The Good Girl Confessional

Tales from behind the picket fence

Of brains and brawn…enter the Strongman

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Image result for lego strongman

 

 

So no one told you life was going to be this way.
Your job’s a joke, you’re broke, you’re love life’s DOA.
It’s like you’re always stuck in second gear,
Well, it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, or even your year.But, I’ll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.
I’ll be there for you, like I’ve been there before.
I’ll be there for you, cause you’re there for me too.
The Rembrandts (I’ll be there for You)

Dating can be a bit of a three-ring circus. I don’t have to tell you that if, like me, you find yourself on the so called wrong side of 40, and you’ve been on the dating hamster wheel for a little while. In fact, some of you are no doubt rolling your eyes thinking “no shit, Sherlock.”

As some of you know, I suddenly found myself single at 41 when my marriage ended and now, with another relationship under my belt, I’m standing here single at 48. The Producer and I gave it a red hot go, even living together, and lasted 4 years, though in truth we were so wrong for one another.   Blind Freddy could see it. I just didn’t want to.

He was the King of mixed signals and let’s face it, I was the Queen of wanting to believe it could be different (Ugh…perfect). I learnt valuable lessons from this relationship, I now realise.  I could love the fuck out of someone without it being healthy. A fact I should have known in my 20’s but I seriously hadn’t known that. I learnt that codependency isn’t awesome and I learnt that a mutual value base is important to make something work. Most of all, I learnt that two people with good intentions can trigger bad things in each other when compatibility is missing.  We loved each other, no doubt about it. He was  both terrible and brilliant, as was I. Even after the break up, we were there for each other when needed.  And then we weren’t.  I have no regrets. For the first time in the 16 months since we split, and maybe because I’ve just gone through losing my mother which puts a lot into perspective, I can finally smile when I see memories of the Producer pop up on my Facebook feed, or I hear a song on my playlist that reminds me of him.

Yet, I continue to date with a sense of optimism, which is how I’m built I guess.  One of my friends thinks I’m brave that I continue to open myself up to the possibilities of meeting someone, even though I’ve been very hurt…that I’m prepared to my heart on the line. Ha! Well, I’m either really brave or a little bit crazy…or probably both! If you are hoping to actually have a relationship, beyond hook ups, there are no guarantees or handbooks on the dating front.  It does require a dose of courage and a measure of vulnerability. I’ve become more cautious with time, but I fight not to be jaded or scarred by the past.  That’s not always easy.

Sometime after the Producer, I dated the motorcycle riding, right wing, Fox-watching American and obviously that was never going to work. I’m so left-wing, and my feminist views were too much for him. What I had absolutely learnt from my previous relationship though was that I couldn’t ignore red flags. It didn’t feel right and I didn’t feel okay about certain things, so walking away was an obvious decision. As I often say, if someone shows you who they are, believe them. He showed me he was a bit of a dick, and I believed it. You can read about the American here http://thegoodgirlconfessional.com/the-mother-load-music-mothers-and-mayhem/

Then out of the blue, along came the Strongman.

We had been work colleagues but to be honest, I hadn’t viewed his potential dating material.  Though he worked in the corporate arena his passion was simply lifting heavy shit. He was offended by those that thought he was a weight lifter.  No, he corrected them….he was a professional strongman. He didn’t just pump iron.  Strongman competitions involved lifting awkward heavy objects. Think truck tyres being flipped, or concrete spheres, known as Atlas stones, weighing in around 100 kg (sometimes more) being lifted onto pedestals.  He once carried 400 kilos in a competition, which just seems impossible.  Who actually does that?

Perhaps fortune favors the brave. and when he was made redundant from work he summoned up the courage to ask me out.  I was initially taken aback. It was most unexpected but since I live my life with a sense of adventure, I said yes. Why not? Now at this point, he was also adamant he was going to to live in the Uk, so initially I said no.  He decided to stay and I agreed to a date at the ballet.

He was 9 years younger than me, sweet but not really my usual physical type. Sure, the Strongman was tall, like most men I date.  At 6 ft. 4 inches (193cm) tall, this guy was built and big, as you would imagine. He was a bald, former red haired man, with an Irish heritage. He spent hours every day in the gym. He consumed up to 4000 calories a day on the lead up to competitions. While we were dating, he represented Australia as a part of a team at a competition overseas, where he was required to pull a bus.  I kid you not. Now, I don’t pretend to understand this sport on any level, but he was extremely passionate about it and committed to it and I admired that.

I can’t stress enough that he was a nice guy. He was affectionate and kind and I really liked his sense of social justice but he was also a man of simple taste seeking a simple life. Yes, he had a dark past, and anyone playing along will know that I do have a soft spot for former bad boys.

He’d been raised as an elite private school boy, but joined the military and had served in both East Timor and survived a couple of tours in Afghanistan. Serving his country had left him with a small scar where a bullet had shattered his jaw, and, a large dose of PTSD.

Disillusioned by the military and feeling abandoned by the government that sent him to these foreign wars, when he was discharged he found himself in a bikie gang,   along with an alcohol and drug addiction. Survival is a powerful instinct, and he realised that he had to do something drastic to save himself, or he was going to die.

I don’t quite know how one extradites themselves out of a biker club, but I guess there are ways. He certainly didn’t elaborate or talk about it. He walked away from that life, turned to the Catholic Church after a long hiatus, and joined Narcotics Anonymous. All of this was a huge surprise to me, given I knew him to be a caring and spiritual man who raised money for orphans in the Philippines and happily worked alongside his dad at Melbourne soup kitchens. He considered his altruism to be much needed redemption.

His hedonistic life was long gone by the time we met. As a reformed alcoholic, he didn’t drink, of course. It did get me thinking however, that the last three men I’d been with – The Producer, the American and the Strongman, all had past demons with alcohol. Former addicts.

Go figure.

What I soon found out was that spending so many hours in a gym was great for his soul, and a newer healthier addiction than those in his past, but it didn’t lend itself to a social life.  He was in the gym at 4.00am every day so by 7.00pm at night he was exhausted and wanting to go to bed.  Weekends consisted of training followed by chilling out on my couch, eating and watching Netflix. Though not always Netflix & Chill, which is an entirely different thing all together…and sometimes he was even too tired for that!

On that note, I have to say that the gentle giant and I were quite compatible when he wasn’t too exhausted.  Not going to lie…it was quite lovely to be with someone who could pick me up and who would take control in the bedroom.  The thing is though, I also need mental stimulation, and passion. It almost felt like the Strongman was too agreeable.  If I said it, he agreed.  I didn’t need a yes man.  I needed a man of principle with his own ideas.

I guess I just felt restless. Life is about passion, and I love taking chunks out of life as much as he loves the gym, so I’m always out and about finding new things to do. A weekend in front of the TV was, for me, a slow kind of torture. He no longer drove, didn’t own a car and lived over an hour away.  In some ways it just didn’t feel grown up. As sweet as this gentle giant was, I felt like I was dating another man-child, who had little responsibility and no plans of adopting any soon.  My life was so different.

In the end, after three months, we decided that we weren’t made for each other, and mutually decided to call it quits while we were still friends. I raised it first, and after a few days he conceded. It was a lovely adult break up, followed by a cuddle. He didn’t need to change for anyone and I had no intention of doing so either.

As one door closes however, another is always certain to open. My heart is resilient, despite the setbacks, and I am the eternal optimist…having said that, if you know a grown up man who is both spiritually and emotionally evolved, who has sorted out his his baggage enough to date, by all means send him my way!

p.s He must like life, books, movies, food, cool bars and have a sense of adventure…just saying!

.

 

 

 

Scary Monsters and super creeps – #WhyamIsingle

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I’ve decided to start dating again. It’s a bold move but I’ve decided to put myself out there. I’m trying hard to not take it, or myself, too seriously and just see what the universe might have in store.

 You’ve been screwed over, and screwed up mentally about sex and it’s time to unscrew yourself by getting screwed!”

-Deep Kick Girl (to The Good Girl…aka me), just this week

Deep Kick Girl of course is right. I needed to get my mojo back…not necessarily by getting screwed, but by at least opening myself up to possibilities.  I’ve started meditating again, writing, reading and as spring arrives in Melbourne I’m looking forward to walking every day again.

So I’ve decided to head back to the on-line dating site where I met the Producer, because I know it and I met some nice people there when I was last single. I am also trialing a couple of sites that are new to me, which is netting some quite hilarious, and hair raising results.

Every single woman gets sick of people asking why you’re still single. Some smug long-term coupled up people tend to live in bubbles and have lost sight of how complicated the dating game can be.  Let me clarify. It’s not actually hard to meet someone. You can meet a dozen people tomorrow if you don’t care who they are. It’s not hard to hook up with someone I’m sure, if you’re just after sex. (I’ve received a number of offers but declined). All the power to you by the way. Each to their own. However, if you want to date someone with the possibility of long term partnering, it’s not so straight forward.

It’s not that single women are “fussy”. Why settle for second best? And honestly, if I’ve learnt anything by now, if someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time!

While I’ve actually chatted to some lovely people, I have to say that I have already had a number of bizarre and hair raising experiences in a short amount of time. If Captain America was living proof that good men exist in the world, some of the men I’ve encountered are sad reminders that for all the good, bad also exists. There are some total arseholes out there!

On the first site I joined, someone reached out to me via email. Skull Boy, as I now call him, could have sent me a free kiss but he jumped right in with an email, (which you have to pay for). Good looking (think Eric Bana look alike) and the ability to string a sentence together apparently doesn’t guarantee sane…or even normal! He reached out to tell me that he thought I had the most “perfectly formed skull” he had ever seen.

When I didn’t reply, he elaborated.

Skull Boy: You know when you see baby’s bums and they’re so cute, you want to bite them? That’s how I feel about your skull. It’s incredible. I want to bite it. I want to touch it, and run my fingers through your hair.

He did also go on to tell me that he was “trippin’ balls on pseudoephedrine and codeine ” and that his “cicadean rhythms” were out of wack.

I’m not sure if he was hoping to mount my perfectly shaped skull on a wall or shrink it down to hang from his rear view mirror. Who can say?! Needless to say I reported and blocked skull boy.

#whyamIsingle

I joined one particular free site at the suggestion of a friend. Within two days I was so inundated with messages that I felt completed overwhelmed. It took a millisecond to realise that I wasn’t being contacted because of my desirability. I was just fresh meat thrown into a dating pit. I’m pretty sure none of them read my profile and the majority of messages were carbon copied, such as “Hi”, or “how r u”, or “ur hot”…

Now, I don’t know about you but if you have to abbreviate the shortest of words, such are you and are, or if you can’t be bothered putting a sentence together, imagine how limited or lazy you are likely to be in a relationship! No thanks.

This particular site seemed to have a lot of rough diamonds, who didn’t care who I was, where I lived or if we had anything in common. Some made wild assumptions that I wouldn’t in any way be discerning! Some were left field. I mean surely there are specific sites for fetishists or kinky sex?

Mr 31: Hi. Are you a domme?

Me: Why on earth would you ask me that?

Mr 31: Coz you got that look about you and I need a dominatrix to punish me.

Me: Go away little boy

You have to laugh!

Or foot guy, who asked…no, begged, me to send him pictures of my feet. “Naked feet are so beautiful but if you are wearing heels, I’ll get excited…” Ummm!

Or the guy who just said “you into bondage?”  Well hi yourself!

Or this angelic fellow who fell from heaven just to say hello.

angel

Heavy sigh.  Did I put all fetishes welcome on my profile? No, I did not!

#whyamIsingle

Then there are the really classy guys who think women owe them something. The type of men who think, since they are middle aged and balding, that they are entitled to have women swoon at their feet with no effort on their part. The type of men who think that the very act of engaging you in conversation suddenly gives them rights over you. These are the misogynistic tools that are the scariest of all.

Like this charming guy, who simply didn’t like me saying no, even in the politest way. Sadly, there were several like him. I chose this one as an example to screenshot.

stupid

Wow…I really let a good one go there! I’m a fuckwit indeed!

#whyamIsingle

Needless to say my journey with that dating site came to an abrupt end, even though through all the bottom feeders, occasionally someone nice would emerge. Sifting through the zombie apocalypse was too time consuming and a bit depressing really!

So then I joined the ever popular site which I was massively resistant because it’s got quite the reputation as a hook up site.I’m not a wombat who eats roots and leaves. I’m not looking for anything casual, but work colleagues convinced me it’s not just for hook ups (although, again if you’re into that, it absolutely an element of that).

I can understand the appeal. It’s easy and no one can tell when you swipe left for no, and if you swipe right for yes and so does the other person you are “matched” and can then chat. So it’s easy. The only problem is getting dating dyslexia and accidentally swiping right when you meant left! Doh! Or worse, seeing people you know! I saw my ex and of course swiped left (as I’m sure he did if he saw me, because that would be awkward if we Super-liked each other or got matched!).  As you sign up via Facebook, you can actually see who your match might know…also a little weird.  One guy asked me “So how do you know such-and-such”…weird.

Also what I noticed was a number of the same guys crop up on all the sites. One I saw on all three sites and matched with him on Tinder, where he said, “Well hello! We have to stop meeting like this…or do we?”  Hilarious.

There are some strange cats out there, and there needs to be some caution. As a woman that’s so crap that there has to be but these guys sadly are why we need feminism in the world! Still, I’ve chatted with enough lovely people to continue on the journey. I actually went on a date this week, but that’s a story for another day.

But in the meantime, now you might understand why some very awesome women are single!

Happy swiping!

 

 

Captain America…and the pieces of my heart 

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Leaving  is not enough; you must stay gone. train your heart like a dog, change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. You lucky, lucky girl. You have an apartment just your size, a bathtub full of tea, a heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. Don’t wish away your cracked past…you had to have him, and you did. And now you pull down the bridge between your houses..Don’t lose too much weight. Stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge, and you are not stupid. You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand, heart like a four-poster bed, heart like a canvas, heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street…

– Frida Kahlo 

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I’m slowly navigating the realities of my single life.

Single.

It’s a word that rolls around my tongue like a the sting of lemon juice…bitter, yet familiar. When I first moved out of the home I shared with the Peoducer, I felt strong, proud and a little empowered. Then I didn’t.

Grief is a powerful force that one can run from, but you can’t hide. Grief will always find you in a bizarre game of emotional cat and mouse. You simply have to go through the process. One day at a time.

There have been tears. There has been so much heart break, denial and exhaustion. Above all, there has been deep sadness. I have grieved for a love lost. A man I loved fully and deeply. I have grieved for the life I hoped to build with him and loss of hope.

Damn,  I’ve felt it. I’ve worked  10 hour days and still felt it. I’ve been to gigs, to film festivals, to dinners and black tie events and still felt it. I flew to Sydney thanks to the generosity of an amazing girl friend who lives there and drank cocktails, walked 30 km in two days, and stood before magnificent Frida Kahlo paintings…and still I felt it. Oh, I have cursed my foolish poetic heart for feeling things so damn deeply. For daring to love someone when all indicators pointed to an almighty train wreck.

I have missed him in the oddest of moments and in more obvious times. He was in the building where I work perhaps half way through this ordeal. He told me with teary eyes that he missed my kids, my dog and he really (really) missed my car. My car?! I don’t even have a great car! He missed it all, the pieces of my life, and yet he never said he missed me. Not once.

He didn’t remember my birthday, or my son’s birthday, but in the same week he reached out to discuss cutting off Netflix and money.

These things in isolation didn’t surprise. I’ve known him after all. Was I expecting gentleness?  Not really. Was I thinking he would ever verbalize that I meant something and losing me was tough? No.

Yet it still hurts. No one wants to believe we are just a blip on the radar of another life shared. And share it I did with both feet in. Surely I made a mark on that heart, not just his bedpost? Surely he grieved too and missed me? Perhaps not. He’s already moved on to someone else.  It didn’t take long.

There were sounds in my head, little voices whispering. That I should go and this should end, Oh and I found myself listening

‘Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you…all I know is that I should 

– Missy Higgans (Where I stood) 

Weeks after I moved to my new life, I was asked out by someone. It was unexpected.   It’s hard to say if I was ready for such a thing to happen. I suspect not, but this quiet American had such a gentleness about him that I felt safe enough to at least join him for coffee.

Who could have known that a superhero might come flying into my life just like that? Captain America, as I have dubbed him, arrived like a bolt from the universe, squarely reminding me of what I felt starved of for the longest time. All the things I had sadly forgotten that I was deserving of, and that most people consider normal behaviours in relationships.

He opens doors -in restaurants and to his car. He insists on paying for dinner. He’s not interested in splitting the bill. He gently held my hand to walk me to my car. He walks beside me…yes, beside me…not 20 paces ahead as if he can’t be seen with me in public, or like I’m not worthy to stand in his space. He placed his hand on the small of my back to gently guide me through a crowd instead of running off to get the best view or the best seat without a second glance back.

He has a quiet disposition and a lovely laugh that puts others at ease.  My name sounds better rolling off his tongue. He is a gentleman in every sense. Respectful, gentle yet a cheeky glimmer in his ice blue eyes. Subtly confident with a healthy self esteem. I knew straight away he was no man-child.

It seemed odd to me that he listened attentively and asked many questions, genuinely interested in my life, my dreams, my hopes, the ebbs and flows of who I am and how I came to be me. I’m intrigued by his life, his passion for both Australia and America.

Captain America is a contradiction in some ways. A suit wearing senior executive who plays ice hockey and holds left wing political views. He talks with sadness at the drastic state of American politics, yet he’s apathetic about voting. He’s a dedicated father, kind, compassionate and generous with his laughter, and yet sadly, extremely time poor.

I navigated time with the Producer even though I lived with him, and I’m simply not able to do it again. It felt as if The producer put everything before me – gaming, reading, the dog, the laptop, iPad, his very secretive conversations on his phone with people I never knew and was never likely to know.

When the good Captain kissed me, it was a bit of a game changer. Something  inside of me relaxed. A toe curling,  hairs on the back of my neck type of kiss that was slow, passionate and lingering. I hadn’t been kissed like that in a very long time.  Given freely like he had all the time in the world, and had no hang ups about what it might mean.  It’s hard to explain it but it felt safe.

And yet, although tempted, I didn’t go there. I never allowed it to get intimate. My integrity and self respect wouldn’t allow it.

The timing isn’t right. I’m a believer in letting my heart heal before I can jump ahead. For his part, the good Captain has his child almost full time and working for a US firm means lots of calls into the wee hours of the Australian night. He has carved out a life that doesn’t have room for another human. I suspect he’s done so to guard himself against getting hurt after his marriage ended. Who can blame him. He had trusted and been betrayed and beneath his superhero costume was a dinted heart. He told me he hadn’t thought he’d meet someone like me, that made him want to date. He certainly hasn’t been prepared to feel for someone,  but I need someone who has room in their life for me.

I like him and I’m grateful I’ve met him. It’s incredible to be reminded of all the things I value in a relationship. So I’ve asked him to remain friends. Should he find a way to make room in his life, I might gladly step in but I doubt he can right now.  I guess time will be the litmus test on that one.

What I know is, I’m not interested in casual. I want and deserve more than that. I’m just in a more evolved phase of my life than when I started dating after my marriage to the Taurus ended.

I hadn’t had sex with the producer for months (a lot of months) prior to leaving. I was more than willing but he simply didn’t hold any desire for me. He rejected my advances so many times…and it was a mind fuck. As a woman that’s the most unholy of emotional rejections.  Casual sex is easy for him. Not so much true emotional intimacy.

Yet I’m in no rush to jump in the sack with just anyone. I’m quite happy to wait for the real deal. And in truth the Producer almost robbed me of my inner goddess and my self esteem. Almost. Not quite. I never dreamed a man could do that to me. So I’m sewing the peices of me back together. No mean feat since I’m so crap at crafting. Let’s be straight. I am not a super model. Nor do I care, since he isn’t either. He has many flaws just as I do.

Yet he once told me sex with me was the best he’d ever had. I actually believe that was true. The sex at first was great. And then it simply disappeared, and left me feeling unwanted and undesirable. To hell with that. I’ll never settle for being treated less than again.

Captain America has reminded me that good men exist in the world. The universe threw him in my path for a reason. I’m ready for something mind bowing. I am deserving of an equal love, where my passions are equally met, where my time is a valued commodity shared with someone not afraid to tell me they love me and they miss me. An optimistic beautiful soul who is generous of spirit and knows my worth.

Stayed tuned. He’s out there somewhere.

Love, alone, is never enough…

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“What will sustain us through the winter?
Where did last years’ lessons go?
Walk me out into the rain and snow
I dream a highway back to you…”

Gillian Welch – I Dream a Highway                           

Marina and Ulay 2010

     

Marina Abramovic and Ulay (MoMA, New York 2010)

I haven’t blogged in quite a while so for those of you following along I sincerely apologise for my writing absence. The blog has been like a barren wasteland for a little bit.  I have always found that my writing is heavily aligned with the state of my heart. Sadness often seems to choke my creative self and the writer chick in me is forced to sit desolate on a proverbial island waiting for the authentic me to wake up.

The fact that I’ve started writing again perhaps means I’ve stepped out of the darkness and back into the light. That’s not to say that I was depressed, but I was, I think, certainly lost and for quite some time, very sad. The sun is shining, even in the grip of Melbourne’s winter. I can feel it breaking through the clouds on early morning walks to the train station, in the new suburb I’m living in. I’ve moved house, with the gorgeous ones and my old-man-puppy…but not the Producer.

I’m single. There, I’ve said it out loud for the universe to hear.

I wasn’t sure how I would write about this, or if in fact I could bring myself to, but here I am , words flowing out of me and onto the screen so perhaps it’s time.

It’s too early I think to go into the nitty-gritty of this lost love, and out of respect for the Producer, I won’t, but I think it’s fair to say that we loved each other, he and I. Sometimes though, love alone is not enough. While we gave it a red hot go, took risks and tried to merge lives under a single roof, we simply didn’t make it. And, fuck it, it was heart breaking.

My optimistic brain and my romantic heart can’t really reconcile all the water that flowed under the damn bridge to get me here, but I know with a sense of resolution that leaving was the best thing for both of us. There is a great quote by Mik Everett – ‘If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.’  The Producer filled the pages of so many blog posts early on, and here he is again. Still.

When we met, the chemistry was off the charts. It was instant and electric. The sex was hot and steamy, and I liked it that way, and wanted it to stay that way.  Sadly it didn’t. He was the polar opposite of all I had ever known and it was exciting. It took a long time, and me walking away, for him to commit to the relationship. I ignored those red flags, as one in love is prone to do, and when he finally said the words “monogamous” and “exclusive”, I felt I’d won first prize at the fair. What had happened to me that I didn’t stop to consider that perhaps  I was the prize, and he the winner? In fact, somewhere in all the excitement, I felt like I lost myself and my inner compass. When I first met the Pisces I had joked with a friend about me being a Leo. “Can a fish really love a lion? I might eat him!”

She looked me in the eye and replied, “Don’t let a Pisces fool you. He might lure you, pussycat, into the water and drown you.”

I now think there’s some truth on both sides of that equation. It was a complicated red hot mess at times, sprinkled with some moments of awesomeness. He made me laugh and I nurtured him. I made a home for us and he quite enjoyed what he would call “normaling”. He was part of a family unit…me, kids and a dog with home cooked meals, clean sheets and matching bookshelves. I don’t consider that normaling. It was just building a life. It was adulating. Our value base was just very different.

heart stitches

We shared a love of quirky music, films, exhibitions and binge watching Netflix. He was brilliant with my kids and in love with my dog and I’m grateful for that. I thought, perhaps naively, it would be forever but sadly it wasn’t meant to be. Ultimately, what we both needed to be happy in this life was so different, we’d have to bend too far, and blunt ourselves to fit the other’s mould. We never meant to hurt one another, and yet we did. When it isn’t right, it just isn’t. No matter how much you try to believe it is.

“Breaking up is never easy, I know, but I have to go. Knowing me, knowing you, it’s the best I can do.”

ABBA – Knowing Me, Knowing You

So, I found a place, signed a lease, packed many boxes, and left. Left my beautiful home for a smaller, older one in a suburb that, while lovely, wasn’t my dream location. He remained in the suburb I have been frequenting and eating in my entire adult life. I lost so much when my ex husband left. This time around, I’ve still lost. My partner. My suburb, my place to be. He moved there for me, and I thought perhaps he’d move back to the inner city but I don’t believe he has. I simply couldn’t afford to stay there on my income with two kids. Still, I’m a born home maker. I have the kids and the dog and I’ve changed lights, built shelving and figured out how to extend TV aerials…I am strong and independent. Sometimes though, it sucks to have to be.

I have retreated into the safety of solitude and of close friendships and those that understand me better than I can understand myself right now. I am proud of myself for doing what is right, even when it sucks, big time. He, the Producer, has left an indelible mark on my soul, as all loves should. I am licking my wounds and regrouping, drinking wine, listening to empowering music, meditating, working hard, writing and pounding the pavement when I can. It’s not about blame because that’s a slippery slope. I loved him, truly, madly…deeply. Passionately. I don’t know any other way.

He loved me too, I’m sure, just not in the way that my heart needed. We were fire and ice.

I believe I manifested him into my life. I told the universe I wanted someone who was the opposite of my ex-husband. I started this blog with a tag line that I was searching for my own Mr. Darcy. The universe delivered on both those requests. The thing is, I probably needed middle ground.

It’s been weeks now and I think I’m doing okay. I miss him and his smile, and his far left political views especially with the election coming up.  Life takes us where we should be though. I don’t want to regret my time with him, or that we tried. If you never risk your heart, how will you ever know? I’m not left wondering what if? I’ve learnt lessons and now, new chapters will be written, new memories made. For both of us. We learn lessons, good and bad. I will never ignore red flags again for example. I also know I could never love a man who doesn’t love a good film. Swings and roundabouts.

“When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.”

Maya Angelou

We haven’t spoken since I collected the last of my things. There is no contact, we are no longer friends on Facebook. We have followed the breakup rules. A number of people have asked me if we’ll be friends in time. I honestly don’t know how to answer that. Is it true that terrible lovers make great friends? The truth is, you can’t be friends unless you’re sincerely comfortable seeing that person with a new lover. Right now I can’t conceive of that. I’ve barely stitched myself back together.  I left feeling shattered and broken, with my self-esteem scooped delicately into a suitcase, dripping out the sides, like a gooey mess.

What I know is, for this chapter we shared, there was real magic, and love.  We did some very cool stuff and we laughed a lot. He will write this chapter in his own way. We are both carrying scars, there is no doubt, but we also taught each other a lot. I let him wholeheartedly into every aspect of my life – my children, my friends, my soul secrets. He told me as I was leaving that he loved me more than he’d loved anyone else before. His blue eyes locked onto my green ones and in that moment I believed him, but I knew the truth, that love alone can never be enough.

Compatibility (emotionally, socially, sexually), shared goals and dreams, open affection, communication and a willingness to be vulnerable enough to share your soul at its deepest. These things are vital too. I am too passionate to not live without these things. To do so caused me great sadness and I unraveled. Little chunks of my heart started breaking off. I was becoming someone unrecognisable to myself. I yearned for affection and to be acknowledged. I was slowly slipping into despair and that isn’t good. The survivor in me made me finally do what I needed to do. My heart is so loyal, it didn’t want me to go. I tried so hard to be less, need less, be satisfied with less than I deeply needed. I tried. I know in my heart he tried to be more. He tried so hard. In the end we both tried, and still we couldn’t make it.

A lion and a fish. One swimming and dreaming, the other on land needing to be grounded. An extrovert and an introvert. One passionate, social and energetic. The other introspective, solitary and calm. One born optimist and one pessimist. One Inner City, the other Picket Fence. Both layered and complicated. How did we think we could pull off such a huge feat? Love. We both believed in love.

Oh life…with all your damn crazy lessons.

As clichéd as it is, we all know that time heals. I’m feeling stronger and more like myself than I have in a long time and that can only be a good thing. My hair is back to a brighter shade of coppery red. My eyes seem a little greener. I am always grateful that I’m a survivalist and for the first time in some time, I have hope, and hope is a beautiful thing.

Tinder – looking for love in all the right places?

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When I was a single chick, I was on a dating site. Like, who isn’t these days? While I have friends who find the whole concept difficult, the fact remains that we live in a time that makes it difficult to meet potential matches organically.

If you are in your late 30’s or beyond (I’m mid 40’s), it becomes an even narrower field. Night clubs are packed with much younger people, and if you are into younger guys, you might strike it rich.

I chose to be on RSVP and all in all, while initially I had some terrible experiences, for the most part it was ok. I met people I never would have met in my daily life. I met the Producer via RSVP. Had it not been for his profile that stood out on that dating site, I doubt I would have met him in the real world. There was a huge amount of luck involved too. There are so many dating sites and some people are on many.

I had a very short lived experience with another site also but went off it when I was inundated with offers of sex. Did you want to know my band first?!

Recently I was having dinner with some lovely people and one of the gorgeous writer chicks, who happened to be single, told me her dating app of choice was Tinder.

Oh how my eyes lit up! I was dying to have a look at how it works given that I have several friends who’ve been on it!

If you’re not aware, Tinder has a reputation (rightly or not) for being a quick hook up for sex site. It works on proximity and sends you potential matches who live close enough to you that you might go out together.

When she handed me the phone and told me up go for it, what instantly becomes apparent is that Tinder works on the premise of instant attraction.

When a photo of a potential match pops up, you swipe right for a “yes” and left for a “no “. Some photos are accompanied by a limited profile, but a lot are not! Like they didn’t really bother to add a profile.

For some it’s irrelevant if you like Pina coladas or getting caught in the rain…it’s more like “you’re cute, want to hook up?” I’m sure that is not true for all!

The Producer and I were having way too much fun swiping left and right – but mostly left giving the ridiculous amount of photos men put up with their dogs, or a group of mates (which one are you?), photos sans tops (ugh) or worse, photos where they have badly attempted to crop out a woman (probably an ex).

Seriously guys! If you are that lazy about Setting up a Tinder profile, you are not looking like a hot prospect!

There are approximately 50 million Tinder users world wide which is staggering. In our fast food, instant gratification society it seems to have touched a nerve with Gen Y’s…but also for people beyond their 30’s.

Being a feminist, I need to add that there’s been much controversy regarding the founders of Tinder, arguably the biggest hook up app ever invented, about a culture of misogyny.

Whitney Wolfe – a former head of marketing at Tinder – sued the company for sexual harassment and discrimination and logged a formal court complain that alleged she was actually a co-founder of Tinder and stripped of all credit by the two Silicon Valley uber dudes (Sean Rad and Justin Mateen) who have claimed it as their own. Mateen was suspended from the actually owners if the app – parent company IAC – pending investigations.

Wolfe’s claims led to further complaints that the Tinder working culture was geared towards men – that it was more like a uni fear party than a professional work environment. Surprising? Sadly no when you look at the app which is quite blatantly encouraging you to make choices solely on someone’s physical looks. These are two men who proudly posted on their Facebook pages that Urban Dictionary had coined the term “tinder sluts” to describe women who sleep with men they meet on Tinder.

Bah!! Give me strength!

Of course there are pros and cons (and no one is forcing you to join any dating sites, right?). I for one think why not if you are single and looking for some not too serious romance! There are so many smart phone dating app choices out there – why not give it a try?

The lovely writer chick who graciously let me make potential date selections has met a couple if interesting people through Tinder. As a single person, you can put yourself out there, or go out a lot and get social, or choose to stay single. All good choices depending on where you are at.

There’s no denying it’s quick and easy – just swipe left or right. You have lots of choices which is a bonus! I think if you’re ready for something more serious and you really are seeking a potential relationship, this may not be the answer to all your dreams!

But in the meantime, while there’s plenty to swipe left on, there may just be friends to be made – or at least some decent eye candy!

Waiting in the love queue…

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When we love, we strive to be better than we are. When we strive to become better than we are, everything else arounds us becomes better too.
– Paulo Coelho

The Producer and I found a place! It’s official, we are moving in together in about a month. Shacking up! I’m really excited at the prospect of living with him! Though someone I work with asked if we’d be living in sin? Well, yes, I hope so I replied! Is that still a thing?!

Given that the new place is much smaller than my current place, I’ve got a lit of decluttering to do! I seriously need to let go of a lot of furniture. It’s long overdue! I stand to gain so much more in my life than anything I’m giving up. In a way it is a liberating shedding of my old life.

So as we embark on our new adventure together, I was recently chatting with a male friend who was bemoaning singledom. He’s not loving it.

In the course of the conversation though I realised this. The perpetual struggle to find love when you’ve decided you’re ready is as challenging for men as it is women.

Granted, this guy does seem to have a very long wish list from which he seems not to ever deter from. He’s in his early 50’s, and has been internet dating for several years.

He’s meeting women, sure. But I feel he’s a pattern dater. He meets the same kinds of women each time. Dates them with great enthusiasm And then looks for flaws. Which of course he’ll always find. We all have them.

She’s attractive. Tick. She’s got a sense of humour. Tick. She likes music. Tick. The sex is great. Tick. Oh wait..:this one had kids. (Even though he also has kids, that’s a minus for him). This one is a bit overweight. (Great girl but….). This one isn’t financial (I have property and I’ve been stung in my divorce…). This one lives too far away. This one seems too needy. You get the drift.

I would never suggest someone settle for anything less than their ideal person. Ever. In this case though I have to wonder if he even knows what he wants. I mean he’s a nice guy and he’s fun, but he has flaws also. He seems to think he’s a great catch.

For the right person no doubt he would be but in the end he’s deeply scarred from a broken marriage. His ex wife had an affair. I don’t think that’s easy to recover from, but it’s possible if you do the work.

Instead he continues to date a string if women (one at a time). He dates vulnerable needy women (he has a saviour complex). They believe it’s developing into a relationship and then he starts searching for something wrong. Really what he’s doing is dating against his own type. While he really wants a strong and independent woman with her shit together, he’s not ready to deal with anything real.

I think he’s terrified of emotional intimacy. I think a lot of people are. Sexual intimacy for some is easy. Anyone can have sex and get caught up in the high of abandoning themselves to a moment of pleasure.

Emotional intimacy requires a leap of faith. It requires enough trust to open your soul to another person and allow them to see your vulnerability. That’s not easy for anyone but it’s harder for some than others.

He is like most of us suffering from fear. The fear of getting hurt again if you trust another. In his case, the fear of being betrayed.

He wonders why he’s attracting the “wrong women”.
Like all of us, dude, you attract to you what you can deal with at the time. He’s attracting women who are still hurt from previous relationships. He attracts women who are scared of being on their own. I think deep down he’s attracting mirror images of himself. He’s not liking the reflection. He is dating a row of women carrying their own baggage because he hasn’t let go of his own.

The same applies the other way too. Take for example a gorgeous friend of mine who has been single for some time, but was now ready for love. One night out with single girlfriends at a singles event, she met a guy. They chatted. The next day they met for breakfast and that was it.

They have seriously been together for several months and enjoying every moment. She looks incredibly happy. Sometimes when you’re ready and they’re ready – bam! It just happens! They live on opposite sides of town. She has teenage children. He has no children. She’s in banking. He’s a tradie. All of that hasn’t made an ounce of difference. I’m is happy for her. She was open to opportunities and bingo. (Yes she’s had a journey along the way too).

We are all braver than we think. Anyone who has been hurt in a relationship but dares to love again is proof of that.

In the mean time the dating continues. And lessons get learnt along the way. Through dating, you learn so much about yourself. I know I did. So much. I figured out who I was. I healed. I found out things about myself I didn’t know. I met some great people. I learnt what I didn’t want, and eventually what I did.

I know dating is sometimes tough but I honestly believe it’s a valuable part of the journey.

You’re just not all that – dating a pretender

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The biggest coward is a man who awakens a woman’s love with no intention of loving her.
– Bob Marley

Anyone who is bordering on my age (that’s 45! I’m getting used to saying that!) who has thrown their hat into the dating arena in the past few years may have come across a pretender.

I’m not talking about the recently single guy who is just dipping his toe tentatively into the dating pool, trying to figure out what he wants and needs. No.

I’m talking about that guy. The one who starts off being elusive or mysterious but then somehow becomes intertwined in your life – pretending he’s going to be great relationship material when in fact he’s a career single. His mantra is “I’m not going down that path again – I’m single and determined to stay that way”.

We’ve all met that dude – or one very similar, right? Ugh. One of my dear friends recently walked away from one of this ilk. She had given him a great run. A huge amount of time and many opportunities to step up. She had been patient and undemanding, kind and considerate. It takes courage to walk away from someone you care about, when you have invested so much of yourself into what you believed would become more.

I’m incredibly proud of her for finding the courage to do so. In the end her own self worth wouldn’t let her continue on the roller coaster of uncertainty. Never sacrifice your dignity for your destiny, right?

He liked spending time with her which was obvious. Why wouldn’t he? She’s just good people! A great sense of humour, attractive, supportive, encouraging and knows her way around the kitchen.

But here’s the thing about the pretender. While he was fully present when he was with her (engaging, affectionate and sharing in-jokes), I suspect the moment he was out the door he was self absorbed and consumed by other things.

This particular pretender was hauling a huge amount of luggage behind him actually. Luggage he refused to put in storage or donate to good will! (And by that of course I mean he simply buried it rather than dealt with it).

Some people like to hold on to the baggage, I’m convinced. As if somehow being a victim of your past experiences keeps you safe from growth and happiness. It keeps him safe from being vulnerable…and stepping into anything new and worthwhile.

The thing though that makes them a pretender is not the “I don’t want a relationship” stance. (There are a lot of commitment phobic men out there who are honest about their single status). That’s their prerogative. It’s the letting someone else have hope in the belief that there’s a possibility you will step in.

Dude, that’s just not cool! It’s just poor form. It’s playing with someone else’s heart. It’s hurtful and disrespectful.

If you don’t want to be in a relationship, why pretend you could and might go down that path? We are all grown ups. If you just want it to be about sex then say so. Not everyone is going to be happy with being your friend with benefits, true, but at least you’d have integrity and the other person could make an informed choice.

While you are investing of yourself, waiting for the phone to ring or hoping to see him, the pretender is leaving himself wide open to other possibilities and opportunities.

Here’s the kicker. It has nothing to do with you. You, my dear, are enough. He simply doesn’t want a relationship regardless of how amazing you are. He will refuse to see the possibilities, limited by his beliefs that singledom is the way to go.

It’s easy to believe the pretender wants a relationship. Deep down I’m sure they want you to believe it. They like the idea of you being monogamous with them, even if they are not with you. Of course.

They like the perks of having you care for them and the fact that you will stroke their ego. They love the awesome sex. They love the effort you put in. They love knowing you are there for them, and they can confide in you. All the perks of a relationship without actually having a relationship.

But the thing is dude-pretender – you’re just not all that. You’re just a shadow of who you could be if you were able to be open and real, and let someone else into your life. The face you show the world is not your authentic self and there’s something quite sad and lonely about a person who can’t let anyone else in.

In the end, they are not committing and nor do they have any intention of doing so. It’s not you, it’s them! All that baggage leaves little room for someone else to get close, lest you trip over all the suitcases.

Move on I say! Don’t waste your valuable time and energy on pretenders. It’s not easy to meet the right one, granted, but hanging out with a pretender isn’t the answer either. The pretender simply stands in the way of other brilliant people out there who might just be looking for someone like you. You are worth so much more.

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