The measure of love is what you are willing to give up for it, or so a very sentimental poet once said. But what happens if you keep on coming up empty? In order to find a new bright future, sometimes you need to go back to your past, to understand old mistakes and try your hardest not the repeat them. My biggest disappointment has been what happened with 'H'
It's finally occurred to me why geting 'H' out of my system has been so hard for me. Part of me is still hanging onto someone who wasn't real with me on any level at any time or ever available. He is someone who will now because of all of his actions, remain a very harsh lesson in reality.
He added a powerful dimension to my life at a difficult time for me. Just being with him underlined bluntly the fun, passion and mental stimulus that what was missing between R and me. And if I'm honest (which I always am, even to the detriment of myself sometimes) I miss him still, or rather I miss the person I got to be in his presence. Sexy, sassy and totally optimistic about love, something which I am not as much now.
I have resisted the temptation to contact him, expecially when I remembered our very last non-meeting. Yet another home 'emergency' led to his lastminute.com one line e-mail cancellation. He knew he was lying and I knew he was lying. He was always so rubbish at it and I marvelled at his continuing belief, that I was so very gullible and stupid, that I would absolutely believe anything that he told me.
Since then nothing. Not one word. Initially, I was really, really worried in case something terrible had happened to him or his children, but as F (who absolutely hated 'H', from the moment I got involved with him and constantly told me what a dog he was) bluntly told me one night over dinner.
"Consider yourself Xd. Men either behave so badly that you women leave us or we just ignore you. Cowardly you're damned right it is, but at least we don't have to deal 'the situation' or you' or our actions. We simply get to walk away".
But for seeing H's name flash up on a business directory recently, for all I knew he might as well have disappeared like the white rabbit through the looking glass, into a sliding door universe where we had never met. It didn't occur to him that I'd be worried, or upset or hurt by his disappearing act, why should he be after all it was a speciality of his.
What made it all the painful was that we had only recently seen each other again after a year and a half of pretending that the other didn't exist. Our reunion was full of the normal things people say in impossible situations "I feel so guilty when I see you" "I know this is wrong but....." Every cliche in the book and then some.
The crazy thing is that for all of his lying, lying and more lying both to me and himself, I can honestly say that I was never been so nuts about someone. I admired him from afar, a long time before we exchanged a few water cooler conversations.
I used to smile as he stood with his hands on his hips, like I later teased him " a double ended teapot", when trying to get a point across to another colleague at work; or stroking the back of his head, when trying to figure out some unfathomable spreadsheet, containing some formula he just couldn't figure out. When I left the company where we both worked for another 'exciting opportunity', he suggested a farewell drink and that's where it all started.
I revelled in 'talking' to him, his silly e-mails, getting that first filthy morning text message from him. I loved his dour self deprecating humour, his razor sharp mind, his love for his family and friends, his passion, his body, and just the fact that no one ever made me feel as smart, appreciated, wanted and sexy as he did.
But ultimately, it just wasn't enough. He would always ask me what I wanted from him, but he never actually listened to what I said to him - I had no expectations whatsoever, how could I? Instead I wanted to be a friend, a cherished confidante (like with F and Tigger, who aren't ex's just male friends I have, who truly want the best for me), someone who had his back; but he never had mine.
I didn't question our situation ever or make demands of him. I asked him for nothing more than to always be straight with me and not to lie with me. Not to scrub around thinking of some suitably dramatic lie, to stop me dead in the tracks of any possible recriminations. He just couldn't do that.
When someone lies to you once it hurts. When someone lies to you always, it is like a slow burning fire in your chest, gradually ebbing away until your respect and loyalty have turned to disappointment; and your trust in that person and who they are has been completely extinguished.
There are two types of heartbreak - absolute - when you have been wronged against through no fault of your own and "just deserts heartbreak" - where you have trepassed in someone else's life and even though you think you might just come out of the situation in one piece and vaguely trimphant even, the only outcome will ever be your own unhappiness.
Do I regret getting involved with him? No...and yes. No - because I was myself with him, more so than with any other man. I was open, honest and loyal from start to finish, perhaps so honest that the only thing he could do with honesty like that was to trash it.
Yes - because being given the opportunity to press my nose up against the glass on something I really wanted to work, but didn't, has taken away some of my optimism about relationships in general. The rose tinted glasses are gone and I'm more 'real' then I've ever been.
The barriers are up and I now regard men as undefineable Chinese puzzles - to be dealt with at arms length, with kit gloves using extreme caution. I've learnt that even the 'nice guys' can have the shady gene that can hurt you, without it pricking their conscience, sometimes more than you ever have been by anyone else before or since.
I've learnt that just because you are unconditional with your affection for someone in whatever capacity, it doesn't mean the same affection will be returned to you or that the person in question will treat you the same affection or respect. It doesn't mean the person is a bad person, it just means they don't care enough about you. They are't bothered.
He once said to me that he was frightened that I could ruin his life and therein lies the fundamental difference between us. Whereas it would never occur to me to 'rock the boat' or 'hurt' him intentionally out of spite or even self preservation, to really mess him up, his indifference about hurting me is what finally showed me what my true value was to him.
If you are a man or woman of any substance, you will learn this harsh lesson when it is dealt to you by your undercover lover. You will own that you have been nothing more than a dirty little secret or a fickle distraction. You will take responsibility for your actions, forgive yourself for caring or loving where you shouldn't and then in time let it go. I have.
Tuesday 30 June 2009
Monday 29 June 2009
With Arms Wide Open
Well my weekend of misery has been met with an overwhelming wave of support from my girlfriends and some eye opening feedback from the more reliable men in my life.
In the pink corner A kicked things off things with a typically blunt take on my dating meltdown, sending me the following email.
“ B, You are one hot mama but, I have told you on many occasions that your photos are way too tame for those sites. That is why you don't get good enough responses, but you just don't wanna hear iteven though, I think I'm in a perfect position to know what men are like: visual beings. Looks is what gets them interested, personality is what makes them fall in love and they go in this order.
Also, the really fit and muscular guys like girls who are really fit and toned too, so if that's the pond where you wanna go fishing, you know what to do. But let me remind you anyway: more sport, less crap food! I mean, do you think I actually "like" going to the gym?? Alternatively go for boys who are also partial to a bit of cake ;-) – to which I replied “ You really are a total bitch, I may be lovelorn, but I’m not fat!”
A continued “My advice is to stop internet dating because, as it's not like normal dating. People don't see each other and the fact that they don't have a person in front of them tends to make them more to the point and less delicate with people's feelings. I think you are more suited to meeting guys in bars, or speed dating. Either way you shouldn't stop dating, just change the format. But you need to get out there, staying at home on a Sat night, eating ice-cream and watching Mamma Mia is not going to help” I did that one night A, just one bloody night and you won’t let me forget it!
While the blue corner M, who knows where all of my skeletons are buried (and the impact they've had on me) was equally honest with me, having first listened to me calmly (remember my meltdowns last at most 24hrs, after which point puffy eyes, lack of ice cream and boredom at my own pity party, causes me to abandon any attempts at at prolonging the misery!) telling him what a crap weekend I’ve just had.
“ I think G’s right, internet dating isn’t right for you. You get emotionally involved with everything you do from work to your personal life. When things go wrong you blame yourself, instead of thinking it’s the guys’ fault. What you want to remember is that all this internet stuff it’s all about selling yourself. I don’t see how you can do that over an internet connection",
"People put up their best pictures, great profiles. before they go and whereas you’ve put up the truth, not everyone else has “ “Sometimes guys will give you one or two emails, that's if they can be bothered to reply to you at all. That's just how guys are". One thing you have to say about M is that he tells it like it is.
"Also you don’t have to be so bloody nice all the time – I mean Curry Boy, he pissed you right off and instead of telling him where to go, you're nice to him have a polite conversation with him. If that had been me I would have told him to fuck right off. You are allowed to be rude, I mean look at you at work, you take charge, you don't take any crap! It just seems like you are trying to please everybody and you don’t have to. Use what’s just happened and remember not to take things so personally. These guys don't even know you and no they don't give a toss, which is another reason why you don't have to invest any of your emotions in them” .
Wise words indeed from the boys.....I promise to listen for a change.
In the pink corner A kicked things off things with a typically blunt take on my dating meltdown, sending me the following email.
“ B, You are one hot mama but, I have told you on many occasions that your photos are way too tame for those sites. That is why you don't get good enough responses, but you just don't wanna hear iteven though, I think I'm in a perfect position to know what men are like: visual beings. Looks is what gets them interested, personality is what makes them fall in love and they go in this order.
Also, the really fit and muscular guys like girls who are really fit and toned too, so if that's the pond where you wanna go fishing, you know what to do. But let me remind you anyway: more sport, less crap food! I mean, do you think I actually "like" going to the gym?? Alternatively go for boys who are also partial to a bit of cake ;-) – to which I replied “ You really are a total bitch, I may be lovelorn, but I’m not fat!”
A continued “My advice is to stop internet dating because, as it's not like normal dating. People don't see each other and the fact that they don't have a person in front of them tends to make them more to the point and less delicate with people's feelings. I think you are more suited to meeting guys in bars, or speed dating. Either way you shouldn't stop dating, just change the format. But you need to get out there, staying at home on a Sat night, eating ice-cream and watching Mamma Mia is not going to help” I did that one night A, just one bloody night and you won’t let me forget it!
While the blue corner M, who knows where all of my skeletons are buried (and the impact they've had on me) was equally honest with me, having first listened to me calmly (remember my meltdowns last at most 24hrs, after which point puffy eyes, lack of ice cream and boredom at my own pity party, causes me to abandon any attempts at at prolonging the misery!) telling him what a crap weekend I’ve just had.
“ I think G’s right, internet dating isn’t right for you. You get emotionally involved with everything you do from work to your personal life. When things go wrong you blame yourself, instead of thinking it’s the guys’ fault. What you want to remember is that all this internet stuff it’s all about selling yourself. I don’t see how you can do that over an internet connection",
"People put up their best pictures, great profiles. before they go and whereas you’ve put up the truth, not everyone else has “ “Sometimes guys will give you one or two emails, that's if they can be bothered to reply to you at all. That's just how guys are". One thing you have to say about M is that he tells it like it is.
"Also you don’t have to be so bloody nice all the time – I mean Curry Boy, he pissed you right off and instead of telling him where to go, you're nice to him have a polite conversation with him. If that had been me I would have told him to fuck right off. You are allowed to be rude, I mean look at you at work, you take charge, you don't take any crap! It just seems like you are trying to please everybody and you don’t have to. Use what’s just happened and remember not to take things so personally. These guys don't even know you and no they don't give a toss, which is another reason why you don't have to invest any of your emotions in them” .
Wise words indeed from the boys.....I promise to listen for a change.
Sunday 28 June 2009
Don't Go Chasing Rainbows
After probably the worst nights' sleep I've had in months, I woke up hot, grumpy and angry. The contents of my garden have been pruned to within an inch of their lives. My house is spotless and my week's laundry is not just done, i've even ironed and folded it all. Anything to block out that bloody email and the resulting disappointment.
G texted me "Are you ok" and then phoned to check that I hadn't overdosed on Haribos as I'd run out of ice cream.
"I don't know what to say darling. The guy's a jerk (I wish it was true G, but S2 isn't which is why i'm so gutted) you're an amazing, wonderful person. it's just these bloody men!. I'm glad you ditched those dating sites, they're just destroying your confidence. You know these bloody sites really aren't meant for everyone". Don't I know it!
I was about to protest, but she was of course right. For once in my life I'm not going to try and be Superwoman putting on a brave face on things and launching optimistically headfirst into yet another disaster. I'm going to take time out, get off the dating merry-go-round, focus on my writing, my family and my friends, being fabulous and counting my blessings.
After all nobody died, I just have a very bruised ego. I'll get over it. I always do.
G texted me "Are you ok" and then phoned to check that I hadn't overdosed on Haribos as I'd run out of ice cream.
"I don't know what to say darling. The guy's a jerk (I wish it was true G, but S2 isn't which is why i'm so gutted) you're an amazing, wonderful person. it's just these bloody men!. I'm glad you ditched those dating sites, they're just destroying your confidence. You know these bloody sites really aren't meant for everyone". Don't I know it!
I was about to protest, but she was of course right. For once in my life I'm not going to try and be Superwoman putting on a brave face on things and launching optimistically headfirst into yet another disaster. I'm going to take time out, get off the dating merry-go-round, focus on my writing, my family and my friends, being fabulous and counting my blessings.
After all nobody died, I just have a very bruised ego. I'll get over it. I always do.
Saturday 27 June 2009
The One Where I'm Finally Done with Internet Dating
Ok, I concede defeat - I have just removed my profile from my singlefriend.com. I didn't do it in a fit of temper or in the unlikely miracle that I might have found a boyfriend., I did it because I have had enough of the false hopes, that it raises everytime i get involved with it, by investing my efforts and emotions in trying to conect with someone new.
It takes balls to repeatedly put yourself out there on the dating frontline. It is disappointing when a person can't even be bothered to reply to your e-mail or even acknowledge you exist. You change your pictures, update your profile until you've bored yourself and your poor friends stupid. You start to doubt whether you are such a great catch, particularly when that little notice flashes up to say someone you liked has met someone but of course it's not you.
What finally pushed me to giving up once and for all with dating sites was S2. Unlike Curry boy (who actually called me today - no apology, no excuse just a why don't we meet for coffee, or a drink or something!), S2 was politely upfront.
In his final e-mail to me, he thanked me for answering his request for advice on making his work life balance better (I kid you not) then compassionately delivered the news that after just three days of emails, his heart lies elsewhere (another lady from the site).
He also confirmed that he had. had loads of responses which has boosted his confidence from lots of lovely ladies like myself, and since he has decided to give things a go with his hopefully perfect match, he just wanted to let me know, so I could find someone else who was interested in me.
He even joked that if it turned out to be a nightmare first date (how unlucky would you have to be to end up with one of those), he might just be back in touch. Well thank you S2 - nice to know that you see me as a possible stand-in or back-up plan B.
I feel like crap. Total crap........if even the nice guys want to connect and date anyone other then me, then why the hell should I bother. I'm done with internet dating, in fact screw dating!.
It takes balls to repeatedly put yourself out there on the dating frontline. It is disappointing when a person can't even be bothered to reply to your e-mail or even acknowledge you exist. You change your pictures, update your profile until you've bored yourself and your poor friends stupid. You start to doubt whether you are such a great catch, particularly when that little notice flashes up to say someone you liked has met someone but of course it's not you.
What finally pushed me to giving up once and for all with dating sites was S2. Unlike Curry boy (who actually called me today - no apology, no excuse just a why don't we meet for coffee, or a drink or something!), S2 was politely upfront.
In his final e-mail to me, he thanked me for answering his request for advice on making his work life balance better (I kid you not) then compassionately delivered the news that after just three days of emails, his heart lies elsewhere (another lady from the site).
He also confirmed that he had. had loads of responses which has boosted his confidence from lots of lovely ladies like myself, and since he has decided to give things a go with his hopefully perfect match, he just wanted to let me know, so I could find someone else who was interested in me.
He even joked that if it turned out to be a nightmare first date (how unlucky would you have to be to end up with one of those), he might just be back in touch. Well thank you S2 - nice to know that you see me as a possible stand-in or back-up plan B.
I feel like crap. Total crap........if even the nice guys want to connect and date anyone other then me, then why the hell should I bother. I'm done with internet dating, in fact screw dating!.
Friday 26 June 2009
Jacko Checks Out !
Where were you when the King of Pop died – well at the Stag actually. I was still smiling about Rob’s woes when I turned on the TV and heard the news that Michael Jackson was dead. When someone you know dies, you deal with it in the best way you know how. When a living legend dies like JFK or Elvis you tend to remember where you were.
Watching the news updates full of ‘the fight to save his life’ and celebrity eulogies about how this ex-child genius lost his childhood to become a star, then superstar and ultimately the King of Pop.
I was struck, by how important it is for us all to live for the moment and remember that our actions can have amazing impacts on others. All the crazy coverage of his plastic surgery, test tube children, chimps, marriages, fairytale homes and numerous courts cases had until yesterday, publicly blighted a career which outstripped others; beginning in poverty of the projects and ending up as the global phenomena he became.
He could sing, dance, write hits songs, inspire and captivate audiences of all ages. Now how many of us could do that ?
RIP the King of Pop - Long Live your musical legacy!
Watching the news updates full of ‘the fight to save his life’ and celebrity eulogies about how this ex-child genius lost his childhood to become a star, then superstar and ultimately the King of Pop.
I was struck, by how important it is for us all to live for the moment and remember that our actions can have amazing impacts on others. All the crazy coverage of his plastic surgery, test tube children, chimps, marriages, fairytale homes and numerous courts cases had until yesterday, publicly blighted a career which outstripped others; beginning in poverty of the projects and ending up as the global phenomena he became.
He could sing, dance, write hits songs, inspire and captivate audiences of all ages. Now how many of us could do that ?
RIP the King of Pop - Long Live your musical legacy!
Thursday 25 June 2009
Heartbreak at the Stag
You will be happy to hear that I appear to have turned the corner on my obstacles course strewn life. At work, HWMBO is slowly learning to ‘love’ me again and the stressed look which has become a signature expression for the last three months on my face is diminishing daily. On the fitness front, I have finally cancelled my gym membership and moved to a better deal elsewhere.
My dating outlook however remains decidedly unrosy. I can confirm there has been no further contact from the Curry Boy, but I have joined dating site number 4 and attracted the attentions of a 29 year old lawyer who lives in Birmingham. Yes, you’ve guessed it not my type....at all. S2 (fit IT Director) has read my standard hi there email, who has choosen to return email fire. He seems lovely so....(but of course I'm not holding my breathe !).
“You’re so bloody fussy” said G, tucking into a pizza slice and checking her latest text message from ‘the Fool. (Yes you heard me right, they are still together, despite her "we were on a break" indiscretion!).
Why is it that attached people, particularly those who have come through their own dating drought, always think their single friend should just accept any offer they get? Also for those of you who are foolish enough to remain friends with your ex's (male or female) meeting for coffee catch-ups, why do they always lean their heads to one side and muse about why you are still single, conveniently forgetting how crap they were when they were with you? Forgive me for not at the very least wanting to hook up with someone who has little something about them. Someone who has spark, actually lots of sparks is D.
The news that he is having his first child has had a weird effect on me. First I am ecstatic for him as he's a friend, a lovely person, his missus is a complete honey and they are going to make great parents. Also, because he constantly tries to restore my rapidly diminishing belief in love or the semblance of it, that there are actually any other men like him left in the world, who are single, honourable, faithful (but you can never be too sure about that one!) and looking for a nutcase like me.
Usually when I finish talking to D I feel revitalised, particularly when my love tank is empty, but this time I didn’t. It is as if the penny has finally dropped with me that I may not find my Mr Right ever, because all the good guys really are taken, players, married or of course, gay.
Let’s consider the evidence. As of this year, I have been single for three years. I haven’t quite turned into that little old lady who smells of wee and lives with her twenty cats, but I feel like I am just a hop and a skip away from her.
My last three years has consisted of pseudo dates - meetings with men your friends fix you up with, who you would never, ever go for. Dates with men who just want to sleep with you - fine if that's your bag, but totally not me. Then there are unreturned phone calls, these are usually from men you really want to call. You know the ones who when you try to find out what is going on, start mumbling something about wanting to give an ex (girlfriend, booty call whatever) a second or third chance! Now that's just rude!
Let's not forget the numerous lightswitch letdowns and my car crash with 'H' my big mistake (we all have one!). Sex is a distant memory and even third drawer entertainment (I love my rabbit and his other friends!) but playing in my own private idaho alone is now about as exciting as doing a luke warm showerhead dance!
A distracting night out was obviously needed and a gay night out was just what TJ gave me. While sitting in the Stag, surrounded by gay men of varying degrees of handsomeness and listening to R vent about his Brazilian boyfriend's shock termination of their relationship, I realised my own problems were small fry.
"I've gone through crying, denial, drinking, every gay break-up song I can lay my hands on and now I'm just so angry" said R "And when I see him, when he picks up his stuff on Sunday I'm going to let him have it. There he was feeding me all this garbage about his open heart and him loving me being so open and loving and he does this. He does this to me. Well I hope he just remembers this the next time, with whoever the next guy is he does this to!" Argh the emotion!
6 double vodkas later, and having done some hardline flirting with a very cute barman and latino almost jailbait fancy who had glued himself to Rob, I left Rob gazing into the bottom of his glass, still nursing that broken heart.
"You've got until Sunday to get over it" said N (who is as wise as he is funny), tapping his watch firmly. "And then all sympathy is is withdrawn Norma!" I couldn't resist adding. Good to know that boys get the dating blues too!
My dating outlook however remains decidedly unrosy. I can confirm there has been no further contact from the Curry Boy, but I have joined dating site number 4 and attracted the attentions of a 29 year old lawyer who lives in Birmingham. Yes, you’ve guessed it not my type....at all. S2 (fit IT Director) has read my standard hi there email, who has choosen to return email fire. He seems lovely so....(but of course I'm not holding my breathe !).
“You’re so bloody fussy” said G, tucking into a pizza slice and checking her latest text message from ‘the Fool. (Yes you heard me right, they are still together, despite her "we were on a break" indiscretion!).
Why is it that attached people, particularly those who have come through their own dating drought, always think their single friend should just accept any offer they get? Also for those of you who are foolish enough to remain friends with your ex's (male or female) meeting for coffee catch-ups, why do they always lean their heads to one side and muse about why you are still single, conveniently forgetting how crap they were when they were with you? Forgive me for not at the very least wanting to hook up with someone who has little something about them. Someone who has spark, actually lots of sparks is D.
The news that he is having his first child has had a weird effect on me. First I am ecstatic for him as he's a friend, a lovely person, his missus is a complete honey and they are going to make great parents. Also, because he constantly tries to restore my rapidly diminishing belief in love or the semblance of it, that there are actually any other men like him left in the world, who are single, honourable, faithful (but you can never be too sure about that one!) and looking for a nutcase like me.
Usually when I finish talking to D I feel revitalised, particularly when my love tank is empty, but this time I didn’t. It is as if the penny has finally dropped with me that I may not find my Mr Right ever, because all the good guys really are taken, players, married or of course, gay.
Let’s consider the evidence. As of this year, I have been single for three years. I haven’t quite turned into that little old lady who smells of wee and lives with her twenty cats, but I feel like I am just a hop and a skip away from her.
My last three years has consisted of pseudo dates - meetings with men your friends fix you up with, who you would never, ever go for. Dates with men who just want to sleep with you - fine if that's your bag, but totally not me. Then there are unreturned phone calls, these are usually from men you really want to call. You know the ones who when you try to find out what is going on, start mumbling something about wanting to give an ex (girlfriend, booty call whatever) a second or third chance! Now that's just rude!
Let's not forget the numerous lightswitch letdowns and my car crash with 'H' my big mistake (we all have one!). Sex is a distant memory and even third drawer entertainment (I love my rabbit and his other friends!) but playing in my own private idaho alone is now about as exciting as doing a luke warm showerhead dance!
A distracting night out was obviously needed and a gay night out was just what TJ gave me. While sitting in the Stag, surrounded by gay men of varying degrees of handsomeness and listening to R vent about his Brazilian boyfriend's shock termination of their relationship, I realised my own problems were small fry.
"I've gone through crying, denial, drinking, every gay break-up song I can lay my hands on and now I'm just so angry" said R "And when I see him, when he picks up his stuff on Sunday I'm going to let him have it. There he was feeding me all this garbage about his open heart and him loving me being so open and loving and he does this. He does this to me. Well I hope he just remembers this the next time, with whoever the next guy is he does this to!" Argh the emotion!
6 double vodkas later, and having done some hardline flirting with a very cute barman and latino almost jailbait fancy who had glued himself to Rob, I left Rob gazing into the bottom of his glass, still nursing that broken heart.
"You've got until Sunday to get over it" said N (who is as wise as he is funny), tapping his watch firmly. "And then all sympathy is is withdrawn Norma!" I couldn't resist adding. Good to know that boys get the dating blues too!
Thursday 18 June 2009
The Waiting Game
I am beginning to think that I am cursed when it comes to men. For the past three days I have been talking to S. S has passed the basic training that I now put all would-be suitors through. He has first made contact via email. next, he sent an above average introductory message, which was suitably cheeky and funny enough, to grab my attention.
We exchanged a few more emails and then he asked whether we could ditch the typing frenzies and have a chat on the phone and so he gave me his number. "Sure" I said " I'll call you 8ish". At 8.20 I called. Voicemail. I called again 15 mins afterwards and once again it was the voicemail.
The funny thing is that it didn't phase me at all. I totally expected it. I am so used to men doing absolutely anything other than what I want them to do. Even the most basic expectation I have of them from showing up for a date, making a decision about where we going, voluntarily telling me that they already have a girlfriend, wife or side order of booty call ever ready.
Fortunately, previous experience has taught me to not take things to heart and that disappointments often turn out to be omens of future disasters or just lucky escapes. S finally daned to text me at 9:30 to tell me he was sorry to have missed my call but he was out "...having a curry", but hoped I was having a good evening and would call me tomorrow, without specifying a time.
When a man's need for a curry is more important than him being bothered to call you, you can either a)turn to your own piece of heaven - ice cream or chocolate or b) take counsel from your males friends.
"It's a bit rude" said M "He hasn't even met you yet and he can't be bothered to take your call or text you before you call him to say he's doing something. What do you say in your text back to him?"
"I told him I was having a nice evening, when in fact what I really wanted to say is that my first impression of you is that you are rude nob".
M laughed. "If he calls you then fair enough, but don't expect anything from him. He just doesn't seem that bothered about it"
N summed the nature of the beast in his own unique way. "I don't mean to be crude, but men are like predators and if they want to eat, they are going to hunt and work to get hold of their prey. Just leave this one alone, he's not interested". "Also remember next time, just one phone call, it shows you made the effort, but you aren't too fussed whether you hear from him again or not".
And I thought I was the expert !
Postscript - It is now 24 hours since S said he would call...yes you've guessed it....he still hasn't ! Clearly the curry whoever 'she' was is still keeping him occupied !
We exchanged a few more emails and then he asked whether we could ditch the typing frenzies and have a chat on the phone and so he gave me his number. "Sure" I said " I'll call you 8ish". At 8.20 I called. Voicemail. I called again 15 mins afterwards and once again it was the voicemail.
The funny thing is that it didn't phase me at all. I totally expected it. I am so used to men doing absolutely anything other than what I want them to do. Even the most basic expectation I have of them from showing up for a date, making a decision about where we going, voluntarily telling me that they already have a girlfriend, wife or side order of booty call ever ready.
Fortunately, previous experience has taught me to not take things to heart and that disappointments often turn out to be omens of future disasters or just lucky escapes. S finally daned to text me at 9:30 to tell me he was sorry to have missed my call but he was out "...having a curry", but hoped I was having a good evening and would call me tomorrow, without specifying a time.
When a man's need for a curry is more important than him being bothered to call you, you can either a)turn to your own piece of heaven - ice cream or chocolate or b) take counsel from your males friends.
"It's a bit rude" said M "He hasn't even met you yet and he can't be bothered to take your call or text you before you call him to say he's doing something. What do you say in your text back to him?"
"I told him I was having a nice evening, when in fact what I really wanted to say is that my first impression of you is that you are rude nob".
M laughed. "If he calls you then fair enough, but don't expect anything from him. He just doesn't seem that bothered about it"
N summed the nature of the beast in his own unique way. "I don't mean to be crude, but men are like predators and if they want to eat, they are going to hunt and work to get hold of their prey. Just leave this one alone, he's not interested". "Also remember next time, just one phone call, it shows you made the effort, but you aren't too fussed whether you hear from him again or not".
And I thought I was the expert !
Postscript - It is now 24 hours since S said he would call...yes you've guessed it....he still hasn't ! Clearly the curry whoever 'she' was is still keeping him occupied !
Monday 15 June 2009
Pandora's Box Should Have a Padlock On It !
Another shocking day with HWMBO who even via remote link-up, still managed to make me feel like I was completely incompetent. Only an after work visit to my Dad's, who let cheerfully let me rant for a solid 20 minutes about my crap day, then set my world to rights by cooking me a lovely meal and offering me some much needed support which helped me unwind.
A phone call with G put the whole day in perspective, as I was able to step into my favourite role that of love guru. G has just returned from a so-called love break with LightswitchGuy aka "The Fool".
Lightswitch guys, for those of you who have yet to experience this particular male delight, are guys who hot for you one day and freezing cold the next. Their behaviour is as inconsistent as your hair on a really bad hair day and no matter how hard you try to understand them, you will always be left in a state of confusion.
Both of them had a great time until the end the holiday, when he first went down with food poisoning and then she followed suit. While she was laid up, he decided to cheer himself up, by reading some of her text messages to him.........on her phone.
Oh I hear you all say, a big no, no. Just like your mum reading your diary when you are a teenager and her confronting you with the contents of it, there are certain things that just aren't done, when you are in a relationship.
"That is so out of order" I empathised with her. "That's not the half of it" she wailed. " He found a message I sent to an ex to come round for a booty call, when we were on a break". My ears pricked up.
The words "we were on a break", mean different things to men and women. To men it is an opportunity to get over a former loved one, usually by getting on top of someone else. For women it can mean the episode from Friends when Rachel finds out Ross 'cheated' on her , despite his insisting "We were on a breakkkkkkk!!!!!!" or it just means a return visit, to an old hunting ground for some 'I'm still attractive' reassurance and the inevitable revenge shag.
"Not only did he call my booty call and then say wrong number, he won't stop texting me" G ranted. "So he's wanting to do the whole where did we go wrong, heartbreak by dissection, I knew you'd be unfaithful to me gig huh" I mused. "He's doing my head in" groaned G
"No cherub" I said "You're both doing each other heads in and have loved all the drama that goes with it, the whole time you guys have been dating. The minute he saw that text you were over. You can't ever go back there and if you do, he is never going to let you forget it" .
"I know you're right but...sod it I am going have some Pimms, chillout and ......" "And" I said , ...turn off that bloody phone, so you aren't tempted to read those messages of his". If only my own uneventful love life could be sorted out so easily !
A phone call with G put the whole day in perspective, as I was able to step into my favourite role that of love guru. G has just returned from a so-called love break with LightswitchGuy aka "The Fool".
Lightswitch guys, for those of you who have yet to experience this particular male delight, are guys who hot for you one day and freezing cold the next. Their behaviour is as inconsistent as your hair on a really bad hair day and no matter how hard you try to understand them, you will always be left in a state of confusion.
Both of them had a great time until the end the holiday, when he first went down with food poisoning and then she followed suit. While she was laid up, he decided to cheer himself up, by reading some of her text messages to him.........on her phone.
Oh I hear you all say, a big no, no. Just like your mum reading your diary when you are a teenager and her confronting you with the contents of it, there are certain things that just aren't done, when you are in a relationship.
"That is so out of order" I empathised with her. "That's not the half of it" she wailed. " He found a message I sent to an ex to come round for a booty call, when we were on a break". My ears pricked up.
The words "we were on a break", mean different things to men and women. To men it is an opportunity to get over a former loved one, usually by getting on top of someone else. For women it can mean the episode from Friends when Rachel finds out Ross 'cheated' on her , despite his insisting "We were on a breakkkkkkk!!!!!!" or it just means a return visit, to an old hunting ground for some 'I'm still attractive' reassurance and the inevitable revenge shag.
"Not only did he call my booty call and then say wrong number, he won't stop texting me" G ranted. "So he's wanting to do the whole where did we go wrong, heartbreak by dissection, I knew you'd be unfaithful to me gig huh" I mused. "He's doing my head in" groaned G
"No cherub" I said "You're both doing each other heads in and have loved all the drama that goes with it, the whole time you guys have been dating. The minute he saw that text you were over. You can't ever go back there and if you do, he is never going to let you forget it" .
"I know you're right but...sod it I am going have some Pimms, chillout and ......" "And" I said , ...turn off that bloody phone, so you aren't tempted to read those messages of his". If only my own uneventful love life could be sorted out so easily !
Friday 12 June 2009
Manners Cost Nothing !
My own Work Bitch tried to bite back today and I put her firmly back in her box, with an interesting piece of knowledge I had acquired about her. I have been reliably informed that she is a complete novice to her role, which instantly explained the interminal e-mails she continues to send me, requesting I do things for her and constantly asking for any information she can use to make herself look like she knows what she is doing.
I couldn't resist letting her know I was in receipt of this nugget of information and that I was looking forward to the result of all her (delegated) efforts. Her silence since then has been truly one of the most joyous things I have experienced recently.
Our little run-in ended my day on a high, following my latest dating disaster. As you know I am now on my second round of internet dating. In the last free weeks, I have been put in the 'Favourites' box of one overweight Dudley Moore lookalike, one United Nations dater "I like dating women of all nationalities", one "I don't mind being dominated by you" weirdo and one garden gnome who happily told me that "the best things come in small packages".
The unexpected appearance of a very attractive shaven headed man, who worked with children as a mentor, spent hours writing and performing music and was close to his family and friends and had a sense of humour seemed to be like manna from dating heaven.
I pinged across what I thought was a witty laid-back response and waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing. Not a word. When I next visited the site, I found that he has removed me from his 'Favourites'. How rude! Was my fatal error to bother to respond. Should I have ignored him and given my best impersonation of an ice cube bitch?
"Some guys just go on these sites for a laugh or a quick shag" said M (my work sidekick, man guru and totally honest buddy). "The thing is they just don't seem to realise that they are messing with people's feelings. Yeah no wonder you're disappointed, that is shit".
"Maybe he's just trying to come up with something witty to say back" said J hopefully. No optimistic musing with my girlfriends changes the fact that he couldn't be bothered to reply and I wasn't even deemed worthy enough to be kept on as one his 'Favorites' hotties. Is this one of the defining differences that separate women from men in the modern merry-go-round of love. Is it now the norm for women who make the effort to get the ball rolling when it comes to dating?
If we women are now subject to the same scrutiny we have put men through from the first moment we become interested in them, then just being aloof, unique, and interesting (we hope) isn't going to cut it anymore. Which begs the question, are we 'man' enough to be proactive and keep on trying to find the one or does the fear of serial rejection, which men deal with everyday threaten to derail our shot at love?
I couldn't resist letting her know I was in receipt of this nugget of information and that I was looking forward to the result of all her (delegated) efforts. Her silence since then has been truly one of the most joyous things I have experienced recently.
Our little run-in ended my day on a high, following my latest dating disaster. As you know I am now on my second round of internet dating. In the last free weeks, I have been put in the 'Favourites' box of one overweight Dudley Moore lookalike, one United Nations dater "I like dating women of all nationalities", one "I don't mind being dominated by you" weirdo and one garden gnome who happily told me that "the best things come in small packages".
The unexpected appearance of a very attractive shaven headed man, who worked with children as a mentor, spent hours writing and performing music and was close to his family and friends and had a sense of humour seemed to be like manna from dating heaven.
I pinged across what I thought was a witty laid-back response and waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing. Not a word. When I next visited the site, I found that he has removed me from his 'Favourites'. How rude! Was my fatal error to bother to respond. Should I have ignored him and given my best impersonation of an ice cube bitch?
"Some guys just go on these sites for a laugh or a quick shag" said M (my work sidekick, man guru and totally honest buddy). "The thing is they just don't seem to realise that they are messing with people's feelings. Yeah no wonder you're disappointed, that is shit".
"Maybe he's just trying to come up with something witty to say back" said J hopefully. No optimistic musing with my girlfriends changes the fact that he couldn't be bothered to reply and I wasn't even deemed worthy enough to be kept on as one his 'Favorites' hotties. Is this one of the defining differences that separate women from men in the modern merry-go-round of love. Is it now the norm for women who make the effort to get the ball rolling when it comes to dating?
If we women are now subject to the same scrutiny we have put men through from the first moment we become interested in them, then just being aloof, unique, and interesting (we hope) isn't going to cut it anymore. Which begs the question, are we 'man' enough to be proactive and keep on trying to find the one or does the fear of serial rejection, which men deal with everyday threaten to derail our shot at love?
Wednesday 10 June 2009
The Work Bitch
For those of you who were a little bit worried I'd lost my humour and sparkle, due to the melodramatic contents of my last posting, please cast aside any of your concerns, I am perfectly fine. I have eaten, drunk, ranted, complained and experienced enough Bridget Jones homage musical moments to have worked my way through my rough patch. I have emerged completely lucid. Verging on calm serenity (or "unervingly quiet" as G says) and most definitely focused on bettering my life and making more time for me.
The reason for my new found optimism is the realisation that while I may not have my dream job, or slick svelte thighs that can glide into skinny jeans without fear of chaffing. Or even being the man of my dreams, who bothers to return phone calls and thinks that hanging out with me is actually a bit of a result. Yes I may be devoid of all of the above, but at least I am not... a Work Bitch.
Yes I admit that I am a workalcoholic, but I have not yet fallen privy to the delusions of a certain type of woman found climbing up the greasy pole at work. You know the type.
The bossy ones - those women that e-mail, constantly, because putting a phone receiver to their ear is one of the few tasks, they can't delegate to some poor unsuspecting office junior. And let us not forget the patronizing breed - those women who talk to colleagues with more years of experience and knowledge then they care to mention, as if they were complete idiots.
If you are unlucky enough, you will encounter one woman who emcompasses all of the above. When you meet this woman, consider yourself both blessed - as you will get to laugh at the numerous ridiculous e-mails she sends you, containing stupid ill-advised or considered suggestions - all constructed without due care, dilgence and attention. And you will also be cursed, as the mere sight of her name either in your email inbox or on your phone makes you instantly irritated.
Such a woman has over the past three weeks crossed my path and amused me throughly today, while engaged in a heated (only her, no one else on the email loop was remotely bothered) discussion about branding. The bitch stood her ground and refused to go along with the majority and offered such a lame excuse for her contradictory viewpoint, that everyone ended the discussion fed up, bemused by her arguement and amazed by her inherent laziness.
It got me thinking back to other Work Bitches I have encountered over the years.
First there was the poison drawf. A miniature flirty brunette minx, with a capacity to screech and laugh loudly, while taking sadastic pleasure in anyone's unhappiness. She was, unsurprisingly for most of time I knew her, single and ended up leaving us to work at a health club. I bet the mental health of all her new colleagues disintegrated rapidly after she joined them!
How about the blonde ex womens' magazine boss, who was parchuted into the advertising department of the newspaper I worked on and hailed as a potential saviour. She lunched a lot. She got her nails done....a lot, she asked me if I knew where the nearest tanning shop was - mmm... a big ask to a woman of colour!. She fired a lot of people and finally made me redundant on the day I exchanged contracts on my first house.
I responded in true diva style by leaving while she was away on a work jolly, but not before deleting her entire diary for the next six months. Her angry voicemails on my mobile, demanding I call her immediately for the next month amused me greatly.
Oh, I nearly forgot a special favourite of mine the angry Celtic woman. Who constantly reminded everyone, how she had dragged herself up from being a store manager to a regional director of operations at the coffee chain I found myself working for.
Her constant protestations of being so down to earth, were kind of rubbished one day, when she asked me to phone the hotel she and her cronies would be checking into later that day, to see if someone could check her luggage in ahead of her (she also asked me whether I could also arrange a cab for the luggage to the hotel, minus its owners of course) because she couldn't be bothered to check-in herself and then go out to an evening event .....she didn't want to waste her valuable time.....in short she was a complete twat.
Which brings me back to the present. Numerous articles have been written about the way women trash each other in the workplace, but no one has ever pointed out the blindly obvious. Women only hate women who hate them.
Everyone I work with regardless of gender gets mycurtesy and respect. It is only when you start throwing your weight around, talking down to me or patronizing methat I switch off, completely.
Invariably and unfortunately, my encounters with this type of behaviour have come from women. So let's stop pussyfooting around and if you are going to call a spade a spade, then you can call a Work Bitch a Bitch!, but remember that it isn't necessary to be bitch to get ahead; I should know!
The reason for my new found optimism is the realisation that while I may not have my dream job, or slick svelte thighs that can glide into skinny jeans without fear of chaffing. Or even being the man of my dreams, who bothers to return phone calls and thinks that hanging out with me is actually a bit of a result. Yes I may be devoid of all of the above, but at least I am not... a Work Bitch.
Yes I admit that I am a workalcoholic, but I have not yet fallen privy to the delusions of a certain type of woman found climbing up the greasy pole at work. You know the type.
The bossy ones - those women that e-mail, constantly, because putting a phone receiver to their ear is one of the few tasks, they can't delegate to some poor unsuspecting office junior. And let us not forget the patronizing breed - those women who talk to colleagues with more years of experience and knowledge then they care to mention, as if they were complete idiots.
If you are unlucky enough, you will encounter one woman who emcompasses all of the above. When you meet this woman, consider yourself both blessed - as you will get to laugh at the numerous ridiculous e-mails she sends you, containing stupid ill-advised or considered suggestions - all constructed without due care, dilgence and attention. And you will also be cursed, as the mere sight of her name either in your email inbox or on your phone makes you instantly irritated.
Such a woman has over the past three weeks crossed my path and amused me throughly today, while engaged in a heated (only her, no one else on the email loop was remotely bothered) discussion about branding. The bitch stood her ground and refused to go along with the majority and offered such a lame excuse for her contradictory viewpoint, that everyone ended the discussion fed up, bemused by her arguement and amazed by her inherent laziness.
It got me thinking back to other Work Bitches I have encountered over the years.
First there was the poison drawf. A miniature flirty brunette minx, with a capacity to screech and laugh loudly, while taking sadastic pleasure in anyone's unhappiness. She was, unsurprisingly for most of time I knew her, single and ended up leaving us to work at a health club. I bet the mental health of all her new colleagues disintegrated rapidly after she joined them!
How about the blonde ex womens' magazine boss, who was parchuted into the advertising department of the newspaper I worked on and hailed as a potential saviour. She lunched a lot. She got her nails done....a lot, she asked me if I knew where the nearest tanning shop was - mmm... a big ask to a woman of colour!. She fired a lot of people and finally made me redundant on the day I exchanged contracts on my first house.
I responded in true diva style by leaving while she was away on a work jolly, but not before deleting her entire diary for the next six months. Her angry voicemails on my mobile, demanding I call her immediately for the next month amused me greatly.
Oh, I nearly forgot a special favourite of mine the angry Celtic woman. Who constantly reminded everyone, how she had dragged herself up from being a store manager to a regional director of operations at the coffee chain I found myself working for.
Her constant protestations of being so down to earth, were kind of rubbished one day, when she asked me to phone the hotel she and her cronies would be checking into later that day, to see if someone could check her luggage in ahead of her (she also asked me whether I could also arrange a cab for the luggage to the hotel, minus its owners of course) because she couldn't be bothered to check-in herself and then go out to an evening event .....she didn't want to waste her valuable time.....in short she was a complete twat.
Which brings me back to the present. Numerous articles have been written about the way women trash each other in the workplace, but no one has ever pointed out the blindly obvious. Women only hate women who hate them.
Everyone I work with regardless of gender gets mycurtesy and respect. It is only when you start throwing your weight around, talking down to me or patronizing methat I switch off, completely.
Invariably and unfortunately, my encounters with this type of behaviour have come from women. So let's stop pussyfooting around and if you are going to call a spade a spade, then you can call a Work Bitch a Bitch!, but remember that it isn't necessary to be bitch to get ahead; I should know!
Sunday 7 June 2009
Close To The Edge
There comes a time in every diva's life when after seemingly untainted, charmed years, she realises that she has become disposible. If this unpleasant realisation relates to her livelihood as well as her day-to-day life, it is all the more unpalatable.
This realisation can either be taken in the same way the news is delivered as a short, sharp shock or if you are a true diva, then the news can evolve into a full scale drama, during which you go through the waste case scenarios. Long-term unemployment, losing your house, having to do your own highlights. Several glasses of wine later, you remember that when you are stressed you lose weight and suddenly the whole situation is encased in a silver lining.
I have for some years nursed a burning ambition to be a full-time writer. While fine-tuning my craft I have been supporting myself by working as a PA. Occasionally within the confines of my daily routine, I get to work on projects I really enjoy, in my case events. Event organising allows me free rein to be creative, timeline and plan with military precision unique events for my colleagues and friends and ultimately get all the satisfaction I need from hearing they they have enjoyed themselves.
The removal of this responsibility, my not being told about it directly and then it being handed over to a an virgin 'team', who had been told I would delighted to help them with tips on how to ensure things run smoothly made me totally livid. It also led me to reassess my own priorities and what I need to do to get to where I want to be. I know I am very good at what I do.
I can no longer stay as I am - something needs to change and the only person who can bring about this change is me. Watch this space !
This realisation can either be taken in the same way the news is delivered as a short, sharp shock or if you are a true diva, then the news can evolve into a full scale drama, during which you go through the waste case scenarios. Long-term unemployment, losing your house, having to do your own highlights. Several glasses of wine later, you remember that when you are stressed you lose weight and suddenly the whole situation is encased in a silver lining.
I have for some years nursed a burning ambition to be a full-time writer. While fine-tuning my craft I have been supporting myself by working as a PA. Occasionally within the confines of my daily routine, I get to work on projects I really enjoy, in my case events. Event organising allows me free rein to be creative, timeline and plan with military precision unique events for my colleagues and friends and ultimately get all the satisfaction I need from hearing they they have enjoyed themselves.
The removal of this responsibility, my not being told about it directly and then it being handed over to a an virgin 'team', who had been told I would delighted to help them with tips on how to ensure things run smoothly made me totally livid. It also led me to reassess my own priorities and what I need to do to get to where I want to be. I know I am very good at what I do.
I can no longer stay as I am - something needs to change and the only person who can bring about this change is me. Watch this space !
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