This lasting feeling...

Now that I found love...

2011-06-12T11:12:00.000+01:00

Four months! It's only been 4 short months since I met That Man and fell totally, utterly and madly in love. Because there is no question that it is love. And that's a first for me. It didn't take my heart long to feel like I loved him, and - against all the advice given to me by very well meaning friends - to tell him so. But it took my head a while to realise that it wasn't just one of those 'he'll do for now so that I don't feel totally alone all the time' type of bloke.

Now, lets be honest, this was NOT love at first sight. It was only meant to be a quick fix to an itch I needed scratching. Sorry for being so un-politically correct, but since he insisted on paying for everything, I let him take me out a few more times. What can I say? It was fabulous being treated nicely and being complemented all the time. And, yes, to feel desired and sexy was a massive turn on too. However I expected nothing more than a few weeks of fun as I was very aware of one tiny winny fact: He'd only just split up from his wife a couple of months earlier and I was his very first date after being married for over 20 years. So, while my heart was screaming ' this is sooooo nice, give me more', my head was gently but consistently nagging me, warning my heart with statements such as 'don't get too used to this, he's not our man. For a start, he's boldish, he's got tattoos - 3 massive ones, including one that says ENGLAND across his back - he's a man's man, he's just out of a 20 odd years marriage and he's as English as they come.' Basically, don't get too attached.

But then, my heart was never one to listen to reason, or to what my head had to say for that matter. So, while I kept seeing That Man, ensued a most interesting battle in that body of mine. This was the biggest battle of the last 30 years! Everyone else step aside and watched.

On the right, standing tall and proud, oh and a little bit stubborn, was HEAD. She always over analyses everything, digging deep into the opponent's past to back up her statement. From her side, the arguments were coming fast, and not always at the best of times. For example, during a romantic dinner, or on the back of That Man's motorbike, it would shout out "For crying out loud, you're not believing all this crap, are you? He's on the rebound! Stop being such a wimp for lovey dovey rubbish! Don't you know better by now?!?!"

One the left was HEART. He has a tendency to run with his emotions and needs and often doesn't realise he's being taken for a ride until its too late. He only ever sees the good in people and trust they are genuine. His replies to HEAD's comments were gently and kindly shared by pointing out "That Man is being honest and loving toward us, and I really like how it's going."

There was no question to the rest of the team that HEART was going to loose this battle. Besides, he'd lost every other ones and HEAD had always stood tall and triumphant, with an "I Told You So" smug expression about her. But then something unexpected happened. It totally threw everyone to the core and threatened the order and balance of this well oiled machine. HEART did not give in. And the more HEAD fought back, the bigger and stronger HEART became. Something was making it fight in a way he'd never done before. HEAD started to sound like a broken record while HEART's arguments became clearer, led by very strong feelings and more rational fighting talk. It all came to a head - no punt intended - when everyone heard HEART exclaim "So he's not perfect! I'm not either if you haven't noticed! No one is. The point is, he is everything I've ever wanted in a man when it comes to my emotional needs and what I expect for a relationship to even have a shot at making it! I'm not deluded in thinking it's always going to be easy or fun, but that's life, and I want That Man in mine!!!" Everyone froze. Everyone thought. And in the end, everyone agreed, even HEAD, that HEART might be onto something.

Since then, everything has changed, and for the better. Everyone is enjoying the ride HEART is taking us on. And That Man is now a constant feature in our life. So constant that we actually spend nearly every evenings together, either just the two of us at mine or at his house with his two lovely daughters. Two kids aged 5 and 11 and an extremely volatile ex-wife are his baggage. Mine are over 10 years of emotional neglect due to very poor men choices. Nothing there that either of us really can't handle! And then there are the more important questions:

- Is it going to last? Only time will tell, but I can tell you one thing, we will give it our best shot to make it last as long as possible, as neither of uf want it to end right now.

- Does he love me? Of course he does. Even if he hasn't said those 3 little words, he's showed it to me in so many ways. I mean, he unblocked my toilets the other day with a wire hanger and his hands (with gloves on admittedly). If that's not love, I don't know what is!!! ;-)

- Is being together fun? It's already been full of it, so a pretty good start.

- Is it going to be easy? No, lets be honest, not with our personal baggage. I'm needy, demanding and emotional at the best of times. But somehow, he's managing it like a pro. The girls can be challenging for both of us, but luckily, we seem to have taken it in our stride and work as a team. It actually feels very natural, even the arguments with the kids and how we help each other through it. And the ex... as long as I can keep him calm, she'll survive!!!

- Him, his girls and I? I'm up for the challenge! They are great fun - when they're in a good mood ;-) - and funnily enough, after a few days just the two of us, I'm starting to miss them.

- Is it love? Abso-fucking-lutely . Not an ounce of doubt in my mind.

Finally, that one existential question The O'Jays asked so well: "Now that we found love, what are we gonna do with it?" I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to enjoy it for everything it's giving me. And who knows, with a little bit of luck and some work, we might even make it.

Check out The O'Jays on You Tube at:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cGmyqXnswyk

More kissing practice is needed!!!

2011-02-10T22:18:00.000Z

A couple of weeks ago, I was feeling rather needy. I wanted to feel the arms of a man holding me and, for lack of a better option – and because I have so little respect for myself when I am that needy – I called on a man I knew had a very keen interest in me. Now, I know, I have set those new rules for my own safety and sanity … But hey, I made them up, so I’m allowed to break them whenever I feel like it! Right ?!?!? … Oh Come On!!!

Anyway, I invited him over after he finished work and put my cards on the table. Well… kind of … At least I did mention I wasn’t too sure about what I really wanted from this but was feeling lonely and could do with some affection. So, after a chat and a back massage, he made his move and kissed me. Ahhhhh… this took me back. Far back. Back when I used to kiss blokes in clubs because I felt like it. Back whenever a man couldn’t kiss, I’d just tell him straight on: “Is that the best you can do?” and if you know me, you know I did that many times over. I used to feel it was my duty as a French woman to encourage English men to improve their kissing technique. I was providing a public service and felt an obligation to my country, and other women out there, to make sure the French Kissing skills weren’t being lost.

I guess, the first question one need to ask one self is: How do you define a good kisser? I could go on about those valuable skills, but I prefer defining a bad one. That’s just a lot more fun! Obviously, there is the tongue one. He’s the one that picks at you and you feel like he wants to re-sculpt the inside of your mouth. Then there’s the licking one, who must have some issue about mouth hygiene as he gives your teeth, lips and sometimes cheeks, a good clean. Of course, we also have the sucking one who’s trying to suck the life out of you, in a very similar way to a plunger used to clear up a blocked sink. And finally, my personal favourite when it comes to idiocy and badly applied knowledge, the carp one who is all about the open mouth and nothing else.

To come back to my little friend from the other night, a fan of the old carp technique, what was most interesting afterward is that he said to me, quite content, “you enjoyed our kissing session, didn’t you?” which was rather ironic considering all I could think about was “you’re a crap kisser, get out of my sight!”

The thing is, it’s not hard to kiss! It’s not about sucking or licking or stuffing or cleaning, it’s about being sensual, about making an initial intimate physical contact with that person. So, this is my lesson to blokes out there who believe they know how to kiss…

A. Don’t open your mouth straight away! We, women, like a gentle caress, a tease, as if you were just saying to us “you’re so pretty, you’re sexy, you’re amazing.”

B. Keep it gentle! She’s not a bag of chips at 3 in the morning on a Sunday, after a night out when you’re starving. Although … come to think of it, sometimes, she might feel like it. STILL, it’s no reason to jump the gun!!! She’s a woman and needs gentle attention … to start with at least!!!

C. Don’t rush! Don’t feel like you have to get into the thick of it straight away. It’s not a bloody race!

D. Let her come to you, follow her lead, follow the signs, listen to her. It’s a bit like a dance. You make the first move- hands on her waist, then she responds by pulling you in, then you go a little further and move your hands to her butt. If you don’t get a smack, you’re in! If you go straight to the butt feel, believe me, even if she finishes the dance, you’ll never see her again!

Men really underestimate the power of kissing and where it can lead you. A good kisser will turn you on and bring you to the edge and back… unfortunately, my latest experience had been rather disastrous. I admit I can’t stand bad kissers and tend to point it out to them but I’m getting too old to be badly kissed! I mean, how does a 48 years old man manages to get to this point in his life without being able to kiss. I know he’s been married twice and so might have got into a routine with his ex’s but I’m neither one of them for crying out loud!!!

After that set back, I felt my faith in men needed to be restored. So, the following week-end, I went on a date. Noooo, not with him again. Are you serious?!?! Bad kisser = Bye bye Mister. Sorry if I sound harsh but a girl has to have her limits. Ok, I don’t have that many, but still… Kissing is a skill you should never mess with when I’m around.

So, when my date enquired about my last dating experience, I had to be honest about it. He listened and, even though he was a little bit taken aback by my honesty, he handled it like the big guy that he was. After all, he was attractive and most interesting, so a kiss at the end of the night was definitely on the card for me. But I wanted to avoid a repeat performance. The only way I could be sure of it was by letting him know in advance what my expectations were.

The evening went very nicely and he made it all the way to my living room. Maybe, I fancied him more than the other guy, maybe I liked him more too or maybe I just wasn’t prepared to go through this again, but he went from 6 out of 10 to a 9 in just a few minutes and a few pointers.

Will I see him again… I hope so. I would love to take him all the way to the perfect 10. And for that, there is only one solution: more kissing practice is needed!!!

The rules and regulations of internet dating.

2011-01-23T22:06:00.000Z

I started on the road of internet dating over 10 years ago… Over that time, I’ve had plenty of misshapes and false start. Amongst them all, I manage to develop one “long term” relationship. I’ve never really understood what that means: “long term”? I mean, how do you define what is long term? Looking back, some of my shorter connections have meant more to me than some of the lengthier ones. Is it more important or more difficult in the end than a shorter relationship you might have invested more of yourself in? Who defines those rules? Because if there is a manual, I haven’t read it!

However, after so many years, you’d think that, by now, I’d know how to work the system. Being a tad older than I was when I started, wisdom should follow, right? This would be true for a balanced, fully secured, self-confident and well adjusted - or just plainly sane - woman. However, I am none of the above. For those who know me well, what can I say, no surprises there.

And for years I have tried to become that woman. To find balance and peace within, to love the person I am to be, trust her instincts and respect her needs. To help her fulfil her dreams and grow to be that very sane person society has spent years telling her to become. What… a lot… of … bullocks!!! There are no rules! There are no lines one can follow to help survive the dating world we now live in. And it’s taken me this long to figure it out… Yes, not the sharpest tool in the box, I admit, but I never pretended to be.

Already, I can hear some of you thinking out loud: have you ever tried meeting someone the “natural way”? Now, there’s another interesting concept… The natural way. What is that, I ask you? Twenty years ago, from what I’ve heard, it meant meeting someone through friends, parties, work even. Although, for me, work has never been a very productive source of partners as I am surrounded by 3 foot tall people and there mothers!!! And as for my friends and their parties, let’s put it this way… they used to tell their friends: “you’ve got to meet this girl, she’s great. She’s really funny, ok and slightly mad … oh and a bit scary.” Not the best way to boost my chances, now, is it? In high sight, I was, at the time, a lot louder, brash, rough and scary than I am now. Yes I WAS!!! One thing I have going for me now though, as my friend pointed out to me the other day: “I don’t know how you keep going. Despite all the knocks you’re constantly getting, you just keep standing back up.” And as we talked some more, we had a think about the men I have met without the help of the internet… ready?... wait for it … None!!!

So, today, as I am considering joining yet another dating website – yes, don’t get me started - I decided to have a careful think of my past experiences. To do so, I wanted to have a look of the sites I had visited. Since I couldn’t remember them all, I typed Dating websites in my Google search. My, oh my… I knew cheating was easy nowadays, I just never realised it had become that easy!!! But that’s a whole different blog all together. So, after being slightly sidetracked with that crazy fact, I can now say that I have been on 6 different sites. Over 10 years that is! Although saying that, I know people who are on 2 or 3 sites at the same time, so six sites over 10 years really isn’t that bad.

What has become rather clear to me is that, if the site is free, it will be harder to separate the players and the lunatics from the gentlemen. Ok, that might be a bit of an overstatement, but one can dream, can’t I? So, that’s one of my first new rules. Oh, yes, I have NEW rules. I don’t read the dating rule book you see, I much prefer make up my own. Much more fun.

So, here they are…

1. To choose a site that you can only access if you have put your hand in your pocket and separated yourself from your hard earned cash.

2. To get ride of any man who talks to me about sex BEFORE we even meet.

3. To get ride of any man who talks to me about my breasts or enquire about there size.

4. Not to sleep with ANY man before the 3^rd date!!!

And that’s probably one of the hardest one for me to do …

So, watch this space… because with those new rules, I’m not going to be single much longer ;-).

New year... Same old me... Deal with it!

2011-01-03T16:51:00.000Z

Picture this: New Year's Eve. All around the world, groups of friends are sitting around tables. The TV gets turned on just a couple of minutes before the much awaited clock chime. You can't be early... And you definitely don't want to be late. And as it goes, everyone gets up and cheers their glasses. They're wishing each other the best for the coming year. Some say this is the year they'll change who they are. Hundred of men and women swear this is the year they are loosing that extra weight. Single people all over hope this is the year they will meet The One. What extraordinary expectations one can put on one self.

And so, millions of New Years resolutions are made. Problem is, only a handful will actually happen. Most of them will be forgotten within a week. The more tenacious ones will hang around until the end of January then fade away, carefully and discretely stored in the back corner of that bottom drawer of your desk. The one where old pens, odd lids, broken and used up rubbers and really odd things such as a hair clip, a pair of tweezers, a sock or a balloon - seriously, how did it get there? - go to be forgotten.

I can understand the idea of celebrating the passing of time, and even to look back on the year just gone and reflect on our journey so far. I do that every year on my birthday! But does it mean we have to then go on to dictating what will come about in the coming new seasons. I don't know about you, but I've never been very good at predicting the future. Can you really tell what will happen to each and everyone of us over the next 365 days. That's a whole lot of days... And so much can happen in that time.

If I look back over the last few years, over periods of less than 6 months - including the full process of those changes, from start to finish - I have left one job for another, moved country, planned and been on a trip of a lifetime, moved out of London, moved houses twice, changed car, fell in love (or so I thought) and have my heart broken more than once - OK, OK, I'm a little bit fickle on that subject, but still !!! I think you get my drift.

So, as the New Year came upon us, I listened patiently to my friends talking about their thoughts for the coming new months and how it was going to be bigger and better than the one, seconds before, we were waving goodbye to. And then, it happened. Tears started running down my cheeks and I felt a huge wave of sadness come over me. And then, fear took over. What if it wasn't going to be better! What if this year was going to be more difficult, more painful, more hurtful than the ones before. Because no matter how positive you might be - and believe me, even if I don't sound it right now, lately, I have been Miss Positivity - sometimes, things just feel totally out of your control. And at that very moment, I panicked. It was as if, as I listened to the positive voices around me, that sneaky one inside my head muffled their sweet sounds and wispered into my heart: "might not be your year though."

I had two choices. I could go home and dive into the oblivion that those dark thoughts were pulling me into. OR. I could go out, get some air and clear my head. This is where I realised how much I have changed over the last few years, how strong I have grown. I refused to go home and managed to drag a couple of friends along to the beach with me. After a 4 hours wonder on the near by beaches, I felt lighter and rested. The panic had gone.

The tears and the sadness were still in my heart, but, after all, that's nothing new. I've lived with them for a long time now, and we are old friends. We don't always get on but they are a part of me and I am not quite ready to say good by to them just yet. I guess, in a way, they remind me that I still have work to do on myself. I am still in the middle of my journey. Whether it is a new year, a new world, or a new me on the outside, the me on the inside won't change.

My father is a big believer in sayings - and when I say big believer, I mean he'll serve you 10 in one day without batting an eyelid! I'm not into them much, but there is one that I have always liked: "Chassez le naturel, il revient au galop."which stands for "the leopard can't change its spots" - or so says the internet! Basically saying that, no matter how much you try to change the who you truly are, it will come back when you least expect it. The idea that there is something wrong with the person you are has always bothered me. We all have beauty and kindness inside our souls.

Unfortunatly, our life journeys have tainted them, covering them with a veile of pain, anger, regret and other emotions, making them hard to shine through. The hardest thing to do is not to remove the veile, but to face the layers of different emotions holding it down. Because those make you who you are, wether you like it or not. I have been working on taking that veile off, but it isn't always easy. Sometimes, it comes right off for a while, and others, it just won't budge. But if I've learned anything, it's that I really like what's under my veile. I might never be able to take it right off, but as long as I get to know who I am under there, and can bring her out every now and then, I'll be happy.

That's my resolution.

Not for this year.

Or the one gone.

Or the one to follow.

But for me, for now, for today and tomorrow.

New year, same old me, be happy...

Deal with it!!!

The joys of winter air travel

2010-12-19T15:53:00.000Z

As I sat in the plane this morning, watching people board, I took a moment to think back over the last couple of hours. Snow had brought most airport to a stand-still the day before, and a horde of unhappy, tired and frustrated customers where trying to make their way to their Christmas holiday destinations. So, even though I was ready for it, I had a bit of a shock as I walked into Bristol's terminal..

It has been a real long time since I last had to queue to check my luggage in. And I mean really queue; not the 10 minutes wait we are now used to. No, I am talking about the 2 hours long wait which ends by your flight number and destination being called so that you may now jump to the front and make it to the plane on time. At first I was troubled by the caos and lenght of the line I was in, but then I remembered. I remembered a time before paperless tickets, online check in - via your home pc, laptop or even mobile phone. Before hand luggage turned into actual suitcases and flying was more an adventure than just another mean of transportation. But now, we treat it like we do train journeys. We expect it to be on time, well organised, with a seat for each of us and a smooth journey ahead.

As I stood in my "Easy-Jet" queue, I noticed just how much, when things go wrong in the well oiled machine that is an airport and the rules we are imposed aren't followed by everyone, our animal instinct resurface ... First, I watched, in dismay, a man, followed by his two teenage boys and shy little wife jump the queue. Casually, as they were walking around, he asked one of the gentlemen slightly ahead of myself if this was the line for easy-jet. As his interlocuteur nodded, he gave a very quick look around and called his kids and wife to join him. Nobody moved nor said a thing. But I know every one felt it. You could see it in their body language. Funnily enought, I straight away started to feel my blood boil, anger coming over me and that very nerve getting agitated. I felt this was very childish behaviour and decided to push it away... Where did it go, I hear you ask... well, let see, shall we.

Then I struck a conversation with the woman behind me who was very protective of her own little space. But, as she was not only aware of it, but also rather candid about it, we had a nice discussion about social behaviour in such situations. Have you noticed how, when in a queue, most people cannot stand it if you are not moving straight away when the people in front of you move foward. Which is silly really, as it is only maybe a meter or 2, and yet we all struggle to keep our cool when in such position. So, after pointing this out to my new friend, and for the fun of a social experiment, I stopped and waited to see what would happen. Fair enought, the people in front of me started to build a nice gap between me and them and I started to get a few looks. That's when my brand new buddy nuddged me and, with a gentle laugh, said: "Come on, go, I can't stand it."

Eventually, as I was practically at the front of the queue, the airport voice called my flight number and everyone behind me rushed past to get to the desks. So, after recovering a little from my shell shock reaction, I suddently found myself torn between two check in desks: on my left, a family of 7 people - big and small - was trying to check in, while on my right, a group of 4 women were gathering their "small" hand luggage on the floor between themselves - reminding me a little of that same behaviour previously witnessed in clubs - as they checked in. And that's when I had an epiphany.

There needs to be zones assigned for different types of travelers.

A. One for the families - after all, and I know this is anything but politically correct, but why should I suffer the constant moaning and complaining of little and medium people when I'm on holiday! It just puts a down on my holiday spirit.

B. One for groups - any more than 2 people! Because they're just too loud, chatty and happy for me.

C. One for couples - and lets put them all in one same terminal far away from the rest of us. I mean, what single person wants to queue behind a couple constantly smooching one another. Seriously, aren't they aware there are a large amount of frustrated single females walking around the place. No, they are not!!!

D. Last but not least, and the most important of all: one for people traveling by themselves. They are organised, quiet, and quick when going through security!!!

Talking about being quick, you would think that, by now, people would know the rules of going through security. And even if you don't know, you're told about it 20 times before you even get to the gate via your check in agent, internet website, oh, and big fat signs as you approach the conveyor belt that you are only allowed one hand luggage... ONE!!! NOT a mini suitcase and a hand bag!!! ONE!!! Because then, you have to reorganised all your stuff and when you do, it gets on MY nerve!!! It also reminds you that you need to take off your coat, belt and boots, take your laptop out of its bag, and remove anything from your pockets. So, could someone explain to me, why, oh why, do people wait until the very last second to get all that ready??? It's holding me back and getting on that nerve of mine again. And don't even get me started on liquids and see through bags!!!

Eventually, I get to the boarding gate and joined another queue, and may I just say, with all due respect, by God are the british good at this!!! The lady checking my papers then follows me to the boarding queue and asks passangers to use the entire room. Because, yes, you guessed it, they are very carefully lined up 2 by 2 with large amount of room on each side. And then, the nerve took over. There was noting I could do no more. So, with the blessing of the airport staff, I quickly, swiftly and feeling totally no shame at all, jumped the whole queue!!! I was within the first 20 people to get into the plane. TAKE THAT rules, regulations and social expectations!

As I settled into my seat, in the middle of the plane, right by the exit door, which has the largest leg room of the entire plane, I noticed the family that had jumped the queue way back when I was patiently waiting to check in, coming into the aricraft. RESULT, I say!!! I admit, this trip brought out the slightly evil, conniving, devious and cheeky side of me... But this is war, survival of the fittest. Or some might say, just the joys of winter air travel.

To be a good friend...

2010-12-14T23:33:00.000Z

I’ve been in South Devon for over two years now, and I am slowly building a brand spanking new group of friends. I’m 37 and it is quite hard work to put together a new social circle. And I mean real friends. The type of people who will take you no matter the mood you’re in, who will forgive your outbursts, your hormonal imbalance and your untidy home. All right, all right, I’m just talking about me, here. Still, I’m talking about the ones that you can call in tears because you broke a nail. Because they know that nail is only the tip of the iceberg and they will listen to whatever nonsense you go on about.

The thing is, past the age of 10, making friends isn’t easy. I mean, have you recently tried walking up to someone, anyone, male or female and say: “Hey, do you want to play?” … No? You should try it sometime. See what happens… Ok, so, that might not be the appropriate phrasing. Let’s try “Hey, do you want to be my friend?” … Mmmm … No, you don’t think that would work either. It does sound a little bit freaky. What if I suggested “Can I buy you a beer?” Then, the person you’re talking to will straight away wonder what your agenda is. Because that’s how society has changed us. Apparently, we forgot how to be kind, honest, gentle and loving toward one another, especially strangers. We tend to automatically think the worse of people.

I have recently found myself falling in love with a gorgeous golden Labrador. Her owners let me take her out whenever I want to. So, I have discovered a totally different universe. For some reason, when I’m out walking with the dog, people are open, friendly and will happily have a chat as we cross path. It’s like, having that dog with me, suddenly makes me more appealing and less threatening. Do the same walk without the dog, and the people I cross path with will barely look up to say hello. People don’t trust easily, nor do they open up. And I believe that, the society we live in, isn’t helping either.

My point is, when it comes to relationships – friendship or other - until you really get to know people and build a strong bond of trust, you have no idea what their lives are like, what they have been through up until you met, or even what they are going through right now. Over the last few weeks, I have learned more about some of my “new” friends, and I have realised how easy it is to forget that, behind their everyday faces, their routine and good looking life, their private lives could be falling apart, they might be going through some terrible tragedy or dilemma and no one on the outside would be none the wiser.

But when you know, when you find out, how you react to it defines who you are. It is so easy to pass judgment on someone, on a situation, or even on how your friend is managing it. And it is understandable too. You look at it from your own point of view, using your own experiences and feelings regarding the said situation. So, yes, it is understandable. But is it helpful? Is it kind? Is it loving? A few years ago, I would have said so. Today, I am not sure anymore. I look at the people around me and I can’t help but think that we have become too self centred even in our approach to helping one another.

So, as hard as it might be, I try to put my own prejudgment aside and listen more to my friends needs. And, even if sometimes I still can’t help but jump in with both feet to tell them what I would do if I was in their shoes, I find that, taking a step back to try and understand how they are feeling rather than why they are feeling this way, and empathise with that feeling, brings them more comfort than anything else I could rumble about.

So, as I try to be a good friend, I keep my mind, my soul and my heart open, try to keep my babbling tongue in check and thank God – or whoever is in charge – for the friends I have in my life who are doing just the same for me.

Where did all the good men go?

2010-11-04T22:13:00.000Z

Call me childish, a player, a needy woman, a desperate soul searching for love, a serial dater… Call me anything you like; but one thing I am not … is a liar. If I meet a man I neither like nor fancy, I will cut the date short and let him know that I’m not interested. If I meet a man I fancy but don’t see anything else, I will let him know that too. Blunt, frank and straightforward, with me, men pretty much always know where they stand.

However, I, cruelly innocent in the matter of the heart, thought I could expect the same from the men I meet. A few years ago, I used to put their ways of deceiving me down to their age. Maybe youth had a way of holding back their true bravery. After all, rejecting someone is not a pleasant thing to do and definitely require a certain amount of guts.

When meeting people via the Internet, you have to know that most of them are just not going to give you that spark and that, the likelihood of the two of you walking away hand in hand into the sunset at the end of the first date is as likely as me winning the lottery – which I don’t even play! However, this should not stop you from being pleasant, respectful and graceful. After all, that person sitting across from you is just that: a human being, with ideals, dreams, needs, ambitions and who, just like you, are looking for someone to journey through life with.

Having reached my late 30s, I naively thought things would be different. Be then, men are more mature and have more respect for others. Unfortunately, the last couple of months have proved me wrong. Ever so wrong. Let me take you back to a couple of months ago. I have been on a successions of dates, some cut short, some pleasant enough and a handful apparently successful.

Keeping in mind, this is ME we’re talking about! I have such a need for a man’s company that I regularly make all the wrong judgments and choices. Well, what can I say, nobody’s perfect. So, yes, I have a bad habit to give too much too soon. But should my failings really cost me so much? And even if having taken advantage of my weaknesses, why can’t those so called men grow some backbones and actually come out straight that they are just not interested.

Take this first subject, lets call him … Luke … After all, that’s his name. We met at the beginning of September. After three lovely dates, he gets dinner and a run around the French playground. I played it cool and smoothly all the way. Held it back till the 4^th date, which for me, was an achievement!!! But, half way through the night, he gets a phone call and leaves due to a “family emergency”. After that … nothing … and I mean absolutely nothing. No text, no call, no e-mails. I decided that he must have hit the dust and is now lying 6ft under. Why else would he just disappear, right … ? Turns out, he is very much breathing and alive. What ever happened there? I only wish I knew.

Let’s look now at the second subject: the DFS man… and I am only protecting his identity for his own safety ;-). Our first and only date was fun, relaxed, exciting and totally unpredictable. So, yes, I made some very bad decisions during that evening. None that I am ashamed of, but lets be straight here, looking back – and according to some of my closest friends – I could have been a little more … mmm … refrained. He spent the evening making “promises” he obviously never meant to keep. And I spent the evening believing every last bit of it, because, after all, I am a lonely woman with needs. I guess reading through me like an open book, he used that knowledge to get what he wanted and leave it at that.

After our little encounter, it took him 4 days before e-mailing me that he just didn’t see a future between us. I know I can be slightly scary, but a text is cheep, easy and safe to inform the other of your true intentions, and more importantly, it can be sent straight away!!! He did add that he wasn’t sure what he wanted, to which I replied he seemed to know exactly what he was after on that Friday night.

The story would end there if it wasn’t for a piece of evidence of our encounter and the fact that he used it to brag about our time together. And this is where I love my friends and their connections! Talking to my housemate’s boyfriend, I explained the situation. After telling me off for being so gullible, he mentioned knowing someone who works in that very DFS. A couple of weeks later, he sent me an email to inform me that his friend felt that the DFS man’s behaviour was just rude and had taken it upon himself to teach him a little lesson.

This is what he did: He first asked DFS guy if that girl he kept boasting about was French. Then added that 2 French guys had approached him in his local pub because they heard he worked at the store. They were enquiring if he knew DFS guy. They said they had come over from France to sort him out because he was bragging about his time with their cousin! Apparently, he was so spooked that he went off sick on the following day! Awww, sweet revenge. And I didn’t even ask for it!!!

Finally, our last subject of the evening: Geoff

Now, I might be needy and desperate, but I am not totally stupid. No, really! I could see he wasn’t keen on seeing me again. What bothered me was that he just couldn’t bring himself to say so. Instead, he ignored my first text which read: “Thanks for meeting up, but I’m not sure if you’re interested. Shall I ring you in a few days or am I wasting my time?” This was his opportunity to reply: “Sorry, but I’m not interested.” And do you think he took that opportunity? I mean, how much bigger a carrot does one need? But nooooooooo, he just went on and ignored me.

As I said earlier, I am not very clued on when it comes to men and their ways. And yes, I regularly make mistakes and pay the price. But, as I keep coming across a certain type of men, my big question is this: where did all the good men go? And please, please, please … don’t tell me they’re all taken!!!!! ;-)

Till the next lot , I’m signing out.

Rejection… Or how to feel like an evil…

2010-10-07T20:51:00.000+01:00

I’ve just returned from a very poor dating experience. We met tonight at 6ish and instantly thought – Nah, this ain’t gonna happen. But, trying to be my kind self, and not wanting to judge a book by its cover, I decided to give it a chance. After all, he’s a photographer and into hiking, so we have some things in common which should make for interesting discussion, if nothing else, right?

Wrong. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so awkward and bored during a date. Usually, I can entertain myself by talking about me, that’s a subject that just never bores me, but even that wasn’t a prospect I felt like exploring. All I could think about was my fabulous comfy sofa, my big TV and what movie I might watch while having dinner… At Home!

Now, I wasn’t looking at my watch, but I was keeping an eye on the clock tower just across from us and couldn’t figure out how anyone could drink sooooo slowly. At first, I thought of texting my housemate and get her to ring me with an excuse for me to get out of there, but I didn’t find any opportunity to do it without him noticing. I also wanted to wait until he finished his drink to make my excuses, so we could leave together, but it just wasn’t coming fast enough and, when the clock’s long hand starting going backward, I felt it was my clue to take charge of the evening.

The large clock had just about reached 7 O’clock and I’d just given him an hour of my life. That … was … plenty. I leaned over, he copied me, and I said “Can I be honest?”... and without waiting for a response I added “I think I’m gonna go home.” I did feel sorry for him as his face fell. “I’m sorry, I added, but I think it’s best.” He started talking again – bringing up the fact that I was a little late - as if I hadn’t said anything. I gave him a second, then, after thanking him for coming to meet me, just said “I’m gonna go now. Bye.” And I left, leaving him behind, shell shocked with his half full drink.

Was that really bad? Should I have let him carry on? I’m not saying I’m better than him in any way, but he just wasn’t for me. And I much prefer letting him know straight away. That’s better than not turning up at all because, as you get to your date, you don’t like the look of someone… (Which happened to me on Sunday, by the way.) Or is it? Which of the two are the least painful, the least hurtful and the most respectful? When it comes to hurting someone’s feelings, rejection is right up there. So how do you do it without feeling like an evil bitch?

Walking Nan to the golden gates of Heaven.

2010-10-03T16:31:00.000+01:00

I wrote this after coming back from my Nan’s funeral but never posted it. After posting a blog last night, I found it and felt it was time I shared those last memories of her with you. So this is for my Nan, who I miss dearly and talk to regularly, especially when it comes to cooking!!! I love you Nan.

I went home for my mother's 60th birthday in May, but I guess Nan had other plans for us. When I arrived on the Friday, although I was staying at Dad’s, we popped over to the hospital to see how Nan was feeling. She was diagnosed with breast cancer a couple of years ago, but at Christmas, they found she was now suffering from bone cancer. It had spread everywhere. After a few month of hospitalisation in her own home, she was transferred back into the geriatric annex of the local hospital at Easter. Mum had told me that she was really poorly and didn’t look herself much anymore. It’s amazing how, no matter how much you think you are warned, the shock of reality can be rather overwhelming.

When I got to the door, I reached out behind me and took hold of my dad’s hand. As I walked in, I scanned the room. My granddad was sitting next to the bed, looking sad and in pain. The person lying next to him felt a million miles away. I recognised my Nan instantly, even though she was but a shell of herself, looking more fragile and petite than ever before. I felt the tears filling my eyes. I took a second to hold them back, held onto Dad a little longer then called my granddad out of his daze.

As he looked up, his face was filled with a huge smile. He got up, shook my Nan, telling her I was finally here and gave me a hug. I then turned to my Nan. Where was the broad shouldered woman I had seen just a couple of month earlier? What happened to that strong lady who used to look after her 4 grand-children without any fear? Where was my Nan? Her eyes turned to me and it felt like she took a moment to focus and concentrate on who I was. Then, came the smile. She smiled and held out her hand, which I took into mine and kissed. I sat close to the bed, my head against hers, as we both rested on her pillow. I told her of my life in Devon, my work, and everything else I could think about. Even though she barely spoke, she showed her awareness of me by squeezing my hand, kissing it and pulling me towards her as I talked. I spend 2 hours by her side. Sometimes talking non stop, sometimes just sitting there and holding her.

Too soon it was time to leave. My dad had left and I was going to use my granddad’s car while I was in France. As my granddad made his way to the car, I stayed behind for one more hug, one more minute with my Nan. I had never felt such importance in those small instants of life than at that very moment. And I had come to accept that this might very well be the last time she would be responsive. The end was near. I felt extreme sadness, I didn’t want her to leave, not yet, I wasn’t ready, nor were the rest of my family. Yet at the same time, knowing the pain she had been in over the last few months, knowing how far from her old self she now was and how much it was hurting her to have people see her like that, I put aside my selfish thoughts and said just before I left: “Don’t worry about us, Nan, we’ll be alright. And we’ll look after granddad. You do what you have to. If you’re ready to go, that’s ok with us. We love you.”

As I talked, one single tear fell along her soft yet wrinkled cheek and she gave my hand a squeeze. I felt one tear running down my face, followed by another and could feel the flow of them rising to the surface, so I left. I didn’t want to burst into tears in front of her. The minute I was out of her room, the sadness overwhelmed me and I cried heavily for a couple of minutes. After composing myself, I met my granddad in the car, dropped him home and went back to Dad’s.

The following evening was my mum’s 60^th birthday party. On their way over, my cousin, his parents and my brother popped to the hospital to see Nan. She had barely reacted to their presence. My mother and aunt were finding it difficult to relax and enjoy the moment. My brother, my cousin and I decided to try and keep it fun despite it all. We raised our glasses to our Nan and had a few very good laughs, trying to ignore the thin veil of sorrow floating over us all. We managed to have a good time and everyone spent the night at mum’s.

Even though visits to Nan were only allowed in the afternoons, my aunt had arranged for us to visit her on the Sunday morning. Both my cousin and I had to leave after lunch time. I had a plane to catch in the afternoon and he had to make his way back to Switzerland, where he works. We all drove together, still buzzing from the night before. As we approach Nan’s room, one of the nurse stopped us in the hallway. I had met her on the Friday and had told her I was only here for a couple of days. She said to me what they had told my cousin before she left for her mission in February: “Say your goodbyes, she hasn’t got long left. It could be a question of days.” We braced ourselves and entered the room.

The shock was indescribable. In the 36 hours since I’d seen her, she had gone from being responsive and somewhat alert to … nothing. Her eyes barely opened again, she wasn’t responding to us in any way and, no matter how much I held her hand, I felt no real response from her. She was slipping away. Right there, I turned to my aunt and said “Forget the plane, I’m staying.”

We called my mother and started to get organised. After going back to mum’s for what should have been lunch, we split up. My cousin and uncle left, as well as my brother. I took a moment to call work to inform them of the situation before Mum, my aunt, my step-dad and I went back to the hospital. I made a detour to go pick up my granddad and we stayed the rest of the afternoon at the hospital. I spent most of that time lying next to her, holding her hand and telling her how much we all loved her. Around 5, my mum accompanied her dad home and promised to keep him informed if anything was to happen.

Around 8, we went home for a quick break and returned within the hour. Around 11pm, we were wondering about going home. One of the night nurses came to talk to us and suggested that one of us could sleep with Nan – she had a spare bed in her room for such situation – or that, if we all wanted to go home, she would ring us if there was any changes. Nan had been stable all afternoon but they were keeping a very close eye on her. We all really needed a break. Spending this much time in a hospital ward, watching someone you love passing away does take it out of you. And since we were barely 15 minutes away, we gave them my mother’s and my aunt’s mobile numbers and left.

Sleep didn’t come easily. First I cried. Then I wrote. Then I cried some more. Finally, around 2.30am, I dozed off. A split second later, or at least, that’s how it felt, Mum was waking me up, telling me the hospital had called and that we should go now if we wanted to be with her one last time. Within minutes, we were dressed and in the cars. The drive down felt like an eternity. When we arrived, the nurse walked with us into the room. Nan’s breathing was very irregular and it felt like she was making a huge effort to get it going. The nurse explained that they had removed all IVs except for the morphine. But then, after a few minutes, the nurse noticed Nan’s breathing regulating itself. “She’s calmer; she can sense you are here.” She said before leaving.

It is strange the things you talk about in those situations. Stranger still is that I can’t really remember what we talked about. I just remember being there, holding Nan’s hand, surrounded by my family. By 8am, Mum had to leave. Although she was in two minds over going to work, she was struggling so much, watching her own mother die, we agreed it would be best if she went now. She only needed to do half a day’s work so we promised to call her if anything happened. After all, Nan’s status hadn’t changed since we had got there at 4.30am.

A little after she left with her husband, I noticed Nan’s hand had got really cold. As the nurse popped in to see if we wanted anything to eat or drink, I mentioned it to her. She felt Nan’s extremities and explained that her body was now only working on her vital organs. It was now a question of hours, not days, even though none of the medical staff would actually say that. My aunt text my mother and they agreed we would contact her if anything else changed. But Nan was hanging in there. Around 9am, we decided to go and get my granddad. I left my aunt with Nan and went to fetch him. The minute I explained what had happened, he had his coat on and was on his way out to the car.

Once back in the hospital room, I sat holding both Nan and Granddad’s hands. My aunt was trying to take her mind of things by playing solitaire on my phone. Around 9.15, she suddenly said “It’s over!?” We all looked at Nan. But she was still with us… Just. Her heavy and painful breathing had made way to a thin whispery breath. We called the nurse at once. This was it. She explained to us what might happen from now on. We called mum and my uncle who immediately jumped in their cars and started making their way back.

But Nan wasn’t planning on waiting. We sat around her bed, holding her hands, and, starting with my cousin who hadn’t been able to come back from her mission, we said goodbye to Nan from every one of us, reminding her how much we love her and how much we were going to miss her. As we finished with my granddad, she took one last breath and then, accompanied by her husband of over 60 years, one of her daughters and one of her grand-children … she just stopped.

PMS zone... Approach with caution !

2010-10-03T06:25:00.000+01:00

Over the last few years, I have realised how much age does affect your hormones in a way I never imagined. I mean, my mother told me about it, my aunt warned me of its effects and some of my friends who are a little bit older than me reaffirmed the idea. I know women who get really angry around their time of the month, some who actually loose any libido they might have the rest of the time, and others who become very emotional. It is rather unbelievable how this whole hormones thing can affect you. But somehow, you just don't think it will happen to you.

Then, one morning, you wake up in tears without being able to find any logical reasons for it. You know it doesn't make any sense, but you can't help it. Nop! There is absolutely nothing you can do to stop it. Once that feeling takes over your mind and body, you're in for the ride, willing participant or not. Don't look for any sign that it's coming either, because there are none. Now, if you are extremely lucky, to top it all, you'll be desperate for sex, any sex, because you just need that rush to calm those cravings down! Oh, God is it fun... although, I'm not too sure who for though.

Now, the interesting thing with me is that, during that exciting time, I become this insane woman who displays signs of very irrational behaviour and extreme horniness. This does make for a very entertaining time for all people involved in my life at that moment. Seriously, refuse to engage in any bedroom activities with her and you are taking serious risks for your own health and well being. Alternatively, you could just take advantage of the situation - as some men have done in the past - but that's just come back to bite them in the butt. Have you ever tried to have a rational conversation with an emotionally challenged and sex charged woman... It ain't pretty!!! Now, all this would be fine if it wasn't as extreme as it can sometimes be. I know, I know, being French doesn't help either, but there's got to be a line somewhere, right?

Of course, during this last year, it has been more placid and restrained due to the fantastic and priceless little pills my doctor has me under... So I've mellowed down... a bit. Depends on the month really. The thing is, we're now considering weaning me of those yellow and green happy pills, for some incomprehensible reason. I personally enjoy them, but apparently, you're not meant to take them for ever, not sure why. I think it's got something to do with having to make it on your own. I sometimes wonder if the people saying those things get out there, because if they did, they'd want them everyday too.

What has been worrying me is the ripple effect this will have on my already charged emotional state of mind. Oh, I'm not worried about the whole horniness thing, it does have its advantages, but without my little helpers, I fear those feelings will come back to take over again, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that. The depression side of my tears, I can get, I can rationalise, somewhat, but this thing, this out of body experience where all is like a daze and none of it makes any sense, it's just plain scary. And not just for us.

Because, yes, there's the woman who's going through it, but there is also the people who cross her path during that time. People she might never see again, people she doesn't know, people she cares about and love, friends, family and co-workers. All of them are at risk too. So just remember this, if you see a woman passing by with her PMS zone sign up... Approach with caution!

I love her…

2010-09-21T22:08:00.000+01:00

I got my first tortoise just 3 weeks ago and got her a little friend only a week ago. Charlie is the oldest and the biggest. Because they come from different batch, they have to be isolated until the summer. I spent Sunday sorting their enclosure out. And then, today, Charlie did this:

Now, you have to know, Charlie is well set up in her enclosure. Got her new little house. Loads of climbing opportunities. But she keeps trying to climb to the top of her hut. So, because I know how much she loves climbing and how much she's been interested in getting on top of her little house, and because I love her, I set up a ramp and protection on the back of the hut so she wouldn't be able to jump off the edge of the table.

Only, I forgot that, as fabulous as they are, tortoises aren’t the brightest of reptiles, and after watching her going up and down, up and down, looking over the edge and nearly falling off it once, I felt she was ok to wonder by herself. Now, when I say by herself, I was in the room, cleaning up after the mess I’d made on Sunday!!!

So, I keep checking on her, because somehow, I don’t trust her. I feel she’s gonna take the plunge… But, she keeps making a liar out of me, trading carefully every time I’m looking. And that’s where I make the mistake to slightly relaxing and do what every mother knows she shouldn’t do. Driven by a false sense of security, I leave her to be, trusting her to be careful.

And, of course, you guessed it, that’s when she goes for it. I’m by the window, a couple of meters away from her. I turn around, as if something had just pulled me, something inside me was telling me something wasn’t right. Fair enough, there’s Charlie, hanging by a thread, balancing on the edge of the roof of her hut, her back legs still hanging on – no idea how, while her front legs seem to be swimming in the air. As I see her, I run… Alas, too late. I got there only in time to watch her do a 180 and land on her back, all legs in the air.

Now, of course, I’m laughing. I can’t help it. By God, I love her, but why oh why did she think she could fly?!?!?

Let me reassure you, she had barely touched the ground of her enclosure that I picked her up and turned her back the right way round. And guess what she did then… Go, on … Take a guess… Yep, she seemed to give a little shake – if they can do such a thing – and run straight back for the ramp.

Of course, I removed it before she got to it. But let me tell you, she was not impressed. So, after my appointment to the doctor, I went back to the garden centre – again, and again, and again lol – and picked up some chicken wire to Charlie proof the roof of her hut, so that she can climb and I can go to work without worrying about finding her suffocating because she tried to fly and ended up upside down!!!

French Driving.

2010-07-23T20:08:00.000+01:00

I made it home. I left London in the morning at 5.30am and, after 627 Miles, I finally reached my mum’s home at 8.30pm. My little car, a 12yrs old Nissan Micra is a gem! Especially considering the evil we encountered on our way down. Now, there’s one thing I regularly forget regarding the French driving style: They are moody, impatient and most of all, really really really fast!!! And they don’t like anyone getting in their way!

Now, my little baby isn’t a spring chicken anymore, and even if it was, I don’t think it ever had much power under its bonnet. But it drives wonderfully and, if you give it enough time and a few gentle encouragements, it will go all the way to 85 miles an hour quite comfortably. Now, obviously, above that, it starts to shake, rattle and sound all together unhappy – So we don’t often go over 80. But it does get there. It just needs time. Unfortunately, the French aren’t very kind when it comes to giving you time, especially if you are on the motorway.

Picture this: You’ve got your foot down, slowly picking up speed on the inside lane because some truck driver has decided to take over one of his colleagues, just for the fun of it. As soon as the road starts going down hill again, his friend will be faster and pass him, so it’s all very much pointless. But that’s how you ended up there, on the forbidden carriageway – the one where only Mercedes, Porsche, Buggatti and other really fast cars are allowed. You know you shouldn’t be there. You know you’re gonna get into trouble. But you take the risk all the same. After all, the speed limit is 80, so you don’t see why there would be any problem.

But then, you see it. First, it’s just two little lights in the distance. It gets slowly closer and then, you realise you won’t make it. You know, before you can pass those two massive trucks, that car will be flashing in your rear view mirror. And fair enough, in a flash, faster than you anticipated it, it’s practically touching your rear bumper. You can clearly see the facial expression of the driver, you read his frustration and he can’t help but flash his lights at you, like that’s going to make you go faster… and yes boys, I’m afraid, it’s mostly you I’m talking about.

So, just for fun, and because you can… you lift your foot ever so slightly from the accelerator. You watch his face becoming more and more irritated, and as he gets even closer, and flashes his lights at you more fervently than ever, you know, you’re work is done. As you finally pass the truck and take your place back onto the middle lane, he passes you shaking his fist, and you can’t help but smile back. You might not have the power to drive like a complete idiot, but you sure can grab any opportunity to show off your own driving skills, even if it’s just to infuriate a few French drivers!!!

Talk the talk & Walk the walk...

2010-07-20T21:35:00.000+01:00

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t think of myself as fat, or, to be politically correct, overweight. The thing is, no matter what you call it: plump, generous, curvaceous, round, heavy, chunky… the result is the same. You are carrying too much weight around for your body. At least that’s what the doctor will tell you. And the eyes of others will be a constant reminder of how different and how “ab-normal” you are. The funny thing is, it doesn’t matter what they really think of you, because most of the time, you can’t help but hear it in your head, the name calling, the judgment, the informed opinion on how you got to be the size you are. You’re probably lazy, don’t exercise, eat too much junk food and so, in the end, deserve to be this shape

But the history around your weight gain is unknown to those passer-byes… Do they ever think of the road that took us here, do they ever ask themselves: I wonder what happened to that person? When it comes to weight, we are quick to judge and label people. So much can bring someone to be overweight. From having never been taught how to eat properly to heavy depression and trauma. And let me tell you something, this extra weight we carry around, it’s been creeping its way into our life slowly, unscrupulously, without making a sound, little by little, and at first, we didn’t mind it so much, we just figured it would be all right. I have been telling my friends for over 10 years now, pointing at people who – to me – seemed bigger than I was, saying “if I get to this size, shoot me!” Well, guess what, I came close to it, reached it and then, went on to surpass it.

I have been very aware, over the last month, that I had reached a new high, and not the good kind! I dreaded getting onto my scale, but at the same time, I knew I would have to face it eventually. And so, on Monday morning, with the support of my doctor – mental support, mental, people!!! – I climbed onto the scale. Not many people are aware of my actual weight, and for the first time, I’m going to put it out there. This is a lot harder than I ever expected it to be. I guess, part of me feels ashamed of having let it get this bad, part of me is furious for not having been strong enough to stop it in its track, another side is terrified at the idea that I might not be able to change it while that sweet little voice in me says that it’s too late to do anything about it and just wants to crawl under my duvet and hope that either it or I will go away.

So, it’s crunch time… Last October, I weight 17.8 stones. On Monday morning, I had reached an all time high of 19.1 stones. So you’d think, seeing it in black and white would giving it a whole new dimension. Still I waited for the penny to drop. I even started to wonder what was wrong with me. Why couldn’t I take control of this part of my life? The whole thing was slipping through my fingers and it felt like I would never have a proper grip on it. And then, this morning, I went to Rigby & Peller to get myself a new bra. As some of you know, my chest is of a rather generous size, but what you might not know is that I’ve had the same bust size for the last 14 years… Until today. Today, I found out I have started putting weight on my chest. The kind and helpful size 8 lady, with a size 32 B bra, noticed my usual size was too tight, so she went to get the next size up… And out came the scouts’ tents, making my breasts look like rockets. “I think the pointy boobs Madonna era has come and gone, don’t you think?!” I asked her. We both laugh, but inside, the penny dropped. I could feel tears slowly making their way to the corner of my eyes. I took a deep breath, thanked her and made my exit. To be fair to her, she was very nice and I could see on her face how sorry she felt for me. I had come in the store full of buzz and energy and was leaving totally deflated. What are antidepressants good for if they don’t act when you really need them, I ask you!!! lol

It was time for lunch, so, I thought to myself, lets be reasonable, we are having Chinese take away and wine for dinner, lets have a salad. So I did. But, even though it was absolutely gorgeous, fresh and tasty, a big debate was going on inside me. The following notions were flying back and forth, while I sat, eating, and unable to do anything about the voices in my head: “This isn’t going to change anything!” shouted one. “Like you’re going to turn a new leaf just like that” it added. “Got to start somewhere” whispered another. “You always start but you never finish!” it replied… and on it went. And on, and on, and on, and on…

By the time I finished my plate, tears were flowing out and I realised that something had to give. As one of my friends pointed out to me a while back: “You talk the talk babe, but you don’t walk the walk.” So, I suppose the big question now is, can I pull it off? Can I take control while being gentle on myself? Or will I do what millions of us do everyday, start a diet we’ll only manage to follow for a few weeks before falling off the wagon again? And can I be strong enough to manage my emotional state while sorting out my physical one? Or is taking both on at the same time a sure recipe for disaster?

So many questions… so few answers… so much unknown… so much to gain… yet so much fear… Stay tune for more on this girl’s attempt to get her mind and body back in sync.

Time to start climbing again.

2010-05-03T23:37:00.001+01:00

Life has a twisted sense of humour and seems to really enjoy kicking me while I’m down. I sure hate long week-ends, especially when I have no plans. I managed it alright up to Sunday night, but this Monday bank holiday has been a very boring hell of a day. Made worth by the nice weather and my running in and out again house mate, reminding me how lonely I can feel.

For me, loneliness is directly linked to my low self-esteem, feeling of worthlessness and huge feeling of emptiness inside. Up to now, I have been able to manage these fairly well; I tend to throw myself into my work which has been my safety net so far and keep busy with my study. But lately, it has become increasingly difficult. I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting older but I have a strong suspicion these extra years have been influencing my feelings on the turn my life is taking.

I am trying to figure out the roots of that profound loneliness but, during the process, I am also constantly trying to get a way out of this hole. So, I put all my energy in finding a man to be with, because, to me, that’s the only way out of this. I know it’s unreasonable but I can’t seem to face any other reasons behind this terrible feeling. I figure, if I can find someone to love me, then I will have a reason for being here in the first place. But how can you be loved if you don’t believe you are worth it, if you don’t think you deserve it. When I start to wonder if it is really better to be alone than to be with the wrong person, then I know things are not going well. It’s a sick vicious circle and it’s a painful one.

So, as Mr Max makes another exit, I fall apart one more time. Only lately, every time I fall apart, it’s like I am loosing a piece of me, a piece of that strong and positive me and the space it leaves behind just widen the emptiness inside. It’s that little more painful, feels that little more final and that little harder every time to get back up. And when I start having thoughts of disappearing all together, I know it is time to pick up the phone and call my doc.

Because at this stage, calling your friends just doesn’t help, how can you explain to someone how you really feel when they have no way of understanding what you’re going through? And you can’t blame people for telling you “there is someone out there for you” or “you’ll be fine” or “you just need to do this or that”. That’s the way society expects us to behave, by empathising, encouraging and using our experiences to relate to one another.

And loneliness is a killer. Few people acknowledge it and even fewer people will admit suffering from it. Because, to actually say you are lonely not only triggers that overwhelming feeling, but you also easily assume that people will judge you. Many people figure that if you are lonely, you’re just not trying hard enough to get out and about, linking being lonely to being alone. But the two are very different.

So now, I have to get over this, I have to find a little bit of strength deep within myself to pull me back out of the hole. Only this hole is getting deeper every time I fall into it and I worry about when the day will come that I cannot reach the top anymore. But I guess it’s better not to think about it now and just to start climbing while I still can.

Your Kids and I

2010-05-01T14:32:00.000+01:00

Let me put the cards on the table, right here, right now: I. Love. Kids. I do. Really. I know the following might bring you to think otherwise, but I do. I’ve been working with children of all ages for the best part of 2/3 of my life, and I can’t imagine doing anything else… and hey, you don’t do my job for the money, believe me. I mean being entitled to working tax credit and housing benefit should tell you something, shouldn’t it? So, we’re clear on this point. I love kids.

I, however, am not friend with my mates’ children. Please don’t take this personally. I know, it will be difficult at first, but try to hear me out, and maybe, with a bit of compassion, walk in my shoes for a mile or two. I choose my friends… Or they choose me. Either way, this is a decision we both make with our eyes wide open. At least to some extent, as you only know as much as people are willing to share with you. And I met a lot of my current friends before they had their kids.

So the kids are just an addition to their life. I know, this word “just” is likely to drill a whole in their chest. But realise this, they are not my kids. Yes they are my friends’ whole life and reason of being now, but they are not mine. I’m not saying I don’t like them, I just need people to realise that I chose to be their friend, to have them in my life. So when I come round, they’re the one I came to see, and when I call, they’re the one I fancy a chat with. Spending my precious time chatting away to their offspring, on my day off, while they’re making coffee is not my idea of fun. Handed the phone over to your 4yrs old so that he can tell me all about his brand new Doctor Who screwdriver while describing in details all the available functions is not why I rang! And if I’m staying over, please give me a room with a lock, so I can make sure to keep your little treasures out of my throbbing head, especially at the first light of day!

Take this morning for example. Went out with a friend last night and was invited to stay over. Lovely idea, then I can have a few glasses of wine. Forgot one tidily tiny winy little detail: she’s got one of those kid thingy. And this is where, my lack of judgment and poor clarity of mind after an evening of drinking led me to let him in my room. I keep forgetting that saying “hello” to a child is like giving them a carte blanche to take over you personal space. Before I knew it, he was showing me how to use the Wii fit, providing me with a running commentary of all the exercises available! I actually had a moment where I started to wonder whether he was trying to tell me something… After that, he jumped on the bed and on me – while I was still trying to have a relaxing lie in – he treated me to a few episodes of SpondgeBob SquarePants. When the 4th episode started, I decided it was time to make a run for it.

A few months ago, I stayed at another friend’s house. At 8am, her husband decided I had slept enough – after all, if he had to get up to sort out his kids, why should he be the only one to suffer, right? So he kindly let his 3yrs old son on the fact that I was in the spare room. Ah, 3yrs old boys do have a settle way to wake you up. Again, after too much wine during the night before, my head wasn’t screwed on properly and I made the huge mistake to respond yes as he took a sneak peak into the room, asking “are you awake?” He proceeded to turning on the main light and bringing me his collection of soft toys, starting by the biggest one of course: a rather colourful giant snake!

Now, I guess I should say, before they all cross me out of their phone books, my mates’ kids are great and when I’m in the right space of mind, I’m happy to spend a bit of time in their company. My moan isn’t about them, but about my friends, or their parents, depending on how I feel. What makes them think that it will be entertaining for me to discuss their child’s latest progress, last temper tantrum, last illness or how being tired make them cranky? I get cranky too when I’m overtired! ;-) I don’t mind a quick chat about education – for some reason, some actually think I’m some kind of expert on the subject and that, because of my job, I don’t mind talking about that for hours on end.

I’m not in that life, not part of that world. I realise my job might make them think otherwise, but when I’m out and about, I like to talk about adult things, the type of discussions which aren’t suitable to have around children. And I need people to understand that. Better yet, I need people to accept it and not judge me for not wanting to be around their little brats. I understand their life has very different priorities to mine, but that doesn’t mean my own aren’t important. So, if I want to talk about sex, the last man in my life or have a good old rant about the misery that life can sometimes be, I want to be able to do so without feeling like a selfish self-centred bitter single woman – even if I am sometimes. Isn’t that what friends are for?

Childhood Memories

2010-04-15T11:23:00.000+01:00

An email from my mother yesterday drastically changed my state of mind. My Nan, who has been hospitalised at home for the last month or so, is back in hospital. The prognosis really isn’t good. She is approaching the end of her life fast and we are now talking about days rather than months.

After an emotional chat with my mum, I felt compelled to look into a range of possibilities to get myself home. The constant tears flowing from my heart were clouding my judgment, making it impossible to be reasoned with. Yet, mum tried to make me see why going over wouldn’t be of any help. At this stage, Nan barely speaks anymore, cannot hear as they had to remove her hearing aids and is out of it most of the time, barely aware of who is around. And as mum said, I spent a large amount of quality time with Nan in February and she wants me to keep that last memory rather than see her mother in her current condition.

Three more phone calls later, I put together a little note for mum to take to Nan. Something simple, including a picture of Nan with all her grand-children, telling her how much I love her. Putting it together was hard as I was faced with the inevitable reality of what is happening. The sadness that filled me what unexpectedly overwhelming. I knew that no matter how prepared you are for the death of a loved one, the feeling of sadness is inevitable. I just had forgotten how intense the pain could be. Selfishly, I wish it would all be over, for my own sake, while at the same time, the idea of her departure breaks my heart. I went to sleep, my heart and my head crammed with emotions.

I woke up this morning filled with memories of those special moments we spent as children with Nan. It put a smile on my face, remembering all the things we used to do that drove her mad, all those expressions she used to comment on our mischief and less than perfect behaviour and the fun we had whenever we would spend our holidays with them. We sure loved to torment her a little. With her death now inevitable, when it comes, I want to be ready to share with those who knew her the things she used to do for us and the grand-mother she was.

Could I be way off the mark here?

2010-04-11T11:53:00.000+01:00

I woke up this morning feeling extremely pissed off with myself. Something just wasn’t right. I could feel that feisty part of me getting more and more worked up. One look in the mirror and it started to get even louder. So, I let it take over. I’ve realised that, sometimes, it’s best to just let them run with it.

Unfortunately for me, it was on a mission and took me all the way to that dreaded place in my bathroom: the scale. Now, here is a tool I don’t believe should even exist. It is one of those things that push women to go through extremes and resort to rather drastic measures. Once I was standing in front of this item of torture, guess what! It made me climb onto it. How rude!!! Of course, I had to look; after all, it obviously had an agenda, so I bent my head down… Interesting that, it’s a movement that remind me of shame and embarrassment... Anyway, I went to take a very quick look, the type that barely registers what it sees, hoping what I was about to see wouldn’t ruin the rest of my day. And then, the penny dropped … That digital number staring back at me only re-enforced that angry feeling inside.

Like many women, I have had a life long battle with that dreaded scale and what it represents. Most of the time, I deal with it rather well and manage not to let it get to me. Although, another way to look at it is that I just ignore the problem all together. I have spent my life trying to accept the way I look and the shape I am. It wasn’t always easy, and still isn’t. But I feel I have survived the stereotypical ideas connected with my own size.

Yet, I can’t help but think about the culture of image obsessed we live in. I often worry about the young people being raised in this crazy world. Between the fantasy worlds of TV/Movies where everyone is picture perfect, the fake world of fashion magazines where every photo is air-brushed and improved until it doesn’t look like the model any longer, and the oh-so-perfect world of celebrities who have access to every trick in the book to transform them into someone you’re unlikely to ever cross path with in the street, how can anyone feel that they belong?

I feel, in our effort to be healthy, we’ve gone too far, and moved into a whole different dimension, going passed the health issue and into a much more sinister area. And in that move, our judgment on others has changed. We might have become more aware of racism and discrimination regarding creeds and colours, but we’ve moved it into another area of our judgment on people’s physical appearances.

Consider this, for a moment. When you see someone in a wheelchair, or walking with a limp, what comes into your mind? How do you judge that person? More often than none, you probably wonder what happened to them and feel sorry for them. Now, think of what might come into your mind when you cross pass with an overweight person. Are you really feeling sorry for them? Or are you more inclined to judge them? Take those two people and place them in a pub, having, let say, fish and chips. Which of the two will make you think “Bad idea mate, you really shouldn’t be having this, you’re already in bad enough shape”? Do you ever think that when you see a group of healthy looking people having a pint and a cigarette outside your local? Probably not, as you can’t see the effects those habits have on their bodies.

And maybe, you do none of those things. Maybe you’re just well adjusted and I’m not. After all, I wanted to use the word obese instead of overweight, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I hate how it sounds and its implication. Then I realised I was making generalisation and in a way, discriminating against others than might not think the way I do. Well, tough! After all, this is my space, it is all about me and how I feel about the world surrounding me. Besides, I really don’t think I’m that way off the mark!

Where did the line go?

2010-04-07T10:29:00.002+01:00

I can remember a time when sex and love where interconnected and when I would have never given one without the other. When my heart was pure and naive, and the very thought of sex for pleasure only was an abomination. Today, I wonder what happened to that girl. She was so innocent, so gullible – although, to be honest, she still is sometimes – and truly believed in love and romance.

I’ll tell you what happened: she grew up, tried to make some sense of it all, but, being so naïve and unfamiliar with the rules of that world, she got tricked, played, used and got lost in the mix. And that thin line she would have never crossed, well, first, she just put a toe over it, just to see what it was like on the other side. Ah, the unknown can be so attractive sometimes. Then the toe became a foot, after all, it can’t be that bad, can it? And before she new it, she had moved the line to a different area. At first, she just moved it to the side a bit, but as time went on, it got moved to another room, then another level. It started to fade away, becoming a little more blurred every time she moved it. As the line weakened, that girl fell asleep in the corner of my head and my heart. Thing is, and please don’t ask me why but, today, that girl is waking up again. She still believes in love and romance and wants her line back.

Problem is, as those things regularly happens to the most untidy of us, she can’t find that bloody line anymore!!! And she’s been looking, believe me. She’s even got me searching for the flipping thing. She won’t leave it alone. Plus, she wants me to stop having meaningless sex… Who does she think she is? Seriously, I ask you. Since I’ve started having that casual relationship with Mr Max, she’s become increasingly louder. How am I supposed to stay sane with her going on about love and true feelings … and Mr H.? She’s really fallen for him and wanted me to give it one last shot.

She knows me so well, though. She knows the inside out of my heart and soul. And, well, let’s be realistic here, when she starts going on, I have a habit to listen. Because, she is that most hopeful and most loving side of me. But she’s also the one that suffers the most from not feeling loved. We often talk about it, but she just won’t give up. I have, and she can’t admit that. So, in trying to calm her down – or shut her up, depending on how I feel ;-) – I have sent Mr H one last e-mail. I had to, for her sanity, if not for mine. And in a way, she is right; we need to know that those feelings were real, and not just a fragment of our imagination.

I didn’t want to tell Mr Max, but she felt it was only right. Interestingly enough, and I guess it’s only fair after what happened, he’s been really supportive. The biggest surprise of all was the quick response from Mr H. Although, now, she’s getting even louder because, in a twist I didn’t really see coming, those feelings were not only real, but shared! So now, I just can’t shut her up! That’s the problem with her, when she gets it, she really gets carried away. I’ve tried to explain to her, yes, he shares them but he’s got his own things to deal with and might not be ready for us. But she won’t listen. She keeps going on about love, hope and Mr H. I’m not denying I don’t want it too, because I do. She and I are one after all. But I’m probably a little more cautious than she is.

And guess what, she’s found that stupid line! So, as you can imagine, we’ve been having a bit of a war because she’s determined to bring it back. I’ll be damned if I let that happen! Sorry, but as long as I am single, I’m having fun, and that’s that! Line or no line!

Just let me rant...

2010-04-03T12:22:00.000+01:00

Last night, Ash and I went in search of a pub with a dance floor. And we found one. A fairly good one at that. It was, in fact, full of actual grown ups, a nice change from the usual crowd of teenagers we regularly find ourselves surrounded by when going out dancing. That’s where I was faced, one more time, one too many times, by the reality that it doesn’t matter how old you are or how mature you are meant to be, there are things that just don’t change, especially when alcohol is involved.

And I’m afraid I’m not talking about being able to have a good fun night without getting totally hammered or behave in a way that reflects your maturity. No. I am talking about something much more troubling. I am talking about how totally surreal my evenings out, in this country, can truly get. Over the years, I have grown familiar to a range of fascinating behaviour when out during the week-end.

One that comes to mind is the Island Bag Ladies. You know the type. A bunch of women dancing in a circle, worshiping their purses as they lay them in the centre of their little convent. And that drives me crazy! What do they need those for anyway? Oh yes, I forgot, they carry their full make up kit in there. For you gentlemen, who have not had the privilege to experience the women’s toilets in a pub or club on a Saturday night, count yourself lucky! Imagine, if you will, a herd of drunken swaying giraffes, desperately trying to carefully reapplying their faces on. The thing is, past a certain time – usually by 8pm!!! – it really doesn’t make any difference anymore, the beer goggles stops the opposite gender to notice the difference! I say, put your face on before you leave home, slap a 20 in your bra and leave that dreadful bag behind. I think we should ban those bags the way bouncers ban drinks from the dance floor. I mean, they are already limited in space, so that island just ends up cramming my style, to be honest.

And while I was watching these mammals circling their totems last night, I noticed a few women wearing that new style skirt, the one that puffs up at the front and is rather tight at the back. You know the one I mean? That’s when I had an epiphany. I am now convinced that a couple of designers, up there in their big offices, surrounded by miles of fabrics, bored and uninspired had a bet. Who could come up with the worse possible design, making sure it would be unflattering no matter how slim or fit the model is. Then, give it to a few unsuspecting celebrities who will happily wear it on the red carpet and turn it into an overnight fashion must have. It is unreal how gullible some people are, because I am still waiting for the woman who can make it work. It’s unflattering on the best looking models, so to have women above a size zero wearing it is just ridiculous.

And it’s not just that skirt. Why can’t folks work with their own body, instead of trying to fit into a design that is only specific to one type of body shape? I have a fabulous big chest, so yes, I use it and make the best of the figure I have to look feminine and sexy. Ash doesn’t, but she has a really gorgeous perky butt, so no, she won’t be wearing really low cut tops but tight skirts or trousers which accentuate one of her best features. I’m not only talking about big women who try to pull off outfit that really shouldn’t be worn by anyone above a size 14. Don’t get me started on that! I’m talking about how, despite being confident working people, some women just have to put on show as much skin as they physically can before falling into the indecent category. Now, I admit thoroughly enjoying people watching when out, but sometimes, I worry about the future of this country, because when it comes to dress sense, let me tell you, some people are totally clueless.

The return of Mr Max...

2010-03-27T08:48:00.002Z

With reasons unbeknown to me, I don’t seem to ever be able to get both love and sex. I spent so long waiting for love, when it felt like it would never come, I gave up on the idea. The day I stopped believing in it was the day I started to have sex for fun. And oh the fun I’ve had. It is a truly magnificent thing and I am very good at it… yeah, I know, it’s easy for me to say, but I am very self aware, so if I say I’m good at something, you better believe I really am. Admittedly, I’ve had a range of very determined teachers. All very happy to be used as guinea pigs while I worked on those many ways to satisfy a gentleman. Funnily enough, that’s probably the only subject I happily would have taken homework home with me! Although, looking back, none of them really were gentlemen.

So, when, in a twist of fate, Mr Max’s old flame changed her mind, I thought, considering how good our first session had been, why not have some fun. He then went through all the emotions I’d had, and some more. Now, it would have been very easy to feel totally smug and pleased with this turn of events, but for reasons unknown to myself at first, I felt nothing of those feelings I expected – and believe me, Me, Myself and I have had big meetings over the subject, some of us were really concerned about our general lack of pleasure at this new development. I felt sorry for him and how he might have been feeling over the whole affaire. So, I put on my empathy hat on and offered friendship and support… Yes, I know what you’re thinking: How could I do this after what had happened? Well, what do you want me to say, I must bit slightly sado on the edges, because I went straight back.

Mr Max & I agreed to meet as “friends”, the type that kiss and cuddle and see where it would take us. - I can hear your cries of outrage… Give it up; what’s done is done ;-) . Ok, I confess, the fact that I’d arranged to meet with another man threw him a bit and, in a way, for lack of a better word, sealed the deal. That’s how we ended up spending that Friday night together. Now, trust me, I knew we would end up engaging in some real fun bedroom activities, but I also wanted to see how I felt about it all. And it felt brilliant. I’m not just talking about the sex, although that was pretty amazing, but I felt so comfortable with him, it was actually really nice. Better than I expected.

After a few days texting one another, he started to wonder whether I had ulterior motives to our little “relationship”. He reminded me that he was still very much in love with her and wasn’t sure when – if ever – he would get over it. Strangely enough, even though he had mentioned it before so it really wasn’t news to me, it came down on me like a tone of bricks. I guess, after Friday night, I thought there might have been something more. But it looked like I was wrong. He made that crystal clear. Now, as glad as I should be for his honesty, a part of me started to feel angry, cheated and robbed. The truth of the matter is that I brought all this upon myself. I always, somehow, make sure the relationship is doomed from the start or I sabotage it all along the way. So now comes the hard task of telling him that meeting up again isn’t going to be a good idea, even though I’m rather desperate for his company, love and that strong connection that brought us together in the first place. And I don’t mean hard for him, no, I’m thinking about Me, Myself and I here. Because sending him away is going to take me right back to that dreaded single status. But I have to protect myself and I know, deep down, that if I haven’t fallen for him already, I will do very soon. And that’s just a recipe for disaster in my books.

So could this be the beginning of the end of Mr Max, you ask. Well… No. As we talked and I got ready to give him my best, most convincing version of “let’s not see each other again”, after many, many failed attempts, he stopped me by admitted this whole thing was a little more than just sex to him. Now, many flags rose up, the cannons rang, telling me to just leave … so I stayed! He asked for a couple of weeks to sort his situation out, and I gave it to him. No hesitation. No pause. The thing is, at the time, I was also talking to a blast from my past. A guy I used to have fun with about 10 yrs ago reappeared and wanted a chat. Interestingly enough, after our first few dates, this guy had turned around and said, and I quote: "you're not girlfriend material”. The realisation of how much those few words have impacted on me and played as the last nail in that strong foundation of poor belief in myself hit me there and then.

I know I must trust that I deserve better, I must want better than be second best or a play thing to men. I am worth more than that, even though my behaviour around men and those repeated situations I find myself in seem to say otherwise. But right now, I admit, I’m not sure how to do this whole believing in yourself gobbledygook. So, for now, I will take any glimmer of hope toward receiving love any day. And I will get my heart broken. I will hurt, and cry and feel like it will never happen for me. But then, hopefully, I will get up again, raising back from the deep crack inside me to where I can feel human again, woman again, myself again. And who knows, one day, I might begin to see the light and believe in all that gobbledygook (I sure like that word!!!). Whether love comes along or not, that is another matter.

Saturday night on planet Earth

2010-03-20T17:08:00.000Z

Saturday night in the big city is a whole different type of animal than anywhere else. It's bigger in every sense of the way. Women show more flesh, wear more dreadful outfits, men are cheesier, use more outrageous pick up lines … But some things stay the same though. People get really drunk and behave in a way they wouldn't dream of doing otherwise… Ok, I admit, I might have had a hand at implementing those theories on the night. Definitely on the drinking side of things. I think that recommended amount of no more than three units in any one day was reached by 8pm… It is fair to say that by the time we left the club – 2.30am – we’d had way more than our fair share.

Let me just reassure you, first of all, that I am not a big drinker. At least, I never was until I moved to this country… I’m not putting the blame on anyone per-say, but you have to wonder, don’t you? And I’m already rather outgoing and somewhat out there, so no real need for help when it comes to letting my hair down. A couple of glasses help, 3 cocktails and a bottle of wine later, well, lets just say that any inhibitions I had left were gone right out the window.

So, here I am, blissfully unaware of my high alcohol blood content, taking to the dance floor. Now, there’s a place where I feel at home. Give my any good 70s / 80s pop songs and I’m away. I’ve always found dancing a bit of a therapy. I just block everyone out and dance like no-one’s watching… Oh, but don’t be fooled, I know people are watching, that’s why I get up there. I’m good at it and confident, and just love the attention. I was in a pretty good mood then, when this 6foot bloke made his move on me. Thanks to the alcohol, he got his way in immediately. I made him suffer a little bit, but after the last few months, all I really wanted was some well deserved attention, to feel sexy and desired, even if just for an instant.

So, when he made his move to kiss me, I let it happen. He wasn’t a bad kisser, room for improvement, most definitely, but I really couldn’t be bothered. And that’s where I think the alcohol might have slightly impaired my judgment. Before I knew it, I was leading him to a secluded booth which took us all the way to a very interesting development … well … I’ll let you guess, because I’m not one to kiss and tell… Yeah right!!! It was a lot of fun and I admit I enjoyed every minutes of it, especially after, when I looked up to realise a bunch of people had been watching us and I gave them the thumbs up!

Apparently, going home took forever. I didn’t see anything; I slept through 45 of our 50min night bus journey back. Alcohol does that to me too, better than any sleeping pills. Ok, I agree, getting on the bus at 3am didn’t help keeping me alert either. Good thing Kay was, because I would have slept all the way to the bus terminal.

In the end, I might still be single, but that week-end away was just what the doctor ordered. Didn’t fix anything in my head or in my heart, but that itch has been scratched, so, if anything else, my urges have been satisfied … for now.

Whatever happens in London ...

2010-03-16T05:16:00.000Z

So, Friday afternoon, I escaped to the big city for the week-end. Hey, my mate doesn’t call me lastminute.com for nothing! But then, she likes things planned ahead. I’m really not that organised, more of a free spirit me. So, planned to meet with a couple of friends and be totally reckless. I wanted time to forget about my many issues holding me back, my need for love, the loneliness I felt daily, the hurt I’d had over the last few months and just be me. To let that fun, outgoing, friendly, sexy and outrageous - at times - side of me out of its cage for a tiddly bit. I don’t let it out much lately, so it was really keen to see the bright lights of the night.

Now, before you get all excited… No Mr Big. Turned out, he was in France, of all places, on a tour. Good thing then, you'll agree, that I wasn't banking all my fun time on him. Yes, I admit, it would have been nice to see him, but being aware of his whereabouts before hand meant that the knowledge barely affected that side of me’s needs and enthusiasm to get out. And so, it did. Oh, it really did. And it had a fabulously fun time!

Friday night was rather calm and reasonable. Had a bottle of wine with a nice Chinese meal in a very quiet restaurant. Yes, had the bottle all by myself. Ella decided one glass would suffice her. I had other ideas. Besides, I’d received an e-mail just before going out that shook me slightly and I wasn’t going to let some laying in feeling raise its ugly head during my week-end of irresponsible fun. I had a plan and no man, nor my feelings for him, was going to be able to stop me!!! Oh, I hear you, a bit of wine isn’t that bad, really. And I guess, in the grand scheme of things, and within this drinking culture we now live in, I admit, it was a child’s game. But you got to start somewhere. And more importantly, you have to pace yourself. I still had Saturday night to come, and I knew being out with Kat was going to require all my commitment to my original plan. Friday night was just easing me in, a warm up, if you will!

And, thanks to Ella’s 6 years old daughter, I even got the opportunity to feel the lack of sleep as she made her way into my bed at 6.30 in the morning, with cat in tow and children’s TV to entertain yours truly. I love children, I love children, I love children, yes I do, yes I do, yes I do … But not at 6.30 on a Saturday morning after too much red wine!!! I did try to ignore her, but I should have known better really, because it just made it worse as the more I ignored her, the more attention she wanted. I know this; it’s my job to know this! But I’d left my professional hat at home, and by God, did I pay the price for it there and then. But I was a great friend as I let Ella sleep in until nearly 9. Oh yes, I am a fantastic friend! She bought me breakfast later on, so we’re even ;-)

I made it to Kat on time, for once. Hey, I said I’d be there by 3pm and I was there at 2.55pm. What more do you want from me!?!?! Kat is one of those limited edition types of friends. At least in my life. She’s 40, got no kids, no hubby, and can party the way only the brits can. Took me long enough to get to her level of commitment when taking to the night, she’s one of those pros. But Saturday night, I wanted to make her proud. To show her how far I had come and how well she had taught me. Although, after reflection, I think we both were slightly surprised by how far I really had come. Ooops!

To be continued…

The one that got away...

2010-03-08T22:37:00.006Z

I talked to Mr Max last night, and even though I am still finding it difficult to accept his decision, the truth of the matter is, had it been the other way round, I probably would have done the same thing. I mean, how many people would turn down giving a chance to the one that got away? Ok, ok, that little evil voice at the back of my head keeps hoping she’ll be nothing like he expects, will be boring and, most importantly, crap in bed. I have some real nasty thoughts in that twisted head of mine... Oh, jealousy is such a powerful thing.

I tell you what though, this whole thing gives the phrase "It's not you, it's me" a whole new meaning. And in a way, I guess it should help, because, after all, it really isn't about me... even if that most insecure part of me keeps nagging at me that the one that got away is probably more beautiful, sexier, more intelligent, funnier ... and it goes on, and on, and on... It really never shuts up! That's why I tend to get her really really drunk so she can't nag me anymore.

This does bring up another problem: I haven't figured out a way to only get her sloshed. Every other single side of me get it too. So, unfortunately, the paranoid one jumps in there with her, followed very closely by the one that feels sorry for herself and it becomes a real soap opera. Even Eastenders is more up beat than them all put together. But that's only a temporary set back. I'm working on it and will figure out a way to shut her up and only her!

So, what to do, what’s next? Where do I go from there? For a start, I think I’m going to put men, sex and relationship aside for a bit. Only got 3 months left on that dating website, so will let that run its course and not bother after that. Although, Mr Big has been in touch a lot lately, asking me to, and I quote, “get my sexy butt back to London asap”. And after the last few months, I think I deserve a bit of a break from all this emotional drama.

Actually, I’ll just put relationship to the side for now. God I am useless at this!!! LOL Well, I admit that London sounds like a very tempting change of scenery, and even sweeter with a side of Mr Big… Ahhh, that Mr big, he is fine! He’s like one of my toys on legs. For some reason, this 28yrs old guy likes older women. And when I say older, I mean way older than me! I’m just a young chicken to him. And to me, well, he’s just too hot to turn down! He’s one of those rare bad boys that get under your skin and you just can’t get ride of.

Hey, don’t think I’m deluding myself, thinking that sex can change anything. I know it won’t, and I know it might mess me up some more, but I’m afraid I’ve always used sex as a way to escape so… London, brace yourself, here I come!!!

Reasonable depression

2010-03-06T23:10:00.000Z

Did you know that doctors sometimes use the term: reasonable depression...? Yes, apparently, if you lose one of your parents or a child, you are entitled to a certain amount of time being depressed. My question is, what about the rest of us? What about those of us who have both their parents, healthy children and have other problems that might cause some kind of depression. Do they call it unreasonable depression?

Well, either way, I now truly believe I must have been a really bad person in my past life. Why else would my life keep kicking me when I'm down? I mean, there I am, minding my own business, trying to just get on with my life, but noooooo, whoever is in charge up there has decided I'm just not going to have it this easy. For years, it just gave me bad relationships, the type you're meant to learn from, the type that damages your self-worth and your self-esteem.

And when you think you've learned your lesson, that you're ready for the real thing, it sends you a gentleman, a nice, kind and loving guy. It even lets you think that you might actually have a chance at happiness right there. It waits in the dark, watching as you get settled in your new, unusual role. Then, just because it can, it takes it away. No warnings. No reasons. At least, none that you are used to or can make sense of. No, this time, it’s just a case of him not being ready to move on. And for some reason, it just makes matters worse.

Now, at this point, you convince yourself it was just bad luck, no way was this done on purpose. So, you try to move on and eventually, well, you do. A few months later, in comes a new man, one that shows promising prospect, who is open and honest, who really likes you, and who doesn't have the issues the last one had. So down goes your carefully placed protective shell. Oh, what a mistake that was. And it knows, it watched and it smiles… Oh I bet it does! Because before you know it, this great prospect turns around to say that, actually, he's just met with a girl he used to be in love with and has just found out she felt the same. So, once again, you're left on the side line. No warnings either. Oh, he is sorry, he even suggests you stay friends.

Oh how much fun is your life right then? And still, that one in charge smiles and surrounds you with happy looking couples, just to remind you of what you're missing out on. It fills your life with friends who don't know what it's like to be 36 and single, who try to help by telling you that you’re not getting out enough, you're too fussy or you're looking too hard. If I had a pound for every time I heard the phrase: "It will happen when you're not looking for it", I would be financially set for life. And then, for some incomprehensible reason, it attacks the few parts you think you're in control of. It makes that job you love a nightmare by giving you power crazy committee members. It uses that exciting degree you've taken on to make you relive bad school days... And did I mention, to top it all up, it makes sure to give you an added bonus by making you fat?

Oh the joy that is life. Who ever said life is beautiful? Because, I have to tell you the truth on this one, listen carefully, as they really don't want you to know this, it's too big, too much, too scary for any one person to face: Life sucks!!! At least mine feels like it right now. Anyway, this time, I think I'm entitled to some reasonable depression time. And I'm very much planning on cashing it in!

Sex, love and relationship...

2010-03-03T23:40:00.000Z

So, second date with Mr Max. I had some strict rules in mind, had planned the whole day out and was not going to take any risks on this one. I like the guy, I want to give this a proper go and not let my addiction to the pleasure of flesh get in the way. Ok, yes, he was going to pick me up from mine, but I figured, my house mate was going to be home so no problems there. But all the best laid plans... turned to mush when I found out she was going away for the week-end at the same time he was picking me up!

Let me set the scene... 10am, the front door rings and she's just getting ready to walk out the door. I'm suddenly realising this is a very dangerous place to be in. I can see it in his eyes, he's got cheeky ideas in his mind and the temptation is screaming at me. I only have so much self control, and when it comes to sex... well, what can I say... My name is Carine and I'm an addict!

Lets just say that roughly 15minutes after my housemate abandonned me and one cup of coffee and one of tea later - left aside getting stone cold, - I was being undressed... God, I am useless at this. So much for me trying to get into a relationship on stronger ground than sole for sex. After all, as much fun as sex is, what I'm really after is some great love on the side of good sex. Or should it be good sex on the side of great love? I guess you can see where my problem lies. However, I do have to confess, this was more than just a good time... It was a hell of a great time. The man has some pretty impressive moves. Now, Ash will tell you I’m easily pleased, but I don't think so, I'm just good at giving directions. Some people can clearly explain how to get from A to B, I'm just really explicit on how to get me there, over and over again. Simple.

The interesting thing with Mr Max is his passion for ... well, passion. And I know from experience it's rather helpful to have this kind of information before you really get into the bloke. Imagine falling for a man only to find out he can't take you all the way. Believe me, I've been there, it ain't pretty, no matter how much you love him. And that's where things can get messy, scary and complicated, because Mr Max is more than one of my new toys with brand new batteries and offers much more than theses precious gadgets in my box.

And that's usually when I start to lose the plot. Because the truth is, sex, I can do, I'm good at it. It's simple, straight forward, unbelievably fun and doesn't require you to take much emotional risks. Relationships are so much more terrifying, you bare your soul to someone else, give them a piece of your heart while, inside, you just can't help but worry about their ability to reduce those very fragile and precious part of you to shreds.

So what to do? Stay home, never risk getting your heart broken or get out there and risk to be reduced to tears? The funny thing is, no matter how many tears I have shed over men, how often I have felt like giving up on the idea of love in my life, that romantic side of me just won't drop it. So, yes, I am still a romantic at heart, and even if life has managed to reduce that voice down to a whisper, it has not minimised it's commitment to searching for that great love. Call me an idealist, a dreamer, a romantic or maybe just crazy, but at the end of the day, my heart has its own agenda. Believe me, I have tried to change its mind, but it just won't let go. It's just as stubborn as I am.

And you know what, it reassures me that it is. It's helping me take risks and right now, it's leading me right into the arms of Mr Max, for possibly love, maybe a relationship and as we figure this out, plenty of great sex!

Kissing Frogs

2010-03-01T18:37:00.001Z

It's been 5 years since my last serious relationship. 5 years! That's equivalent to about 1303 weeks or 9125 days. That’s a lot of alone time. Now, don't take me wrong, I had plenty of fun during that time, plenty of no-strings attached fun. But, like all self confident single woman, it just doesn't cut it, does it? So, after moving to Devon, I thought I'd had enough kissing frogs and that it might be time to take the next step. So, I joined a dating website. And, no, I'm not a dating website virgin... Hey, where do you think I found my no-string attached fun!?

But I decided to be good. To be reasonable. And to NOT, under any circumstances, get into bed with them in the first few dates. With all the best intentions, I went on my first date. Lovely lad, but, unfortunately, I fell in love with his car!!! He wasn't impressed, understandably. And, yes, I admit, I tried to get into his pants... What can I say, some addictions are just really hard to kick. Luckily, he had been put off and didn't take advantage of my weakness.

Then came the next man. And the following one. And the one after that. And I was starting to see a pattern reappearing. How do you still pick the wrong men, even on line? Seriously, I knew about how your attitude can be a magnet for the wrong type of partners, I just never thought it would transfer onto paper! I must have some fantastic psychic connection... either that, or my desperation is leaking onto my laptop's hard drive.

Then came Mr H. Perfect on paper, in picture and on the phone. Tall, handsome, quite a bit older than me, divorced with 3 kids and fairly local. We met and I admit, I immediately melted. He was even more charming than I had imagined and the chemistry was there instantly. So, I did what I always do when I meet someone I really fall for: I went to fantasy land! You know, lala land, that little space in the back of your mind where you can make dreams come true. Although mine is probably a little bigger than most slightly bonkers women. Anyway, we'd only been out once but I already had us married and living happily ever after. Nothing new there. My typical pattern.

The second date was lovely too, although it took him a good 3 weeks to get himself organised and sorted to meet up again. That should have been my first clue. But no, I had my blinders on, and saw only what I wanted to see. He really liked me and I needed to be understanding of his situation. So, I gave him even more time to get himself sorted for our 3rd date. It did eventually come. Yet, as much as I tried to ignore them, the cracks where starting to appear. As charming, loving and interesting as he was, I started to feel I was doing all the work. I then did something I'd never done before: I told him that if we didn't meet more often, our little relationship would never get off the ground. And, logically, he ended it.

It felt like my heart broke into million pieces. It wasn't just loosing him, but also losing the idea of what could have been. All those dreams and everything I've always wanted. I tried to hang on to him, to hang on to the hope he might change his mind, especially since he said he just wasn't ready to move on. To me, there was no actual closure. So, instead of moving on, I waited for any news of him while finding someone to fill in the gap. All I wanted was someone like him. I found a man of similar age/background and even more local and recklessly jumped into bed with him. It was farther away from anything I really wanted, but my desperation to be loved was taking over.

Christmas came and went. As the new year started, I tried to move away from all this ridiculous and unhelpful behaviour. I also started to get slack on my dating activities. No one was e-mailing me, and I wasn't bothered in searching much. Part of me had started to give up on the idea to meet someone even half decent. I wasn't sure I was ready for another blow just yet. I felt like I'd given enough to men, in terms of wasted time, energy, emotions and tears. Things back home were not good, which took my mind of those mindlessness thoughts and i was getting ready to visit my family.

And then, just before I flew home for the February holidays, came that first e-mail. It was sweet and I thought, why not? We started e-mailing, then chatting on msn. We had so much in common. From what we liked doing, to what we wanted in life and a similar sense of humour. There was a real connection there... and we both got carried away in how things might be when we met. He talked of going away together, going to a concert he's got tickets for in May, even maybe go to a wedding... And we also talked about sex a lot.

How insane is this! It was all I have ever wanted. But no, I panicked. I stopped him in his tracks and we agreed we should take it slowly... Yeah right. Like I can do that... But I also really wanted to be good, to be reasonable, to build our relationship on more than a physical connection - Oh to hell with it! cried that part in my head on fire, close to short circuiting while fantasizing about our relationship!
A couple of days after I came back to Devon, we had our first date. I admit kissing him within 10 minutes of meeting him. I wanted to know straight away. Was that smart? I don't know, but my emotions got overwhelmed and toward the end, I cried.

Now, I ask you, you're on a first date, you think it's going well, the girl is kissing you and suddenly, she starts crying. If I was the bloke, I'd have ran a mile! But he stayed put. He hugged me and handled it. Although I know that he wondered what my next move was going to be after our date. And honestly, I had a lot going through my mind.

After work, on Friday, I had a drink with one of the girls I work with. We talked about men, about this new guy I'd met, about her relationship and her getting remarried. And she said something that really hit me. Something she had realised when her partner asked her to marry him, when she wondered whether this was the right thing to do, whether it was too early after her divorce, until she asked herself this question: "What am I waiting for?". As she explained this to me, she looked me in the eyes and asked: "What are you waiting for?" and that phrase stayed with me, echoing over and over inside my head, working its magic until, suddenly, I thought "What AM I waiting for?"

So, I'm done kissing frogs. Right now, I'm kissing Mr Max. One of those rare men who doesn’t need to be taught how to kiss and who's full of potential. God knows where this will take us. But I'm sure going to enjoy the ride!

Home is where the heart is.

2010-02-28T15:10:00.000Z

Right now, my heart aches being so far away from home. It's funny, while I was visiting my family last week, I barely cried. Oh, yes, I had a couple of moments where I felt teary or even let a little sob out, but nothing I am known and loved for... The big sob out session.

Since getting back to Devon, things have been feeling weird. Not things really, more me, I, myself, inside... tears have been rising to the surface a lot more than usual. I have gone back to my routine: work, studies, even dating, but somehow all this is being tainted by a much more important feeling I cannot shake: I am loosing my very much loved grand-mother. And so, Wednesday night, I cried. I cried like I haven't done in a long time.

I cried for the emotional pain she's going through, I cried for her fears and her hurry at leaving us. I cried for my granddad and his stress and enormous sadness. I cried for my mum, who's going through one of the toughest moments of her life, no matter how natural and inevitable it might be. I cried for my aunt who's trying to manage this difficult time and the big changes happening in her personal life. I cried for my great-aunt who worries so much about her brother and what might happen once his wife has passed on.

Finally, I cried for me, for the pain I feel at the unequivocal certainty that this is the end of the road for this chapter in my life. I'll never get to cook with her anymore. I'll never get to bug her by speaking into her pans while she's cooking. I'll never get to walk with her, looking for conkers and chestnut in the winter. I'll never get to show her where I live and what England is like. And I might never get to kiss and hug her again.

See, I talked to my mum on Wednesday and the news aren't good. So, after a few tears, it got me thinking some more. We don't realise how precious those moments are until they are about to be taken away from you. We get so carried away with our little lives, we get on with things and somehow, we tend to forget that we're only just passing through, some for longer than others, but in the end, we will leave behind loved ones and it isn't going to be easy for either of us. It is not surprising then, that when the day comes, we get shaken back into the sheer reality of our own mortality. We know it's coming, we talk about it every now and then, we even discuss our funeral plans with friends, we talk about the music we'd like to be played then, what people should say, or wear, we joke about what might be after, and sometimes, we mentioned how we'd like to go. Mostly pain free and in our sleep... But we don't often discuss the hardest options of our demise. Illness, accident, violence... so much can get in the way of our very existence.

But in the end, whether people stay or go, whether we tell them how much we love them, whether we see them everyday or just talk to them a couple of times a month, on thing remains for sure: Home is where our heart is.

A Litte Bit Of Love

2010-02-19T10:42:00.000Z

I have been blessed to have known and built very strong relationships with all 4 of my grand-parents as well as one of my great grand-parent. When she passed away, I cried for days but was barely 21 and somehow soon forgot the pain I had felt. Today, life feels more fragile than ever before. Having said goodbye to my dad's father last September, I am now contemplating saying good bye to my mum's mother.

I realise how much this has affected my relationship with the others. As I'm getting older and I'm seeing my grand-parents reaching the end of their adventure, I want to spend more and more time in their company. I want to be with them all the time, remind them how much I love them, be there to help them, keep them company and give back the years they have spent with me as a child. I want to cherish every instant, every laugh, every smile, every joke. I want to burn those memories in the back of my mind, to keep safe in the corner of my heart. I realise just how insignificant we really are, we live on borrowed time, each second bringing us closer to the unavoidable end.

Yesterday, having planned to have lunch with my dad's mother who is 85 and a half (her words, not mine), I decided that a couple of hours for lunch just wasn't long enough. As we sat down to the lovely meal she had prepared, I enquired about her interest in going clothes shopping with me. I wasn't sure of her reaction and somehow thought she would turn me down. Now, this is something I have never imagine ever doing, let alone considered, but for some reason, i just wanted to get her out of this little flat and take her into the big bad world.

I was totally flabbergasted when she jumped to the idea and even mentioned buying some new wine glasses. As we talked some more, she shared that the wine glasses she was using were 43yrs old and that she really didn't like them. She wanted some nice ones, "like your dad has" she said. So, after a coffee, which I was privileged to drink using the cups her and her husband used to use, and which she hadn't taken out since he passed away 5 months ago, she got changed saying "I always dress up when I go out" and we left.

I hear those who know me crying out " But you don't like coffee!" Truth is, I really hate coffee, but she just doesn't understand that anyone would not have coffee after their meal and it makes her so happy to see me drink it, that whenever I see her, I have a cup. It's funny the things you do for the people in your life.

And so, for about 2 hours, my nan and I went round a shopping mall. I didn't find anything, but she found the perfect wine glasses. I was amazed at how much she enjoyed that little trip, let alone how happy it made me. There was so much complicity between us, so many laughs, so much love, it resourced us both.

Now, you need to understand, my nan, this one especially, is very superstitious. There are many things that are considered a really catastrophe and breaking a glass is one of them... After I carefully took out her 8 new wine glasses and placed them in her display cabinet, I started packing the 9 old ones. In my haste, I knocked one which I watch, obviously unable to stop it, slowly roll of the table and smash on the living room floor. Nan came running in shouting: "What did you break?" I apologised as I showed her the old wine glass on the floor. She looked at me concerned: "it's not a new one?" she asked. "No" I replied, shaking my head. She laughed and said:" I don't care!" we both laughed as we cleared up the mess. Then her superstitious self kicked in and she cried with glee "It's luck for you because you broke it!"

As I got ready to leave, she said "why do you live so far away, I wish you didn't, then we could do this more often." My heart skipped a beat, I felt sad, guilty for moving abroad, ashamed for not making a bigger effort to spend more time with her. But then she hugged me and kissed me on the cheeks the way only your nan can, her hands on the side of your head, like when you were 5. She kissed one side, then the other, then again and again and again. I laughed, hugged her and kissed her saying "I love you, nan".

Saying good bye...

2010-02-18T10:30:00.000Z

It's half term and, working term time only, I should be relaxing, watching tv really late, sleeping in, maybe even doing a bit of research for that degree of mine. At least, that was the intended plan. But life is full of surprises and challenges, and it's brought me a big one this time around. Something a lot bigger than I thought I could deal with.

You see, I got a call from my mother a few weeks ago, telling me that my Nan just wasn't doing well at all. She was diagnosed just before Christmas with metastasized bone cancer and was hospitalized a couple of days before Christmas eve. And, just because it's more fun where there's two of you, my granddad has a nice advancing case of Alzheimer. So when my mother called, it took me less than a heartbeat to decide to take the advantage of the coming holidays to visit my family and spend some time with my grand-parents.

When I saw my gran at Christmas, even though she was in hospital and in pain, she could still get up and get about with some support, was very alert and was even complaining about every little things, as well as being her usual inpatient major pain in the butt. Don't take this wrong, I totally adore my gran, but you got to call a cat a cat, and my nan, well she was never a sweet little kitten but rather a though tiger.

Today, barely 2 months later, she has changed too much for one to comprehend the unreasonable advance of the disease. She cannot stand on her legs, even with help, she drifts in and out, not managing to focus on a conversation, she sleeps all the time and is starting to forget who the people in her life are. When she mistook my cousin for my brother (in her defense, they do look a lot alike) and started asking him about his travel in India, that was a bit of a shock for the family. And to add to the fun, she's gone totally deaf! The one good thing is that she is not in pain anymore.

She is being cared for very well by all involved in her day to day care, and so is my granddad. The dylema we however face is the reluctancy of her husband to face to the fact that she is dying. He told her it wasn't the cancer but her fall over the summer that caused her current condition. The sadness in this, is that he really believes it and, even though my aunt actually told him nan was dying - using those exact words, not a conversation anyone wants to have with their dad, he is really sturggling to get to term with it.

So, yesterday, during a moment of clarity, as I was alone with her, my gran asked me, tapping her head: "I'm not here because of the fall, am i? it's the cancer." I looked at her puzzled, I wasn't sure what she was getting at. I think she could read it in my eyes and asked again "I'm here because of the cancer? Your granddad says it can be cured." I felt so shocked as she carried on "It can't be cured, can it? Tell me the truth, I want to know." then she added in a whisper... "I need to know".

I couldn't believe what she was saying. I was battling so hard to hold the tears I could feel forming in the corner of my eyes, I didn't want to break down right there and then. I looked around, maybe trying to find someone to rescue me from having this conversation, maybe making sure the coast was clear and no one would interrupt probably one of the hardest thing I even had to do. I turned back to her, took a deep breath and said: "No nan, it's not the fall. It is your cancer." I paused for what felt like a lifetime, but she was staring at me, somehow urging me to carry on. "It's not one they can cure." I paused again, looking at her. Her eyes weren't telling me much, I couldn't figure out what she was feeling. I added: "but they can manage it." My mother returned to the room at that moment, saving me from falling apart in front of Nan. I made my excuses to go the bathroom and, once there, I wept.

Once I composed myself, I returned to the room. Nan had been moved into her bed and was now snoozing peacfully. Granddad was sitting next to the bed, just looking at her, as he does everyday between 2 and 5pm. He is watching the life leaving his beloved wife and it is breaking his heart. And that's a very hard thing to witness.

Now, each person deals with imminent death and all the traumas and responsibilities that come with it, but experiencing it first hand is a whole different ball game. Over the last few years, my mother and her sister have reconnected and strengthen their relationship in a way I could never have hoped for. It's made me so happy to see they were not only getting along, but also really building their bond. Today, I worry as I see that bond weakening as they both try to deal with their parents' situation as best as they can with very different support and input from their respective husbands. Unfortunately, it is putting so much pressure on all 4 of them, that I'm not sure their relationship can survive.

I deal with this the only way I can, I try to be honest with the people around me, try to be supportive of my mum and my aunt, I appraoch my granddad's state with as much empathy, kindness and gentleness as I can, trying to help him through this while I'm here. Part of me wants to put everything on hold back in Devon and stay with them for a while. I guess I'm just not ready to say good bye just yet.

I can dream, can't I?

2010-02-08T00:56:00.002Z

Here I am, once more, battling a sleepless night. I've already had alcohol and took out my little box of tricks... but none of it has worked. My id is having a ranting contest with the rest of me and I am loosing fast. Alternatively, I'm going slightly mad... which is a very real possibility!

So much is being stressed over and replayed in my head that I'm not even sure which I should be worrying about the most, if any. There's my assignment - nowhere near finished yet with its deadline in sight - the workload waiting for me tomorrow, this body I am struggling to be at home in at the moment, that missing love connection, the strong loneliness, the end of life... all screaming inside my head to get heard, to be understood, to feel compassion and a hug to comfort them. Instead, all it gets is noise and my heart aches.

Unforunately, at this moment in time, it has nowhere safe and freeing to go to. No heaven to rest a little, no happy place to think of nothing but the beauty of life. No, right now, it wished those pills would work better and numb the pain all together. Right now, it feels like there is no sense or purpose to being here... Oh my God, it is really depressed tonight! And if i listen to it too much, I'll get down there with it. It's so much easier to be miserable and to feel sorry for yourself. Being happy, now that's hard work. Takes commitment, dedication and willingess to take risks. Easier said than done, I know, I know...

But then again... You see, there is that little light of hope, that small ounce of faith that there is more to this life than feeling this pain. On an evening like tonight, it's very faint, a whisper really. Only if I concentrate and listen carfully, very attentively, can I hear it. I need to focus, block out the cacophony, but, yes, here it is, that soft gentle voice, coming from deep down inside me, muffled by the sound of the ranting and the loud voices of the fragmented sides of me. That voice tenderly reminding me that all this is only a phase, a bad trip from a place inside me that has had a tough day.

So now, I focus on that voice, on the beauty of its music and it's helping me blocking out the rest. I sooth myself by being gentle of those feelings and emotions. After all, they come from a very real place, even if they don't usually all pop out at once! I suppose, they just felt like a field trip tonight. How unconsiderate of them!

Looking at each of them, I calm myself. Nothing I can do about it now anyway. Tomorrow will be another day, we can talk about it then. And who knows, by then, I might have actual answers and solutions to sort it all out. Hey ... I can dream, can't I?

Ode to my Mother - Part 1

2010-02-02T00:51:00.002Z

As I was reading a magazine article on mothers & daughters, I couldn’t help be reflect on how much my relationship with my mother had changed over the last few years and how, after 36 yrs of knowing one another, and even though we had to deal with so many obstacles, call it childhood, divorce, teenager girl, struggling single mum, evil brother ;-) ... we have finally accepted each other for who we are, as best as we are able to.

It’s taken me a great deal of time and personal reflection to accept and understand the reasons behind everything she did or said around me, as well as a very lengthy process to stop blaming her for everything that was going wrong in my life. And the ones who know me well will know I was never one of those people who take responsibilities for their own self easily…

Today, I wonder what type of mother I would have been had I had children. I can’t help but think of the mistakes I would have made. Would I have been over protective? Would I have been too sever? Would I have bothered at all or would I have handed them over to a nanny? Although, knowing me, I think I probably would have gone for the overprotective, “love you too much”, “no one will ever be good enough for you” type of neurotic mum who ends up being ruled by her little bundles of joy... or as a friend of mine said once: regular little hooligans!

What I am sure of, is that I would do everything in my power to prepare them for what the future holds in store; and that would mean do whatever I beleive to be best for them, which is not necessarly what is best for them - as many parents find out day in, day out. I understand that everything she ever did was to help me become who she thought I'd be, following her ideas, values and her experiences as a child. This realisation and the changes I have been going through, has allowed me to see the love she has for me, in it's true form, stripped of the emotional baguage I have seen it through for the last 30 odd years.

Thing is, I probably will never know what mother I might be. And that's ok, but for that reason, I value my mother’s input and influences even more so today than ever before. The interesting thing is that a lot of the things she did or said, that hurt me at the time, have ended up serving me, helping me develop my true self toward its full potential - No, I'm not saying I'm there yet, but I'm definitely getting closer. Now, I truly believe I am a better person because of her, and I’d like to think that she is too because of me.

Someone asked me a few years ago why I kept going back, why was I bothering with her, why was I putting myself through this over and over. I replied: because she's my mum, she's the only one I have and I will not give up on her. Today, I am so glad I never did. I have reached a more balanced state of mind and have established a brand new relationship with her, which has brought us closer than ever before. I admit, it is a load of my shoulders to have finally managed to change the dynamic of that bond. We have both reached a new chapter in our lives, and luckily, we are now in a position to really support one another through the challenges to come.

Ignorance is bliss ... or the answer to happiness

2010-01-28T21:23:00.000Z

Some people ride the wave of life without questioning it or trying to change it. They take the good and the bad and that’s that. Some people get thrown onto the wave and, unhappy with the way it feels, gets off it and try to understand how it works, how it thinks and if they can predict it to make their ride that little more pleasant.

I am one of those people who couldn’t wait to get off – the wave I mean, the wave; you people have such dirty minds! ;-) And in consequences, spent many years trying to figure out what was going on in my head, trying to understand why I feel the way I do, what made me become who I am, learning from the bad and growing from the good … and all that nonsense.

A friend of mine came over to visit during the festive season and, as we’re having a discussion on this subject, he said that, basically, I was a) over analysing every single thing and b) constantly complaining about the same things over and over. I know, in some level, he’s right. I mean, after seeing a range of therapists, counsellors and psychoanalysts, I’m pretty good at pin pointing feelings, emotions and triggers in my behaviour. A little like Scrooge, I visited the ghost of my Christmas past, present and future. I have analysed my past, my present and the things I fear from my future. Today, I am extremely clued on about everything that goes on in my mind and in my heart.

The problem I now face is one that never occurred to me: It is not helping!!! When you get to a certain stage in your life, is it too much to want to understand everything, is it expecting too much to constantly trying to understand why you feel the way you do, why you’re struggling so much emotionally. When you work with children – like I do – you try to teach them ways to deal with their feelings by voicing them and identifying them and not suppressing them.

But could suppressing them be the answer to happiness? This friend of mine, just turned 40, he’s content with his life. He has a job he doesn’t really like nor enjoy, but he makes enough money to make it worth him getting up in the morning. He lives with his parents, which makes his life extremely easy. He doesn’t really want to bother with relationships because, he says, it’s too much hard work and hassle – although he went out with me… so I can see how he might think that now lol.

Truth is, today, I wonder whether he’s got it right. I mean, should just expecting very little from the world or from life, is the answer to a happy balanced time on this Earth? Trying to figure everything out is just messing with your head. The problem is, once you’ve done that, once you’ve taken that path of self discovery, there’s no going back. You can’t say: “well, this is just how it is”, without trying to change it for something you believe might be better.

So what about those who do take that path? How do you live your life and get passed it? How do you not let it hold you back? It’s taking me time to stop looking at the past and blame others for what’s going on in my life. I know people who don’t believe that your experience as a child or as a teenager affects who you become as an adult. But you have to move on and after a while, take responsibility for the way your life is going.

And so, that means my life is what I make of it. But if my life doesn’t make me happy, and is a constant struggle, have I made the wrong choices? Should I trust myself to carry on? Or should I do like some of my friends who settled for less. A little less love, less heartache, less happiness, fearing that this, might be their only chance at what they imagined their life to be?

I know so many people in this kind of situations: unsatisfying relationship to have the children they have dreamed about for years; pretending to be someone they’re not to “bag” the person they think they should be with; ignoring each other’s needs so long as the outside front is kept up… I hear those in couples shouting at me that relationships aren’t easy; that they require sacrifices and compromises; that having never lived with anyone myself, I should reserve my judgment.

In reality, I understand and sometimes even envy those who have made that choice. I find being by myself the single hardest thing to deal with, day in and day out. Is it a choice? Yes and no. Yes, as I am choosing not to settle, and no, as the few I have met who I felt a possible contender ended up turning me down. So why do I do it? Why do I stay single and not settle?

Because of that little part of me who constantly, persistently and increasingly will not let me give up on those dreams, on these ideas I have about my life, what I want to achieve and where I want it to go. Maybe I’m just a dreamer and that’s what my life will be, chasing the dream without ever getting there. Maybe I’m just lonely and maybe I’m getting old and maybe I should just stop talking nonsense and get back to work… Maybe I think I’ll do that.

Personal pleasure

2010-01-26T13:04:00.000Z

I admit having shocked, scared and stunned quite a few people over the last few years, as I came to know my sexual self better. For reasons I still can’t quite understand, that side of me has really taken a life and a voice of its own. And it has led astray one of my friend onto the wicked path along with me. Not that she is complaining that is… And nor is her partner ;-). So the question this really comes down to is this: Do men really do it more often … than me?

I shamelessly admit that personal pleasure is a regular activity of mine. And let me tell you, most single women who deny engaging in this fabulous pass time are blooming liars. Come on girls, let’s be honest, even if it’s just through a soft nod of acknowledgement, you enjoy it just as much as I do.

But then, I think this is bringing us back to the female revolution and our ability to be honest and frank – although probably no as much as I – about our sexual habits.

It might be a good time to clarify that I was a late comer to the pleasure of the flesh – with other people that is - and in consequence, was more than ready to explore it further … God, I sound like a nymphomaniac... I am NOT, don’t listen to a thing Ash says! I'm just really open about everything in my life, which I know scare a few people - men especially - away. But I can't change this side of who I am, I like her too much.

I guess this is where I blatantly confess using feminism to my advantage. I’ve always though that openness makes for greater sexual experience and have always been very honest with my partners. How can one be expected to know exactly what makes the other tick if you never ask? Unfortunately, this is where I tend to forget men have feelings and hangs up too… But I’m working on it.

As I discovered the joys and delights of being a sexually independent woman, I also found out more about the world of adult themed toys. A new fascination was born. I have always been aware that sex sells, but there was a brand new take on the expression. At first, it was mostly as a joke that I bought my first adult toy.

But, being single and in my early 30s – peak of the woman’s sexual appetite apparently, let’s just hope it never dies! – I soon discovered the additional benefits of having electrical appliances that didn’t have to be kept in the kitchen. For a start – and please, dear male friends, don’t take it personally – I won every time!!! What else could a girl want, I ask you? Oh yes, I hear you, they won’t keep you warm at night you cry, and I totally agree with you, but so far, I haven’t yet met the one who will kick my little box right out of my bedroom…

An acquired taste.

2010-01-24T20:14:00.002Z

Being a legal alien for over 15 yrs in the UK, to use Bowie's genius term, I had to adapt to many things. Being originally French, it shook up my system a bit: the language, the routine, the driving, the social calendar...

Amongst these many changes, one has been a surprisingly long process. I now like Salt and Vinegar crisps!!! Thinking back, I can tell you it took me a year to try carrot cake, 3 years to get a taste for baked beans (although I still can't eat them just heated up as most of you do, I have to cook them for longer and add spices...), 7 years to get my head round to eating cheese cake and, as I have just found out, 15 years to start enjoying salt and vinegar crisps. Of course, there still are a few typical English dishes I just can't get my taste buds round...

Who came up with the idea of putting vinegar on chips? Seriously... who did? ... Because I need to sit him down and have a little one to one discussion with him. Wasting perfectly good chips like that is unforgivable. I can't steal my friends' when they drown them in that tangy juice! What about the fact that the country's favourite dish is curry!!! And that's just the beginning of my rant... what about jelly, trifle, custard, spotted dick, bread and butter pudding ( now that's just a lazy alternative to desert ) ...

I have to admit, during my first year in London, I found food a real challenge. But, as time past, I became more and more british - my dad does keep saying he's lost his daughter to the enemy ;-) - so either I am developing a taste for your twist on food or I am destroying my palet.

I could go on and on ... but that wouldn't be fair, because there are also plenty of dishes I have discovered since moving to this country which, even if I am a little fussy on how they are served, I actually really enjoy such as scones and jam & clotted cream ( try them toasted ... fabulous) or those Yorkshire pudding you get with your Sunday roast. Or even bangers and mash, especially with red onion and red wine gravy.

One thing that really scares me though, is how much the american food industry and culture is invading this little island. It's a shame we can't find pride in our own food culture and keep the americans from infecting us with their food habits. Wait ... did I just say WE? Guess my dad was finally right, I have been turned...

City or Country Life? Part 1

2010-01-22T16:25:00.000Z

As I was driving home today, this thought popped into my head: "I really don't miss London." Rather a random thought I know, but then, I always find those to be the most interesting ones.

I lived in London for over 14yrs until, just over a year ago, when I decided it was time for a change. Life had been good in the Big City, but things had started to weaken. The dwindling friends as they moved away or out of London, the single serving friends of the night, as Tyler Durden's alter ego so rightly put it and the ever so growing larger and younger population…

Or maybe it was just that I was getting on a bit. Who knows? Point is, I turned around one day to find myself abandoned by all. How selfish of them to go and get married and have children while I wasn’t looking. And then, to top it all, to move away without so much of a blink. Who was there to bring you chocolate every day during your third trimester and eat it with you so you wouldn’t feel guilty? Who, I ask you? Yes, you know who you are!!!

So, after a quick week-end to visit the area - and trying out the "local" club, roughly 40 min drive away - I spent a couple of weeks racking my brain trying to come up with good reasons why I should stay.
Well, let see:

My brilliant job... Nah, hated it. Was nothing of what I was promised and everything I'd always feared and dreaded.
My fantastic friends... like I said, most of them had buggered off by then and the few that were still around where miles away. That's one of the problems of the Big City, takes just as long to go across than to go from Exeter to Plymouth... and even if you do cover quite a few more miles, you spend just as much on petrol!
Great nights out... Oh, but the attraction of the glittering lights as the hours turned to darkness, when you find yourself surrounded by people proudly wearing their beer goggles, had worn off ages ago.

So, a few days later, I talked to Ash and told her I was moving down. I knew she'd be excited about it, but there were a few reactions I didn't expect from the other people in my life.
For some, the very concept of moving, just like that, without apparently really thinking it through, had come as a bit of a shock and I was reminded of everything I would miss from here, the type of life to expect and, to top it all, was kindly instructed not to expect my life to change or improve in any way as I barely relocating my issues, baggage, trauma - or anything you'd like to call it - with me. I was warned I might just be trying to escape from myself and that nothing would change no matter where I lived.

Truth is, I was very aware of all that and was terrified I was making a huge mistake I might not be able to come back from. But, I made my mind up and decided I really didn't have anything to lose in trying. I thought "Worse comes to worse, I'll be miserable, but then I'm miserable here anyway, so there wouldn't be much difference now, would there?"
Turns out, even though I might have some bad days, I have a job I love, and that, beleive me, makes a massive difference. And I have Ash. Not to put any more pressure on her than there already is, but I really believe that these kinds of relationships come once in your life and I wasn't prepare to loose it to geographic relocation. God, I sound like a stalker... Nah, she's chuffed I'm here...

I blame it all on feminism!

2010-01-19T20:13:00.028Z

Have you ever wondered where we would be today had it not been for the feminist movement? I have, and a fascinating thought came to me. Yes, we are now all meant to be equal - ish - and all that, but have you ever stopped to think about the other implications of this process. What we lost on the way to gaining an independence I sometimes think I could have done without.

Yes, I am fairly autonomous, opinionated and strong. I do as I pleases 99% of the time, I rarely take no for an answer and I like things to be my way. But does that make me an independent person, or just a selfish one?

And what of the woman in me? She was born with certain animal instincts, so, had she been allowed to come into a world where these instincts where fulfilled, would she have grown into a loving mother, caring wife, exciting lover and a strong minded woman, or, would she have become needy, dependant and repressed? Either way, there were certain rules that helped defined who you were going to be. Today, those rules don’t apply. We now can work, have kids – with or without a partner – travel and pay our bills all by our lone self.

So instead, that woman in me is struggling to find her own place within today’s world. Instead, she has to be able to stand on her own two feet, need no one and expect nothing in return. Did we take it too far, and in the process, lose an important part of what made us men and women?

A couple of years ago, I was in a pub for a boogie – as you do – and I had one of the most interesting discussion one might have in such a setting. This bloke had just tried his best possible pick up line on the girl next to me. He wasn’t too cheesy nor overzealous but she was having none of it. And, as I watched him being ruthlessly rejected, I couldn’t help but let a sorry smile come to my face. He looked straight at me and I gave him my best “Sorry mate” facial expression. He raised his shoulders and said “Why do I bother? You women are driving me mad; you’re all over the place.”

We started talking and he gave me an insight in the way some men might think of us. He explained to me how difficult meeting women were nowadays. He emphasised on the whole female revolution and how it’s messed things up. How terrifying it is for any man to walk up to a woman and make it alive to the other side of the conversation. He said something that stayed with me. “Women are so volatile; we never know what mood you’re going to be in. From happy and frisky, and then we’re more likely to get an open response, to a really bad mood which regularly result on getting your head bitten off.”

As we talked some more, I realised that we had our revolution, but men didn’t. They watched in dismay as their women went through radical changes, their roles of providers dwindled and the belief they had been brought up with of the alpha male being reduced to shreds. As he left, he uttered: "I blame it all on feminism!"

36, single and childfree...

2010-01-19T01:02:00.001Z

I've just sat in on a meeting for work - 3 hours of mindless chit-chat, God some people love the sound of their own voice! - all the while, surrounded by women roughly my age, all with families and careers most of them have left behind to look after their offspring, and boy did I feel like a fish out of water. Don't take me wrong, I don't doubt my ability to do my job, but when I'm with these people, I suddenly feel like a child.

On the drive home, I started to think about it and wondered whether being 36, single and childfree could keep me childlike. As much as I try, I have never felt this “grown up” way most adult seem to reach at some point during there mid 20s / mid 30s. Nor have I ever had a big panic attack when I turned 30, or 35 for that matter.

I have often questioned what makes people go through those stages and why I don't seem to ever get there somehow – or if I really want to. Is it a state of mind? I have often seen it happen with my friends, right in front of my eyes, with the arrival of children and building of their own family. Or does it lay deeper within? Do some of us keep hold of our younger self alive... Be honest, you can really see the attraction. I've seen out there, and it ain't pretty.

But then, what if you don’t crave for that family life, for children and a terraced house with a big garden and a dog - or cat? What do you do when your life has taken a path of its own, a path that you were never told about, a path you never imagined could be a possibility, an option or even an acceptable choice. How do you accept it as your life, your choice, when everything you've ever been taught on what to expect from your years as an adult is so different from your day to day life. What do you do when you realise you've obviously been handed the wrong manual?

I don't know if you've had a good look at yours, because I've read mine over and over, front to back and back to front, and there is nothing in it about this other path I find myself on. At first, it was a bit like I'd wondered off the yellow brick road and couldn't find my way back. After all, I was told, time and again, not to leave the road under any circumstances. But then, I was never very good at doing what I was told...

So today, I find myself taking part in a whole new ball game. One set right under one of those signs that states, in big bold letters “No Ballgames!" And as fascinating and exciting as this avenue might be, a very large part of me is still battling, searching for the yellow brick road, as if it would solve my entire existential crisis. The thing is, even if I do find it, and even if it takes me right back to Kansas... Is that really where I want to be?

My mind, my body and I

2010-01-17T22:55:00.001Z

Looks like tomorrow is a little bit further away than planned. Been twisting and turning for the last hour, trying to get to sleep, and of course, my mind has been racing. Just as it should when one's desperately trying to reach the land of dreams, those daily worries come rushing in, pushing the sand-man right out the door.

I don't often find it difficult to get to sleep, but whenever I do, I think of all those people who have to deal with it, every night. My hat off to you all! The very concept of being held back and not being able to reach that sweet resting and relaxing time drives me mad. There you are, ready for a good night's sleep, knowing you will be granted such deserved and needed time off when, BANG! your mind races, you're feeling too hot, uncomfortable, out of place. It's like an alliance between your mind and your body just to piss you off. Let me tell you, tonight, it's doing a fantastic job. Grrrrrrrr

One thing this has made me realise though... I'm definitely getting older. I mean, who goes to bed before 10pm?!?! well, looks like I do! Must be an age thing. Can't explain it any other way. I'm not watching TV anymore, and at first, I thought that was the reason. Turns out, I will turn things off when 10 is peeping it's shinny nose on my phone. My body knows it's time for it's rest, and lets me know. Except that tonight, we had a bad connection, because when I thought it said " It's time for bed." what it really meant was " I feel like a think, lets do that instead."

So here I am, 11.10pm, wide awake and very aware of the work day that will eventually be upon us - ie my mind, my body and I. Not sure how we're going to sort this little misunderstanding out, but something's got to give. I think bribes might have to be used. Don't really like to resort to these, it's getting into a nasty pattern, because the only things that seem to get those two off my back are sex and alchool... Mmmm ... I hear you raising an eyebrow, and I'm with you on this. Bribes are NOT the end to all means, but what can I say? Desperate measures call for desperate actions. Lets hope sex will do because alchool at this time... Wouldn't want to be me tomorrow!

Here I am....

2010-01-17T15:48:00.002Z

I find myself in a very strange space. So many things are all over the place at the moment, I feel so out of balance and in constant battle with myself. The many parts of me are struggling to live harmoniously together, making my usual routine a daily challenge.

From the outside, looking in, you could say my life seems pretty good. I have a great job I love - and yes, I really do! A flat just perfect for me. No money problems as such - yes, I'm constantly broke, but on the up side, after paying taxes for years, I'm finally getting it back thanks to working tax credit and housing benefit. Could there be a God after all?

But getting up in the morning feeling scared to get out and knowing that it will be a really bad day cannot be very helpful, or healthy for that matter. Luckily, I'm taking those pills my doctor likes to call Prozac... I like to refer to them as my happy pills. They are doing wonders for my tears, i.e. stopping them and allowing me to function. Down side is, on those worse days, when you feel you really could do with a cry, nothing comes. Now that's just frustrating.

I stayed at Ash's yesterday. She's like my family away from home. I trust her implicitly and whenever I feel down, I know she'll take me in, hug me and let me moan, complain and cry. Last night, she wanted me to try and talk as my heart. Let me tell you, that was one of the scariest thing I've done in a while. I was utterly terrified to hear what goes on in there. But I admit that, after a few wrong starters, I let it out: "I am Devongirl's heart and I feel..." fear, sadness, loneliness, anger, heaviness... and boy did I cry! Felt better for it though.

It's been a tough 3 days, but hopefully, tomorrow will be another day, clearer, lighter and cheerier. And who knows, I might wake up renewed and full of energy.
Until then, have a good evening.