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.
Saturday, 27 June 2009
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.
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