Still not down with the kids

Lucy's been on one date with Vincent, the handsomest man she has ever been out with.  It wasn't exactly a roaring success.  It turns out Vincent has a few rather controversial opinions.

Having taken exception to some of these opinions on the first date, Lucy is certain she won't hear from him again.  She isn't bothered in the slightest.  Vincent was a bit of a knob.

So when he texts the next day, she's confused.  Didn't he notice her disagreeing with him?  Then she remembers that guys seem to like girls more when they're not interested.  Idiots.

I can't go on another date with this man, she thinks.  I've already told all my friends what a tosser he is.

Maybe Lucy and Vincent will be like one of those couples in movies who hate each other when they first meet and eventually sexy sparks will fly and they'll end up falling in love and getting married.

There's no way I can marry him, Lucy decides.  He'll want me to take his last name, and his last name is impossible to spell.  Giving my details over the phone will be hell.

Then she remembers that Vincent is hot as fuck and decides that it would only be fair to give the guy a second chance.

When Lucy arrives for the date, he's leaning against a wall outside the tube station in jeans and a yellow Ralph Lauren polo shirt, which sets off his tan and his ripped biceps perfectly.  Not an ounce of body fat on there, Lucy thinks.  Yum.

As she walks towards him he smiles, a flash of even white teeth against his brown skin.  Still has great hair, even though he's over 40.

Lucy feels a little flutter of attraction. He might be a bit of a dick but he's fit AS, so maybe she can forgive him.  At least for a while.

It's a sunny evening and Lucy is in a good mood.  A large glass of wine puts her in an even better mood.  She chatters away, not letting Vincent get a word in.

He doesn't have all that much to say for himself, she thinks.  Boring!

Vincent is very sporty and is a member of a running club.  Lucy tries to impress him by telling him she went to her first ever British Military Fitness class yesterday.  She doesn't tell him she joined BMF as a way of meeting hot men.

So far there have been no hot men in BMF, and Lucy can barely walk today.

Someday she hopes it'll be because of a hot man that she can barely walk the next day.

She doesn't tell Vincent that either.

Vincent has been watching the Grand Prix on the TV.  Lucy knows fuck all about Formula 1 and thinks it's mind-bendingly dull.
Vincent tells her that motorsports are fascinating because so much engineering goes into the cars.
"Did you know that when they brake on a wet road they can displace enough water to fill a bathtub?" he asks.
Lucy did not know that. She wonders what Vincent would look like in her bathtub.

Lucy tries to engage Vincent with some of the foody facts she has learned this week.
"Most people think prawn crackers are just prawn flavouring but did you know they actually contain 20% prawn meat?"
Vincent did not know that.  He seems impressed.

"Did you know that that bergamot, which is used to flavour Earl Grey tea, is a citrus fruit?" she quizzes.
Vincent has never even heard of bergamot and certainly never given it any thought.
Lacking in general knowledge, thinks Lucy.  Not a good sign.

Vincent tells her he doesn't know much about food because he doesn't cook all that much.  If he wants a nice meal he just rings up a friend and invites himself round for dinner.
They love having someone to cook for, he tells her.
Lucy wonders if the friends would say the same.
She deducts another point from Vincent's score. She needs a man who will cook for her.

Vincent recently signed up to one of those meal delivery services where they send you all the ingredients and you cook it yourself.
He tells her the meal was meant for two people but he ate it all himself.
At last, something we have in common! she rejoices.

Conversation starts to flag again, so Lucy asks Vincent where he lives.  He tells her he has a flat in South London.  That means he's stable and solvent. Check.
He's annoyed because all the properties in his area are being bought up by Jewish people.
"What's them being Jewish got to do with anything?" she asks.
"They just are," he tells her.  "They're buying up hundreds of properties. Jewish people are big property investors."
Lucy wonders if he's being anti-Semitic.
Then she wonders if she should tell him that her Dad is Jewish.

Happily, she remembers she has the totally legit excuse of having to catch a train back to Brighton.

Vincent offers to walk with her to the station.  Lucy is confused.
What can this mean?  Is he after a snog?  Surely he noticed we have zero chemistry?
Still she can't exactly stop him from walking with her.  She decides that if he goes in for a snog she will let him. He is fit, after all. And it would be far more awkward to try to dodge it.

Luckily, when they get to the station he just gives her a peck on the cheek and leaves.

Lucy is relieved.

Not down with the kids

Lucy goes on a date with Vincent, a commodities trader in the City.  Lucy already knows from his profile that he's a handsome guy, but in a startling break from the usual in-the-flesh disappointment, Vincent's photos actually don't do him justice.  In real life he is possibly the best-looking man Lucy has ever been out with.   Uh-oh, she thinks, if he's this attractive and still single, it probably spells trouble...

It's not long before the first signs appear.  

Lucy asks about Vincent's family.  He has a brother who lives in America, but he doesn't get on with his brother's wife. 
"Why not?" Lucy asks.
Vincent says it's because the sister-in-law is a bit 'new age'. 
Lucy asks if this means she's into homeopathy or feng shui.
"Oh no," explains Vincent.  "It's just that she doesn't believe in hitting her kids." 

Lucy's dream of making stunningly attractive babies with this man flies out the window. 

Vincent tells Lucy he doesn't use Facebook.  "I don't see the point," he says.  "If you need to share something with your friends, just do it on WhatsApp.  My friends use it to send me stuff all the time." 
"Oh? Like what?"
"Mostly porn videos."

Lucy remarks that perhaps Vincent should get some new friends. 

"Oh no, it's funny," he replies.  "The other day one sent me a video of someone shagging a dead person."
Lucy is not sure necrophilia porn is a good topic for a first date.  She scans the room for the nearest emergency exit. "Don't worry," Vincent says, "all guys do this.  If you don't know this, you clearly don't understand men."

Lucy realises she is going to die alone.

(But wait, there's more.  To find out what happened next, click here.)

Radio Ga Ga revisited (Part 3)

After what seemed like a never-ending dry spell which looked like it would only end when our heroine shrivelled up and died from lack of human contact, Lucy has finally had sex with Peter, who works in radio.

(To read all about it, click here.)

He texts her the next day.

Mind-blowing, eh? Lucy gives herself a high five.

But later she wonders if she should have paid attention to the number of exclamation marks.   Peter seems to have a tendency to overuse them when he's being insincere.

And it's not long before the enthusiastic responses start to dwindle...

Lucy is aware that guys don't like to be chased.  As much as they protest that it's the 21st century and they like the idea of equality, she has plenty of evidence that's not true.  Guys like girls who are a challenge.  Lucy thinks she was a challenge when Peter wasn't sure if he'd get to have sex with her.  But now he has, the attraction seems to be waning. 

Lucy does try her best to be unavailable and hard to get.  She's read all the advice that says that she should wait days before replying to messages, and be enigmatic and mysterious.  She knows what she's supposed to do.  The problem is, she's shit at it.  Lucy is prompt, efficient, and organised.  She doesn't do failing to reply to messages.   And she's a planner.  She likes to have her diary neatly organised in advance so she knows what she's doing in the week ahead.  If she waits too long to reply to Peter's messages, she won't know whether they're meeting up again or not.  And Lucy hates that.

The problem is, none of that is sexy. 

But Lucy is 38.  She doesn't give a fuck any more.  If a guy is going to be put off by her being herself, then so be it.  He wasn't worth it anyway.  So she ignores the advice about playing hard to get and tries to pin him down. 

Maybe one day she'll learn.  But not today.

Clever, thinks Lucy.  Makes me sound busy and in demand, and maybe now he'll actually pick a date.

But of course he doesn't.  So Lucy tells him she's moving to Brighton.  Surely that will make her seem hard to get and have him eating out of her hand?

It seems to have the desired effect.

She definitely does, but she doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of being too keen.  Not after he's been so sporadic with his texts.  So she replies, but plays it cool.  Surely now he'll come back with a suggested date?

But she should have noticed those seven exclamation marks - which more than ever seem to imply that what he really means is the exact opposite of what he's just said.  Days pass, and there is no word.

Any sensible girl would have given up long ago.  Lucy knows she should do the same.  But she can't. She starts making excuses.  Maybe he really is busy with work.  He does work long hours and have a stressful job.  And he did say she was 'mind-blowing' and that he wanted to 'ravish' her again.  Why would he say that if he didn't mean it?  So she tries one last time to get some clarity.

Lucy has no fucking clue about men.

Well at least he replied.  But for fuck's sake!  Why bother to write two texts making his excuses instead of answering the fucking question!

And there are those exclamation marks again...

Now he's forcing her to wait for a WhatsApp message.  But why not just send a text?  Lucy just doesn't get it, and annoyance boils up and spills over like the bubbles in a shaken can of coke.  She doesn't even like the guy all that much.  Bloody car salesman.

And yet even so, part of her still hopes that when he does message, he'll finally tell her when he's free to meet up.  If ever there were proof that treating 'em mean keeps 'em keen, right now Lucy is it.

But when the message finally arrives, hours later, she is still none the wiser.

Nine exclamation marks.  Clearly it's all over.

But Lucy's fine with it.  She could never be with someone who misuses punctuation so appallingly.

(UPDATE: turns out it wasn't all over.  To find out what happened next, click here)

Radio Ga Ga revisited (Part 2)

Lucy's had two dates with Peter, whom she met on Bumble.

(To catch up on the last one, click here).

Peter is attractive and a great kisser, but it's clear he's only interested in one thing.  Lucy feels she ought to be outraged by this, but it's been months since she last had sex and she's decided she needs to live a little while she's still on the right side of 40.

So when Peter invites himself over to her place on Sunday night, she accepts before she has a chance to change her mind.

Lucy's aware that the kids these days are shagging each other left, right and centre without giving it a second thought.  But having a man she's only had two dates with come round to her place is not something she's done before and she doesn't know what to expect.  So she does what any sane British woman would do: opens a bottle of prosecco to steady her nerves.  By the time Peter turns up, she's sunk several glasses.  It's definitely helped.

Lucy's afraid that the whole thing will feel very functional and transactional, but it's not that way at all.  In spite of her embarrassingly cheesy music taste she manages to find something socially acceptable and puts it on.  They sit on the sofa and chat, and Peter is polite, charming and full of compliments.  It's just like being on a 3rd date - except they're not being ripped off by London bar prices or crammed in, standing-room-only, with hundreds of other people.  So she relaxes, and when Peter kisses her, it doesn't feel awkward at all.

He starts taking off her clothes.   Lucy's wearing her second best underwear.  It's from Marks & Spencer's posh range and is green silk with flowers on.  She dithered for ages about which knickers and bra to wear and finally decided that her best set - which is red - might look too obvious.  Lucy never normally bothers to wear matching underwear and is delighted to have a chance to show it off.  But Peter barely even glances at her bra before it's on the floor.  She's peeved. What a waste.

In Lucy's relatively limited experience of sex, she's generally found that the first time with someone new is not all that good.  It normally only gets better with familiarity and practice.  But with Peter she's pleasantly surprised.   That great kissing technique turns out to be an indicator of other interesting skills.  Lucy decides she should definitely keep Peter around for as long as possible.

He has to get up at 4 am for work, so he doesn't stay.  Which means that not only does Lucy get to have sex (and not just any sex, good sex!) for the first time in more than 6 months - but she even gets a decent night's sleep afterwards.

She's pleased with herself.   She wonders if she might just be cut out for being a little bit slutty after all.  Better late than never, right?

(To find out what happened next, click here)

Radio Ga Ga revisited (Part 1)

It's late May, and a sunny bank holiday weekend is looming.  Because of the weather Lucy has epilated her legs and painted her toenails, so now she wants to put the pain and effort to good use.  She needs to find a date. 

She decides to message Peter, the radio guy.  They'd met up just once and he'd seemed keen, but then vanished.  (You can read the full story here).

Lucy wonders if Peter can be resurrected.  So she drops a casual text.

Lucy knows she should be pleased, but is actually rather annoyed.  He seems to have no clue how pissed off she was about him vanishing last time.  No apology, no contrition, nothing.  How bloody presumptuous.  But still, it looks like she might have a date, which is, after all, what she wanted.  Those smooth pins won't be wasted now.

So she hides her annoyance... at least as much as she can.

The promise of a snog is quite exciting.  And he was a good kisser.  

So they meet, and it goes well.  There is sunshine, and prosecco, and kissing, and some good chat - though Lucy still thinks Peter reminds her of a pushy car salesman.  As the date goes on he gets pushier - or rather, filthier - whispering suggestive comments in her ear and letting his hands wander considerably further than is appropriate for a Sunday afternoon in the middle of Chiswick surrounded by yummy mummies and daddies and their toddlers.

But the smug marrieds and their spawn can sod right off.  Lucy's enjoying it.  And although Peter leaves at 6 pm (he has to get up stupidly early for work), from his messages afterwards it seems he had quite a nice time too. 

Lucy is really not sure what to make of all this.  It's quite clear Peter is only after one thing.  Lucy feels she ought to be outraged and offended.   She's a nice young lady (well she still feels young, even if 38 might not quite count) and she should be treated with respect.  At the very least he ought to pretend to try to charm her, and offer to buy her dinner first. 

But Lucy hasn't had sex in months.  In fact, she's spent most of her life not having sex.  In her twenties she never had that slutty phase that she's heard girls are supposed to go through.  Now she's in her late 30s and according to articles in Cosmo and Marie Claire that means she's in her sexual prime.  She wouldn't want all that prime sexiness to go to waste.  And she certainly doesn't want to lie on her deathbed regretting not having had more bedroom action. 

So before she can bottle it, she tells him she's free the very next day.

The next morning Lucy is super nervous.  She tidies and cleans the flat from top to bottom.   Does the same to herself.   Wonders if Peter will be expecting food.  Do you need to cook dinner for someone when they've invited themselves round for sex, she wonders.

Hates herself for being 38 and still not knowing this stuff.

Wonders if Peter will be gentleman enough to bring a bottle of wine.  If he shows up without one, that would be bad.  She's not sure she should put out for a guy who would turn up at someone's house without a bottle.  His next text suggests the odds are not in her favour.

By the time Peter turns up - in a flash white Porsche - she's sunk the best part of a bottle of prosecco to steady her nerves and is a bit tipsy.   Happily, he's brought wine.  Thank fuck for that, thinks Lucy.  Now she's psyched herself up for this she didn't want to have to call it off.

Lucy is perplexed by the car.

Why did you drive?  she asks.  That means you won't be able to drink. 

She wonders if it's because he wanted to be able to make a quick getaway if necessary. 

Then she realises it might be because he'd been hoping to stay the night.  Tries to take her foot out of her mouth but it's too late. 

(To find out what happened next, click here)

Moving to Brighton

Lucy has got a job in Brighton and is moving there for a few months. 

She decides to rent out her flat while she's away. A businessman in a suit comes to see it. He's in his 50s, married, and still has hair.  Lucy finds him strangely attractive. 

Lucy thinks she might need to get a grip.

Later, the man emails to say he'd like to rent the flat.  They agree to meet on the westbound Central Line platform at Notting Hill Gate tube station to hand over keys.  The man jokes that it'll be like in the film Brief Encounter.  

Yeah, if you were younger and single, and the Central Line didn't smell of armpits, thinks Lucy. 

She wonders if the men in Brighton will be better than the self-satisfied timewasters she encounters in London.  Maybe there will actually be some interesting guys there, she thinks, wistfully. 

Who is she kidding? All the single men in Brighton will be either gay, socially inept, or arseholes just like the Londoners.

Still, if she's going to get dicked around and ghosted, she might as well do it by the sea. 

These charming men

Here are the top three most inappropriate messages Lucy's received in the last month from men she's never even met...

3. Just read an article which says that 85% of women are uncomfortable with their s*xuality - u look like a nerdy princess to me so i'm guessing you're in the 85% 

2. Him: My subscription is about to expire. 
Lucy: Well maybe you'll have to renew it then! 
Him: No thanks, you're not that attractive. And what's with the curly hair?! It's not the 80s any more you know.

1. Lucy: is that your kid in the photo? 
Him: I've no kids... always manage to pull out and squirt over the breasts!! LOL!!!

Lucy thinks these guys' mums must be very proud.

Tall guys and tiny girls

Lucy's friend Geeta recently got married to Phil and has posted the wedding photos on Facebook.

Lucy met Geeta and Phil while travelling.  Lucy thought they were very nice individually, but finds them incredibly annoying as a couple because Geeta is about 5 feet tall and Phil is 6 foot 5. 

Lucy, who is 5 foot 9 (or 6 foot in heels), thinks finding a nice man is hard enough without all the available tall men being snapped up by the midget women.  She also feels sorry for all the vertically challenged single men, who can't find a nice petite girl because they've all been taken by the tall guys. 

Geeta should pick on someone her own size, she fumes.  Phil should be with me instead.  We'd look so much better in photographs.

Lucy looks at the wedding photos.  In one, the couple are kissing on the steps of the church.  But while Geeta is standing on the top step, Phil is on the bottom step.

They look ridiculous, she rages. There should be a law against this sort of thing. Maybe I should start a campaign.  

In another photo, the couple are holding hands and walking towards the camera while friends throw confetti.   Phil looks like a grown man while Geeta looks like a little girl.

They don't look like husband and wife, she seethes. They look like father and daughter.   It's kind of creepy.  I wonder if Phil has secret paedophile tendencies?

She decides she doesn't fancy him any more. 

Lucy finds it infuriating how lots of guys don't give their height in their online profiles.  How is a girl supposed to know if a man is going to be able to enfold her in his big strong arms if she doesn't know how tall he is?  Photos can be deceptive.   Some men only have headshots, or stand next to small things to make themselves look taller.  It's a minefield.

Lucy assumes the ones that don't give their stats are hiding a height deficiency, and swipes left automatically.  She's certain that any guy who is over 6 foot would know that's an advantage and would brag about it.   Though many who do say how tall they are seem quite pissed off about having to do so.  "6'2, because it seems to be important here." "6'1, if it matters," they grumble. 

Lucy is fairly certain they're only pretending to be annoyed. 

Lucy once went on a date with a man who didn't reveal his height and turned out to be about three inches shorter than her.  When she arrived he was perched on a bar stool and didn't get up.  He remained there for the whole date and it was only when he hopped down at the end to say goodbye that she realised he was so little.  The kiss goodbye was rather awkward.   Lucy felt like The Hulk.

Now she always asks.  But some guys seem to find the question offensive.  One told her he thought it was akin to asking a woman her dress size.  Lucy thinks that's unfair.  You can totally see if someone's overweight from photos.  

She wonders if she should post some pictures of herself standing next to wide things. 

Radio Ga Ga

Lucy discovers Peter on Bumble.  He has a great smile and an interesting job in radio.  Lucy is also happy to find that unlike at least half of the lazy fucks on the app, Peter has actually managed to find time in his busy and important life to write a few words about himself - and

what's more, they are all correctly spelled!  Clearly Peter is a cut above the rest.  Lucy wastes no time in arranging to meet him.

The would-be lovers meet on London's posh Chiswick High Road on a mild Saturday afternoon in March.  Lucy arrives first at the pub - which is rammed with sports fans watching a rugby game.  Oh shit, she thinks.  This'd better not be a sports date.

Peter calls. He's running late.  Lucy is actually quite impressed that he's bothered to phone rather than just text.  He's chatty, and by the time he arrives the ice has been well and truly broken.  Peter is equally horrified by the rugby fans and suggests they go to a different pub.  Good work, Peter.

In the pub conversation flows, though Peter has the manner of a car salesman, with a slightly pushy confidence that seems a bit false.  Lucy imagines that when he smiles, she'll see a sparkle flash from one of his very white teeth.  Still, he's entertaining, so Lucy has more wine. 

Peter seems quite taken with Lucy.  He repeatedly tells her she's gorgeous, and midway through the date he announces that he can't wait any longer to kiss her, and goes for it before she has a chance to react.  This has never happened before and she's rather taken aback.  Where is the nervous walk to the tube station?  What about the bit when you can't quite look the other person in the eye?  Surely you're supposed to wait to say goodbye, so you can have that are-we-aren't-we? moment where one goes for the cheek and the other goes for the lips?

Nope. None of that.  He just went for it. 

Immediately there is embarrassment.  Lucy doesn't know what to say.  Peter is mortified.  Lucy thinks that's rather sweet.  So she invites him to try again, and this time it's better, and less awkward.

Then Peter asks Lucy when he might get to have sex with her. 

For the second time, Lucy is speechless and blushes furiously.  For a 38-year-old woman she really ought to be a hell of a lot better about talking about this stuff.  But around boys she fancies and boys who fancy her she still behaves like a teenager.  

Lucy needs a slap.

The rest of the date goes well.  There is copious kissing (very good) at the bus stop, and Peter asks when he can see her again.  Lucy decides he's probably not Mr Right, but with a kissing technique like that, he can definitely be Mr Right Now.

Peter WhatsApps a few days later. 

There is silence.  Lucy wonders if Peter was texting as he crossed the road and got knocked over by a bus.

The next day, she tries again.  She needs to know if she should send a condolence card to Peter's mum.  It's two days before Peter finally replies.  But at least he's not dead.  Lucy is sure both he and his mum are pleased about that.

"Forgot to hit send"?  Lucy isn't quite sure she believes this.  Especially since he made the same excuse twice.   Bit suspicious.

She's also not at all convinced by a man who addresses her as 'hun'.  But he DOES seem keen, so she gives him the benefit of the doubt.   She tries some of her best flirting. 

Lucy is really not sure how she feels about being called 'horny'.  She's pretty sure that's not something someone else can judge about another person.  

Peter needs to go to charm school. 

The day of the date arrives, but things take a turn for the worse.

Lucy panics that Peter has gone off her because she rebuffed his clumsy flirting, and is disappointed that the date has been cancelled.  But mostly she is pissed off because she got up early and washed her hair specially and now she is all dressed up with nowhere to go.

For days there is silence.  Maybe the fever was something more serious.  Lucy googles Peter's name to see if his death has been reported.   Nothing.  So she messages him. 

It's starting to look as though the number of exclamation marks Peter uses is inversely proportional to the sincerity of his replies. 

He seems interested, but he won't be pinned down to a second date.  Lucy wonders what the fuck is with that - and whether bingeing on chocolate will help her figure it out.

Maybe the North Koreans have hacked WhatsApp and Peter genuinely isn't getting her messages.  Lucy wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, so she sends a message via the Bumble app.

Lucy is even more suspicious.   A man who claims not to know what ghosting is?  Twice.  But it's men that invented ghosting.  Lucy suspects Peter is protesting too much.   

Nevertheless, she resends her previous message, and Peter immediately responds.  

There's no reply.   Lucy has no fucking clue what the hell is going on, but even she can't keep flogging this dead horse any longer.  She pours herself a large glass of Sauvignon Blanc and starts swiping for someone new. 

(To be find out what happened next, click here...)

The story so far

In 2005, back when the internet was still fairly new and smartphones were but a twinkle in Steve Jobs' eye, Lucy was 26, single, and terrible with men.  

Guys she fancied never seemed to fancy her back, and the guys that fancied her were all rubbish.  In her whole adult life she'd only ever had one boyfriend, and that ended badly when he decided he was in love with his best mate (who was female, thankfully, but that doesn't make it much better).

So a friend suggested she try online dating.  

Back then, online dating was still mostly the preserve of geeks and weirdos.  But Lucy's friend was doing it, and she wasn't all that weird, so Lucy decided to give it a go. 

Over the course of the next few years she met dozens of men, including:

- The guy with the incredible blue eyes but who was a bit odd and got very drunk on the date.  When he asked if they could meet again Lucy said no.  So then he asked if he could come back to her place for sex anyway.

- The famous TV presenter's son who had only headshots on his profile.  When he turned up on the date, he had the biggest gut Lucy had ever seen close up.  She spent an hour squished up against it in a crowded bar before fleeing.

- The guy who gesticulated so widely when speaking that he sent a passing waitress and her tray of drinks flying across the room.

- The chef who decided to take Lucy on a date to a photography exhibition outside London.  Lucy was rather unnerved to find herself getting on a train with a total stranger with no clue where she was going.  (They ended up going out for 7 months, so it was ok in the end).

- The bloke who turned out to be a friend of a friend.  He hadn't told his mates that he was doing online dating, and Lucy inadvertently 'outed' him.

Eventually, at the age of 30, she met The Ex on Match.com.  He bowled her over on the first date and by date four they were a couple.  The relationship lasted five years before The Ex decided he fancied a girl from work rather more, and within two weeks he, and all his stuff, were gone.

Lucy found herself thrown back out into a very different world.  Most of her friends were now married with babies.  She herself was no longer a catch, but (whisper it) over 35, and therefore pretty much undateable.  And smartphones and dating apps had been invented, with swiping and ghosting and all sorts of confusing behaviours.  The relatively calm dating pool had become shark-infested waters. 

But Lucy's never been one to shy away from a challenge.  So she held her nose and jumped back in.  Two years on and she's still swimming, and there are still plenty of sharks circling, but she's much better at dealing with it all now.  She's not drowning nearly quite so much, and sometimes she even kind of enjoys the exercise.  Though she's still hoping for a lifeguard (or possibly a merman) to come and rescue her.  She just wishes he'd hurry the fuck up.