himself that) about some trouble he is going through. I listened and offered some comments but when I was speaking to him I 100% understood his feelings. So I am going to offer this to you and the universe on what we should do.

Currently this lovely chap just cannot be bothered. He is on the most boring roller coaster in the world and right now the ride will not end. The roller coaster is flat. He is going through the motions while others around him seem to be having the time of their life. The question raised consistently was “how do I be happy?”. As simple as that seems you are talking to someone who is doing what he loves on a daily bases. The problem is he can’t seem to catch the ’emotions boat’.

And honestly that is the most terrifying thought. More than teeth falling out.

If you could have it all but not feel a thing.

We were sitting in his car, in the dark waiting when he quietly said to me “I am so close to falling apart and I am scared that if I do I won’t come back together”. He said to me that he was doing and saying things he never done before. Things that are just not him.

That feeling of being on the edge and looking over the drop and thinking, that  is a long way down and there is no way back up from down there. That sicking feeling of being out of control and yet you look like Buddha on the outside.

Yes, you know it. Even if it was for a short period of time or for those endless months. The worst thing for me was knowing that no one could help me. I was on my own and though I knew people would be there for me, they aren’t at 4am when you wake because you can’t help but think you are a failure because you can’t do the one human thing of  feel.

Humans are designed to feel a whole range of emotions and when you can’t do that the isolation is just overwhelming. Nothing like standing in a crowded room and feeling like you want to run away from it all and be alone because these people just piss you off but they are some of your closest friends.

I guess what I am trying to get at is that falling apart is something that must happen to all of us. That you have to be awake at 4am to understand that the city falls asleep at night and that a crowed room can be the worst thing to walk in on.

And my advice for this young man is a quote from C. Joybell C.

I think that we are like stars. Something happens to us to burst open; but when we burst open and think we are dying; we’re actually turning into a supernova. And then when we look at ourselves again, we see that we’re suddenly more beautiful than we were before.

Please believe that falling doesn’t always mean that you wont get back up.

15 More Life Hacks

Life hacks are defined by urban dictionary as;

A tool or technique that makes some aspect of one’s life easier or more efficient.

We meet again. The lazy inner girl in me and the outside world expectations. I thought we would just note some of the hacks that I have discovered.

  1. When doing laundry just put all t-shirts on coat hangers. You won’t have to fold them after and they will not crease.
  2. Put all your important items next to the door. I put my wallet, keys, phone and diary so I can pick them up and go and it makes me double-check I have them.
  3. If you are the first one up in the morning then put toast in the toaster and coffee in a cup. Then you can just put the toast down and turn the kettle on.
  4. Use a tick tack box to keep all of your bobby pins in one place.
  5. Extra plunger coffee?? Put it into an ice-cube tray and freeze. Top with milk when you want a cold coffee.
  6. Give someone a plant as a gift. If they do not water it you can call them a savage killer.
  7. Think push ups are too easy? Slow them down so that it takes 4 seconds to go down and 4 seconds to come up. Then tell me they are too hard. Strong is the new sexy.
  8. Moving house? Put together a bag of things you will need the first night. Toothbrush, hair brush, towel, change of clothes, medication, chargers and a speaker so you can jam to tunes.
  9. Make your wardrobe colour coordinated. If you don’t know what is in your wardrobe then you should have a clear out.
  10. DOWNLOAD Sleep Cycle App. You can thank me later when you have only had four hours sleep.
  11. If you are over the age of 14 then you should have a diary. It may be March but it is never too late to start.
  12. Keep a jar inside of your car. Place all loose change in as you find.
  13. Feeling stressed. Place your legs up the wall and lie on your back.
  14. Always check the shoe. For spiders and cockroaches. (Thanks Kerryanne)
  15. Get Uber. Public transport is never sweeter.

There are more life hacks to be found, for guys https://hiddenunderthecovers.wordpress.com/2015/03/09/10-guy-hacks/ and for girls https://hiddenunderthecovers.wordpress.com/2015/02/13/10-girl-hacks-you-need-to-know/.

I will keep looking for new hacks for you lovely creatures! Keep your eyes peeled for sneaky blog posts…there may be one below.



Hacks for Home Sickness

Its not something I guess your parents prepare you for. When they raised you they never thoughts you would fly the nest. But alas you are now many miles away doing what ever brought you there when suddenly it occurred to you that your home sick.

It was in my first year at university when I fell sick and I was curled up in my single bed when I began to realise that all I wanted was my mum to walk in through the door and hand me marmite toast and some pain relief, to call my work and tell them I won’t be coming in because I am sick. But nope, I was alone in a tiny room dying of a cold and being a pussy.

Its one thing to be away from your family but its also another thing to be almost trapped in the city you live in. For those who are a long but realistic   drive away or a 30 minute plane ride GO HOME FOR CHRISTMAS.

So you all understand why I am writing this. Seren is sad. I have not been home in 10 months now and still haven’t booked flights. Home sickness is the real deal and when I get home I am going to cuddle the shit out of everyone there.

So some hacks.

  1. Bring a small memento from home. For me its a jar of sand from my local beach.
  2. Cook meals your family makes. A roast, spag bowl, soup. Anything.
  3. Have a photo of your home town or your family and put that up somewhere you see it every day.
  4. Call, Skype, email, message, text, send a falcon. Stay in touch.
  5. Book travel time to go home. (I fucked up there)
  6. When you are home sick don’t shove it away because you become a shit head.
  7. Read your ‘local’ newspaper online.
  8. Catch up with people from your home town.
  9. Eat food from home. (This may or may not be an excuse to eat pics peanut butter.)
  10. Plan for your trip home and all the things you want to do.

Its looking like a $600 trip to get home so if someone want to kindly donate to my sad fund let me know. But on the plus side my stunning sister is coming up next week and I am more than excited to see her. And now that I am no longer at university I will be posting more and I know I say that every single time. But its December and great things are happening from this laptop.



40 Things I Wish I Knew At 17.

Hello 17 year old self.

You naive, open armed, little girl.

Prepare yourself.

  1. Being brave doesn’t always look as it seems. Speaking up and asking for help is brave.
  2. You are strong. You can walk away.
  3. Your family will have your back. Even your dorky dad.
  4. Tea can heal wounds that time can’t.
  5. Laugh, hard.
  6. Kiss that boy, in the photo booth. You will be friends till this day. He’s more nervous than you.
  7. The popular girls do not give a shit. And neither should you. Just wait.
  8. Your boyfriend is not going to marry you. He’s going to marry another girl.
  9. Learn to stand your ground.
  10. Soak up the Nelson summer sun.
  11. Your heart will heal.
  12. You will forgive yourself.
  13. Wear that damn dress with the slit in the leg.
  14. Ruby will only be tiny once.
  15. Lay down on the couch a few more times.
  16. Clear your room out.
  17. Drop the act of being tough.
  18. Tell Mrs. Smith that she is wrong.
  19. Tell Dad that your still his little girl after all of this.
  20. Eat more chocolate.
  21. Leave your job for somewhere else.
  22. Hold your head high. Your not what they say.
  23. Go to the river more.
  24. Do more things that scare you.
  25. This storm will pass.
  26. You will learn that you are someones beautiful.
  27. He was a dick head. He still is 4 years later.
  28. Take a nap.
  29. You got this.
  30. Making long lists of things to do makes your life easier in the future.
  31. Nelson will not change.
  32. This is not the end.
  33. The ball is not that important.
  34. You already have the most amazing friends.
  35. Boys are bloody c**ts.
  36. Your boobs will grow.
  37. Being tall isn’t lame.
  38. Eat what you want.
  39. Wear more sunscreen.
  40. Stop being a little bitch about what you want to say.

If you knew me when I was 17 I was running wild after being set loose from a relationship. I was focused on the next step in my life and all the things I had to do to get there. I was crawling my way of out of depression and finding out who I was as a person. Looking back I laugh and cringe at what I was like when I was 17. Just between you and I I still cringe at myself cause I am a weird person. I have just over two weeks to create a piece for choreography, find a new house to live, finish university, sort out my summer plan and survive the next 4 weeks without dying. Anyho, its FRIDAY. I have so much s**t to do. K. Bye.

What is it like to have a sassy personality?

So I am writing this as I wait for my tan to dry. Its August and Im a pale bitch who needs some sun kissed skin. Now it occurred to me that my Q&A might not be a roaring success cause all you people (sitting there reading this slumped behind your laptops) know me well enough. Well you curious bastards this is what you get and if you don’t like it well then don’t keep reading.

Your still here aren’t ya?

Well, shall we answer the question about being sassy?



possessing the attitude of someone endowed with an ungodly amount of cool.
Now more often than not I get told that I am so sassy.
That I have a sassy pony tail (what ever that means)
That my jokes are so sassy (I make terrible jokes)
That I approach life with sass (mmmm k.)
Heres a something that really happened. I had a performance review somewhere and they told me I was too sassy. What does that even translate to? As in how do I walk away from this conversation? Is that a good thing or a bad thing? On the scale of sassiness where do I score? 1 being a weak toddler who just wants a cookie to 10 which is a woman in the middle of a fight presenting information from 2 years ago with specific dates and times. Can you please place me on the scale because I am not dealing with this amount of grey.
Now don’t get me wrong having sass is not wrong. Do what you want with the damn word. I would agree I am sassy but of course always in a good way. I sit here now writing a few shades browner and confused about where the hell this bit of writing is going but alas we must continue.
The best quote that I was given to me by a male who thought he would let me know that I have a sexy bum. Conversation went like this.
I was walking through a super market picking up dinner when suddenly la wild man appears (we were in the tea section)
Man: Damn girl.
Seren: Excuse me?
M: You have a sexy bum.
S: Who asked for your opinion?
M: I thought I would give my input.
S: You thought wrong mate.
M: Im not your mate but I can be?
S: How about you just f**k off back to your shopping?
M: Girl, don’t be like that. You ain’t gonna to get a man like that.
*Seren takes a step forward to said man*
S: You need to get off what ever boat your own. F**k back off to the hole you crawled out off.
You are just a disappointment to society.
M: Calm your tits sassy girl.
*Seren now pointing and raising her voice.
S: I swear to god I will ruin you. If you don’t turn around and continue with your poor tea selection.
*Man makes Pssssh noise and turns around*
*See man being escorted out of the supermarket.*
Honestly cat calling isn’t okay. BUT THATS ANOTHER DAY KAAAAAAAY.
I couldn’t explain what it is like to be ‘sassy’ but it is apart of me, I guess. The word will probably die out and something else will come to replace it then I will be that but for now I am a sassy 20 year old. But its empowering to know that people almost fear what will come out of your mouth though your a lady. (Sorry Dad about my language.)
Look be who ever you want. Just be a kind human being. Be proud of you. I mean I can poach an egg now and can adult. My life is working out with a touch of sassiness. So I will flick my pony tail and take my sad jokes with me and be fine. Your welcome. From me. XOXO Gossip Goat.
p.s this place is bloody funny.

A love like this.

I have been asking lately what I should write my blog about and a lovely creature called Renee told me to write about Dance.

Like that thing in my life. That I am studying. Yaaaass that thing. That Big ‘O Topic.

I don’t know why I have never written about dancing. It has shaped every part of my life for the past three years. I guess I find it a very sacred and special topic for me and I don’t want to be shot down for talking about it.

Heres the thing. I love what I do. Honestly. I love it. Heart and soul. Outside skin to heart. All of me. Dancing, its the damn best thing. Now you may be a student who is studying science or law or social studies. Well Done. Good on you. The world needs people like you. The country needs people like you. I am not being rude or nasty but I am thankful you exist. You might be a mother who takes care of her children. Go you, you educated them everyday without knowing and have the best anger management that even money cannot buy. You might be a guy working in retail. Shout out to you. You have a calm exterior and know where everything is.

But I am a Dancer. Yes I am an artist too. I am an advocate. I am more than you could ever think of. What I ask of you is respect. Do what I have been taught to do in this society and to respect me for the job that I DO. I create art. And guess what I BLOODY LOVE IT. 

I am never going to call myself lucky. ‘Lucky to do what I do.’ I am brave. Yes brave. So do not shoot me down.

I work part time in the hospitality sector because study link doesn’t cover my rent or the food I eat. I have work part time for three years. I work part time whilst studying full time. Now the one thing I can tell you is that people like to talk and chat and give an opinion. Often I get asked what I do other than my job and I say ‘study’. This is how the conversation flows.

Customer: So what do you study?

Me: A Bachelor of Dance Studies at the University of Auckland.

C: Oh wow, what sort of dancing do you do?

M: Mostly contemporary.

C: Do you like it?

M: Absolutely. I love it. (Thinks in head, why else would I spend 20,000 on it??) 

C: You look like a dancer. So what do you actually do during the day? 

M: I don’t roll around on the floor all day. Its half practical. 

C: So where can you go with it all??

M: I could get my PhD if I wanted to but the industry needs me so I must go to them. So I might do that later. 

(I then leave to do my part time job which they think will be my full time job because its dance.)

What hurts the most about this conversation is the raised eyebrows when I drop the line of what I do. You know as someone who studies human movement staring into someones eyes with raised eyebrows when they tell you that they are achieving their dream hurts. Remember that.

So why am I writing this? I am here to answer some questions. By giving answers I am hoping to remove the stigmatisms.

Let us begin and dive into this stunning life I have.

What do I study?

  • Contemporary technique (Stage 1,2,3)
  • Kapa Haka and Theory
  • Pacific Dance and Theory
  • Dance Education
  • Dance History and Context
  • Kinesiology and Somatics
  • Dance Choreography (Stage 1,2,3)
  • Dance Writing
  • Dance Interplidiscnary
  • Stretch and Conditioning
  • Community Dance
  • Safe Dance Practice
  • Psychology 109G
  • Anthropology 106G
  • Dance and Technology
  • Professional Practices

I have missed a couple I am sure but these are paper I have taken and/or taking.

Every single paper has a written form to it. Whether it be a 2500 word essay, lesson plans, Pecha Kucha (shout of to Sarah Knox for those little devils), injury prevention plans. I write. We write. A lot. What people don’t understand is that dancers are pretty damn good at referencing. APA STYLE ALL DAY EVERY DAY.

What does a normal week consist of for me?

Well that depends.

First semester is normally pretty easy going.

Monday: 3 Hours. Two papers.    Tuesday: 2 hours. One paper.     Wednesday: 4 Hours, Two papers.       Thursday: 5 Hours. Three Papers.      Friday: 2 Hours. One paper.

16 Contact Hours. 8 Outside Hours.


Second Semester 

Normally the same ish.

16 Contact hours but then theres is this.

Up to 40 hours of dancing. In class, rehearsal, making choreography, in the theater, between classes in corridors because there is not studios.

In second semester my average amount of sleep is 6 hours. 4 hours when we are close to shows.

What do I eat?

Mate. Everything. Different semesters require different diets. First semester is lots of brain food that is slow releasing. Nuts, grains, root veggies. Second semester is carbs. 60% of my diet is carbs. Carbs=Energy. Simple math. No food is the worst torture. Hiss and run away.

Why dance?

I was told by a lovely lady “do what you love, let that be your career.”. It made a lot of sense to me. So I applied to come to Auckland. Where I write to you today.

What’s your back up plan?

Rude to ask. I will always find something to do in this industry. I am apart of a family. Always creating jobs that didn’t exist two years ago. However if I couldn’t do what I loved due to something. Though where there is a will there is a way. I would become a paramedic.

What do you want to do after university? 

Well you might be one of my employers reading this. If so hello. Thank you for being here. And doing what you love too. But I want to create and share. BROAD. But details are for me to know.

What do your parents think of this?

They are incredibly proud. They have always known it would be something creative. They are supportive and since they were the first of their kind (COMPUTERS) I will be the first of my kind to make dance as normal as computers in our everyday lives.

What do you struggle with?

Ignorance. I would like to see you enjoy a world without dance. Without people who make it possible. My own thoughts of being a tall dancer. Always think I am taking way too much room. So I never feel I am dancing to my ‘full’. I am 6ft for your information.


Really I could talk about this all day. I mean I am going to talk about it all life long.

In reality I don’t keep company of those who do not understand what I do.

Its a love like this that is so intoxicating that it cannot be left alone. I keep sipping from this damn cup and I am not going to lie when I say its the best.

If you have any questions about what I do honestly I would love to hear them and help you get some more information. These are my few 1300 words. However this is my passion and career so lets chat and I might even show you a few moves.