I'd be happier if.... I could give up work and travel the world, stopping off for a year at a time in all those far flung places I've dreamed of.
I'm at my best when.... I'm surrounded by those I love and care for. Doing nothing glamorous or adventurous - just chilling, laughing, reminiscing and sharing time.
Those closest to me would describe me as.... (I asked friends for this answer) Daft, Lazy...!! Flirty, Generous and loyal ( I'n not that lazy...I'm just not into gyms & pounding pavements)
One thing about my past I don't admit easily.... I was a stupid, blind, needy idiot for too many years.
Apart from my family 3 things I'd want on a desert island are.... My ipod, vitamin E lip salve and Jane Austin books.
One thing I'd like to do before I die..... Live in a beach front home.
If I advertised myself on a dating site it would read.... Titian haired pocket rocket with a zest for life seeks a taller than me gorgeous god, for walks along the beach and frolics in the dunes.
The thing I like least about myself.... My determined Independence
My fantasy dinner date..... Adam Sandler... ooohhh how I'd love to eat anything with him.
The thing I value the most is.... My daughters (every time) Their love in unconditional
My biggest regret.... That I was a stupid, blind, needy idiot for too many years. And I spent too many years being the cliched doormat...lol
Quickies:
I often experience strong irresistible cravings I can't resist..... Always
I make lists to ensure I get everything done.... Always
Friends would describe me as ambitious..... No
I find it easy to hide my true feelings.... Always
Sunday, 12 July 2009
Saturday, 11 July 2009
Diary of disasters - relationships
I'm so pleased that I can look back on my relationship history and cry - with laughter. If I couldn't then I would more than likely end up rocking back and forth in a darkened room.
I look at friends and their other halves and wonder why the peaceful 'normal' lives they lead has never been granted to me. I've never had a normal relationship.
I'm not high maintenance, petulant, domineering or a diva, so I'm obviously just a magnet for low life's, Lotharios and lunatics. I adore the simply things in life....peace, quiet, sunny days and laughter. I'm not a head case who likes drama and intrigue, but you would think I am by the men I end up with.....
Husband - My longest torment (nearly 18 years) was also the biggest, but I don't dwell on that. I'm not writing this to 'man bash' & that door remains firmly closed. That's all I have to say about that one.
I didn't leave my marriage and instantly think of new relationships and being loved up with Mr Perfect. I spent the first 18 months happily single, sorting my head and my life. It was a time for exploring and experiences, meeting new friends, fun and plenty of laughter.
18 months almost to the day of my divorce I went to a wedding. It wasn't a lavish do, but it was an amazing day. Two of my closest friends who had played together in the park as kids had met up again some 30 years later and instantly fallen in heady, lusty love. We all smiled as they said 'I do' and rushed off to the nearest pub for some booze and wedding cake.
I saw him the moment I walked into the room. He was stood at the bar - he turned, we smiled, we were in the zone.
I remember practically knocking my friend off the chair she was about to sit on as the others would have made it impossible for me to see him. He was sat with a group of men on a table opposite mine. I whispered to friends "Who's the man over there wearing the grey suit... do you know him?" They all replied "No idea... why?"... Why indeed, I fancied the pants off him...!
It took us all of half an hour to speak to each other. He got up to go to the bar and looked at me as he went by, so I took my chance and followed him. From then on we were inseparable.
We became a part of each others lives. It was full on love: heart stopping, tummy fluttering pure love......thank you cupid.
He was a Conveyancer who worked for a national building company, the head office of which was in my home town. He originated from a small town some 150 miles away and rented a flat near to his work. He said, before he met me he used to go 'home' every weekend and used the flat as a Monday to Friday bolt hole. After he met me he just used to go home for one day every weekend to see his children from his previous marriage.
Months went by, I met his friends and work colleagues, he became part of my family and spent a lot of time with my friends. We all adored him. He was gorgeous, had the twinkliest eyes ever and was so much fun.
" You are so lucky" my friends would say, I thought I was to.
Nearly a year of bliss and we began to talk of a future. Buying a place together, holidays abroad...life and the luck of us finding a true soul mate. I felt like I was the happiest person on earth. When he wasn't with me he would ring me, I would hear his kids in the background and he'd say, I really want you to meet them, they'll love you.
One night, cuddled up on the sofa, eating pizza and drinking wine there was a knock at the door. I begrudgingly left the comfort of his body and answered it.
My life changed.
Standing on the outside of my home was a woman. She looked so angry, her shoulders were tense and she was shaking. She asked to see *James. While calling for him, I opened the door further and ushered her in.
She was his wife...!
I remember staring at them in disbelief and the conversation they were having didn't make any sense. She guessed I had no idea and she was very right. I had been having a relationship with a married man.
After she left I asked him to go. He hadn't followed her but instead wanted to stay with me to explain - Why he wasn't running after her, his wife, trying to explain I'll never know.
I didn't wanted to hear the cliched stories of his unhappy marriage and how he loved me - I felt too sick to listen.
Over the weeks messages on my answerphone and text messages came through daily. He didn't love her: They had been living almost separately for years because of his work, and had grown apart: Meeting me had made him realise it was over between them: He was only staying married to her because of his children: He hadn't had sex with her since meeting me. My only reply.. Well your wife obviously thought she was still married to you, so you must have been a good liar to her too.
I felt like death warmed up, I couldn't stop thinking of how I had fallen for a married man and his lies. Friends tried to reassure me that he had given nothing away and that they hadn't had a clue either. The only people who knew were his friends and the people he worked with. When he took me to his works Christmas function everyone was instructed not to mention his wife - well they did good...! I was caught hook, line and sinker and they had me fooled.
The next chapter....
After the momentous disaster that was James I picked up my single life and thanked the lord that I hadn't sold my home to move in with him..... Thinking of things like that were a true blessing.
One blissfully hot day in July, 6 months after *James I went along to a BBQ with a friend. She was meeting her old Uni friends. It was an annual event and they took turns meeting at each others homes. That year it was to be held in Bristol.
I mingled with her friends, ate gorgeous food and drank plenty of wine... *hic* and got chatting to a nice man called Dean*. He was a Londoner, a real Sarf London lad. He wasn't one of the Uni friends but had gone along to the BBQ with a friend. We were kindred spirits. I learnt that he was a builder and also a drummer and that he was a session musician and played in many gigs in Camden and around the Capital. I was enthralled, listening to his tales of life as a drummer, the bands he'd played with and records he'd performed on. We exchanged numbers and he said that he'd like for me to be at his next gig in London..... I could stay at his Sisters - He was a real gent... I liked him.
True to his word I stayed at his sisters and went to see him play. He looked good and had many a female groupie swooning over his gorgeous guns....Mmmmm lucky me :o)
From then on our relationship grew. Long distance relationships are never easy but we both enjoyed leaving work on a Friday to head for the train station. We used to spend alternate weekends in each others homes ( his schedule dependent) London weekends were manic, gigs and parties all the way, his time in Devon was much more sedate but he enjoyed it.
He lived in a swanky apartment by Waterloo Bridge - Why I never questioned how a builder could afford a place like it I'll never know.
After 6 months of trekking back and forth he started to talk about him selling up and moving to Devon - he'd had enough of London life and wanted to spend more time with me. I was flattered but told him not to rush anything. Did I subconsciously have doubts..!?!
An 'event' happened that Christmas which made me get to know the real Dean*. He was to spend Christmas with me and I was to go to London with him for New Year. Christmas day was lovely, a quiet family day... eating far too much and playing board games. Then Boxing day arrived and the world woke to bad news...
The Tsunami had happened. My ex husband was in Thailand and hadn't called his daughters over Christmas as expected. When the news first hit and the numbers of the dead were small we weren't unduly concerned. My daughters however tried to ring their Dad on his mobile... no answer... but hey.. communication lines would have been down. By the afternoon his family started to panic and asked if I would ring the Foreign Office help number. From that moment my ex was on the missing persons register.
The F.O contacted us to say that he had not appeared on any of the survivors lists and his bank account had not been used since Christmas Eve. They were assigning us a Police Family Liaison Officer.
I'm not going to document the hell which followed concerning my ex and daughters.... that's too private. But I will continue the Dean* saga.
A telephone call from the Metropolitan Police informed us that two Family Liaison Officers would be arriving on the 1st January. They would be a help and support to us all until...well until he was either found alive or until we needed for them not to be there. They would be there for many months if it was needed.
I told Dean that I couldn't go back to London with him as the F.L.O's were arriving and he promptly went into the bedroom and began packing his things. As he left he said "I'll explain later" he kissed me on the forehead and left.
True to his word he phoned......He sounded edgy "Is anyone there with you..?" "The girls were in their rooms but otherwise yes, I was alone... why?"
He then began to tell me of armed robbery and drug dealing... time spent in 'The Scrubs' and a sordid life of violent crime. I thought at first that he must have been making it up... but no, unfortunately not. I had been dating a real life gangster and bad boy of the highest degree. I wasn't given specifics, as in dates and places, but the gruesome detail was there. He had two identities.... well that's a shock I thought. What he meant was that he had two Id's, two names - I asked if I had known the 'real' Dean and he said No, I won't tell you my real name. Now wasn't that nice of him.
I never spoke to him again.. although I did receive a text message from him wishing us all the best when he heard that my ex had been found on the 18th January. I've often wondered if I would have ever found out the truth, would he have told me?
To think, I could have been an unknowing Gangsters Moll.......
From that day I've been single...lol.. and people ask why. My reply is always, because I like living a quiet life.
* names have been changed....lol
I look at friends and their other halves and wonder why the peaceful 'normal' lives they lead has never been granted to me. I've never had a normal relationship.
I'm not high maintenance, petulant, domineering or a diva, so I'm obviously just a magnet for low life's, Lotharios and lunatics. I adore the simply things in life....peace, quiet, sunny days and laughter. I'm not a head case who likes drama and intrigue, but you would think I am by the men I end up with.....
Husband - My longest torment (nearly 18 years) was also the biggest, but I don't dwell on that. I'm not writing this to 'man bash' & that door remains firmly closed. That's all I have to say about that one.
I didn't leave my marriage and instantly think of new relationships and being loved up with Mr Perfect. I spent the first 18 months happily single, sorting my head and my life. It was a time for exploring and experiences, meeting new friends, fun and plenty of laughter.
18 months almost to the day of my divorce I went to a wedding. It wasn't a lavish do, but it was an amazing day. Two of my closest friends who had played together in the park as kids had met up again some 30 years later and instantly fallen in heady, lusty love. We all smiled as they said 'I do' and rushed off to the nearest pub for some booze and wedding cake.
I saw him the moment I walked into the room. He was stood at the bar - he turned, we smiled, we were in the zone.
I remember practically knocking my friend off the chair she was about to sit on as the others would have made it impossible for me to see him. He was sat with a group of men on a table opposite mine. I whispered to friends "Who's the man over there wearing the grey suit... do you know him?" They all replied "No idea... why?"... Why indeed, I fancied the pants off him...!
It took us all of half an hour to speak to each other. He got up to go to the bar and looked at me as he went by, so I took my chance and followed him. From then on we were inseparable.
We became a part of each others lives. It was full on love: heart stopping, tummy fluttering pure love......thank you cupid.
He was a Conveyancer who worked for a national building company, the head office of which was in my home town. He originated from a small town some 150 miles away and rented a flat near to his work. He said, before he met me he used to go 'home' every weekend and used the flat as a Monday to Friday bolt hole. After he met me he just used to go home for one day every weekend to see his children from his previous marriage.
Months went by, I met his friends and work colleagues, he became part of my family and spent a lot of time with my friends. We all adored him. He was gorgeous, had the twinkliest eyes ever and was so much fun.
" You are so lucky" my friends would say, I thought I was to.
Nearly a year of bliss and we began to talk of a future. Buying a place together, holidays abroad...life and the luck of us finding a true soul mate. I felt like I was the happiest person on earth. When he wasn't with me he would ring me, I would hear his kids in the background and he'd say, I really want you to meet them, they'll love you.
One night, cuddled up on the sofa, eating pizza and drinking wine there was a knock at the door. I begrudgingly left the comfort of his body and answered it.
My life changed.
Standing on the outside of my home was a woman. She looked so angry, her shoulders were tense and she was shaking. She asked to see *James. While calling for him, I opened the door further and ushered her in.
She was his wife...!
I remember staring at them in disbelief and the conversation they were having didn't make any sense. She guessed I had no idea and she was very right. I had been having a relationship with a married man.
After she left I asked him to go. He hadn't followed her but instead wanted to stay with me to explain - Why he wasn't running after her, his wife, trying to explain I'll never know.
I didn't wanted to hear the cliched stories of his unhappy marriage and how he loved me - I felt too sick to listen.
Over the weeks messages on my answerphone and text messages came through daily. He didn't love her: They had been living almost separately for years because of his work, and had grown apart: Meeting me had made him realise it was over between them: He was only staying married to her because of his children: He hadn't had sex with her since meeting me. My only reply.. Well your wife obviously thought she was still married to you, so you must have been a good liar to her too.
I felt like death warmed up, I couldn't stop thinking of how I had fallen for a married man and his lies. Friends tried to reassure me that he had given nothing away and that they hadn't had a clue either. The only people who knew were his friends and the people he worked with. When he took me to his works Christmas function everyone was instructed not to mention his wife - well they did good...! I was caught hook, line and sinker and they had me fooled.
The next chapter....
After the momentous disaster that was James I picked up my single life and thanked the lord that I hadn't sold my home to move in with him..... Thinking of things like that were a true blessing.
One blissfully hot day in July, 6 months after *James I went along to a BBQ with a friend. She was meeting her old Uni friends. It was an annual event and they took turns meeting at each others homes. That year it was to be held in Bristol.
I mingled with her friends, ate gorgeous food and drank plenty of wine... *hic* and got chatting to a nice man called Dean*. He was a Londoner, a real Sarf London lad. He wasn't one of the Uni friends but had gone along to the BBQ with a friend. We were kindred spirits. I learnt that he was a builder and also a drummer and that he was a session musician and played in many gigs in Camden and around the Capital. I was enthralled, listening to his tales of life as a drummer, the bands he'd played with and records he'd performed on. We exchanged numbers and he said that he'd like for me to be at his next gig in London..... I could stay at his Sisters - He was a real gent... I liked him.
True to his word I stayed at his sisters and went to see him play. He looked good and had many a female groupie swooning over his gorgeous guns....Mmmmm lucky me :o)
From then on our relationship grew. Long distance relationships are never easy but we both enjoyed leaving work on a Friday to head for the train station. We used to spend alternate weekends in each others homes ( his schedule dependent) London weekends were manic, gigs and parties all the way, his time in Devon was much more sedate but he enjoyed it.
He lived in a swanky apartment by Waterloo Bridge - Why I never questioned how a builder could afford a place like it I'll never know.
After 6 months of trekking back and forth he started to talk about him selling up and moving to Devon - he'd had enough of London life and wanted to spend more time with me. I was flattered but told him not to rush anything. Did I subconsciously have doubts..!?!
An 'event' happened that Christmas which made me get to know the real Dean*. He was to spend Christmas with me and I was to go to London with him for New Year. Christmas day was lovely, a quiet family day... eating far too much and playing board games. Then Boxing day arrived and the world woke to bad news...
The Tsunami had happened. My ex husband was in Thailand and hadn't called his daughters over Christmas as expected. When the news first hit and the numbers of the dead were small we weren't unduly concerned. My daughters however tried to ring their Dad on his mobile... no answer... but hey.. communication lines would have been down. By the afternoon his family started to panic and asked if I would ring the Foreign Office help number. From that moment my ex was on the missing persons register.
The F.O contacted us to say that he had not appeared on any of the survivors lists and his bank account had not been used since Christmas Eve. They were assigning us a Police Family Liaison Officer.
I'm not going to document the hell which followed concerning my ex and daughters.... that's too private. But I will continue the Dean* saga.
A telephone call from the Metropolitan Police informed us that two Family Liaison Officers would be arriving on the 1st January. They would be a help and support to us all until...well until he was either found alive or until we needed for them not to be there. They would be there for many months if it was needed.
I told Dean that I couldn't go back to London with him as the F.L.O's were arriving and he promptly went into the bedroom and began packing his things. As he left he said "I'll explain later" he kissed me on the forehead and left.
True to his word he phoned......He sounded edgy "Is anyone there with you..?" "The girls were in their rooms but otherwise yes, I was alone... why?"
He then began to tell me of armed robbery and drug dealing... time spent in 'The Scrubs' and a sordid life of violent crime. I thought at first that he must have been making it up... but no, unfortunately not. I had been dating a real life gangster and bad boy of the highest degree. I wasn't given specifics, as in dates and places, but the gruesome detail was there. He had two identities.... well that's a shock I thought. What he meant was that he had two Id's, two names - I asked if I had known the 'real' Dean and he said No, I won't tell you my real name. Now wasn't that nice of him.
I never spoke to him again.. although I did receive a text message from him wishing us all the best when he heard that my ex had been found on the 18th January. I've often wondered if I would have ever found out the truth, would he have told me?
To think, I could have been an unknowing Gangsters Moll.......
From that day I've been single...lol.. and people ask why. My reply is always, because I like living a quiet life.
* names have been changed....lol
Saturday, 27 June 2009
Itchy feet
No, I haven't got a fungal infection.
I'm getting itchy feet to move, I feel like a change.
For the major part of my adult life I was a bit of a nomad - every two years or so I would have to up-sticks and move on to pastures new. That's what Army life was all about.
Even when I had really started to settle in a place: got a great job and made amazing friends there was still a part of me that longed for the fresh start. It was a great way of life which I adapted to well. I never got bored or fed up in a job and got a real buzz from exploring new places, both here in the UK and abroad.
I've now lived in my home for 8 years and worked in the same job for 6. It's the longest I've been in one place ever.... and I'm getting so bored.
I have the 'Groundhog Day' feeling. I've started to think it every morning as I get in the lift and head up to my office - "Here we go again"...log into computer, go and get a cup of tea, read emails - log in to the system, turn phone on. I feel like screaming "I'm a nomad, get me out of here" But the job pays well, and I am currently earning a good wage. So I'm caught, hook line and sinker in this predicament.
In my home I know where every bit of chipped paint is and the sizes of each room. Socially I know my friends so well, that they've even become predictable. Well, I have known the majority of them since we were 11. A lot of people like this 'normality' in their lives....unfortunately I'm not one of them.
And then... I have my daughter. Who loves living here and adores being settled. Her job is walking distance away, her boyfriend and friends live in the area and at this moment in time, she can't (financially) and doesn't want to (emotionally) move.
So, I'm stuck and I'll just have to keep putting cream on my itchy feet to soothe them. I just hope I don't scratch them so hard that they turn into blisters.
I'm getting itchy feet to move, I feel like a change.
For the major part of my adult life I was a bit of a nomad - every two years or so I would have to up-sticks and move on to pastures new. That's what Army life was all about.
Even when I had really started to settle in a place: got a great job and made amazing friends there was still a part of me that longed for the fresh start. It was a great way of life which I adapted to well. I never got bored or fed up in a job and got a real buzz from exploring new places, both here in the UK and abroad.
I've now lived in my home for 8 years and worked in the same job for 6. It's the longest I've been in one place ever.... and I'm getting so bored.
I have the 'Groundhog Day' feeling. I've started to think it every morning as I get in the lift and head up to my office - "Here we go again"...log into computer, go and get a cup of tea, read emails - log in to the system, turn phone on. I feel like screaming "I'm a nomad, get me out of here" But the job pays well, and I am currently earning a good wage. So I'm caught, hook line and sinker in this predicament.
In my home I know where every bit of chipped paint is and the sizes of each room. Socially I know my friends so well, that they've even become predictable. Well, I have known the majority of them since we were 11. A lot of people like this 'normality' in their lives....unfortunately I'm not one of them.
And then... I have my daughter. Who loves living here and adores being settled. Her job is walking distance away, her boyfriend and friends live in the area and at this moment in time, she can't (financially) and doesn't want to (emotionally) move.
So, I'm stuck and I'll just have to keep putting cream on my itchy feet to soothe them. I just hope I don't scratch them so hard that they turn into blisters.
Tuesday, 16 June 2009
I'm a dating disaster
Internet Dating
We sat in the office break area listening to our colleague tell us all about her amazing weekend with the new man in her life. She showed photos...he was gorgeous..! She enjoyed telling us all about him. Like the cat who had definitely got the cream. So how did you meet him? We all wanted to know. We sat open mouthed as she said "I met him on the Internet.... on a dating site"
Some 5 years a go Internet dating sites were still perceived as a place where sad lonely men, with little or no social skill hung out, in search of their next 'victim'. But this woman had done it..! She had met a fully functioning, normal man - Who had a chiseled jaw, gorgeous blue eyes and a good job to boot.
As we wandered back to our desks my friend Jane said "You are going to have to give this Internet dating thing a go"... "I'll come around tonight to help fill out a profile"
What was I letting myself in for.........
Profile written, photo attached (nothing too sultry, just a pic of me enjoying a day out with the girls) and a months subscription paid for, I clicked 'save' and I was there on show like a shop dummy. Easy peasy.
The next evening I logged into the website and was amazed to see that I had attracted the attention of at least 50 men.
To far away (although surfer dude was FIT - no I couldn't possibly date a man in Perth (Australia)
No photo - no thanks, there were about 30 of them.
Far too young - What would a 19 year old boy possibly want with me (the mind boggles)
Far too old - Would I date my Dad??
And then..... a really nice photo of a smiling local man. His profile was funny and charming £5 well spent I thought. I replied to his 'You've got beautiful eyes' message with a 'Thank you, I'm flattered'
Thus began my first ever date from hell..... I've had many - Please read on.
Internet man, was my first and only Internet date. We began messaging on the site, progressed to sending personal emails, then texts and then we actually spoke. He sent me a photo of himself to prove that he wasn't 'fake'. I began to feel like I knew everything about him. He was 5ft 11, 12 stone in weight, enjoyed playing sport and sailing. He worked as a Marketing Manager, was divorced and didn't have children..... We talked for hours about life, love, fun and favorites and then decided it was time to meet.
We arranged to meet in a pub local to me - I stood waiting in nervous anticipation (I'm always early) and then, the car he described he would be driving pulled into the car park... Silver BMW, tinted glass...*tick* that was just as described. The man who got out of the car and was walking towards me wasn't.
5ft 11 and 12 stone he was not, in fact he was shorter than me in heels, so I'd guess at 5ft 4 and at least 16 stone. He didn't appear to be at all fazed by my open mouthed gaze and stunned silence - strange that. I wanted to run away, but out of politeness I walked into the pub with him. The short walk from his car into the pub had produced an awful sweat, beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead, his shirt changed colour before my eyes. I was doomed. I thought he was going to have a heart attack.
As he mopped his brow numerous times I studied his face. Was there any resemblance to the photos he had sent? I couldn't see one. "I can sense the attraction, the eye contact says it all" he said. I nearly choked on my wine! Not only did he not look like the man I had been conversing with, he also wasn't as funny or talkative in person. I sat for an hour, trying to think of things to say, while all of the time he ogled my breasts and perspired some more and then made my excuses and went home. Vowing that I would never do that again.......
Blind Date
What could possibly go wrong when you're set up on a date by someone who knows you well. Oh believe me when I say.... lots!
Ali rang me numerous times in work, but I had missed the calls due to meetings and was a bit concerned by the post-it's on my desk which said "Call Ali" x 3
I need not have panicked. Ali just wanted a favour (she tends to flap does my Ali) "Davids friend Pete... you know, the one who was at the BBQ last June, wants to know if you'll go on a date with him"
I couldn't remember a Pete... who was Pete? and did I go to a BBQ last June, it had rained for most of the month!?! Anyway, she explained that recently divorced Pete had been talking to her husband David at the gym, and he had said that I was a very attractive lady and he'd like us to go out for a drink...could he (David) arrange it. David then passed the task of asking over to Ali.
What does he look like (I'm really not shallow) what does he do for a job(really I'm not) I just couldn't remember him, but hey... in for a penny. I agreed and Ali arranged - She's one of life's organisers.
He came to my house to meet me and as he walked up the path I remember thinking "Why didn't I remember you, Mr Gorgeous" I skipped out of the door to meet him. We chatted while he drove to a little restaurant out in the country...idyllic date... perfect setting... gorgeous man *tick*
"So, how much maintenance are you bleeding your ex husband for to afford your home" he asked. A crouton practically stuck in my throat. None I replied, I've worked and paid for everything myself. Where did this conversation come from? He laughed (hysterically). No really I assured, and that was really the tone of the rest of the evening.
In Pete's eyes women were gold digging harridans - who married so they could divorce, get the house, the cars and the pots of gold in the form of hefty maintenance. Nothing was going to change his mind on that score. I spent most of the evening justifying the fact that I paid my own way and was an independent woman. He accused ALL woman of using sex to manipulate and said ALL women use their children to get at their ex husbands.
We left the restaurant and he drove me home - I paid half of the bill and almost offered to give him petrol money, but thought that perhaps might be a bit too petty. He asked if he could come in for coffee and I declined (what and use coffee to seduce him), he asked if I'd like to go out again and I declined.... he laughed (hysterically) and then asked why. I told him that I thought he wasn't really ready to meet other women and suggested that he may not even like women.
I rang Ali and said "Don't you ever do that to me again"
The met on a night out date
15 women out on a hen night = lots of cocktails and a fun boozy night. It was fast approaching 2:00 am and my feet were hurting so I went to sit the dancing out. Sat on a chair near the dance floor, laughing at my friends antics, through bleary eyes a nice fuzzy face appeared. "I've been watching you" he said "I'd really like to take you out sometime" I girly giggled and I think we talked - I can't remember detail, I was far too drunk. I can remember a nice kiss outside the club by the taxi rank (how common) and my friend giving the nice kisser my phone number. I slept after spinning, and woke thinking of mysterious man - Was his name Mike??
It was Mark, and he text'd me that afternoon. 'Hi is your head OK? Fancy meeting for a drink next weekend?' I replied 'Love to, you name the time and place' That was it, it was a date.
I spent an age getting ready. I dressed to impress this good kissing man. 3/4 length linen trousers and heels to die for...I looked the bees knees - even my daughter said "WOW"
I couldn't actually remember what Mark looked like, so walked towards everyman who looked like he was walking towards me - They must have thought I was a hooker trying to proposition them.... Then he appeared, dark hair, dark eyes, nice lips (nice kisser) and with a very deep, very posh voice, he said my name and kissed me on the cheek. 'Thank you lord' *tick*
We went to a wine bar and the getting to know you questions and answers started. I say that, but in reality I asked one question "So Mark, where do you work?" he answered and then talked about himself, for most of the night. He was a Private Bank Manager - no High Street slumming it for him. He worked for a Private Bank (did he mention that already) He attended lots of corporate events, held by the multi millionaire clients of his Private Bank (get the picture). I learnt a lot about Private Banking that night, and millionaire clients. I sat nodding and drinking huge glasses of wine.
He didn't usually frequent the club we had met in as it was a bit low key for him, he was much more at home on yachts and at polo clubs.... I was gulping back the wine while trying to get a word in. Until I could could try no more......
We headed off to the taxi rank. Numerous large glasses of wine and the night air caused a bit of a shake on the killer heels so I grabbed onto his arm for support. It had been raining while we had been in the bar - strange I hadn't noticed. The floor was bumpy...ooowww look, cobbles - I hadn't noticed them before..... to late, I tripped. Cobbles, heels and wine do not mix. We clattered to the floor in a heap - he wasn't impressed. His designer suit was wet...!
We stumbled to our feet and I giggled.
The walk to the taxi rank was a long silent one (well he had no reason to mention the Private Bank) He stood and waited with me until my taxi arrived and as I turned to say Goodbye I swear a tree moved in my way... as I smacked right into it and fell onto the floor again.
Sunday morning and I'm looking in the mirror at the large bruise forming in the middle of my forehead. I have a bruised shin and a deep black bruise on my bum. I'm mortified - I really don't like getting that drunk while on a date. I ring my friend for comfort and a supportive ear, but all I'm met with are howls of laughter.
After I had gone on and on about what a disaster the evening had been and what a fool I had made of myself, my friend asked "Well, could you really see yourself as the girlfriend of a Private Banker?" my answer uttered through lots of laughter was a definite ... no.
The met on a not so drunken night out date
Friday night - Four of us girlie's in a bar sat at a table and on the next table four men. We were destined to talk at some point. Three of the girls and three of the men were in relationships so myself and Carl were thrown together by friends while they all talked work, kids and holidays.
He told some really funny jokes, which had me in tears of laughter. He seemed like a nice 'normal' man. We arranged to go out for a meal the following evening. He lived about 15 miles from me in a seaside town and asked if I'd like to go out for a meal there. Great idea I thought, I can catch the train as the station is only a 10 minute walk from where I live. I'll book a table in a great Italian restaurant I know, he said... to which I know I replied "Excellent.. but don't make it to late a booking, as the last train goes at 11"
I met him at the station at 6:30 on the Saturday night. I expected to go for a quick drink before we headed for the restaurant. But he settled himself down in an arm chair, next to the fire in the pub we were in, after buying us a bottle of wine. "What time is the table booked for?" I asked. He avoided a reply and went to the loo. We eventually left the cosy pub, which was 5 minutes walk from the train station at 8.30... after I asked again about the booking and made reference to the fact that my last train was at 11.
"No problem" he said "We've got plenty of time"
I agreed, until we started walking to the restaurant, which, was not in the centre of town but a good 25 minutes walk away. I had no idea where I was going.
I glanced at my watch as we were seated at the table and saw 9 o'clock - panic! An hour and a half to eat and go.....
He was good company, although I was a bit distracted by the time, and at 10:20 we got up to leave and he assured me there would be taxis around and if not I could call one from his flat, which was only next door. The penny still didn't drop in my naive gullible head...... why oh why was I not more street wise!?!
There were no taxis about, so I took him up on the offer of using his phone. He had no taxi numbers in his mobile and I stupidly didn't think of going back into the restaurant to get one. So off we went... a fly heading right for a spiders web.
He turned ambient lighting on... put some music on the CD player and went 'looking' for his phone. "Do you want coffee or another drink" he shouted from another room..... "Nothing thanks, just the phone" I had by now resigned myself to the fact that I wasn't going to make the train and that I would have to get a taxi all the way home... dammed expensive, but hey!
And then he appeared, in the doorway to his bedroom... naked! He wasn't very subtle and was definitely ready for some 'fun'. I couldn't take my eyes off him (well, if a naked man is stood in front of you and you're not expecting it, you tend to look at IT).... I opened my mouth and a scream didn't come out..... instead I said "Did you find the phone" (as if he needed to be naked to look for one... get a grip girl) He didn't have the phone in his hand as he was walking towards me..... The penny finally dropped
I was going to either have to do some real good talking or practice some precision kung foo kicks to get out of this one. Luckily the good talking worked - and the fact that I told him I had Herpes (I don't dear reader) I explained that since being blighted with herpes from an unknown bed partner, I wasn't into casual sex and that I wasn't feeling well and so really had to go home - a possible outbreak, I concluded. He begrudgingly got dressed and rang me a taxi. YAY for imagined herpes!! Where the hell it came from I will never know....
On the way home, shaken and more than a lot relieved to be going home. I pondered whether Carl had used the look for a phone and appear naked and 'ready' thing before - and whether it had worked as a seduction technique. Surely not.....
That night taught me a lot of lessons - short sharp shock. I was lucky that Carl was a bit squeamish about getting an STD, another of his ilk may have been blase about it and I would have had to have fought my way out of there.... or perhaps worse would have happened. My friends went crazy on me when I told them what had happened - I felt stupid, but have thankfully learned a big life lesson. Sometimes we have to learn the hard way.
On reading this you will agree that I am a full on dating disaster area. My relationships haven't been that simple either.. now there was the armed robber/gangster and the married man... more of that another time.
-
We sat in the office break area listening to our colleague tell us all about her amazing weekend with the new man in her life. She showed photos...he was gorgeous..! She enjoyed telling us all about him. Like the cat who had definitely got the cream. So how did you meet him? We all wanted to know. We sat open mouthed as she said "I met him on the Internet.... on a dating site"
Some 5 years a go Internet dating sites were still perceived as a place where sad lonely men, with little or no social skill hung out, in search of their next 'victim'. But this woman had done it..! She had met a fully functioning, normal man - Who had a chiseled jaw, gorgeous blue eyes and a good job to boot.
As we wandered back to our desks my friend Jane said "You are going to have to give this Internet dating thing a go"... "I'll come around tonight to help fill out a profile"
What was I letting myself in for.........
Profile written, photo attached (nothing too sultry, just a pic of me enjoying a day out with the girls) and a months subscription paid for, I clicked 'save' and I was there on show like a shop dummy. Easy peasy.
The next evening I logged into the website and was amazed to see that I had attracted the attention of at least 50 men.
To far away (although surfer dude was FIT - no I couldn't possibly date a man in Perth (Australia)
No photo - no thanks, there were about 30 of them.
Far too young - What would a 19 year old boy possibly want with me (the mind boggles)
Far too old - Would I date my Dad??
And then..... a really nice photo of a smiling local man. His profile was funny and charming £5 well spent I thought. I replied to his 'You've got beautiful eyes' message with a 'Thank you, I'm flattered'
Thus began my first ever date from hell..... I've had many - Please read on.
Internet man, was my first and only Internet date. We began messaging on the site, progressed to sending personal emails, then texts and then we actually spoke. He sent me a photo of himself to prove that he wasn't 'fake'. I began to feel like I knew everything about him. He was 5ft 11, 12 stone in weight, enjoyed playing sport and sailing. He worked as a Marketing Manager, was divorced and didn't have children..... We talked for hours about life, love, fun and favorites and then decided it was time to meet.
We arranged to meet in a pub local to me - I stood waiting in nervous anticipation (I'm always early) and then, the car he described he would be driving pulled into the car park... Silver BMW, tinted glass...*tick* that was just as described. The man who got out of the car and was walking towards me wasn't.
5ft 11 and 12 stone he was not, in fact he was shorter than me in heels, so I'd guess at 5ft 4 and at least 16 stone. He didn't appear to be at all fazed by my open mouthed gaze and stunned silence - strange that. I wanted to run away, but out of politeness I walked into the pub with him. The short walk from his car into the pub had produced an awful sweat, beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead, his shirt changed colour before my eyes. I was doomed. I thought he was going to have a heart attack.
As he mopped his brow numerous times I studied his face. Was there any resemblance to the photos he had sent? I couldn't see one. "I can sense the attraction, the eye contact says it all" he said. I nearly choked on my wine! Not only did he not look like the man I had been conversing with, he also wasn't as funny or talkative in person. I sat for an hour, trying to think of things to say, while all of the time he ogled my breasts and perspired some more and then made my excuses and went home. Vowing that I would never do that again.......
Blind Date
What could possibly go wrong when you're set up on a date by someone who knows you well. Oh believe me when I say.... lots!
Ali rang me numerous times in work, but I had missed the calls due to meetings and was a bit concerned by the post-it's on my desk which said "Call Ali" x 3
I need not have panicked. Ali just wanted a favour (she tends to flap does my Ali) "Davids friend Pete... you know, the one who was at the BBQ last June, wants to know if you'll go on a date with him"
I couldn't remember a Pete... who was Pete? and did I go to a BBQ last June, it had rained for most of the month!?! Anyway, she explained that recently divorced Pete had been talking to her husband David at the gym, and he had said that I was a very attractive lady and he'd like us to go out for a drink...could he (David) arrange it. David then passed the task of asking over to Ali.
What does he look like (I'm really not shallow) what does he do for a job(really I'm not) I just couldn't remember him, but hey... in for a penny. I agreed and Ali arranged - She's one of life's organisers.
He came to my house to meet me and as he walked up the path I remember thinking "Why didn't I remember you, Mr Gorgeous" I skipped out of the door to meet him. We chatted while he drove to a little restaurant out in the country...idyllic date... perfect setting... gorgeous man *tick*
"So, how much maintenance are you bleeding your ex husband for to afford your home" he asked. A crouton practically stuck in my throat. None I replied, I've worked and paid for everything myself. Where did this conversation come from? He laughed (hysterically). No really I assured, and that was really the tone of the rest of the evening.
In Pete's eyes women were gold digging harridans - who married so they could divorce, get the house, the cars and the pots of gold in the form of hefty maintenance. Nothing was going to change his mind on that score. I spent most of the evening justifying the fact that I paid my own way and was an independent woman. He accused ALL woman of using sex to manipulate and said ALL women use their children to get at their ex husbands.
We left the restaurant and he drove me home - I paid half of the bill and almost offered to give him petrol money, but thought that perhaps might be a bit too petty. He asked if he could come in for coffee and I declined (what and use coffee to seduce him), he asked if I'd like to go out again and I declined.... he laughed (hysterically) and then asked why. I told him that I thought he wasn't really ready to meet other women and suggested that he may not even like women.
I rang Ali and said "Don't you ever do that to me again"
The met on a night out date
15 women out on a hen night = lots of cocktails and a fun boozy night. It was fast approaching 2:00 am and my feet were hurting so I went to sit the dancing out. Sat on a chair near the dance floor, laughing at my friends antics, through bleary eyes a nice fuzzy face appeared. "I've been watching you" he said "I'd really like to take you out sometime" I girly giggled and I think we talked - I can't remember detail, I was far too drunk. I can remember a nice kiss outside the club by the taxi rank (how common) and my friend giving the nice kisser my phone number. I slept after spinning, and woke thinking of mysterious man - Was his name Mike??
It was Mark, and he text'd me that afternoon. 'Hi is your head OK? Fancy meeting for a drink next weekend?' I replied 'Love to, you name the time and place' That was it, it was a date.
I spent an age getting ready. I dressed to impress this good kissing man. 3/4 length linen trousers and heels to die for...I looked the bees knees - even my daughter said "WOW"
I couldn't actually remember what Mark looked like, so walked towards everyman who looked like he was walking towards me - They must have thought I was a hooker trying to proposition them.... Then he appeared, dark hair, dark eyes, nice lips (nice kisser) and with a very deep, very posh voice, he said my name and kissed me on the cheek. 'Thank you lord' *tick*
We went to a wine bar and the getting to know you questions and answers started. I say that, but in reality I asked one question "So Mark, where do you work?" he answered and then talked about himself, for most of the night. He was a Private Bank Manager - no High Street slumming it for him. He worked for a Private Bank (did he mention that already) He attended lots of corporate events, held by the multi millionaire clients of his Private Bank (get the picture). I learnt a lot about Private Banking that night, and millionaire clients. I sat nodding and drinking huge glasses of wine.
He didn't usually frequent the club we had met in as it was a bit low key for him, he was much more at home on yachts and at polo clubs.... I was gulping back the wine while trying to get a word in. Until I could could try no more......
We headed off to the taxi rank. Numerous large glasses of wine and the night air caused a bit of a shake on the killer heels so I grabbed onto his arm for support. It had been raining while we had been in the bar - strange I hadn't noticed. The floor was bumpy...ooowww look, cobbles - I hadn't noticed them before..... to late, I tripped. Cobbles, heels and wine do not mix. We clattered to the floor in a heap - he wasn't impressed. His designer suit was wet...!
We stumbled to our feet and I giggled.
The walk to the taxi rank was a long silent one (well he had no reason to mention the Private Bank) He stood and waited with me until my taxi arrived and as I turned to say Goodbye I swear a tree moved in my way... as I smacked right into it and fell onto the floor again.
Sunday morning and I'm looking in the mirror at the large bruise forming in the middle of my forehead. I have a bruised shin and a deep black bruise on my bum. I'm mortified - I really don't like getting that drunk while on a date. I ring my friend for comfort and a supportive ear, but all I'm met with are howls of laughter.
After I had gone on and on about what a disaster the evening had been and what a fool I had made of myself, my friend asked "Well, could you really see yourself as the girlfriend of a Private Banker?" my answer uttered through lots of laughter was a definite ... no.
The met on a not so drunken night out date
Friday night - Four of us girlie's in a bar sat at a table and on the next table four men. We were destined to talk at some point. Three of the girls and three of the men were in relationships so myself and Carl were thrown together by friends while they all talked work, kids and holidays.
He told some really funny jokes, which had me in tears of laughter. He seemed like a nice 'normal' man. We arranged to go out for a meal the following evening. He lived about 15 miles from me in a seaside town and asked if I'd like to go out for a meal there. Great idea I thought, I can catch the train as the station is only a 10 minute walk from where I live. I'll book a table in a great Italian restaurant I know, he said... to which I know I replied "Excellent.. but don't make it to late a booking, as the last train goes at 11"
I met him at the station at 6:30 on the Saturday night. I expected to go for a quick drink before we headed for the restaurant. But he settled himself down in an arm chair, next to the fire in the pub we were in, after buying us a bottle of wine. "What time is the table booked for?" I asked. He avoided a reply and went to the loo. We eventually left the cosy pub, which was 5 minutes walk from the train station at 8.30... after I asked again about the booking and made reference to the fact that my last train was at 11.
"No problem" he said "We've got plenty of time"
I agreed, until we started walking to the restaurant, which, was not in the centre of town but a good 25 minutes walk away. I had no idea where I was going.
I glanced at my watch as we were seated at the table and saw 9 o'clock - panic! An hour and a half to eat and go.....
He was good company, although I was a bit distracted by the time, and at 10:20 we got up to leave and he assured me there would be taxis around and if not I could call one from his flat, which was only next door. The penny still didn't drop in my naive gullible head...... why oh why was I not more street wise!?!
There were no taxis about, so I took him up on the offer of using his phone. He had no taxi numbers in his mobile and I stupidly didn't think of going back into the restaurant to get one. So off we went... a fly heading right for a spiders web.
He turned ambient lighting on... put some music on the CD player and went 'looking' for his phone. "Do you want coffee or another drink" he shouted from another room..... "Nothing thanks, just the phone" I had by now resigned myself to the fact that I wasn't going to make the train and that I would have to get a taxi all the way home... dammed expensive, but hey!
And then he appeared, in the doorway to his bedroom... naked! He wasn't very subtle and was definitely ready for some 'fun'. I couldn't take my eyes off him (well, if a naked man is stood in front of you and you're not expecting it, you tend to look at IT).... I opened my mouth and a scream didn't come out..... instead I said "Did you find the phone" (as if he needed to be naked to look for one... get a grip girl) He didn't have the phone in his hand as he was walking towards me..... The penny finally dropped
I was going to either have to do some real good talking or practice some precision kung foo kicks to get out of this one. Luckily the good talking worked - and the fact that I told him I had Herpes (I don't dear reader) I explained that since being blighted with herpes from an unknown bed partner, I wasn't into casual sex and that I wasn't feeling well and so really had to go home - a possible outbreak, I concluded. He begrudgingly got dressed and rang me a taxi. YAY for imagined herpes!! Where the hell it came from I will never know....
On the way home, shaken and more than a lot relieved to be going home. I pondered whether Carl had used the look for a phone and appear naked and 'ready' thing before - and whether it had worked as a seduction technique. Surely not.....
That night taught me a lot of lessons - short sharp shock. I was lucky that Carl was a bit squeamish about getting an STD, another of his ilk may have been blase about it and I would have had to have fought my way out of there.... or perhaps worse would have happened. My friends went crazy on me when I told them what had happened - I felt stupid, but have thankfully learned a big life lesson. Sometimes we have to learn the hard way.
On reading this you will agree that I am a full on dating disaster area. My relationships haven't been that simple either.. now there was the armed robber/gangster and the married man... more of that another time.
-
Sunday, 7 June 2009
Being single....being selfish
I've been single for so many years now, and it was brought to my attention recently that I may never be of the right frame of mind to have a relationship again. Is that right?
OK, I do what I like, when I like. I answer to no one, spend my money how I want to spend it, eat what and when I want, sleep horizontally across my bed and have hour long soaks in the bath....ok, ok.... I suppose I'm selfish in the relationship sense of the word.
But I'm sure that 'if' someone came into my life I would and could change. Couldn't I?
I'm a partially redundant Mum, my daughters are both old enough to look after themselves but I still consider them. I also still consider my family, friends and colleagues. So I'm not living in a totally selfish zone.
I just like sleeping horizontally across the bed - I'm sure if there was someone in the way I'd learn to live with it.... and that someone could always join me in the hour long soaks....
Selfish... P'ah to that... I'm adaptable.
OK, I do what I like, when I like. I answer to no one, spend my money how I want to spend it, eat what and when I want, sleep horizontally across my bed and have hour long soaks in the bath....ok, ok.... I suppose I'm selfish in the relationship sense of the word.
But I'm sure that 'if' someone came into my life I would and could change. Couldn't I?
I'm a partially redundant Mum, my daughters are both old enough to look after themselves but I still consider them. I also still consider my family, friends and colleagues. So I'm not living in a totally selfish zone.
I just like sleeping horizontally across the bed - I'm sure if there was someone in the way I'd learn to live with it.... and that someone could always join me in the hour long soaks....
Selfish... P'ah to that... I'm adaptable.
Tuesday, 2 June 2009
Your so vain, I bet you think this song is about you.
I've always thought it would be the ultimate accolade to a relationship to have a song, or a piece of poetry written for you, about you.....
From the age of 14, when I lay on my bed day dreaming of my favorite singer, my heart aching, hoping that one day someone would write a song for me. I've felt the same, just call me a slushy ole romantic.
With hindsight would I really want it though.
There is a flip side to this.
Scenario...
Man of your dreams, pens a song about you and it's becomes one of the biggest selling records of all time, it spans decades...generations of music lovers hear it. Let's say 'When a man loves a woman' by Percy Sledge. Someone must have inspired him to write that song, he must have felt 'it' to have it in his head.
Years later ex man of your dreams is in a new relationship, he doesn't write songs anymore. If you were the new love of the ex man wouldn't you think ggggrrrrr I despise that woman for making MY man feel that way. It must be gutting to think that... to hear how your lover felt about another woman.
Most of us don't have to face that problem in their lives, although a woman I know doesn't have the song to remind her of an ex love, she found a photo. After dating the man of her dreams for 12 months they moved in together. One sunny Sunday morning while putting away laundry she found 'the photo' nestling in his underwear drawer, still encased in it's silver photo frame some 10 years after it was taken. The photo was of her man, with his arms wrapped around the body of a beautiful woman.
When questioned, the man shrugged and said, "It's a photo of me and Laura on our honeymoon" he took it from my friend and put it back in the underwear drawer.
Since that sunny day a dark cloud has descended on their relationship. He says, he likes the photo and it's a memory that he's entitled to have. She says "IF you love me, you would throw it away" No ones winning, they're are both at breaking point.
He clearly loves her, so why can't she forget the photo and carry on with their lives together?
If he had written a song about Laura (Tell Laura I love her...lol) then that song would be available for all to hear for ever more. My friend wouldn't be able to rip it up and put it in the dustbin. She would have to accept that he once loved Laura and that it was in the past. If he had a child with Laura, there would be a walking, talking, breathing beacon of the fact that he once loved Laura. So why can't she get over it and move on from a photo?
How would my friend cope if she knew her man had penned 'Sex on Fire' about another love..... I think I would just prefer to lay on my bed and day dream that Caleb Followill had penned that for me.
Sweet daydreams everyone.
From the age of 14, when I lay on my bed day dreaming of my favorite singer, my heart aching, hoping that one day someone would write a song for me. I've felt the same, just call me a slushy ole romantic.
With hindsight would I really want it though.
There is a flip side to this.
Scenario...
Man of your dreams, pens a song about you and it's becomes one of the biggest selling records of all time, it spans decades...generations of music lovers hear it. Let's say 'When a man loves a woman' by Percy Sledge. Someone must have inspired him to write that song, he must have felt 'it' to have it in his head.
Years later ex man of your dreams is in a new relationship, he doesn't write songs anymore. If you were the new love of the ex man wouldn't you think ggggrrrrr I despise that woman for making MY man feel that way. It must be gutting to think that... to hear how your lover felt about another woman.
Most of us don't have to face that problem in their lives, although a woman I know doesn't have the song to remind her of an ex love, she found a photo. After dating the man of her dreams for 12 months they moved in together. One sunny Sunday morning while putting away laundry she found 'the photo' nestling in his underwear drawer, still encased in it's silver photo frame some 10 years after it was taken. The photo was of her man, with his arms wrapped around the body of a beautiful woman.
When questioned, the man shrugged and said, "It's a photo of me and Laura on our honeymoon" he took it from my friend and put it back in the underwear drawer.
Since that sunny day a dark cloud has descended on their relationship. He says, he likes the photo and it's a memory that he's entitled to have. She says "IF you love me, you would throw it away" No ones winning, they're are both at breaking point.
He clearly loves her, so why can't she forget the photo and carry on with their lives together?
If he had written a song about Laura (Tell Laura I love her...lol) then that song would be available for all to hear for ever more. My friend wouldn't be able to rip it up and put it in the dustbin. She would have to accept that he once loved Laura and that it was in the past. If he had a child with Laura, there would be a walking, talking, breathing beacon of the fact that he once loved Laura. So why can't she get over it and move on from a photo?
How would my friend cope if she knew her man had penned 'Sex on Fire' about another love..... I think I would just prefer to lay on my bed and day dream that Caleb Followill had penned that for me.
Sweet daydreams everyone.
Sunday, 19 April 2009
Frenemy or Foe
I've just read in the Sunday Papers about Gwyneth Paltrow's mysterious unnamed frenemy and it brought back memories of a time when I had the exact type of person in my life.
I had moved back to my home town after living away for nearly 18 years. I had kept in touch with a few old college friends, via snail mail, birthday cards and the occasional get together during the years I lived away. So it felt good to be back with those I thought knew and cared for me, during a time when I needed friends and caring for.
I just slotted back into my 'old' life, picking up where I had left off all those years before.
I had an instant social life and a circle of friends, which helped when I was settling into life as a single woman.
There was one amongst the group who I hadn't had a particularly close relationship with years before, we were like chalk and cheese. The passing of time appeared to have mellowed her though and I was grateful for her company. Appearances can sometimes be deceptive can't they?
Over a short period of time we became good friends, I was always included in her social activities: which most of the time involved spending much time in local pubs, drinking copious amounts of alcohol. It wasn't my idea of a good social life, but it got me out of the house and stopped me thinking about the divorce.
During those booze filled pub nights I found myself having to stay clear headed to keep an eye on her, as alcohol would change her personality for the worse. She would get aggressive towards strangers and become loud and a bit of a bully.......I became the peace maker, the one who would make excuses for her behaviour. The day after I would laugh along with her at her previous nights antics and humour her..... but deep down I was beginning to dread the thought of our next evening out together.
Part of me was worried about being 'tarred with the same brush' but most of all I was scared of being alone, of spending Saturday nights in watching the TV on my own during a time when I needed company.
Gradually over many months her bullying became centred on me. I had started to feel very uncomfortable about our nights out and had tried on many occasions to get out of going..."I couldn't afford a night out"...."I'd had a busy week in work" - some of the numerous excuses I tried to use. I always caved in when she became aggressive during her phone calls to me, and went out with her to keep the peace.
I then began to realise that I wasn't inviting her along to anything which involved her meeting people outside our group of friends. If a works 'do' or family occasion was planned then I would tell her that I couldn't invite anyone - when the opposite was true. I didn't want to have her there.
The turning point for me came after about 12 months of me being home. I had always known her as a bit of a gossip, she was like it at school, and again I turned a blind eye to it. Unbeknown to me she was having a good old gossip behind my back too though.... which when I found out really put paid to the friendship. I found out from another friend that things I had told her in confidence were being talked about by her. Not only was she telling all and sundry my business, she was also ridiculing me in front of other friends and strangers alike.
From the moment I found out I finally made up my mind to distance myself from her...
And I haven't looked back since. I still see her about occasionally and I always give a courteous hello/goodbye, I also always give any mention of a night out for old times sake a very wide berth.
I likened having a friend like her to carrying a 5lb bag of potatoes with me when I set out to do some food shopping. When shopping for food you wouldn't put a heavy bag of potatoes in your bag before you left home would you? So why in life do we carry people around with us, allowing them to weigh us down along life's journey.
I had moved back to my home town after living away for nearly 18 years. I had kept in touch with a few old college friends, via snail mail, birthday cards and the occasional get together during the years I lived away. So it felt good to be back with those I thought knew and cared for me, during a time when I needed friends and caring for.
I just slotted back into my 'old' life, picking up where I had left off all those years before.
I had an instant social life and a circle of friends, which helped when I was settling into life as a single woman.
There was one amongst the group who I hadn't had a particularly close relationship with years before, we were like chalk and cheese. The passing of time appeared to have mellowed her though and I was grateful for her company. Appearances can sometimes be deceptive can't they?
Over a short period of time we became good friends, I was always included in her social activities: which most of the time involved spending much time in local pubs, drinking copious amounts of alcohol. It wasn't my idea of a good social life, but it got me out of the house and stopped me thinking about the divorce.
During those booze filled pub nights I found myself having to stay clear headed to keep an eye on her, as alcohol would change her personality for the worse. She would get aggressive towards strangers and become loud and a bit of a bully.......I became the peace maker, the one who would make excuses for her behaviour. The day after I would laugh along with her at her previous nights antics and humour her..... but deep down I was beginning to dread the thought of our next evening out together.
Part of me was worried about being 'tarred with the same brush' but most of all I was scared of being alone, of spending Saturday nights in watching the TV on my own during a time when I needed company.
Gradually over many months her bullying became centred on me. I had started to feel very uncomfortable about our nights out and had tried on many occasions to get out of going..."I couldn't afford a night out"...."I'd had a busy week in work" - some of the numerous excuses I tried to use. I always caved in when she became aggressive during her phone calls to me, and went out with her to keep the peace.
I then began to realise that I wasn't inviting her along to anything which involved her meeting people outside our group of friends. If a works 'do' or family occasion was planned then I would tell her that I couldn't invite anyone - when the opposite was true. I didn't want to have her there.
The turning point for me came after about 12 months of me being home. I had always known her as a bit of a gossip, she was like it at school, and again I turned a blind eye to it. Unbeknown to me she was having a good old gossip behind my back too though.... which when I found out really put paid to the friendship. I found out from another friend that things I had told her in confidence were being talked about by her. Not only was she telling all and sundry my business, she was also ridiculing me in front of other friends and strangers alike.
From the moment I found out I finally made up my mind to distance myself from her...
And I haven't looked back since. I still see her about occasionally and I always give a courteous hello/goodbye, I also always give any mention of a night out for old times sake a very wide berth.
I likened having a friend like her to carrying a 5lb bag of potatoes with me when I set out to do some food shopping. When shopping for food you wouldn't put a heavy bag of potatoes in your bag before you left home would you? So why in life do we carry people around with us, allowing them to weigh us down along life's journey.
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