Fishing Off the Company Pier

Ah yes, that age old dilemma....to date or not to date your co-worker. Now friends I know you often turn to this blog to solve your moral conundrums (as well as learn where to pick up) but I feel I should declare my hand before we go any further. It's true, I have been known to date the odd co-worker (odd as in 'on more than one occasion' rather than odd as in 'needs to be medicated'). So I would like to declare myself conflicted before we even begin.

You see, dear reader(s?) when you work in an investment bank as I once did, you are actually left with no option but to date your co-workers. After all, you never leave the office except to shower, you are trained to close the deal at any expense and you stop seeing people and start mentally calculating return on investment. Where does that leave us? Office Romance Hell (and potentially with much tighter thigh muscles when you're forced to take the stairs each morning to avoid awkward interludes in the lift after it all turns sour).

Yes, yes..now stop your whining. I know these little office flirtations can sometimes work out just swimmingly and I know if you're in one you'll be defending it until you're caught having a quick snog in the sick room by the uptight and perpetually angry office manager who threatens to report you to HR....but, I say to you, why bother? Why put yourself through the pain when there's a plethora (yes, plethora) of fabulous fish out there who aren't swimming off the company pier. So go find yourself someone you don't work with on HelloPulse.

Tip of the Week for Picking Up: Fake it until you Make It

Running down the backstreets of Paddington, wearing running shorts and a look of steely determination in case any of the bored housewives from Notting Hill had strayed outside Westbourne Grove and were thinking of running me over in their Range Rovers, I stopped to let a fancy car turn in front of me.

As the car stopped, the passenger in the back seat removed his reading glasses and smiled at me. Being the community-minded individual that I am, I smiled back (hoping that I had now done my bit for David Cameron's Big Society and it would ensure I receive a rebate on my council tax). But no. To my horror, this individual wanted to continue this awkward social encounter and proceeded to wave at me. With my community welfare quota well and truly reached, I smiled back, shrugged my shoulders and gave him a look of 'sorry, would love to stay and chat but I smell' before running off. At this point, I realised the man in the flash car was Sir Stuart Rose.

Now, I'm fairly sure I've never accosted Sir Stuart Rose at a retail gala ball (like other retail magnates who shall remain nameless) and I certainly haven't been named Marks and Spencer customer of the month (everyone knows my heart belongs to Waitrose) so I came to the conclusion that Sir Stuart either mistook me for the woman who just served him tea at the Marks and Spencer board meeting or he has a fetish for steely-eyed, sweaty women with mascara dripping down their face. Either way, it doesn't really matter as it gave me a thought.

A recent study (commissioned by HelloPulse) has proven that most people (well 98.9% of Britons and probably 55% of other nationalities) are too embarrassed or too polite to admit they have no idea who you are, if you greet them with joy and familiarity. With this sort of data-driven analysis, there is simply no excuse for not approaching the object of your affection (the target) and planting a big kiss on their cheek before stating euphorically "so great to see you again, can I buy you a drink tonight?"

Really people, must I make it this easy for you? Check out people who won't tell you they don't know you on HelloPulse

(Mildly) Fun Runs....

Yes, I know what you're thinking..."you know what you can do with your fun run" but hush my dear friends - am I yet to lead you astray?

Now I don't normally get out of bed for less than a plate full of eggs benedict, a couple of hash browns, some bacon on the side and a skinny latte, but last Sunday I found myself up at 7am slipping into lycra and making my way to some rural-type location for a little bit of fun running. And let me tell you...it was fertile ground, my friends.

It appears there is a whole sub-culture of hot, young fitness freaks out there who judging by the size of their calves and the lack of movement in their lycra, seem to do this kind of thing on a somewhat regular basis. Who knew?

Find someone whose calves you admire and check out who you might have fun running into on HelloPulse

Two Irrigate or not Two Irrigate

Am not entirely sure if this post is taking the blogging a little too far but as the Duchess of York will tell you, you don't really know if you've taken something too far until it's on the front page of News of the World. I mean, who am I to judge (just kidding) and who's to say this wouldn't be an incredibly exciting, liberating opportunity to meet new people? I mean, when you think of it like that, it's actually my duty to write about it.

So what is it this glorious little snippet of information, I hear you ask? What possibly does she know that I don't? Is she keeping this little gem all to herself? No way, Jose. This one is ripe for sharing.

Last night I found myself at a lovely networking internet-type event speaking to a lovely, "incredibly" successful internet-type entrepreneur (who shall remain anonymous to protect the colonically challenged) who invited me to share the joys of colonic irrigation....with him.

So this really begs the question: Is colonic irrigation the new hot spot for meeting people? Can you create a moment with a 12 foot tube inserted in your rectum? People, I really don't know the answer but I implore you to give it a red hot go. Find someone who thinks colon cleanliness is next to godliness on HelloPulse

Get yourself on the honours list

I don't know what it is about returning to a university campus that warms the soul. Flashbacks to 12 hours of lectures a week, 4 hours of attendance at lectures per week, intense study groups at the local pub as your feet stick to the carpet and your head spins from that musty smell of spilt beer and, snoozing on the faculty lawn next to dreadlocked students whose hair smells the same as the carpet in the pub. Whatever it is, those fond memories came rushing back at the Vampire Weekend concert at Kings College.

For entertainment purposes, forget about the gig and focus on the audience as university campuses (campi?) are hotbeds of talent and let's face it, there's nothing more attractive than a fresh-faced student with big plans and too much time on their hands.

Stop washing your hair and find yourself a hot, single student on HelloPulse

Football. Sure it's boring but.....

So one day, an investment banker friend invited me to see Chelsea play (I reference his career because then I don't have to gloat about how good the seats were). I'm always up for new experiences and more importantly, am partial to some artifically flavoured, synthetic innards in a bun (sometimes referred to as hot dogs) so jumped at the chance.

The game began and as you already know if you've been to a football match before, it was really boring. If it wasn't for my hot dog, pint of beer in a plastic cup and facebook for blackberry, I probably would have self-combusted. However my friends, that's not the point. The point is this: there are two very real benefits for women to be derived from going to a football match. Firstly, no queuing for the women's toilets and secondly, a stadium full of men - half of whom will be jubilant and will want to celebrate and half of whom will be devastated and want a little hug. Now all you single ladies (to borrow from Beyonce) I can't vouch for quality (there seemed to be a disproportionate quantity of tattoos and mullets) however, I assume as women of the world, you will apply your own filter.

Go forth and find some synthetic sausage-loving singles on HelloPulse

Salute the sun, Rising locust. Why do you ask, Two Dogs?

It's one of life's little mysteries why straight single men tend to hang out in packs of straight single men. I am too busy enjoying my carrot cake to even bother trying to solve this little conundrum but I will share with you a little tip.

If I was a single straight guy, after getting over the joys of peeing standing up and playing with my chest hair, I would be high-tailing my way to a pilates or yoga class. Why you ask? Single boys are crazy....do I have to spell it out for you?

Single women. Leotards. Confined Space. Captive audience.

Find yourself a person who knows that a downward dog isn't a free-falling canine at HelloPulse