Inspired by some discussions which have emerged from previous blogs, I have lately been thinking about Self Help books and how helpful they really are. Working for a large publishing house, I am surrounded by books of this nature, such as ‘Why Mr Right Can’t Find You’ ‘How to Mend a Broken Heart’ and ‘Simply Irresistible’ each one full of advice on how to catch your perfect partner and hold on to him so he doesn’t disappear, or if this doesn’t work then how to cope and move on if he does! I must also ashamedly admit to going through a phase about this time last year, of avidly following The Rule Book. If you’ve never heard of this husband catching bible, I suggest you take a look, even if just to cast it aside and decide never to indulge in such manipulative behaviour. The Rule Book taught me never to accept a Saturday night date after Wednesday, never to be on the phone for longer than 10 minutes with a new love interest (in fact you’re even supposed to have an egg timer by the phone to prevent this terrible behaviour from occurring!) never to leave anything of yours at his house until you have a ring on your finger, and basically to never show any signs of liking him until you’re married – and even then you must still keep him on his toes by playing by the rules!!
I would never advocate following these rules to the T, but we all know that treating them mean, does to an extent certainly make them keener, just as it does when the situation is reversed. By some miscommunication between Mr Bridget and myself before we got together, I got the wrong end of the stick, leading me to believe he was gay. This in mind, I gave up any hope of trying to impress him by my cool sexy breeziness and spent all day emailing back and forth never waiting the allocated 1 hour between emails, or giving any false impressions of being the most up-beat, secure fun girl he would ever be likely to meet. By the time I realised he was actaully as hetro-sexual as they come; it was too late to start taking my cards back off the table, and we began an honest, pretence-free relationship.
I look back on previous dating disasters, however, and wish I had been a little more clued up. Drunkenly calling my university crush at 2 in the morning and screeching ‘Why don’t you like me?’ probably wasn’t the best way to win him over. I learnt the hard way that they can tell you on Saturday night that you’re the most amazing, sexy, witty and intelligent girl they’ve ever met, but a day later, not care if they never lay eyes on you again! Reading a couple of self-help books may have prevented me from committing these desperate acts at 18, but doing that has certainly ensured I’ll never do it now I’m in my 20s!! Learning the hard way can be fun, and I don’t completely regret yelling at the oh so gorgeous and popular cricket captain at university for ignoring my calls because quite honestly he damn-well deserved it! Acting all coy and disinterested, sort of allows these players to get away with it, without letting us show them that we care. Sometimes I think they deserve to have their bunnies boiled – at least they won’t be so keen to jump into bed with the next girl they meet, just in case she is also a psycho!
Friday, June 08, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Plus Who?
I have just crawled home from work to find an exciting looking hand written, cream, envelope. Inside I found a sky blue and vanilla invite to "Sister Louise plus one" for a family wedding on 18th August. I find the "plus one" extremely polite... after all I'm sure most of my close friends secretly rejoice in my single status when it comes to a wedding... it's one head less to pay for... but I also find it hilarious! I mean WHO would I take?! This decision is further complicated by the fact that my Pops is also attending said wedding. I have mentally run through the possibilities in my head... Mr Comfort... great for company, but romance died a decade ago... Undercover Cop? Well, you see, he has to look the part in his job... he has to fit in with the scallywags of society... so perhaps best not to cause a stir by turning up on his arm at a family wedding? And Blue Moon. Well, of course, this is the one that sets my mind racing... and the butterflies dancing in my stomach... what if?? It seems impossible... to pin him down for a date three months in advance where he would certainly meet one set of parents... impossible... but the possibilty is enough. Of course I'll probably go on my own, get drunk and snog the best man, who as it's a young wedding is likely to be 21. BUT... that possibility.... hmmmmmm.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Rubbish
We're all officially being rubbish aren't we. I don't know what my excuse is, an addiction to facebook... not enough angst in my life with my new 'look on the bright side' approach... knowing that too many people who know me know about the blog... I don't know. I've plenty of stories, dates with an under cover crack house busting copper (no not literally undercover, far too well behaved for that - ahem!)... the return of Blue Moon.... a brief dalliance with Chatterbox... why does it always come down to men ey... I have a new job, but that's just too dull to write about!! So I'm officially flexing my creative jucies and will be back soon... who do you want to hear about? Copper? Blue Moon or Chatterbox... (in fact not Chatterbox, that's a very predictable story!! Exes meet for coffee.... 'nuff said).
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
lessons in love
I was having a discussion with a girlfriend over the weekend that had a similar theme to a part of Sister Louise’s last blog entry.
I was telling her how I sometimes feel tired and overwhelmed when I think that I have been dating for ten or more years and still haven’t found the right person. But as I was talking to her I realised that in one way I wouldn’t swap those years for anything.
You see I realised that I am who I am today because of all of those men along the way. Despite the fact that none of these relationships turned out to be what I was looking for I have learned from every single one of them. There was Tom who taught me that some things are better regretted than done. Jamie, with whom I learned to laugh at myself and did a lot of growing-up, Ben, who left me on the Isle of Wight where I learned how to hitch a lift across the Solent (via 3 boats). Tim who, by no good deed of his own, taught me that broken hearts can be survived and how to cook Thai curry. Matt made me realise that you can’t always rescue everyone. With Chris I learned to surf and that no one will love you for being anyone else but yourself. Sam taught me the importance of decent stock in cooking and that moving to another country doesn’t always save a relationship. And even my last boyfriend, who I am still angry with, taught me how to cook a mean dahl and that being with someone for the sake of it is much worse than being on your own.
So this potted history of my more important relationships (names have been changed to protect the innocent!) shows that these years have been teaching me and moulding me into a resourceful, confident, experienced girl who can now cook really quite well and is now ready to meet my ideal man. So thank to all of you boys and here’s to more learning!
I was telling her how I sometimes feel tired and overwhelmed when I think that I have been dating for ten or more years and still haven’t found the right person. But as I was talking to her I realised that in one way I wouldn’t swap those years for anything.
You see I realised that I am who I am today because of all of those men along the way. Despite the fact that none of these relationships turned out to be what I was looking for I have learned from every single one of them. There was Tom who taught me that some things are better regretted than done. Jamie, with whom I learned to laugh at myself and did a lot of growing-up, Ben, who left me on the Isle of Wight where I learned how to hitch a lift across the Solent (via 3 boats). Tim who, by no good deed of his own, taught me that broken hearts can be survived and how to cook Thai curry. Matt made me realise that you can’t always rescue everyone. With Chris I learned to surf and that no one will love you for being anyone else but yourself. Sam taught me the importance of decent stock in cooking and that moving to another country doesn’t always save a relationship. And even my last boyfriend, who I am still angry with, taught me how to cook a mean dahl and that being with someone for the sake of it is much worse than being on your own.
So this potted history of my more important relationships (names have been changed to protect the innocent!) shows that these years have been teaching me and moulding me into a resourceful, confident, experienced girl who can now cook really quite well and is now ready to meet my ideal man. So thank to all of you boys and here’s to more learning!
Monday, April 23, 2007
Parallel Universes
So KP found the blog. Not entirely surprising I guess, as there’s been various chit chat about Sisters In The City on Facebook. I got a message at 4pm today… “Are you Sister Louise?” Heart in mouth, I denied it… and then asked him not to read any more, (to which he agreed). It seemed to be a cruel twist of fate that he should find it just as I’m starting to write something positive and just as we (KP and I) have finally, in the last couple of weeks, achieved an unaffected if somewhat distant friendship. I had always wanted to maintain a friendship. Closure had been difficult, our break-up had come out of the blue for me, it rattled me, challenged my sense of security. I gave up any hope of getting back together with him very soon after we broke up, but I needed him to need me as a friend, because I couldn’t understand the great big gaping hole between living together, cosy, coupledom… and nothing. In my head, if there was nothing, then he never really loved me. And if he never really loved me and I believed that he had, then how was I meant to believe anyone who might portend to love me in the future?
But then a few weeks ago, I stopped caring, I gave up. Since then (as always seems to happen when you stop caring) we’ve had several unaffected friendly chit-chats via messenger. Maybe he sensed the pressure lift, that it was now his choice. I don’t know. But the conversations were different, I no longer felt like prey being ripped apart by the predator. We had reached level ground.
But you see, I’ve maybe learnt a lot these last few weeks. The start of my year was dismal as I’ve mentioned before, the ‘thing’ I couldn’t mention was a disciplinary procedure at work, which seemed huge at the time but was actually systematic of a male dominated, cut throat, working environment, with no procedures for performance review and people management. When I started talking to girls at work, I found others going through the same thing, someone far more superior than me had been offered her ‘references’ for daring to suggest that the culture in our work place was ‘diseased’. This on top of burglary, towings, uncertainty about getting into a new relationship had led to me becoming anxious, jumpy and unable to cope.
And then I spoke to someone. My first love. I was with him for four years and on and off for a fifth. It didn’t work out, we were young, like a couple of lion cubs intermittently playing and fighting. We needed to grow up separately from each other and find our own pathways. And when I rang, tired and stressed and coming down off some awful tablets the doctor had given me which had made me feel ten times worse - he told me this. He said that everyone is the centre of their own Universe. That no matter how much we care about others, we are all pre-occupied with our own world. That if someone doesn’t do what you expect them to, it’s not because they don’t care necessarily, it’s just that they’re trying to deal with their own life first. He told me, because he knows me, that I’ve always been too hard on myself, that I put too much pressure on myself, that I need to start celebrating what I do right and not what I don’t. He told me he didn’t like hearing me in a state. I know I worried him. We split up six years ago and yet he still drove five hours and came to see me, hugged me, talked to me and said if I ever get in another state to ring him, not to be alone. And I guess what I’m trying to say is that people are different; some friends have more time for you than others. Some love interests will declare you’re ‘the one’ within five minutes of meeting you and then five months later, declare you’re not. Some will be in your life for years and then exit it suddenly. But every once in a lifetime, someone (lover or friend) makes your heart sing because their love for you burns to the very core of their being and, despite risking exposure to old wounds, they’ll extend their Universe just wide enough to let you in for a while… just when you really, really need to be let in.
But then a few weeks ago, I stopped caring, I gave up. Since then (as always seems to happen when you stop caring) we’ve had several unaffected friendly chit-chats via messenger. Maybe he sensed the pressure lift, that it was now his choice. I don’t know. But the conversations were different, I no longer felt like prey being ripped apart by the predator. We had reached level ground.
But you see, I’ve maybe learnt a lot these last few weeks. The start of my year was dismal as I’ve mentioned before, the ‘thing’ I couldn’t mention was a disciplinary procedure at work, which seemed huge at the time but was actually systematic of a male dominated, cut throat, working environment, with no procedures for performance review and people management. When I started talking to girls at work, I found others going through the same thing, someone far more superior than me had been offered her ‘references’ for daring to suggest that the culture in our work place was ‘diseased’. This on top of burglary, towings, uncertainty about getting into a new relationship had led to me becoming anxious, jumpy and unable to cope.
And then I spoke to someone. My first love. I was with him for four years and on and off for a fifth. It didn’t work out, we were young, like a couple of lion cubs intermittently playing and fighting. We needed to grow up separately from each other and find our own pathways. And when I rang, tired and stressed and coming down off some awful tablets the doctor had given me which had made me feel ten times worse - he told me this. He said that everyone is the centre of their own Universe. That no matter how much we care about others, we are all pre-occupied with our own world. That if someone doesn’t do what you expect them to, it’s not because they don’t care necessarily, it’s just that they’re trying to deal with their own life first. He told me, because he knows me, that I’ve always been too hard on myself, that I put too much pressure on myself, that I need to start celebrating what I do right and not what I don’t. He told me he didn’t like hearing me in a state. I know I worried him. We split up six years ago and yet he still drove five hours and came to see me, hugged me, talked to me and said if I ever get in another state to ring him, not to be alone. And I guess what I’m trying to say is that people are different; some friends have more time for you than others. Some love interests will declare you’re ‘the one’ within five minutes of meeting you and then five months later, declare you’re not. Some will be in your life for years and then exit it suddenly. But every once in a lifetime, someone (lover or friend) makes your heart sing because their love for you burns to the very core of their being and, despite risking exposure to old wounds, they’ll extend their Universe just wide enough to let you in for a while… just when you really, really need to be let in.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Happy Birthday Sisters!
How could we forget our one year birthday?! It was the 14th April! So Happy Birthday to us! What a year it has been! Here's to the next year, living in the big smoke!
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Pimms anyone?
London is a fantastic place to be in the sun. As sister Louise was out enjoying the sun at the boat race I was also making the most of our first taste of summer.
I first moved to London last summer and instantly fell in love with the place. Being a country girl I was not sure how I would cope with the big smoke when I first made the move. But that summer, working in Soho, I was taken with the party like atmosphere that you get at 5.30pm as you leave the office behind you. The idea that millions of people are leaving work to go to a million pubs, bars and parties never fails to make my blood quicken. I feel sure that had I moved to London in the winter the transition would have been harder.
London in the winter is a very different place. It is easy to let the stress of it all get to you when the freezing weather and rain mean you have to catch a crowded bus. The same tree lined streets that seem so grand and alluring in the summer, seem sinister and grey in the winter. You only need to look at people’s faces in this warm weather to see that everyone is so much happier.
So I was raising a glass to London this Easter weekend in a rather empty London. Everyone seems to disappear off to the country at weekends and holidays during the summer. But not me, I’ll be here whenever I can making the most of London at its very best.
Pimms anyone?
I first moved to London last summer and instantly fell in love with the place. Being a country girl I was not sure how I would cope with the big smoke when I first made the move. But that summer, working in Soho, I was taken with the party like atmosphere that you get at 5.30pm as you leave the office behind you. The idea that millions of people are leaving work to go to a million pubs, bars and parties never fails to make my blood quicken. I feel sure that had I moved to London in the winter the transition would have been harder.
London in the winter is a very different place. It is easy to let the stress of it all get to you when the freezing weather and rain mean you have to catch a crowded bus. The same tree lined streets that seem so grand and alluring in the summer, seem sinister and grey in the winter. You only need to look at people’s faces in this warm weather to see that everyone is so much happier.
So I was raising a glass to London this Easter weekend in a rather empty London. Everyone seems to disappear off to the country at weekends and holidays during the summer. But not me, I’ll be here whenever I can making the most of London at its very best.
Pimms anyone?
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Pre-Drinking Precautions
I have deleted Chatterbox's number from my phone. I have also deleted all of his texts and his number from my call logs (as in the past I've just deleted the deserter's number and then even in dunken stupor managed to re-find it from call log and go on to commit drunken text crimes, see http://sistersinthecity.blogspot.com/search?q=dont+drink+and+text). This is a first for me. I usually keep all emails/numbers/texts for days, weeks, months, even years. But I'm feeling slightly cocky at the moment. I have forced myself to do exactly the opposite to what my natural instincts tell me to do and it's working. I feel light, free and happy. Having now taken every precaution against making a fool of myself in a drunken moment, I can look forward to going out on the town in Cheltenham with my oldest, closest friend and not worry that the hangover may bring that sinking realisation that one has made a tit of oneself with the ex-boyfriend. And if anyone is wondering why I started the story last week of meeting KP and didn't finish it, it's because I can't be bothered, it does make a good story, but it's in the past and right now, I'm all about the present!
Friday, April 13, 2007
Irreverent Information
I'm afraid this is a very irreverent post. But it seems perfect for a Friday afternoon. Sister Bridget has had me giggling at my desk. She emailed me earlier, very seriously, to say that she has a very bad cough but as if that isn't bad enough she also has an aching boob from coughing so much. So can everyone please extend get well wishes to Bridget, Her Cough and Her Aching Boob. I still can't stop chuckling!
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Hi all. We now have a group on Facebook for women in their 20s and 30s living in London (sorry Huw, would you like to be an honourary woman?) You won't be able to find it by browsing as we have made it a private group, this is just to keep unwanted comments at bay... However if you would like to join us, we would like to have you! Please email us at sistersinthecity@googlemail.com and we will send you an invite. Sisters In The City Events will be starting soon and will be publicised via Facebook as well as on this blog.
Cheers! Louise x
Cheers! Louise x
Saturday, April 07, 2007
The Race
My housemate and I went to the Oxford and Cambridge boat race today. We walked from Parsons Green to Putney to Hammersmith, pulling on jumpers and taking them off again as the sun slid from blue sky to grey cloud and back into blue sky. There was a strange mixture of tourists, unashamed teenage rahs and arty people, all relaxing in a boozy, balmy afternoon by the river. I met a new friend, through a friend and we talked marketing, buying houses (or rather not being able to afford to buy houses) and music gigs - groups that I’ve never even heard of. I’m not very cool like that. There was a collective group decision to cheer for Cambridge. Someone’s friend had attended Cambridge and I plumped for them purely through childish revenge. My Chatterbox went to Oxford and indeed used to row for his house. But as he dumped me on Thursday, I felt it a fabulous idea to cheer for Cambridge. Which I did, wholeheartedly…and they won. A few hours and a few bottles of Pinot Grigio later, we walked back home, through Hammersmith, Putney and Parsons Green. And yes… I was making the most of the bank holiday weekend despite feeling a little sad and distracted. But I ended up having a pretty good time. You see, usually at the end of a relationship, I spend a lot of time wishing that I hadn’t said this and I hadn’t done that. And I convince myself it’s all my fault and I get myself into a horrible, sad, lonely place. But it’s such a complete waste of my time. So I decided that this time, I’ll go against all my natural instincts and do the opposite. So when he texted me this morning with an affectionate text, I ignored it. No analysis, no long thought out painful reply. Nothing. He told me it’s over, in an immensely confusing way, announcing that I was beautiful, that we really talked, that he fancied me ridiculously but that his gut instinct said I’m not the one, he then proceeded to snog me, before walking away. So I could analyse that until the cows come home. But I’m not going to. He said it’s over and I am just going to accept it’s over and walk away myself.
I live in London. It’s a stressful, tiring place. It’s taken a lot out of me recently. But it’s also immensely exciting, been coined the capital of Europe for its culture and business merits and is wonderfully diverse. I am privileged to be young with no ties and able to walk out of my front door, to watch a race that the rest of the country is watching on the television. So no matter how difficult it is to go against my over anxious, over analytical instincts, that’s what I’m going to do. Hurrah for Cambridge!!
I live in London. It’s a stressful, tiring place. It’s taken a lot out of me recently. But it’s also immensely exciting, been coined the capital of Europe for its culture and business merits and is wonderfully diverse. I am privileged to be young with no ties and able to walk out of my front door, to watch a race that the rest of the country is watching on the television. So no matter how difficult it is to go against my over anxious, over analytical instincts, that’s what I’m going to do. Hurrah for Cambridge!!
Friday, March 23, 2007
London Girls
Hello to Belgium! Canada! France! Lativa and anywhere else that visits us regularly... just a quick post. 10 things that uniquely identify a London girl...
10. She owns an oyster but it doesn't contain a pearl
9. If she has a car, she has to pay to park outside her house, if she has a car then...
8. She's been towed/ticketed or clamped in last 6 months
7. She does everything during the week...works to the grind, drinks like a fish & then...
6. Spends all day Saturday under a duvet occasionally calling friends who are also under a duvet
5. She or someone she knows has been burgled or mugged in the last year
4. She feels like putting a sign up outside her house "Free Hotel for Aussies"
3. If she doesn't have a copy of "He's Just Not That Into You", then she needs to get one fast.
2. She's skint
1. She wears earplugs at night.
Happy weekends!
Sister Louise
10. She owns an oyster but it doesn't contain a pearl
9. If she has a car, she has to pay to park outside her house, if she has a car then...
8. She's been towed/ticketed or clamped in last 6 months
7. She does everything during the week...works to the grind, drinks like a fish & then...
6. Spends all day Saturday under a duvet occasionally calling friends who are also under a duvet
5. She or someone she knows has been burgled or mugged in the last year
4. She feels like putting a sign up outside her house "Free Hotel for Aussies"
3. If she doesn't have a copy of "He's Just Not That Into You", then she needs to get one fast.
2. She's skint
1. She wears earplugs at night.
Happy weekends!
Sister Louise
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
What's in a Name?
I’m not entirely sure how common it is for girls to name their boyfriends ‘you know whats’ or whether this is just one of those clichés we feel we ought to join in with, such as having a song, encouraged by cheesy chick flicks and teenage romantic novels, but ever since reading Judy Blume’s Forever, and giggling with my friends on the way to school over the girl naming her boyfriend’s one ‘Ralph’ it has always been a matter of much jollity and great interest to me!
After carrying out some extensive research and highly sophisticated interviewing into this subject (i.e. a very amusing conversation with some girlfriends after a few glasses of red!) I have come up with a list of popular choices: Love Muscle, General George, The Soldier, Pogo Stick, Big Jim. All very masculine, testosterone inducing names!
I didn’t mean to come up with a name for Mr Bridget’s, it’s just one of those things we stumbled upon, and the name stuck. After discussing how the body part in question had had rather a busy night and needed a rest, he uttered ‘poor little thing’ and I couldn’t help but latch on to the phrase. Poor Little Thing has since become it’s official name, or as is more commonly used, it’s abbreviation – PLT!
If you were to meet Mr Bridget, you would never expect him to be the type of man to let his manhood be referred to as Poor Little Thing. He loves his big masculine car and acting like a proper lad around his mates, which is what makes this even more hilarious to me!!
I’m not sure what it says about me, that I like to name my boyfriend's thing PLT. Somehow, it makes it seem so much less threatening. How could such a kind, gentle thing as PLT ever do anything bad? I feel like I’m exempt from the possibility of my boyfriend cheating on me, when I’ve got dear sweet PLT to rely on!! I’m not sure what is says about him that he lets me name his alter ego in this way either. He thinks I do it to make sure he doesn’t get too big headed and cock-sure (sorry, couldn’t resist the pun!) of himself. And maybe I do.
So there it is. One of my quirkiest secrets, that I thought I’d share with you. As I’m feeling quite exposed after such revelations, perhaps some of our readers have some names they’d like to share?!
After carrying out some extensive research and highly sophisticated interviewing into this subject (i.e. a very amusing conversation with some girlfriends after a few glasses of red!) I have come up with a list of popular choices: Love Muscle, General George, The Soldier, Pogo Stick, Big Jim. All very masculine, testosterone inducing names!
I didn’t mean to come up with a name for Mr Bridget’s, it’s just one of those things we stumbled upon, and the name stuck. After discussing how the body part in question had had rather a busy night and needed a rest, he uttered ‘poor little thing’ and I couldn’t help but latch on to the phrase. Poor Little Thing has since become it’s official name, or as is more commonly used, it’s abbreviation – PLT!
If you were to meet Mr Bridget, you would never expect him to be the type of man to let his manhood be referred to as Poor Little Thing. He loves his big masculine car and acting like a proper lad around his mates, which is what makes this even more hilarious to me!!
I’m not sure what it says about me, that I like to name my boyfriend's thing PLT. Somehow, it makes it seem so much less threatening. How could such a kind, gentle thing as PLT ever do anything bad? I feel like I’m exempt from the possibility of my boyfriend cheating on me, when I’ve got dear sweet PLT to rely on!! I’m not sure what is says about him that he lets me name his alter ego in this way either. He thinks I do it to make sure he doesn’t get too big headed and cock-sure (sorry, couldn’t resist the pun!) of himself. And maybe I do.
So there it is. One of my quirkiest secrets, that I thought I’d share with you. As I’m feeling quite exposed after such revelations, perhaps some of our readers have some names they’d like to share?!
Monday, March 12, 2007
Comic Relief!
Hello all! We have entered "Ice Ice Baby" (http://sistersinthecity.blogspot.com/2007/02/ice-ice-baby.html) into this... http://troubled-diva.com/labels/rednoseday.html
What a fabulous idea of Mike's to make a book of funny blogging posts to raise money for Comic Relief! Will let you know when it's on sale....
What a fabulous idea of Mike's to make a book of funny blogging posts to raise money for Comic Relief! Will let you know when it's on sale....
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Single Minded Optimism
I have recently realised that I am totally out of men! Rather than feeling sad, or scared I suddenly feel really optimistic and hopeful about my future.
Its not like I’ve never been single but I can’t remember the last time when there was no one that I even fancied. I have ended things with ‘Mr Bad Manners’ because apart from the bad manners I didn’t really fancy him and I had an inkling that I was with him because I didn’t want to be on my own. I realised that if I am serious about meeting the right man I am going to have to hold out for him, and settle for nothing less. OK so I might not meet ‘Mr Right’ just like that and I’m aware that there might be a few more ‘Mr Wrongs’ along the way but I’m more likely to meet him now that I am on my own.
Its not rocket science is it? If you’re with the wrong person you won’t meet the right one but it’s taken me nearly 13 years of dating to learn that lesson. I just always wanted to be with someone rather than no one.
‘Mr Bad Manners’ was the very last of the men of my acquaintance who I fancied (or thought I did). I think that is why I put up with the bad manners. But now I feel like I have a blank canvass. The next person I meet won’t be anything to do with my past and will hopefully be everything to do with my future. A few months ago I felt jaded at the very idea of meeting another person. Like I couldn’t be bothered to go through another failed relationship, another wasted notch on the bedpost, but now I think that maybe, just maybe all the ‘Mr Wrongs ‘in my past will mean that I recognise ‘Mr Right’ for who he is when he arrives.
Its not like I’ve never been single but I can’t remember the last time when there was no one that I even fancied. I have ended things with ‘Mr Bad Manners’ because apart from the bad manners I didn’t really fancy him and I had an inkling that I was with him because I didn’t want to be on my own. I realised that if I am serious about meeting the right man I am going to have to hold out for him, and settle for nothing less. OK so I might not meet ‘Mr Right’ just like that and I’m aware that there might be a few more ‘Mr Wrongs’ along the way but I’m more likely to meet him now that I am on my own.
Its not rocket science is it? If you’re with the wrong person you won’t meet the right one but it’s taken me nearly 13 years of dating to learn that lesson. I just always wanted to be with someone rather than no one.
‘Mr Bad Manners’ was the very last of the men of my acquaintance who I fancied (or thought I did). I think that is why I put up with the bad manners. But now I feel like I have a blank canvass. The next person I meet won’t be anything to do with my past and will hopefully be everything to do with my future. A few months ago I felt jaded at the very idea of meeting another person. Like I couldn’t be bothered to go through another failed relationship, another wasted notch on the bedpost, but now I think that maybe, just maybe all the ‘Mr Wrongs ‘in my past will mean that I recognise ‘Mr Right’ for who he is when he arrives.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Troubled Times
I can't breathe. The panic poisoning my lungs is causing me to take short, insufficent, tokes of oxygen. My head is troubled and restless, my dreams full of nightmares, a contorted parody of the events of the last few days. My head is trying to justify a reason for my punishment. The world feels cold and strange. I don't want to sleep alone and lonely in my bed. It's difficult to be positive about 2007, when at the beginning of the third month of the year, I have already had my house burgled, my car towed, the fine for the towing accidentally taken twice from my bank account and STILL not returned to me, followed by my car being clamped two weeks later on the same street - effectively meaning that a third of a month's wages is now in the pocket of the council all because I didn't understand the ridiculously confusing, numerous, different parking rules on one road outside my boyfriend's house. These pale into insignificance at the latest joyous events however. It's not something that I can talk about, suffice to say that the next few months are going to be stressful. It's not the end of the World, people have to deal with far greater and I'm fairly sure that in years to come I will see this time as a blip on the horizon. Right now life's a piece of s*it but I'll try and look on the bright side.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Self Fulfilling Prophecy
I know this isn’t something I should readily admit to, but my main goal in life since I was about 16 has been to find a husband. I went to university, as much to meet my ideal man, as to gain an English degree. And although I have mainly lived my life doing things that I enjoy, in everything I’ve done, there has always been a secret hope that Mr Right will be doing it too!
With my naïve hopefulness so cruelly crushed from such a young age, and instead of meeting a husband at university, I met a variety of arrogant, alcoholic rugby lads (probably more down to my own poor choice than anything else, but that’s another story!), I eventually accepted the possibility that I may never find my dream man, and consoled myself by forming a back-up plan.
Again, I know it sounds rather depressing that such a young (attractive!!) girl in her mid 20s should be making back-up plans, but as I had been on the husband hunt far earlier than most, perhaps my cynicism and disillusionment hit in earlier too. My back up plan has mainly consisted of living a fun single life, filled with friends, a great career and lots of exciting hobbies and interests – but most importantly is the part where I have a test-tube baby! My friends and family laugh when I tell them this is my plan, and tell me I shouldn’t joke about such things. But the truth is, I am deadly serious. Having a baby is as, if not more, important to me than having a man, and I don’t want to live my life worrying that I might miss out on both of my life’s ambitions. It scares me too much to believe I have to rely on someone else to fulfil my biggest need and would rather live my life knowing that I can take control of this myself – if need be.
As I’ve mentioned before, I have recently become involved with a nice young man, who I shall hereafter refer to as Mr Bridget. Much as I have always wanted a boyfriend, being so used to my single routine, I have been finding it hard to adjust. Also being such a blabber mouth and completely incapable of keeping anything to myself, I have of course, filled him in on all the details of my back-up plan, test-tube baby and all!
Mr Bridget brought it to my attention, that although I always claim this is my back-up plan, it has become so important to me that it is gradually evolving into plan A rather than plan B. In order to protect myself from disappointment I have begun to prepare a bit too seriously for bringing up a baby on my own. I have become so self sufficient and independent of men that despite all my moaning about wanting a boyfriend, when it comes down to it, I am too reliant of my single life that I cannot give it up.
So now I am wondering how much truth there is in what he’s said. I can’t give up my back-up plan because it protects me from becoming too needy and allows me to believe I can cope on my own. But by giving myself this safety net, have I allowed myself to give up the real dream? The dream of a family, and more importantly at the moment, of giving more of myself to someone else and running the risk of becoming vulnerable?
I don’t know whether I will be able to do it, but I think it’s time to give up plan B before it prevents me from living plan A.
With my naïve hopefulness so cruelly crushed from such a young age, and instead of meeting a husband at university, I met a variety of arrogant, alcoholic rugby lads (probably more down to my own poor choice than anything else, but that’s another story!), I eventually accepted the possibility that I may never find my dream man, and consoled myself by forming a back-up plan.
Again, I know it sounds rather depressing that such a young (attractive!!) girl in her mid 20s should be making back-up plans, but as I had been on the husband hunt far earlier than most, perhaps my cynicism and disillusionment hit in earlier too. My back up plan has mainly consisted of living a fun single life, filled with friends, a great career and lots of exciting hobbies and interests – but most importantly is the part where I have a test-tube baby! My friends and family laugh when I tell them this is my plan, and tell me I shouldn’t joke about such things. But the truth is, I am deadly serious. Having a baby is as, if not more, important to me than having a man, and I don’t want to live my life worrying that I might miss out on both of my life’s ambitions. It scares me too much to believe I have to rely on someone else to fulfil my biggest need and would rather live my life knowing that I can take control of this myself – if need be.
As I’ve mentioned before, I have recently become involved with a nice young man, who I shall hereafter refer to as Mr Bridget. Much as I have always wanted a boyfriend, being so used to my single routine, I have been finding it hard to adjust. Also being such a blabber mouth and completely incapable of keeping anything to myself, I have of course, filled him in on all the details of my back-up plan, test-tube baby and all!
Mr Bridget brought it to my attention, that although I always claim this is my back-up plan, it has become so important to me that it is gradually evolving into plan A rather than plan B. In order to protect myself from disappointment I have begun to prepare a bit too seriously for bringing up a baby on my own. I have become so self sufficient and independent of men that despite all my moaning about wanting a boyfriend, when it comes down to it, I am too reliant of my single life that I cannot give it up.
So now I am wondering how much truth there is in what he’s said. I can’t give up my back-up plan because it protects me from becoming too needy and allows me to believe I can cope on my own. But by giving myself this safety net, have I allowed myself to give up the real dream? The dream of a family, and more importantly at the moment, of giving more of myself to someone else and running the risk of becoming vulnerable?
I don’t know whether I will be able to do it, but I think it’s time to give up plan B before it prevents me from living plan A.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Friday, February 16, 2007
Trying It On
Recently, I’ve found myself contemplating telling Chatterbox that I love him, and not in the drunken, silly way of that Sunday*. This isn’t because I actually love him because I don’t, not yet. It’s rather that I’m thinking that if I say it, the sentence will be momentarily suspended in mid air - a cloud trail formed by Cupid’s Red Arrow. I can then quickly take a look at it from a distance and decipher how far I am off believing it, or whether I will ever believe it.But instead of uttering those three little words, I asked Chatterbox whether he ever felt like saying something just so that he could hear himself out loud and see what emotional response it might provoke. And this is what I quite like about him, because he didn’t tell me I was slightly psychotic, pronounce complete incomprehension and dismiss me as ‘being arty’ as has been known by previous entrants to the post of boyfriend, when I'm deemed to have asked something peculiar. He replied in a matter of fact way - “No, but I have tried a colour on a canvas to see whether or not it’s right and then washed over it when it wasn’t”, which struck me momentarily dumb because I guess I just wasn’t expecting an answer that was quite so pretty, or one that showed understanding.
And we all try it on don’t we? From the relatively insignificant trial… who hasn’t shrugged on a man’s jumper to see how it feels? To the rather more significant. Recently, a friend of mine announced that she had sort of been thinking about maybe seeing what it might be like to try for a baby, because she was sort of curious to see how fertile she might be and it could sort of take a while, so maybe she’d have a little try… just to see. The problem being, that either Popeye must have been eating his spinach or Olive Oyl must have been eating her oily fish, because Swee’Pea only needed one pop at the cherry! And of course she wouldn’t want to paint the picture a different colour now, but she's a little wary of the wet paint.
So it’s best I'm a little cautious when ‘trying it on’ I think, not least because at the moment, it’s maybe too early to know if the colour is right and actually I don't much feel like washing my Chatterbox away...
*'That Sunday' http://sistersinthecity.blogspot.com/2007/01/discombobulated_11.html
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
V-Day in the life of Sister Bridget
After many years of being single on Valentines Day; trying out various ways to deal with what I came to know as ‘the worst day of the year’ including boycotting the whole thing, speed dating or other fun nights out with my single friends, I finally have a boyfriend to share it with! This year, my lovely man is cooking me dinner, spoiling me with gifts and lavishing me with attention which of course is all wonderful and splendid! Except silly old me, is never happy and when I am so indulgently presented with a huge bunch of roses and balloon at work, instead of displaying this everso proudly at my desk, my face goes a deeper shade of red than the roses themselves, I leave my balloon in reception and run to my desk and hide them, hoping that no-one will see what’s just happened!
I know, I know, I am very ungrateful and undeserving of such attention. It’s not that I’m not grateful; I love the flowers and I love the gesture, it’s just I don’t like the thought of sitting in work surrounded by such obvious displays of affection. I might as well stand up and shout ‘Look at me everyone, I have a boyfriend - I am so much better than all you single losers!!’ And bearing in mind I am still quite nostalgic of my single losery days, and have always hated anyone in a couple on Valentines Day, particularly the types that display their love so blatantly, it would be rather hypocritical of me to do so!
But now, Mr Bridget has got wind of the fact that my balloon is still in reception, and I have learned that Valentines Day can still be troublesome even if you are in a couple. It just puts so much pressure on people to be romantic and prove their love, when I believe this should be done through the little things all the year round. Or maybe too many years of being single have turned me into a permanent hater of Valentines Day and I should just shut up and enjoy it!!
I know, I know, I am very ungrateful and undeserving of such attention. It’s not that I’m not grateful; I love the flowers and I love the gesture, it’s just I don’t like the thought of sitting in work surrounded by such obvious displays of affection. I might as well stand up and shout ‘Look at me everyone, I have a boyfriend - I am so much better than all you single losers!!’ And bearing in mind I am still quite nostalgic of my single losery days, and have always hated anyone in a couple on Valentines Day, particularly the types that display their love so blatantly, it would be rather hypocritical of me to do so!
But now, Mr Bridget has got wind of the fact that my balloon is still in reception, and I have learned that Valentines Day can still be troublesome even if you are in a couple. It just puts so much pressure on people to be romantic and prove their love, when I believe this should be done through the little things all the year round. Or maybe too many years of being single have turned me into a permanent hater of Valentines Day and I should just shut up and enjoy it!!
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