King Of My Castle?

I had a beautiful day date with Someone New yesterday. This post might get a little slushy. I don’t know. Just a warning. I’ve been beaming ear to ear ever since so it could go either way.

I didn’t want to stay at his. Shark Week has come, plus I’m waiting for a wax… Shaving now would mean cancelling the appointment, and that means waiting another few weeks. It’s hard work being a girl, I swear.

Anyway, we decided on a day date, and had already swapped Tuesday for Thursday. We met in a little historic town not far from where I lived, and we spent the day just walking, and talking, and holding hands. I fell in love with him yesterday. Well, perhaps not fell in love. But I started bumping my way down, put it that way.

He made me go the very top of an old, abandoned castle – a local tourist attraction. We also wandered to the nearby cathedral, holding hands, laughing and kissing as we went around. It sounds cheesy and like something out of a movie, and it was. Like, it really, really was. We had coffee’s sat outside cute little cafe’s, people watching. We judged everyone and anyone that walked past, occasionally taking the piss out of each other, and it was adorable. Like actually adorable.

Sickly sweet stuff aside, we actually talked. Sat outside the various cafe’s we stopped at, drinking our coffee’s and eating our cake’s, we really talked. About stuff that was really important, not just fluff and frivolity.

I told him his “not-wanting” of kids worried me. I think I definitely do want kids, and I think that is something that has been growing more evident throughout the last three years of this blog. It is more than likely going to become a stronger need as time goes on. He told me he wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted them. It wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a yes either. If the right girl came along, he’s sure it’ll all click into place. But what if it doesn’t?

What if we are still here, three or four years down the line, still wondering and waiting? What happens then? When time is starting to run out for me, and my chances of conceiving naturally goes down with every period that passes?

I probably DO want to have kids. I probably DO want to get married again. I thought I could have kids and get married to Jock, so I’m sure that feeling will come again and hopefully, if and when it does, it won’t be with a complete and utter twat. I know we’ve only been dating six months but I’m starting to wonder if maybe Someone New could be something long term. He made it this far, didn’t he? There’s a reason I don’t want to let him go. And I’m glad I didn’t / haven’t. He is starting to become a very important little part of my life. I’m starting to miss him more, and not want to blow him out. I want to see him, even if we can only manage a few hours here and there, and he should have the opportunity to see me more often than once every two or three weeks. That’s hardly fair on him, is it? He deserves better than that.

I want to make him happy. I want him to want me more, not just in the bedroom, but out of it too. I want to be a good girlfriend for him because he is such a good boyfriend to me. I couldn’t ask for anything better. If I have a concern, I can talk to him about it. I even told him about the little jealous patch I had with that girl that liked all his Facebook statuses. Turns out, she’s a long term friend, she has a long-term partner, and he’s been good friends with them BOTH for over ten years. Well, don’t I feel like a twat? A twat yes, but I felt better for talking to him about it. You see – he’s so super approachable. There’s nothing I can’t talk to him about. I’m starting to have a great fondness for the weird, bumpy, often-misunderstood honesty we have with each other. It’s not perfect, but it’s getting there. We are evolving as a couple. It’s actually pretty cool to realise that.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like we are the shittest couple ever and we are changing everything about ourselves to fit together. It’s not like that at all. We are just learning little things about each other, and it’s often the little tweaks that make the difference. I don’t like it when he posts a load of crap on my Facebook wall, for example. I can’t tell if he’s being clingy or marking his territory via social media, but it really pisses me off. I told him that, he stopped doing it, job done.

It’s like that about everything too – not just the Facebook thing. I didn’t like it when he bugged me in the evenings when I was working. He told me last night that he knew I wasn’t always working and he knew I was watching some shitty reality TV show, or playing Call of Duty with Bestie. But he leaves me to it anyway because he knows I need my personal space, and he knows we don’t need to communicate every minute of every day. I told him I didn’t like it when he bugged me, he stopped doing it, job done.

I like to think it works both ways too. For example, I never seem to message him in the morning. In fact, I rarely manage to send him a message before 1/2pm. I didn’t realise that – I’m just not that social first thing in the morning, mostly because I hate the entire world. But it bugged him, and he told me about it and I realised how that must look to him. I realised how selfish I was being. So although I don’t manage it every morning, I do try to send him “Good morning” messages when I remember. I also know I need to get better at that. I know how much that morning message means. Not getting it from ex-boyfriends has ruined my mood for the entire day in past relationships, so I should practice what I preach and work a little harder.

It’s like we’re in a real adult relationship. It’s bonkers. There’s no game playing. There’s no lies. There’s no skeletons in the closet and if there is, they are coming out slowly and gingerly. It’s actually quite nice. I would like to think we’ve both got the major bombshells out the way, and we’re still standing pretty strong. There’s something to be said for that.

Even after telling him I was scared he wasn’t man enough for me, he was still sat there at that table, holding my hand, smiling at me. I know the way words come out of my mouth isn’t always the best way to put things because that’s not really how I meant it, but he gets me every time. He knows what I’m saying. He knows I never mean it as harshly as it sounds. He knows I just meant I wanted him to be more ‘real him’ with me, rather than the well-behaved version he keeps portraying. I want the guy that he keeps telling me about – the guy that falls over, says the wrong thing, and has no social filter. He knows that and he said that. He also has a rebuttal for everything. He’s still getting to know me so he doesn’t want to go all out with the usual pranking, piss-taking behaviour he would normally display. Part of him is still on his best behaviour. In fact, that can be said for both of us, can’t it? He’s only seen a fraction of the personalities I have to offer.

But yesterday, at the top of that castle, when I should have been shitting my pants, fearful for my life (it was really high, the wind was blowing, I was scared I was going to drop my phone…), I wasn’t scared. I was breathless and shaky, but it wasn’t the heights. It was him. I wasn’t scared because I knew he was there, and it was at that point I realised something. He makes me feel safe. The world isn’t such a scary place when he’s in it. I trust him. He’s in. That moment right there, at the top of the castle, I fell in love with him. A little bit anyway.

Ha – maybe I have finally found the King of my castle…? 

King Of My Castle?

It’s Not A Good Morning

It's Not A Good Morning

I woke up to this photo and it was like a stab to the heart. I’m starting to really hate my TimeHop app, but I’m a masochist and for some reason, I just can’t delete it. Or turn off the notifications. Nope – I decide to give myself daily reminders of past loves gone by. Past loves that aren’t entirely in the past.

I’m pretty sure I’ve told you about this day before. It was the day after the night before. We’d gotten drunk and had our first fight. He was throwing his cash around and generally getting on my nerves, and before I knew it, I was drunk and I slapped him around the face. I’m still not one hundred percent sure why I did that, but it sure was funny afterwards. I’m glad he never took that seriously. I think he knew it was just my way of seeing how far I could push him. After being married to a man that would punch me in the face basically every time he got drunk, I needed to be sure that wasn’t going to happen with Jock too.

The next day, we were hungover as balls and we got ourselves a prepared sandwich and pork-pie picnic and headed to the beach. Lying on the big rocks on the secluded sea front, enjoying the cool breeze and forgetting about sun cream in the baking summer sun… It was a perfect day. Or it would have been if it weren’t for the hangover.

I’m pretty sure we had bumped into his ex that night, and he’d made a comment that upset me. It was the first night she ruined our time together but it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. I wish I had know two years ago today how much hassle she was going to cause me. I don’t think I would have gone through with it all a second time around.

When I saw that photo though, it wasn’t that fight I remembered. It was the amazing day afterwards where we apologised profusely to each other and promised it wouldn’t happen again. It rarely did, thankfully but that’s only because we didn’t drink together that often. It was probably for the best. Every time we did, it was a total disaster.

I still want him back so much, you know. It’s not as bad now as it was a few months ago, but my longing for him is still much stronger than it should be. I’m still convinced that somehow, someday we’ll get back together. I’m still sure he was my Prince Charming. I just think we both fucked it up. I made mistakes too. It wasn’t all him.

As much as my Someone New is starting to nestle his way into my heart, I can’t get Jock out of my head completely. Nor do I want to. Even after all this time, there is still a very big part of me that wants him right back in my life again. It was all so easy when he was in my life and although we fought like cat and dog sometimes, I was happy. I was. I really, really was.

I’m starting to wonder if maybe there was something in us, and whether we both gave up too soon. He stretched out to me and sent that message a few months ago, didn’t he? What happens if I am right, and you’re all wrong? All you people telling me he’s no good for me… What if you’re wrong? You only see things from my point of view, don’t you? You don’t hear about how unreasonable HE thinks I’m being. Because trust me, unreasonable is my middle name sometimes. Even Someone New has realised that now.

The point I’m trying to make here is, what if he was my one? I know we had down’s but man, did we have up’s too. I know I deserved more, and sometimes he did too, but he’s all I want. Even right now, sat in my bed at 01:24 in the morning, crying, listening to Paolo Nutini’s Better Man. Because he sent me that song and I like to think that at the time, he meant every word of it.

I love him. And I’m starting to wonder if this heartache will ever go away. Because right now, as pissed off and sad as he made me sometimes, it still wasn’t halfway near as bad as the pain I feel when I realise we aren’t together anymore. Like this morning when I woke up to that godamn photo that broke my heart all over again. I love him and I miss him. And I really want him back.

But still, I don’t message him because everyone keeps telling me I shouldn’t. I don’t un-block him in the hope he and sends me another message. I don’t do any of the things I want to do, because it’s ‘bad’.

But honestly, why is it so bad? If it would make me happy, having him back in my life, why would it be so bad?

Who Is This Bitch?

So I’ve noticed something. Every time Someone New posts a little update, photo or shares something on his Facebook page, one of his female friends likes it. Let me explain.

The last few times I’ve noticed he has updated his status and I go to ‘like’ it, you know because I’m his girlfriend and all, this female friend has always gotten there moments before I do. Not that it’s a competition or anything, but after the third of fourth time of it happening, I decided to have a little stalk. Her name was being shoved down my throat, so I felt it was only fair.

She has liked virtually every status for the last few months. In fact, the only ones she hasn’t ‘liked’ were the ones involving me.

Funny that. 

She’s blonde with short hair and big Bambi eyes. She’s my age. She’s divorced and has a couple of kids (I think). Every now and again, she posts a profile picture of her with this guy, but I think the guy could be her brother. The pair look pretty alike.

Now…. Before you think I’m just being the bunny boiler from hell, I feel the need to explain a little more.

From the sounds of it, Someone New has been pretty unlucky in love for a while, and during the course of his single-ness, was set up a number of times by friends that clearly had no clue what he was looking for. A few of these girls he was set up with keep coming up in conversation, because they ‘happened’ to be at a friends house when he went over there or whatever.

A while ago, he was at a friends house, and walked a ‘mutual friend’ home late at night. I assumed the ‘mutual friend’ was a girl because I imagine a guy could get his own ass home. A few days later, it turned out that this was a girl that his friends had once tried to set him up with. A few days after that, the girl had been very flirty with him, and was still holding the same torch for him she had when they were initially set up… And didn’t work. Well, I think it might be her that’s doing the Facebook-like-athon.

He didn’t tell me the whole story at once, and although I could be being just a tad paranoid here, I’ve been in this exact situation before. Multiple times.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t think he’s cheating on me. I definitely don’t think he has that kind of behaviour in him. I think he ‘eggs’ these girls on though. I think he encourages them as a confidence boost; an ego-massager, if you like? Not in a malicious way. I just don’t think he’s used to having female attention, and from looking at his younger photos, he’s definitely gotten better with age. I think he’s relishing. That’s fine – we all do it. But does it need to happen right in front of my face?

When I put a hot profile picture up (you know the one – you took fifteen IDENTICAL shots, and picked the right one where your eyeliner / eyebrows / contouring looked spot on, and then you added a filter, ‘blurred’ out the blemishes… etc.), the guys that want to have sex with me don’t publicly ‘like’ every one. They send me a cheeky WhatsApp message telling me how hot I look. It doesn’t need to be publicly broadcasted. Like honestly, this bitch just looks a little desperate. EVERY status? I don’t even do that, and I’m his girlfriend.

Part of me wants to ask him outright – Who is this bitch? Why is she liking all of your statuses, shares, pictures, etc.? All of them that don’t include me? But can I? I don’t know. I’ll blame the female intuition thing, but something doesn’t feel right about it. It just makes me feel uncomfortable. Maybe it’s just all innocent?

I know this though – if I’m getting jealous, I definitely like him. It takes a lot to make me jealous these days.

I Should Really Give Him A Chance

He’s such a good guy, my Someone New. I have finally made the decision to give him more of a chance. I keep him at an arm’s length all the time, and if I continue to do so, I think I’m going to push him away too far. He’s trying so hard to win over my affections, and slowly but surely, it’s working.

Most guys would have given up on me by now. I blow him out more often than I don’t. He’s always buying me little gifts and cute little trinkets and I barely remember the dates he asks me to schedule me in, weeks in advance. When I blew him out last night for a work related drama, he took it so well. Much better than I had anticipated, especially after the amount of effort he had put into the occasion. I would have been raging mad. And I often have been in the past. God, I’m such a hypocrite.

He was planning a nighttime picnic under the stars in his backyard, completely with (citronella) candles (to keep the bugs away), soft music, aphrodisiac food, wine, etc. All I needed to do was bring a picnic blanket and some croutons. Oh and turn up. I couldn’t even manage that.

What is wrong with me? This guy is too perfect for words. I really should be giving him more of a chance. Rather than focusing on the ridiculously stupid things he does wrong; those little things that aren’t even worth mentioning because they are so insignificant, I should focus on the stuff he does right. Which is an awful lot, now I come to think of it.

There was the beautiful Pandora Daisy ring he bought me for my birthday… Whilst in the store a while back, I happened to mention the pretty rings (whilst looking for a gift for someone else), that they didn’t have there to show him. Despite this, he not only remembered the ring, but also which particular style I had said I liked. And, and, and, he got my size right too. I don’t know how but he did.

Then there was the beautiful pink Parker pen he bought me, complete with pink unicorn notepad. All because I told him the story of the one I had when I was younger, that my Lil Sis broke. Bitch.

He listens. He learns. I can tell him anything and I know he will take it on board like an adult, and deal with the information appropriately… For the most part. He remembers things and buys little gifts, not because he’s trying to buy me over, but because he’s thinking of me and wants me to know as much. I really should more shit like that for him. Although the other day, I did send him a ‘love letter’…. One that didn’t actually contain the word ‘love’. That meant a lot to him, I could tell. It seemed appropriate, you know, seeing as he bought me a beautiful ink pen and all.

It was the pen that did the trick, and the letter was meant to be a way of me telling him that I was starting to catch up with him. That maybe, just maybe, he might be someone I could fall in love with. I think somehow, considering I didn’t think I was that interested to begin with, I think I already am. The unspoken hanging L-word seems to be hanging around us constantly. I’m not sure from which side…?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’ve fallen in love with this guy. I just think that maybe I am on my way to. Falling, if you like – I’ve been slightly tipped over the edge and I have started to make my descent.

Let’s face it – he deserves this chance, doesn’t he? He’s been such an adoring boyfriend up until this point, and he’s had more than his fair share of shit to deal with. For someone I didn’t think would last that long, he seems to be lasting just fine.

Cupid Was Busy Today.

Five years ago today, I flew to the other side of the world for Big Love. Today would also have been my two-year anniversary with my Beautiful Tattooed Jock. Pretty busy day for Cupid, it would seem.

Today was a weird day for me. I woke up to my TimeHop reminding me of my past failed relationships once again. I should probably just delete that application from my phone. On most days, it does more harm than good. This morning it was the first photos of me on the other side of the world. It was also the 365 little love notes I wrote Jock, and gave him on our one year anniversary last year.

I stalked him today, Jock I mean. Nothing has changed on his Facebook page since we broke up. I guess he made it private when we broke up. Once upon a time, all of his stuff was public. Not that it matters. He’s blocked on my Facebook. I couldn’t cope if he ever tried to message me again. My head, or my heart, would probably explode.

One day these special dates won’t bug me. In fact, that’s a lie. Some dates I won’t ever forget, but you know what I mean. They’ll just be a distant memory. They won’t be a stabbing reminder like they are now; like a gut to the heart every time I wake up and my phone reminds me of something yet again.

It’s funny when you think about how much has changed for me in five years. For some people, five years goes by like the blink of an eye but for me, everything has changed. Multiple times. I didn’t just stalk Jock today. I stalked One Ball too.

It seems he’s now full-time daddy to at least a couple of his kids now, and from his photos, looks happier than ever. I’m glad really. He didn’t desire the harsh brush-off I gave him. Sometimes Someone New reminds me of him. I just hope he doesn’t disappear out of my life in the same way. He doesn’t deserve it either.

I’m starting to wonder if there is a part of me refusing to move on from Jock because I’m still waiting for him. I’m still convinced we were ‘meant to be’, whatever that means. I’m still 100% convinced of it. I know we failed, and I know the reasons why, but in so many ways, he was the PERFECT man for me. You know when you just know? I just knew. I’m sure of it. Even now, seven or eight months after the split, I’m still convinced he was the perfect person for me to spend the rest of my life with, and if he turned up at my door right now, I’d melt into his arms in a heartbeat. I wonder if he knows that?

Today would have been the last love note that he opened from that jar. That’s assuming I did the maths right, of course. 365 tiny little hand-written love notes in 365 miniature handmade envelopes is hard work. I’m not entirely convinced there were 365 in there to begin with.

But today would have been the last one he opened. I’m still furious he didn’t give those back to me. I wonder what he did with them? I wonder if he threw them out after I told him I was getting rid of the handmade Ducati shoes he made me? I never did get rid of them of course. They mean so much to me. Everything from him does. I wonder if the same could be said for him. He seemed to get over me pretty quick so I doubt it, but I wonder if he ever pined for me in the same way I pined for him? I wonder if he ever thinks about me like I think about him?

Sometimes I wonder why I even care.

But what if I don’t ever get over him? What if I always cling to the last fading memories of him, letting every good guy pass me by? Every good guy like Someone New. In so many ways he’s the perfect man. But do I see myself spending the rest of my life with him? Marrying him? Having babies with him? No I don’t think so. Am I allowed to say that?

I hate days like today.

Why Do I Hate Being Single?

I admitted something that no girl should ever admit to it one of my last posts, and it’s been bugging me a little so I feel the need to explain it. Slash talk it over.

I HATE being single. I actually hate it. But why? Why do I feel the need to bounce from relationship to relationship, often having the next guy lined up before I’ve even ditched the one I’m with? What’s up with that?

I actually Googled this, and I found one article which I feel the need to share. It was written by a guy who was asking the question – why can’t girls just be single, before going on to list a whole bunch of reasons why being single rocks.

The article in question: The Security Of Relationships: Why Can’t You Just Be Single?

Being single is cheaper. OK, I can’t deny that one. I seem to spend a fortune on my dates, even when we don’t do anything at all, and every single one of my male companions has destroyed my bank account. Big Love was one of the worst, but Jock was something else entirely. That guy couldn’t manage his own money if he tried.

“Being single allows you to feel more in control, more present within yourself. Most importantly, it allows you to get to know yourself; it introduces you to the real you.”

I DON’T feel more in control of things when I’m single. I feel like my life is running away from me, and I’m powerless to stop it. I’m going to be thirty next year, and then what? They say that life begins at 30, or 40, or whatever age you happen to be hitting at that time. They say that “30 is the new black” and other such bullshit. I’m meant to be happy about the fact I’m now in the last year of my twenties, but all I feel is dread. Fertility goes down after you reach 30, or so every single godamn daytime TV show is telling me. In the midst of a cervical cancer scare / situation, I’m now faced with the dilemma of whether or not I should freeze my eggs, and I’m starting to question whether my internal bits even work at all.

I get asked if I’m married, being one year away from thirty, and when I tell them no, well actually yes, but on my way to being divorced, they look at me like I’m some sort of weird alien. Almost thirty with no kids and no husband in tow? Shocker. In fact, that reminds me of my interview for the job I just quit. One man and one woman, both in their 30’s or over were interviewing me, and one of the questions I was forced to answer was why I hadn’t got a career sorted yet, or started a family? The question made me stumble and after I walked out of that job interview, I cried. I felt like I was failing at life. Mid-to-late twenties (at the time) and childless, husband-less, and career-less. What a failure.

Women are meant to be empowered these days, taking things at their own pace and having a career and going travelling before settling down later on to have a family. Take my mother and my aunt – my mother had me at 20, my sister 5 years later, and has bounced from man to man ever since. She’s skint, miserable, and wishes she was anywhere but here.

Her sister, my aunt, on the other hand, is a couple of years younger than my mother, never had kids, tried for kids with her ex-fiance but after ten years and no pitter-patter of tiny little feet even after IVF, they broke up. She’s had a wealth of shit since, dating a guy who then got a much younger girl pregnant behind her back, sending her a little crazy (or a lot), before finally settling down with the guy she’s with, that already has three kids in tow. They’re engaged now, but since she met him, I’ve barely heard from her. Bad woman.

She’s a lot richer than my mother, and is a lot more sensible with her money. They are like chalk and cheese, blonde and brunette. I always figured my aunt was my idol. I always envied her life of nice holidays, plus designer clothes, handbags and crockery. I just think she’s a bit of a bitch now.

My sister got engaged a few days ago. She’s a few years younger than me. We’re not talking, so I found out from Facebook which was nice (not), and it was just another kick in the teeth – she’s winning at life. I’m failing at life. I bet her marriage lasts longer than mine did too.

I don’t have time to be single. If a cervical cancer scare does anything, it certainly reminds you of your own mortality, and the fact that having children is a privilege and not a given right. Some people don’t deserve children, my absent father being one of them. I don’t care how great he is with the two kids (maybe more) that he has now. He was a waste of space father to me. I’ve always blamed his absence for my poor choices in love.

But I want children one day. I’ve had passing phases before, but there’s a longing somewhere, and I think it’s coming from my womb. It started when I was with Jock. It’s a shame he fucked that up.

Let’s say I decide to be single for a while though, to ‘find myself’ and other such bullshit. What would happen? That takes me to what, my early to mid thirties? I wouldn’t want to have a baby with someone that I hadn’t known for a few years first, so that takes me to mid to late thirties. And what happens then if it takes a while? Before you know it, I’ll be 40, and having children is something that will never happen for me.

That aside, I don’t think I need to ‘find myself’. I’ve found myself, and I quite like the person I am right now. I’m just me now, no pretence, no bullshit. I’ve had too much crap over the years, and I’m too tired to have a drama-filled life. That’s exactly why I’m not talking to half of my family, and also why I just quit my job. I just can’t handle the drama anymore, and neither can my body.

There was one paragraph that really stood out for me. It actually made me quite mad.

“But you can’t force love. It simply doesn’t work like that. So why force relationships? What’s the point of having a partner for 6 months at a time? You can’t get to really know most people within 6 months — at least not enough to date them, get fed up with them and have a reason to split up. If you can’t stay in a relationship with someone for at least a year then you shouldn’t have been dating them in the first place.”

OK, so to some degree, I can understand why this guy would say this. But, and there’s a massive but here, the REAL WORLD doesn’t work anything like that.

I’ve been dating Someone New for five months now, and I’m still in the in-between stage where I’m just not sure if he’s someone I would want to be with long-term. There is NOTHING wrong with him, he’s not a bad guy, and he’s been nothing but a great boyfriend to me, but there is something missing. If I break up with him now, I’ll be saving him a whole world of pain. I’ve been at the receiving end of someone dragging out the end of a relationship, and I’ve also given someone else that same awful treatment. It’s not nice. If I stay in this relationship, continuing to be unsure of whether we will work, he’s going to fall in love with me. He’s already made it clear he is falling. Why would I want to wait for that to happen to ditch him? Isn’t that much crueler?

Plus he’s older than I am by a couple of years. Why would I want to waste his time? He’s told me he doesn’t want kids, but at times he talks as if maybe he would change his mind. But surely we are doomed right from the start? If I kinda want kids, and he kinda doesn’t, isn’t that just a time-wasting recipe for disaster?

Plus, the writer kinda criticises his own point when he says this:

“One of my least favorite feelings is that feeling when you understand the relationship isn’t going anywhere and you can already see it crumbling at the edges, yet still being reluctant to end things — or maybe just scared to do so.”

Just saying.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not bashing this guy. If I wasn’t in my current situation right now, I’d probably totally agree with him. I know that relationship-hopping isn’t good. I’m not deluded enough to think that this is a healthy approach to dating. But at the same time, what other option do I have? Sit back and wait for love to find me? Because I’m an anonymous full-time writer with social anxiety and a weird bowel disorder. I barely leave my house. In fact, I barely leave my bed. I’ve never been happier! 🙂

But yeah, unless he’s my postman, he’s gonna have a hard time finding me. And my postman is a prick. So I wouldn’t image we’ll fall in love.

Being single scares me. I’m a woman approaching her thirties and I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to say that. Loving yourself – yeah, that’s cool. I love the fact I love myself now, even though I am fine-tuning and tweaking a few bits around the edges. But surely having someone else love you, warts and all, is the ultimate validation that you are pretty much a decent person? The fact that I’ve failed at every relationship I’ve ever been, and there have been more than a few, doesn’t bode well for me, and although I know I’m not entirely to blame for all the shit that went down, I can put my hand up to a great deal of it. I was a bitch. I was a crazy bitch.

I don’t have time to be single. I don’t want to be single either. I like being part of something – a special little partnership for two. Don’t get me wrong, that doesn’t mean I’ll stay in a relationship even though I’m not happy, but if I’m single, it generally won’t stay that way for very long. It never has.

Plus circumstance plays a massive part. The day I ditched one of my last boyfriends, I went on to POF to delete my dating profile, and up popped my Beautiful Tattooed Jock into my life. My heart might be hurting for him right now, but he was a very big and beautiful part of my life, and I wouldn’t change a single bit of it. Well, apart from the horrid ending of course.

I guess that answers the question – why can’t I just be single? I’m too scared of not having kids to be single, too scared I’ll miss what might end up being the love of my life. What if I’ve already met him and passed him by? What if he is living and breathing right under my nose with each and every that passes?

Who knows?

I can tell you this though. I’m not waiting around to find out. I’ll be moving on.


Historical Child Abuse.

I don’t know how to talk about this. I don’t even know if I’m ALLOWED to talk about this. But I really need to. This post is going to contain information about what the title states. If that makes you uneasy, you may want to skip reading it.

I don’t really know where to start. How about the beginning?

A couple of weeks ago, Number 42’s sister came into my work and told me something. She needed me to call her brother, get access to an account, and play around with some stuff. Oh, and 20 years ago, she was sexually abused by her step-dad. She’d blocked it out for 20 years and it’s just come popping back up in her mind.

Why the fuck would you just come out with that, like that? Why would you tell someone like me? Even if she did know that Number 42 and I had slept together, and that our relationship was no longer entirely platonic, she knew we weren’t in a relationship. We were friends on Facebook for fucks sake, she knew I was dating Someone New.

I didn’t know whether or not to bring it up with him, but he’d had a hard enough time with some other stuff I didn’t know about, so I figured I’d leave it alone for just now, and mention it to him if the situation ever arose.

Well, it did.

“I can’t talk about the shit going on, I’m so lonely and down though so just want someone to talk to me about normal stuff…”

My heart sunk to my toes. Although we fight like cat and dog, and we have a very odd kinda-relationship, I actually adore this guy. Maybe not in an I-could-be-with-him-way, but definitely in some way. He’s like one of my top five people in life, I reckon. I trust him. Not with my website, but with other stuff. He’s a trust-worthy person. I wouldn’t have fucked him otherwise. I do love him a little bit.

Well, it turns out, his batshit crazy sister hasn’t just accused their step-dad of sexually abusing her as a 13 year old child, but also her brother (Number 42) and another guy. He explained to me the occasions she had described, and the plentiful reasons why those situations couldn’t have happened.

I don’t believe it for a second. Honestly, genuinely, 100% will vouch for this guy. I’ve never met a more stable, responsible, decent human being. Don’t get me wrong, he can be a real cunt from time to time, but he’s a good guy. He’s one of the good guys. He’d be the shittest of boyfriends, and he doesn’t have a romantic, boyfy-like bone in his body, but as a father, he’s amazing, and as a man, he’s one of the best.

I told him what his sister had said to me, and he said a line that actually made me secretly shed a tear….

“OK, I’ll tell you what’s going on. I can trust you now. I believe that….” 

He actually said those words to me. Mr. UnBreakable has been broken. He TRUSTS me. To be fair, I’ve put in three years of patient-friend-time with this guy, but that compliment was one of the best I’ve received recently. If we had been face to face, I probably would have kissed him.

But, all that crap aside. What the actual fuck? OK, let’s just say this HAD happened all those years ago. I’ve slept with a sex offender. Well, that’s great. That’s an all-time low for even me. Number 42 told me that while he was at the police station willingly (I must add) answering all of their questions, the police woman handed him a counselling card for a charity helping paedophiles not to find children sexually appealing anymore. He’s not even been arrested yet, just answering questions, and they’ve branded him a sex offender – a fucking CHILD ABUSER already?! Surely they can’t do that. Why would they do that? Isn’t the justice system meant to be that you’re innocent until proven guilty?

Now let’s imagine he HASN’T done these horrible things she’s accusing him of. Things that I genuinely don’t believe happened. I can’t stress that to you enough. I don’t think he did those things. She is ruining his life. She’s put him in a situation where he could potentially get his little boy taken away from him. There’s a whole fucking story there too. Crack-whore mother, child appears at his door at like six years old or whatever, DNA testing, court cases…. He now has the kid, they have a brilliantly beautiful relationship although a little up and down, and he’s become an amazing man, and an amazing father. Why, fucking why, would she do that to him…?

I genuinely didn’t know what to say to him on the phone. Especially after a recent friend of mine and Bestie’s had just been sent down for a similar offence which again, we didn’t believe a word of. I probably shouldn’t have said that to him in hindsight, but I’m one of those real honest kinda gals that says whatever is on her mind. There is very little in the form of a filter going on between my head and my mouth.

But why on earth would she say that? Why would she accuse him of that? What the hell is going on? Surely this is just a big misunderstanding?

I don’t believe a fucking word of it.