Husband-Missing (Or missing the spot where he used to be)

It started as a commment on Et Tu Husband then it just blew out into great big thing that was all about me so I decided to admit it and make it a post. Bernadine was admitting that in one aspect she missed her husband. Now I think I am through the frank outright missing my husband phase... I've had the rebound relationship...etc.... but I was having a similar (or sort of aligned) thought about Simon today

Here's the thing:

He still feels at liberty to laugh at me - calling me a cougar (for no discernable reason) or suggesting my latest craft endeavour is a substitute for sex. In fact Anything I confide in him, or try to negotiate like an adult, he turns into a joke - like an annoying little brother. Sometimes even using a little high mocking voice. (e.g. "whooo! little bit touchy there" when I asked him not to go through my drawers ostensibly looking for something for Connor)

Today I was trying to work out why it annoyed me so much, and it was this. We USED to laugh at each other and that WAS fine, because we knew deep down that we loved each other and were there for each other. Now this trust is long gone, and I can't rely on him, I don't love him, and he irritates me intensely. I no longer feel that is is appropriate for him to laugh at my expense because he's not giving me the safety net for my fragile ego. He is no longer. as one commenter put it, a safe compassionate witness to my life experience.

I can't undo that

But like sleeping beauty's fairy godmother, I can soften it a little....

You won't die of marriage, you will just go to sleep for 20 years....

Before I fell asleep this is what I heard

• There is no his and hers in marriage
• There are no roles to play
• Each person is perfectly and completely respected in the role they choose
• That you don't know the person when you commit, is the most beautiful aspect of all, ie that you trust and grow together
• There will be hard times and you may have to work at it, but never will those hard times eat at you from the inside out, consume your soul, or leave you as a shell: When marriage is working it is not that hard
• You will both make mistakes, but you will never disrespect one another or lose trust and faith in your partner

I expect there are some of you out there who still quite like the concept of marriage...

My take on Marriage

credit:www.wymondham-station.com

In recent years it has been my tendency to blame Neil for my jaded view of marriage, but as I sit here in the school playground - admiring the yummy mummies... and daddies I start to realize the other latent influence in my life EX23 is just as culpable. But I'm jumping ahead of myself. Here is my *current* cynical view

Women in Marriage:

• Are subjugated,
• Lose all their decision making power,
• realize too late the job of child rearing:

1. will be all theirs and
2. will severely impinge on their careers

• Have to turn a blind eye to cheating husbands
• Have to deal with daily put downs from same
• and are made to feel unattractive by same

Men in Marriage:

• Discover that their sole function is wage earning machines
• Have to come home after a stressful day to do a second shift and be unappreciated
• Their wives are increasingly reluctant to have sex with them and give up trying to look attractive
• Whatever they do is not good enough
• If they divorce they have to give away the proceeds of their lifetimes' work
• They ultimately "treat themselves" to extra-marital affairs

My granny used to say "Sex was a lot more fun before everyone knew about it". To me Marriage was a lot more palatable before I saw the underbelly. And affairs were a lot more fun/romantic beforel I was affected by them.

Now I know there are men wandering about who have such scant regard for fidelity - ie that its on the "nice to have but not essential" list, and women who are too weak, deluded, desperate to say no. I can't really bring myself to commit to one.

I'm with Miranda

Cynthia Nixon as Miranda Hobbes in Sex and the City

"Believe me, I would love to be one of those people who's all, "we loved, thank
you, you enriched my life, now go, prosper," but I'm much more "we didn't work
out, you need to not exist."

I'm with Miranda on this one. I am sick and tired of managing Ex's. Neil occasionally signs off his maniacal legal demands with "I hope when this is all over we can meet up as friends over coffee". Like HELL we can. If I had wanted cosy coexistence with you, I would still be living in the spare room. I FLED. For a good reason.

And take note all you young things. If you have a child with someone they will always "Exist"...

Lonely

I warn you, this isn't going to be an insightful post. I am self-pitying, premenstrual and yes slightly drunk. I have had a terrible day. It is becoming increasingly difficult to visualise my future.

But then, when could I?

I guess when I was happy, I lived in the moment. For those 3 (4?) years when I was pretending to be in a relationship with Neil where did I actually think it was going to end? Happy reconciliation, kids, family home, world travel, sexy matching careers???

Perhaps more likely I thought we would co-exist amicably, see the least possible of each other, maybe even find lovers outside the relationship, but maintain the all important "family home"

When I split up with Simon where did I think it would end? Happy supportive co-parenting
No I don't think I thought that far, I just needed to be AWAY from his toxic, controlling influence, at that stage Connor was so young I thought of him as part of me, I had no idea I had to negotiate with Simon for-the-rest-of-my-life.

So about my bad day. This weekend I holed up in my tiny overpriced rented accomodation and tried to catch up on the work I had missed with a whole week of family admin: Getting Connor into a new school, buying a car, changing my address on my bank accounts, THE LAWYER in final rip-off settlement with Neil. Moving my stuff about from friend's places, storage etc.

I had a couple of dates arranged with girlfriends at the end of the weekend to look forward to. Then on Saturday night EX23 calls me with a tirade blaming the fact we are not together on me, talking dirty, being incredibly rude to me. But mainly putting me down at an incredibly low point in my life when you might expect an "old friend" to pick you up. He's an ego manic extraordinare. I attract them. I realise he is probably sick and it is definitely over between us. Whatever "it" was. I am so sad about that. Then today both my friends cancel. Finally, Simon delivers Connor back and I have to endure 3 hours of tantrums about how he wants to be with Daddy, he doesn't feel safe with me. This is the child I fought for, the only person who means anything to me in this world. I am so excruciatingly and exquisitely trapped. I am almost ready to give Connor his wish and lodge him permanently at Simon's which is madness. Simon is mentally ill and Connor is the only thing I have ever truly fought for.

Absolutely noone is here for me on this side of the world. I want to run back to my folks.

But even that is sad and regressive, they will die, then where will I be? I can't believe that a girl with such potential could screw everything up so comprehensively? I should be safely ensconced in my family home with 2.2 kids a white picket fence and a cheating husband by now.

So what of the future? a slow decline into menopause or even senililty - my memory is shot to pieces, decreasing control over my child, my career, my life? a crippling mortgage? a loss of ability to do sport which had been my main means of meeting people. Yes, it emerges this week I have the early stages of Arthritis. How to go on? How actually to put one foot in front of the other?? and why bother?

But still on the work front a batch of new projects are looming. I have to front up, be the boss, do my thing. With zero enthusiasm. Someone please paint me a future....what do sports people who become crippled do? what do maiden aunts do? I need role models, ideas I need to move forward.

Control

Over the past few days I've been wondering

Is control a good thing, or a bad thing?

Here's the thing. I have been taking comfort in the fact I have no control over my life in a "Let go and let god" kind of a way. That is, there are certain things I just cannot control and I will hurt myself trying. However I am wondering where the boundaries lie. By which I mean, at what point does this become abdication of responsibility?

i.e I can't control when I feel too tired to get out of bed and go to work!

So I turned to Amazon.com for the answer. Broadly it seems anything to do with controlling your diet, or your anger, is OK and controlling your life is OK until it becomes OCD. Having anyone else control you is toxic and bad and you need to learn to say "No"!!!

I think as my ex husband's psychiatrist said, we all need some level of controlling behaviour to function in professional roles, but the trick is not to let it get out of hand where we need to control other people to feel in control of our own lives. This will never be me. I always follow the codie route in that regard.

Thank you Blogosphere

When I think about the challenges I face. From the tiring, work-a-day tasks, to the awkward to the truly unpalatable, the sad, hard or heartbreaking choices I have to make. Nothing consoles me more than the thought I can write it out here. When nothing else remains, I will still have writing, and for this I am very grateful.

Feminism, the sisterhood, bitchy women and the games people play

Once again life with my SA partner has called me up short on how I see the world.

In his mind, all his ex's and FBs had mental health issues. In his words, they were MAD!.

They called him in the middle of the night MAD!
They tried to get revenge by torching his clothes MAD!
They ranted about feminism MAD!
They wanted more, and simply could not accept his "deal" MAD!
They clung on when it was well and truly over MAD!

As far as I can make out some of these are a bit deranged, some of them could be construed as love or infatuation. And his response to that? "I told them I was only in it for sex, if they wanted more they were perfectly at liberty to leave"

And what I read in all these comments (eventually) was "You, Neil, are a toxic, woman hating mysogynist" It is also a very easy way of covering up a rogue sms or phone call. "SHIT it's that MAD! woman calling me again. Can't believe how many times I have told her to sling her hook"

Now there is a beautiful post on MAD! women over at woman of experience, which completely explains how all this fits in with your sex-addict-woman-hating-mysogynist-fuckbuddy philosophy...

But suddenly I begin to see a different angle on this. Which is that if not mad, many women are bitchy and do play head games with men. And if men like them a bit mad, truth be told they also like them a bit bitchy. In my clumsy forays into dating I have found the old addage of "treat them mean, keep them keen" (which I always hated) has worked inadvertently more than I could possibly have imagined.

I hated that addage because I thought it was disrespectful to men. If you love them, let them know, if you don't let them know also. Treat them with the openness you would expect yourself, and through mutual respect build a loving partnership. I remember some nerdy young fellow who had been chasing the prettiest girl in my stats class saying to me "the thing about you Fiona, is that you are so, SO, er...straightforward" I took it as a compliment. Likewise regarding the sisterhood. I would never talk disparagingly about another girls physical attractiveness to a man, put another girl down, sleep with another girl's boyfriend...

But hang on! I actually don't think men want a straightforward girlfriend. Seeing from this middle age vantage point how very very much young men want sex and what they will do for it. Playing them, and trading up could have very serious advantages for a young attractive girl. Plus they love the thrill of the chase.

I see little girls doing it to their Daddys. They won't smile until they get what they want. They keep him waiting, they pout and cheat and lie to get what they want, and the Daddys fall for it every time.

And frankly I wish I had more than that. If men are going to be nasty manipulative mysogynistic bastards. Sock it right back to them. All's fair in love and war.

You'll never walk alone

Last Wednesday I set out on my bicycle to my friends house, about 5 miles away for an evening with the girls, it was a lovely warm evening, and the bunny rabbits were hopping in the long grass as I took the path across the common and down by the river in a secluded spot behind the golf course. When I came to ride home in the dark, it was a different matter. I heard every fox rustling in the undergrowth and every cow ruminating and shifting its bulk as I took off across the meadow on a damp moonless night with only the rasping of my ancient dynamo light on my bike to light my way. In a word I was petrified. I was so delighted to finally get home around 11.30pm I nearly kissed the earth.

Then two days later I was driving to the doctors when a song came on the radio "You'll never walk alone" sung by Siphiwo Ntshebe. He was going to sing at the world cup but died of menigitis. He was in his early 30s and a magnificent African tenor. As I listened my eyes filled with tears. That Siphiwo has been taken from us, and that I feel as though I am very much walking alone as I return to the other side of the world to carry on my life, away from my family. In fact it feels very much like plunging into that dark, dark forest with all its unknown assailants and associated terror.

INFP: The Idealist

Reposted from The REAL Personality Types:

I am and INFP and am starting to wonder if this is the problem. I am attracted to ITSJs in a predator-prey type of way (with me being the prey)

The INFP is a dreamy, imaginitive, idealist, capable of finding the good in anything or anyone, even something as foul as Newark, New Jersey. INFPs are sometimes dangerous to the well-being of society as a whole, as they are prone to adopting subversive and destructive ideologies like "The world should be fair," People should treat one another well," and "You know, 'Friends' is a really, really stupid television show."

These irrational thought patterns may sometimes cause INFPs to run off and join the circus, the Resistance, or the Rebellion, where they tend to do well in any position requiring excellent hand-eye coordination or mastery of the Force.

COMPATIBILITY: INFPs and ISTJs generally exhibit a natural predator/prey relationship, which, though it might appear harsh and cruel from the outside, is all part of the natural cycle of life. In fact, were it not for the predation of the ISTJ, the population of INFPs would soon grow to unsustainable levels, overwhelming the ability of their ecological niche to support them.

Famous idealists include that girl in your sixth-grade homeroom who got the teacher fired for saying that girls aren't good at math; that guy in the cubicle next to yours who got the manager fired for saying that women don't make good employees; and Anais Nin.

Limited Liability Love

I've just been to see sex and the city 2, and yes story-wise it probably is as bad as the reviewers claim. Maybe not like being lobotomized with a pink plastic teaspoon....... as Hadley Freeman of the Guardian would have it. However the insecurity that Charlotte feels surrounding what her husband might do with the Nanny whilst she was away got me thinking.

If not exactly triggering, it made me return to my own experience of infidelity and how I might handle it differently next time. The train of thought went something like this:

I will never demean myself by getting into such a state about my partner and another woman
I will trust him implicitly....
...no hang on....
I could never trust any man implicitly
I will keep my own counsel and have enough going on in my own life not to waste time obsessing about this....
Whilst at the same time loving him appropriately and giving him enough attention so he doesn't want to stray.... and if he does I will love him enough to forgive him....
but hang on, all this love and forgiveness... will he do it for me?
or will he waltz off with my home, my child, my savings....
I will be hurt
Best not to go there at all
Best to just have an arm's length lover
...And won't "having enough going on in my own life" and "giving him enough attention" be mutually exclusive?

It seems in love there is no compromise. As I seem to recall the archbishop of Canterbury saying a couple of decades ago (before I got married).

If we love on a limited liability basis, we limit our ability to love at all

So I feel that all this self protection and boundary setting will ultimately be futile. If you love you need to do so fully. It is not inconsistent with having a really healthy self esteem however. In which you know you can survive whatever happens and you only rely fully on one person - yourself. It's a tough call.

I would be scared of anyone who was attracted to me right now

Photo credit: virginmedia.com

This is a quote from Et tu Husband which has become bed-time reading for me lately.

Yes. Until we fix ourselves we can go on attracting the same type of garbage.

Lately I have been feeling totally fine without a man in my life for the first time. Thought it might be the beginnings of menopause! (I'm only 44 though and no other symptoms as of yet) ... it'd be a shame.

...or more a sort of way of protecting myself from predatory men who see me as a weak animal ready for attack.

Something like when I tore my ligament and all my muscles went on strike to protect the knee. This is something I have to go through to know what I want.

And Ex 23 is definitately a preditor if not an SA. However much I may believe that I love him. A healthy choice about this is pending.

Cosy Suburbia

Photo credit: dunnepropertymanagement.co.ie

I walk through a leafy suburb peering through the windows of those (ostensibly) well ordered homes, and realise I am yearning for the some sort of middle-class existence that I always thought I would have, and cannot accept that I do not and will not. But I came close, yet only when in the clutches of a manipulative, sociopathic sex addict. Sigh choices, choices...

A recurring theme

Just reading back the last four posts, it seems I am on a theme. Perhaps it's no wonder nobody has commented because if they did they would have to say "Get over yourself". Here I am bleating about the choices I made in life, blaming it on men and trying (without effect or resolution) to turn the personal into the political.

The facts are;
(1) I was not lucky, savvy or calculating enough to find myself a man who earned a living AND was nice to me and
(2) now I am afraid of facing the future, with possible declining health, and definite decline in my own attractiveness, and supporting my child, based solely on my own resources.

Mac-Feminism

I apologise, I had breakfast at MacDonalds this morning. Nasty capitalist world dominating institution that it is. It does rather good Sausage and Egg Muffins. I sat down and got my laptop out, and whilst it was firing up, I looked around. The place was literally full of young, poor, single mothers - whiling away a few hours with their legions of pre-school children. I must be getting old but a thought popped into my head - "What is the world coming to?" or more specifically "Is this what feminism has acheived for us?"

I'm sure its not what the suffragettes and early feminists envisaged for us they were trying to release us from domestic slavery, to give us choices. Instead we have the right to stay home with our kids on the breadline. With the freedom to work nights pole dancing and get a boob-job.

But its not the young middle class girls who find themselves in this predicament, it is the young working class girls. There is no shame in being a single mother now, and women are equal to men. They can go out, get drunk, have anonymous sex...

The young middle class girls I assume supported by Mum and Dad as ever have a termination or two, get through uni, live with their boyfriend for 5-10 years and if they're lucky he marries them. Then they can have a couple of kids and she has a get out clause via the current legal system to be supported by him until the children grow up. Lucky?? alternatively he could realise just as her ovaries are packing up that he doesn't want marriage and kids, at least not with her, and leave her possibly unfulfilled but probably with career in tact.

What honestly is the incentive for men to get married and/or have kids? They can have a lover, a fellow wage slave, home comforts, they can say they're not ready for kids or commitment, they can go on like this for decades.

For women the picture is rather different. If you leave your run too late you may never be a mother, if you get pregnant young and single with an impoverished man and don't terminate the pregnancy you sentence yourself to a lifetime of hard-labour (single parenting) and scupper all your chances at education. So the minority, smart university educated women go Jane Austen style - and snare themselves someone who has career prospects and can support you in the style you would like to become accustomed to. Who could blame them? Cohabitation is all very well, the court will recognise de facto relationships but nothing is quite as concrete as a good old wedding certificate.

Being an educated, middle aged, single parent, I increasingly find myself sympathising with both young poor single parents and fathers in single income families.

Later: I had a couple more thoughts. For the younger poorer girls it is often a rational choice too. Have a baby and get out of home and be supported by the government if there is no dad around.

But here's the thing, many Western goverments have the following philosophy about children:

If the husband can't pay, then the dad should pay, if the dad can't pay then the step-dad should pay, if the step-dad can't pay then the government will pay.

How is this empowering to women? maybe in my case.... if none of the above can/will pay she can pay herself.

Mid Life Crisis

No, its no use, that's what it is. I can't deny it anymore.

When I see those manicured SAHMs with their matching LL Bean kids pulling out of the drive of their holiday home in their top of the range 4WD I can't help asking...

what did they do to deserve that???

shag a banker is what...

or a lawyer,
or a doctor,
or a diplomat...

and more specifically have children with them so they are locked in financially to all eternity..

But in truth, that just sounds bitter. I have my self esteem. I didn't sweat over that science homework, university entrance, graduate school for nothing! No! I get to be an underpaid single parent member of the intelligensia living in a rented apartment. I am not materialistic! Where is all this claptrap coming from?

I think I am angry with myself for not playing my cards better. The choices you make at 21 have a significant impact on your lifestyle at 42 there's just no way of getting around that one. You might marry for love, take the moral high ground, save the whales, see the world, believe in the power of one whatever, but it won't get you a chef''s kitchen and holidays in Martinique.

And worse despite working hard all your life you might end up in poverty. I think perhaps my awesome childhood raised my expectations that if I worked hard a reasonable lifestyle would come my way, and relying on a man was just a weak and inappropriate way of going about it. I did expect that whatever man I ended up with would work as hard as me, and treat me with the same benevolence, honesty and integrity with which I treat them. Wrong again.

No feminism has not delivered. A colder more calculating way of getting your man and seeing your main chance even if you are highly qualified yourself is a better strategy, because basically men have not evolved. They will rarely enter into a genuinely equal partnership. They need to be teased, cajoled, pampered and played like this and have the bar set high for them. Otherwise they just behave in the lowest way they can get away with.

Calibrating my reactions

When I consider someone has ripped me off, put me down, pushed me too far. This is a sign that I really have been taken beyond all reasonable limits. I know this because I often get remarks such as -"I don't know how you put up with it" "I never would've taken that from her" "Just say no to them" etc. And it's NOT because I have a thick skin, it is a combination of very low self esteem - ie I don't deserve to be treated any better, and being brought up in a culture of forgiveness, and turning the other cheek. In other words my offense-ometer is set too low. It makes me a nice person to be around, I make friends easily, I almost never take offense, however it also means I can be pushed around, abused and assumed to be gullible. And generally I internalise the results of this treatment.

It is also quite rare for me to really know what I want or have a strong opinion about anything. Again externally I am easy going, but on the rare occasions when I do - wanting to have a baby or own my own home or be near my family...I need to be able to stop at nothing to get it. It is totally unacceptable to let the things that are important to you pass you by because someone else has a stronger opinion.

In my new life, when someone oversteps the mark, I am going to look very carefully at my reaction. NO. It is NOT "OKAY" for you to leave me with all the work, put me down in front of my colleagues, subdue me and my dreams. I need to firmly and politely say NO.

Choosing to live alone

Single occupier households. The largest growing group. To my younger self, and to an extent my current self this seems like an unhealthy trend. People are too selfish, damaged, frightened, antisocial, unlovable to share their home with another.

Yet this is the choice I am finally going to make.

And it has a lot (though not everything) to do with my ovaries. Up until 40 there was still a chance of starting a family with a man, now there is not. So unless a man brings me true delight, companionship, love and an acceptance of who I am and where I've been, there seems little reason to open my heart, home and bank balance to him.

I feel I have played my hand all wrong. My life has not been unhappy, and I look forward to the future. I imagine in my solo home I will surround myself with interesting friends, be involved in sport and other activities and live a happy and fulfilled life. However I do feel within me the stirrings of a post-feminist backlash. Whose little mocking voice says: "If you want to raise a family in a comfortable stress free environment, trade on your assets whilst you are young. Use your pretty face and narrow hips to snare the best prospect you can, snare him before he becomes a hardened bachelor, and put your enviable intelligence into supporting his career and raising your kids"

As I sat on the train on the way home I pondered my options. (1) Hook up with my ex (2) Go out there and find the devil I don't know (3) Have an FB

..and in all honesty option (3) is looking the most attractive. I don't want any more court battles. Both Neil and Simon are entirely impossible to live with and by extension probably so am I. And my little frying pan is undoubtedly surrounded by fire.

Emotions

Some time ago I thought Plutchik's wheel of emotion [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_emotions] might provide some inspiration for my blog. Just to see if I had visited every emotion and to tell stories from the wheel. I am having some difficulty with my "packages" so today I have decided to address contempt which lies between boredom and annoyance and can escalate an emotion between rage and loathing. This is what I feel for Neil in a nutshell. Interesting to look at the opposite side of the wheel where opposite rage we find terror and opposite loathing we find admiration. The reason I feel such contempt is because during the course of our relationship he intimidated me with terror, I never felt this negative emotion toward Simon because he did not. I feel anger toward Neil for what he did to me, forcing me to submit and not respecting me. On the other hand when asked to recall what attracted me to him in the first place it was admiration. Not love, I now realise, but admiration for his accomplishments in life. Thus our relationship began on an uneven basis with him intimidating me, and me admiring him. So perhaps it is natural that as things came along to challenge our partnership, already feeling intimidated I gathered the strength not to submit, but as contempt took over, to actually leave.

Package #1

I'm not sure if this was in the original bunch of packages, but there is a package that seems to include a bricks and mortar home and aspects of financial security. My parents were reminding me today about how they had to sell their house when my dad re-trained, and we all moved into a rented apartment. How much I craved a house. I used to draw pictures of 'A pritty house' with a front door AND a back door.

They felt guilty about having taken me away, and when they became slightly more prosperous started looking around for places in a much inflated market. One time apparently I fell so badly in love with one of the houses they looked at that I threw up when they decided they couldn't afford it.

Still later when a student I tried to create a homely environment, and fantasized about buying, yes owning my own home. I was put off by my parents who clearly thought I should find a man to do this with. So I married Simon, and imposed this dream on him. He finds property ownership a slightly dirty prospect, but it did not deter me from desperately trying to change his mind for about 10 years as the property prices crept up.

And then, after the divorce I took the short cut with Neil. A house and another baby. My dreams come true. Except they didn't.

This morning a (hippy-ish) thought occurred to me. Maybe the universe it trying to tell me something, I am not, and will never be a home owner. What should I look for as an alternative to this. What precisely is the lure. This is what I came up with so far:

(1) Some sort of dislike of having to pay rent and jump to the command of a landlord

(2) A feeling of security of "owning" or working toward owning a piece of realestate. I actually liked having mortgage that I could see going down each month due to my own dilligence and a beautiful house to live in.

(3) Stability of a place to truly call home.

Perhaps I could invest in something else, or a property I did not live in, and become a kept woman of some sort so I didn't have to worry about a landlord either. Be a housekeeper or gamekeeper or dogkeeper or something so my work was my home.

Loving the unlovable meets the love that dare not speak its name

This has been going on for 2 years. It has never been a transactional sort of arrangement, but just this week. I receive a gift. An unmarked CD of songs that apparently remind him of me. How romantic. I find a time when I am all alone driving and relish the message that it brings. But wait. All the songs, it turns out one by one, are trans-global tales of Hapless females being done wrong by dirt bag philandering males. This isn't how I see myself or how I wish to be seen. It is, if I let myself think about it, somewhat demeaning. I am, if not crushed, strangely unsettled, unconsoled, and disappointed.

Then tears prick my eyes at the thought of just how compromised I have become, that I would yearn for human contact, appreciation, love, being fully willing to return it to someone who cannot do the same for me.

Yet to be given this, this offering.

He urges me to tap my feet to it, and not read too much into it. I guess there are people out there who don't really listen to the lyrics of songs.

I recall a time almost half a life ago, when a fellow at work developed an admiration for me. He was a good looking young chap, and he too had a girlfriend and he too expressed his pent-up, unexpressable emotions by sending me a tape of songs. Loving those who cannot love me back has been a theme of my life. Played out in return, in these instances, by a love that dare not speak its name.

Post (traumatic) Script

I left, I did it. I put all my stuff into storage^ and I fled the country. The sleepless nights I was having over the unbearable weight of leaving my beloved home evaporated, and suddenly I could live with it. Although my life savings are still tied up there.

I am living with my parents on the other side of the world, part working, part recouperating I believe, I feel like Anne Frank scribbling in an attic room.

Simon has let me bring Connor for a protracted stay. However Simon is back in the Psych clinic having split from his partner of 3 years (coincidentally)

I am still fantasizing about true love with my ex of 23 years. He feeds it but has no intention of leaving his wife. And anyway he is in another country, further away now. I'm sorry about this one, but I have to be honest, since this blog is becoming my online diary.

By and large I have disengaged from my life to survive. I don't dare take a good hard look inside my mind, because when I do this is what I see....








Little tightly wrapped packages, they're not labelled, but I know what's in them.

See! this one is packed full of reflections on what happened with Neil and what that has done to me ... all my deepest darkest fears, that he manipulated me, was never faithful to me, converted me to his wrong way of thinking, abused me, abused my child, and is now trying to sabotage our financial future.

Here, this one contains the damage I may have done to Connor through my divorce, through working too many hours, through being stressed, indulgent, inconsistent...

Still another contains the ghost of Simon and our 16 year marriage. Will he try to get back with me? control me? Am I responsible for his illness? for him? What about all those years? were they happy, how do I account for them?

Then there's Ex23. This is possibly the only one I can unwrap with any clarity. It probably needs to end, but I am not ready to end it. I like it. He makes me happy. I am deluded.

Then there's one containing THE FUTURE. By the end of this decade I'll be in Menopause. With a teenager.

Ooh look, this little one is my health. Gone in one year from master's athlete, to hopeless cripple who can't run across the road. Terribly bereaved by this loss of capacity. Getting flabbier, floppier, more unfit.

Yet on the surface I am a survivor, a funny, sanguine, magnanimous, good daughter, attending to her career, bravely accepting single mother hood, forging ahead.

^I think my life is in storage

TagCloud

addiction away baby child connor family feel fiona friends give going hard home house husband job kids life live love man marriage married maybe met months moved needs neil nothing partner perhaps pm quite really relationship sex someone something son things think thought together wanted woman women work world years

created at TagCrowd.com

Taking Flight

I won't bore you with the legal wrangles, but it seems I am in a corner where I have to give up home (the beloved first home I ever owned) to my ex, and sell it at a loss, since the cost of recouping my investment is greater than the investment itself.

It occurs to me that this is the first time in my life I have voluntarily given up something I love. I mean I, as and adult, have personally taken this decision to give it away.

I searched for analogies of where this happens to people

• A teenage mother giving up her baby in the 1960s
• A woman having her breasts removed because she is at risk of breast cancer though she does not already have it
• prosperous Jews, Palestinians, Turks, Greeks, Armenians, Hootus and Tutsis, who fled their homes and businesses
• Young people in love who are separated when their parents move cities
  
• A couple deciding to abort a much wanted but fatally flawed unborn baby
  

These are all more severe than my situation, but the thing they have in common is that the alternative is worse. Human nature being what it is though, in about half the cases it is because of aggression, intolerance, or disrespect that the alternative is worse.

In my case the alternative is to have a protracted battle with an abusive, disrespectful, manipulative ex partner.

An ironic poem that comforts me

One Art
By Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or

next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident

the art of losing's not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Hoist with my own petard

Following on from my woman's work post. An irony. The departure of my SA "partner", who I'm rapidly realising was everything but, has left a power vacuum into which comes simon...

He calls me in the morning to micro-manage me, and remind me of the things I have not done or more particularly paid for for our son and of late he has begun what appears to be a campaign to get full custody. All this timed perfectly for when I'm in the middle of a property settlement, moving house and major surgery.

So now I am cast in the role of absentee father, because I work and he does not, because I have to travel for my work, and have no "partner" to look after Connor. It now appears he wants Connor to live with him, and me to pay. All this from someone who was too mentally ill to even have the boy for a weekend for the first six months of this year, someone who didn't want fathehood in the first place.

Life truly has turned into a bad joke.

Motherhood is the thing I cherish more than anything in the world. I fought for it. I am not a man, and whilst I strive, my woman-like outlook and concerns do not allow me to thrive in a man's world. I receive prejudice at that side too.

If I was a man I would climb the corporate ladder treading on everyone in my path to get what I wanted. Wash my hands of all this, and go out and score me a younger woman. But that option is not open to me either.

A rock and a hard place.

Women's work

"I've never yet met a man who could look after me, I don't need a husband. What I need is a wife" (Joan Collins)

Neil had a habit of belittling the work of stay at home moms (SAHMs). His argument was quite logical, that their work simply did not have the value that society assigns to it. Take for example a wealthy barrister. If his wife dies he can easily pay for all the services she provides, childcare ($100 a day - pah), a cleaner, a chef, a prostitute.. this doesn't even take up a quarter of his salary. So how when they divorce does she get half his assets? it is simply out of proportion.

My new found strength and independence has lead me to believe that I can go it alone as a single working mother - I only have one child! 2 of us, that's half a regular family right? Plenty of men on my salary support a stay at home wife and two kids.

So, I now get to do "the practical" of what Neil was describing, and it is very difficult. Because dear friends if I had a wife at home she would be doing so much more than cleaner, childcare, chef, hooker. I could rely on her to pick the kids up if I worked late, she would give me emotional support and feedback on my adult concerns, she would take care of all those niggly little jobs - taking the car for service, liasing with the kids teachers, dentist appointments, booking holidays... Economy of scale! Danah! suddenly 4 can live for the price of 2.

Then there's the house. Somewhere in the recent past I accepted that I live here in some sense courtesy of Neil. The house is an artifact of our relationship. But I have actually put more money onto the mortgage than him. Now the relationship is over, much as it hurts me I have to give up the house.

Not Neil, No sir-eee!! He believes the house is his. Because he is the man of the house. He enjoyed that joke about the global financial crisis which went "this is even worse that divorce - I lost half my assets and I still have my wife". So he thinks he can just pay me off with a token sum and I'll be out of his hair. He actually believes that, courtesy of living with me for 3 years, this asset is his birthright.

Clearly he lives in a man's world with mans concerns where women's work is valueless and all women are out to fleece men regardless of their own (the women's) earning capacity and financial standing. Because they give birth they can never truly perform in a man's world and as such are by definition eternally beholden to their men folk, and further they should be grateful for this and not get antsy in any way up to and including divorce.

So many reasons

I would be the first to admit that I am in a strange place at the moment. Finally accepting that I can't make it work with my SA partner, after months (years) of giving him the benefit of the doubt, thinking things are never perfect, doubting myself. So I feel quite strong in a way, and one worrisome dimension of this new found strength, is is a strong, and reasoned urge never to let a man live with me again.

I thought of taking my dad's advice and meeting a "retired professor" yet suddenly it becomes totally unappealing because this person (or their family) will think I am somehow after their assets. I never ever want to be beholden to anyone, nor did I ever. I am perfectly capable of supporting myself and my child. The level of false accusation surrounding finances in my current breaking down relationship makes me sick, I wish I had never combined my life financially with him.

I worry that these years with a promiscuous SA have left me with undiganosed STIs which might rear their ugly heads at any time. I feel as though I am a time bomb. No decent new man deserves that.

I acknowledge I am very bad at nurture. Having worked for 20 years and toughed out this single parent thing. I don't want some hyperchondriac old man to look after.

I don't want to have kids now, and soon the chance of that will be finished. So I don't need a sperm donor.

I have lost faith that any man will effectively contribute to the domestic economy (cleaning up after himself) and feel I am on the back foot asking for this with a child around making mess. No I will deal with that too thank you very much.

Perhaps when the storm clears there will be room for a lover. That's all.

A Villanelle

Did my fifth decade forge in me
a fiery ship of burnished steel?
A long withheld capacity
to love you and to let you be
the helmsman of my wheel?
Did my fifth decade forge in me
a passion from across the sea
So strong, and desperate and real?
A long withheld capacity
to be myself and truly see
the way you make me feel?
Did my fifth decade forge in me
A softness borne of misery
of wounds that never really heal
A long withheld capacity
to give you all that I can be
Since you laid down the keel
Did my fifth decade forge in me
A long withheld capacity

It's better to have lived and lost....

Sometimes when I get materialistic or wistful for the things I don't or can't have, I bury my envy with a mantra that goes something like this.



So you'll never go to Hawaii again? so what, at least you've BEEN to Hawaii...



You'll never be married again? at least you WERE married once.





You've known love... You've known what its like to have a loving husband...





You can't have any more kids? oh well at least you've been part of a big happy family....







You'll never have a house on the river? you were lucky enough to grow up near your grandparents who lived on a river.





Your career is stagnating? Oh well, at least you could once claim career aspirations. It was good for a moment there.





I worry that I won't have enough to retire on. Then I look at what retirement means to the current generation of baby boomers. Endless cruises, seafood buffets, holidays in Asia, beautiful perfect home. Its all great but how much does someone need? wouldn't all this comfort pall after a while?

I guess the philosophical point in here is that life is short, and full of experiences, but we don't need to gorge on those experiences to be happy, we just need to have them. Dive on the barrier reef once, see the Taj Mahal, Fall in love, have a baby, get published. It may never come back again, but enjoy it whilst you can.

Protect, Provide, Defend?

These are apparently the roles of a man. And I have been REJECTING them, ALL MY LIFE. Since I drank at the fountain of feminist enlightenment with my Grandmother. NEVER DEPEND ON A MAN, GET YOURSELF A CAREER, BE SELF-SUFFICIENT.

It would be an insult to expect someone to provide for me. Taxpayers have invested good money in my education, and further I do not want to be beholden to a man. When I first heard the expression "Marriage is prostitution" (at the tender age of about 30) I had no idea what it could possibly mean. I have been married once, but I have never expected a man to PROVIDE for me in return for services in the bedroom and kitchen. HORROR.

As for protection. I am not weak, I do not need protecting.

During my marriage, this worked quite well. In Simon, I had not sought out a provider, he was ineffective at work, but still had the manly attributes of strong opinions and apsirations. We both worked, we both cooked, we both cleaned. Until the baby came along. Then Simon lost his mind, and, just as I had never expected to be protected or nurtured, I found myself quite incapable of nurture.

But, it seems the joke is on me. Because many men want to fulfil the protector and provider role and many women of my generation are happy to nurture them in return, and, in maybe half the cases, where they are able to respect one another, there is not even a sniff of prostitution in the process.

I could've forgotten about getting an education, focussed my energies of attracting a provider and lined my little nest. I have to say this would've been much easier than the single parent role where I try to be Mummy and Daddy... huffing about trying to get ahead at work by day, endlessly wiping and cleaning by night...

But stay, what of that other 50% those unhappily married for whom the deal did not work out. They have no skills they are trapped by a unfaithful, disrespectful, user and abuser.

Perhaps in my attempt to avoid this, I also passed up the opportunity to allow a good man to protect and provide for me.

For a little moment here I had the worst of both worlds. I was able to go out and earn a living in a respected professional role, whilst having to opportunity to share my home with someone who expected me to be a chef in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom, an who would physically slap me down If I tried to speak up for myself or negotiate in the domestic economy. Someone who offered me a form of protection and provision I never asked for - "Oh you have magnificent breasts! What's for dinner?" The protection and provision were so hard to discern they were almost theoretical, and yet he traded on them. You clean up after me, because I work FOR YOU.

I have, in my time, been guilty of feeling sorry for my single friends because they could not snare a man. Oh the lonely life of a spinster, to be pitied. And yet that joke is on me too, because had I not entered into this whole marriage/partnership enterprise I would be in no worse a position. Perhaps better even. No unemployable husband living off me, no testosterone charged zealot cheating on me, hitting me, spending my money of flat screen TVs. I would've been able to direct my hard earned dollars to investments that worked for me. If I had not treasured old fashioned notions marriage and family I could even have become a parent.

But now I picture a new stronger me. My efforts will no longer be focussed on finding a partner to share my life, but to creating a better single life for myself. The best it can be.

And what of my feminist grandmother? She died last year, protected and provided for her whole life by a man who loved and respected her. Perhaps she felt dis-empowered, so she had these dreams for me, dreams of freedom, autonomy, personal wealth and its rewards, respect from society.... I think I know where she was coming from.

Yet somehow I think perhaps like many of my generation I am caught in that narrow alley between feminism and post-feminism where there are three options;

• throw caution to the wind and love freely hoping to be given the freedom to pursue your dreams,
• trust only yourself and remain single, or
• become a case study in mismanagement of the feminist ideal as have I.

It was always there

I have been squeamish about including the term sex addiction on my blog. I preferred to think of what happened as a little slip. A one-off infidelity. Maybe I thought Neil's searches for it would bring up my blog. But now our relationship is officially over. I venture to suggest that his sex addiction never went away. Nor was it ever really a problem for him. It is a lifestyle. A real woman with hangups, domestic concerns, worries, hormones, demands is actually something he doesn't want to deal with.



I believe and acknowledge that our relationship is over, and yet for some reason I am driven to have one last snoop. And as always, it bears fruit. Sexually explicit SMS from someone we both know, which leaves me in no doubt that they are or have been intimate.

Its not as though it is the first time this has happened. Let me remind you...

1. The original No Smoke Without Fire in which I surmise that regarding an earlier row over a text message, his infidelity was not in fact in my imagination. Too bad I've had several rounds of infertility treatment and bought a house with him in the interim.

2. There was the STI scare (and he currently has another) although these things can lie dormant and don't really signify infidelity in any real sense. Disturbing for a good convent girl who knew for a fact she had not been with anyone else.

3. The second No Smoke Without Fire in which he accidentally stays logged into his email and I find quite a few leads..

"Nah" I think, "I'm imagining it. They are probably just good friends". One at least turned out to be a male colleague of his!! Lesley!! (and anyway I'm no saint myself by this time)

4. The unexplainable receipts

5. The German controversy

... and finally this. Finally there is very little doubt that he has never been faithful to me (if that matters)

I have repeatedly given him the benefit of the doubt, wondering if I am reading too much into this? Is it all in my head? Are they just good friends?

I am not particularly hurt by this, but it does give me the impetus to actually move on and start a separate life. I love my home, and I have no doubt this will be damaging to Connor, but I can't live my life as the room mate/ house keeper/ admin assistant and Connor won't look back when he's 40 and say "Gee mum, thank you for staying with someone who you didn't love, and who continually cheated on you to give me a stable home"

It "ended"

And the inverted commas are entirely intentional. Finally I spoke up. I told Neil that this relationship is not meeting my needs, sexually, emotionally or practically. ...and my word did he have a response for me! A whole lot of things are wrong with me. For the record, let me get them down.

(1) If I want sex I should learn how to do it! Foreplay, I need to do foreplay I need to warm him up... btw those FBs may not have been marriage material, but they knew how to **
(2) I always have to be right, and I let that get in the way of everything including (ouch) my relationship with my child
(3) I have treated him badly (not cruelly, or unkindly, but badly) this stems from the fact that I just do not know how to look after a man.

He has been unhappy for a LONG time.

For his part he has been working like a dog. Maybe not around the home, but at his job which in his accounting ledger counts as work he is doing for me. When he completes a report at work or closes a deal at work, it is for me. This surprised me and brought me to thinking

here might be another difference between men and women

When I complete a report or close a deal at work (we are at the same level in our careers), I know am doing it for me and my career . The money that comes in as a result is a side-effect. I would never dream of saying it was for him or shirking my household chores in lieu of it.

Oh faithful readers, I expect you are trying to imagine what sort of a woman I am? or even empathizing with poor Neil stuck with this sexually overeager, self-righteous, neglectful, unappreciative woman.

Whilst I will try to my lesson, if you met me you would not recognize that woman. I am a hard working, loyal, reliable, funny and lovable friend.

So we agreed to be flatmates, until we are both living in the same country a year from now, and then think about selling the house. Which to be honest was my major stumbling block.

But it still isn't wrapped up

I still cook and clear the dishes after every meal. I pay the bills, kill the weeds, and do what is my job entirely without support - look after my son - and somehow find time for a full time job. he comes and goes as he pleases, and now does not have to tell me what he is doing. And nothing has changed except we acknowledge we don't love each other and sleep in separate rooms. What have I gained?

The purpose of marriage

Older people these days I have heard are hooking up online, and dating. But these baby boomers from the swinging sixties and seventies are cautious in one regard. They (particularly the women) are not keen to move in together. They want the fun, dates, pampering, sex but they don't want to be cleaner, nursemaid, housekeeper. And they don't want to hand over their childrens' inheritance in the form of the family home. I can completely understand this.

Perhaps you would do all those wifely things for a person you had spent your life with and raised kids with, but not for the current squeeze.

I think I have just crossed this border. Up until 40ish I still embraced the romantic dream of "the one". We all make mistakes, there is still time to try again, settle down with a new person and have a family... and then there isn't. I made this move just a tad too late.

Now I think that raising kids together is not an option. Although he may not agree, Neil is not "raising" Connor with me. We are like the single mum and the bachelor. I'm sorry, but he does not deserve the pay-off of being looked after in his old age. The prospect of an old needy, grumpy man in my home and my bed is terrifying.

Some clarity out of this

My partner cheated, and I reacted by closing down. I thought I had forgiven initially, but what it turned into was "OK I will love you less and you can't hurt me" and finally "I now don't give a shit about you". Ultimately I told him I did not feel the same, and he could no longer hurt me.

Basically under the tutelage of COSA I reasoned that I could not control who he slept with and when, so I basically may as well not worry about it. Assume it happened, and care less about it.

And this is what he heard..

"I want an open relationship" Or more particularly..."You can sleep with who you like."

Now this most certainly is not meeting my needs. You get to sleep with who you like, and I get the manage the property?

No!!!!!!

What did I just give away? The last vestige of belief in a loving, respectful, trusting cohabitation between a man and a woman. He may think he can sleep around and still "love" me. No matter how I reason it, I can't see that as love. If I was doing that, I would not be loving my partner.

I understand a lot of men can still love their partners and sleep with others.

However I think the point I am trying to make is that, regardless of what he is doing - he may be doing nothing at all now. There has been a perceptible shift in my thinking that is really the point of no return. Out of self preservation, I no longer love him. And that the relationship has become asexual is inconsequential. I doubt our relationship could now be fixed even with a good dose of healthy marital relations.

A very different end

I was with my ex-husband for 16 years, and for a lot of that time I was very unhappy. Because though I didn't realise it, I was being controlled. I wanted a home and a family. I felt he had to eventually come round to my way of thinking, but he never did. I cried on the way to work, I was frustrated. I felt trapped, but had a dogged sense of duty to this relationship. I looked with envy at couples outside. I thought the fundamentals were good. Even though I was impotent in every meaningful decision in our lives, and I was in the hands of an irrational dictator.

Maybe the actual truth was that I wanted a family for most of those 16 years, and it was the sunk cost type of decision making strategy. I had hung in there thus far, if I left now, at 37 I felt I would never meet someone else and be able to have kids.

So I got my kid. He, having lost control of me, and the family situation, had a breakdown, and we split up.

I was so relieved.

Whilst I know I do not want to be here in this relationship, it is different. A generaliszed discomfort and mistrust, profound uncertainty about the future, and a sensation of being a square peg in a round hole. I can keep on sanding myself away. I'm not distraught, but I am afraid of the consequences of "just leaving" in that I have no idea if he will react violently.

But perhaps once again there is an ulterior motive. What I am just as afraid of is that to get out of this, I have to lose my home. The thing I craved for so long.

Breaking up (is hard to do-o)

Its hard for a whole new reason that I have just realised. When I try to break up with Neil in the normal way it simply "fails to compute" for him.

(1) How could someone not want to be with this paragon of manly perfection which leads to
(2) I must be mad

That's it in a nutshell. I have known for sometime that I absolutely do not want to be here. Intellectually, spiritually, emotionally - not to mention the dreaded morally. If I were to try to workshop telling him... (some of this has actually happened some has not -yet)

Fiona: Its not you, its me. I have been unable to accept what happened between us.
Neil: Well get over yourself. It happens in all relationships. What did your mother say?
Fiona: She said it happens
Neil: Well your mother is right as usual.

Fiona: You are not meeting my needs sexually
Neil: Well accusing me like that is very "Sexy" isn't it. The more you talk about it the less likely it is to happen.

Fiona: You are not meeting my needs to be part of a family
Neil: Well you gave that away when you got divorced. I can't be Connor's dad you know.
Fiona: Why can't we eat as a family? go to bed around the same time, get up together?
Neil: Sorry that's just the way I am. You can't change the way I eat and sleep.

Fiona: I need practical support help around the house
Neil: You just won't be happy until I'm doing it all will you?

I'm realising I will never "wrap it up" by nagging, or even improve it. Basically to him, this form of communication is just me having a head-rush. I need to be humored, firmly put back in my place (physically intimidated if necessary) because I am clearly out of order. Then life will carry on as normal.

So the upshot of it is. When the decision has been made, when I am bold enough. I have to just go. Not telling, showing. Which is apparently what his last fiance did, and he simply could not understand it. For years.

What I've learned

Its been four years since my marriage ended and somewhat less since I was introduced to the murky world of infidelity. At 40, I was a babe in the wood, truly. I believed that many, if not the majority of married/de facto couples had meaningful, mutually respectful relationships and regular satisfying sex. I knew that couples argued, and at times loathed each other because I was married for 16 years. In my marriage I was somewhat controlled, and my needs (for a home, a family) were disregarded in favour of his "higher" needs, but we could always trust each other.

Neil has introduced me to a whole new world, in which people are not faithful, 1 in 4 babies is born to a man who is not the partner of the woman concerned. Women and Girls who dress in a certain way literally ask for sex (as in FMBs - he believes they are in fact code). Women and Girls who ask men back to their home/hotel after a party want sex. And if, as a man you merely progress towards sex, without asking permission, 9 out of 10 girls will not stop you. Further 80% of the women are chasing 20% of the men. We are mobile breeding machines, they are alpha males, it is a jungle out there. As I have often said in this blog, I reluctantly accept this. How could I be so naive?

However, it does not appeal to my experience. As a married woman I went to literally dozens of parties/receptions/conferences dressed howsoever I wished, where people came back to rooms and that was not the agenda at all. We would drink, flirt, talk then go home. If the above were true, it is a wonder I had not been either victim or assailant in seduction/inveiglement/lure or rape on numerous occasions.

I would proffer that I gave off "Married vibes" and I was steadfastly committed to my marriage vows. I would also proffer the crowd in which I circulated, hard working, professional, men and women of integrity. But not once was I propositioned. I am only human (as we shall see) and may not have been so strong under duress.

So I learn the hard way. About a year into our relationship I learn that Neil is having sex with someone else. I am (in my naive way) shocked, nauseated, horrified, stateless, confused and.... changed.

I struggle not to blame anyone else for what happened next. This erstwhile choir girl, married woman, pillar of society quietly embraced revenge. If you can do it so can I. Not actively, not rushing out there, but alive in that world I had previously doubted existed. And in the fullness of time opportunity came my way.

For maybe a decade before he met me, Neil had no formal relationship, he had a roster of "FBs" who satisfied his needs, and they his. There were no strings, although they did sometimes show troublesome signs of wanting to commit, in which case they were kindly but firmly reminded of the terms of the relationship and if they didn't want it they could go.

So what we have is 4 or 5 women actively trying to "catch him" whilst outwardly declaring they were fine with friends with benefits status. Their role very much akin to that of the other woman (having now been one myself). They would always be dressed well, coiffed, plucked, perfumed, never nag, badger, or complain.

I have learned that living with someone who has been this kind of a "bachelor" (read SA) makes for a very hard act to follow.

I have learned that the reason I did not cheat on my husband was less iron will and more lack of opportunity/motivation.

I have learned to be careful what you wish for

Is this post feminism? One thing that would've kept me on track in my younger days is the sisterhood. How could I do that to another woman (assuming I knew about her)? Are we all just back to snaring a man by fair means or foul? Why am I jealous of my lover's wife who, at quite a mature age managed to marry him, have two kids and give up work for the forseeable future?

How could I undervalue my career so? as I lurch from near disaster, to headlice outbreak, to forgotten lunch, lost hat, board meeting, presentation, bikini wax, sales pitch in the blurry life of a near-single parent? I should remember, she gave up her freedom, her identity and her so-called husband is playing away.

One of the things Neil trotted out when he reached exasperation with my high moral stance was
"There's no law against it"

Well negotiating your way through it without rules may be an intellectual and personal challenge but it does not favour women.

Forgive myself - Understandable?

I wanted a baby, but I realised in the nick of time that I didn't want a baby with him. Or rather, serendipidously it turned out I couldn't have a baby with him in the nick of time.

It is unfair to him because all this was at the core of a shared dream.

I'm not sure how I could've been blind to this. I felt as though I was in love with him

Ein schlechtes Gewissen braucht keinen Kläger

As you may know, my partner of three years is away overseas. And the state of our relationship means that this is little more than a relief. I have half-heartedly attempted to break up with him, and I am still undecided as to whether to follow him overseas, as my folks are over there, but my son's father is over here.

As the COSA philosophy goes on snooping, basically evidence does eventually fall into your lap. So here's the latest. Once again like my "no smoke without fire" it could be my imagination.

First, Neil's widowed father is planning to visit him overseas and during the visit Neil has a business trip to Germany. His father suddenly cancelled because he didn't feel able to organise/afford accomodation or be left on his own whilst Neil went to Germany. If my mother was visiting me on her own, I would have a whale of a time taking her along as my consort to conference dinners and having her explore the town during the day. I have been wondering why this is such a problem...

Second, some time ago a "little bird" told me Neil was rumoured to be sleeping with a colleague who has, incidentally, gone back to Germany.

Third, each day Neil and I send each other SMSs. It is always the same boring "Good morning, darling x x " so I decided to be a bit playful and wrote one in German today. Not consciously thinking about it, just wanting to have some fun with him "Guten Abend Mine Liebling" probably shocking German, then I wrote another... and finally I got one back "W.T.F." (which I'm sure you can translate)

Either he really doesn't understand any German at all (you'd've thought doing business in Germany he might've whipped out a phrasebook once in a while) perhaps he thinks I am making a fool of him, or trying to show off how clever I am...or he was reading something more into my SMS.

Suddenly a curious suggestion pops into my head. He is off to Germany for a tryst with the ex-colleague. That's why dad can't come, and that's why he is angry at my use of German he thinks I am backhandedly accusing him

For a translation of the Title visit "The English German Dictionary"

Loud and Clear

I know, I know, you've lost patience with me. You all voted on my future. I am telling you loud and clear I want to leave, yet nothing happens. This is how it is sometimes I think. Need the right impetus. In the meantime I seem to be conducting my life in two parallel streams.

(1) Please show me a way to get out of this. Just one little exit and I'll be gone
(2) Planning my life in the long term getting the house set up creating a future for my boy

I can't be the first, but I think I would be happier and more able to focus if I was true to myself.

I hear you Elinor

"I have known all of love's pain and none of its reward"

Elinor Dashwood: Sense and Sensibility

I can't find this exact quote anywhere, but I swear I heard it in the 1981 BBC mini series.

This is how I feel about my current relationship. He gives me so little apart from a half share in a roof over my head, and some sort of weird brother-like affection. We no longer have sex, because he is not interested.

It is partially my own doing. I broke off the engagement, around the time we discovered we couldn't have children. Because 2 years after his sudden proposal of marriage, I still could not trust him or understand either his sex addiction or his supposed recovery from it. And after several rounds of IVF I realised I did want another child, but not with him.

And now I think to ask myself the question "why did he admit to sex addiction? why didn't he just admit to a little meaningless sex?" He is quite practised at manipulation and lying why would he have been so candid with me? A little slip-up would've been so much easier for me to accept. In fact that's pretty much how I have dealt with it - imagine it was just the end of his "philandering ways"

So here's the timeline

*Trying to get pregnant
*Shock email from ex-girlfriend describing numerous trysts
*Confession from Neil of sex addiction
*Proposal of marriage
*Uneasy acceptance by me
*More trying to get pregnant
*Give up trying to get pregnant
*Try to end relationship admitting I have not properly forgiven him and the only way I can cope is to disengage.
*I actually want him to go off and find someone else to have babies with
*Sex life ends

From his point of view maybe he was only having sex with me to get pregnant, or maybe he was so hurt by me putting the brakes on our marriage plans, or perhaps, he is just getting sex elsewhere. It isn't such a stretch is it? on current evidence.

In exploring "Husband not interested in sex" the answer by barbarafl about half the way down struck a chord. It starts

Wow Ladies,
I feel compelled to respond. I have been in this situation for 18 years. It is only the last year that I truly discovered the real problem. My husband is a sex addict. After lots of research, and therapy, he is in recovery. A long hard road for both of us. There is many levels of sex addiction. Some only use masturbation and porn and some use prostitutes, affairs, etc. There is something also known as sexual anorexia. Where the sex addict will masturbate but avoid intimacy with you.

I can't discuss it with him. In fact if I do he gets angry or facetious saying things like "you nagging me about it is so sexy"

But he still occasionally says he love me, or that I am his love. I think perhaps he needs a mother. His was depressed angry and unavailable to him. Now it seems he is trying to find this lost comfort through me. Here is what would really work: If I were to run the house like clockwork. Quietly and efficiently moving around him, and never making demands on him. Let him lie in, clear away his mess without ever complaining, never ask where he's been or why, defer to him on every decision and opinion... He will love me totally and will reward me with hugs, and adoration, but never sex.

Really folks what's in it for me? A half roof over my head (I work too remember) and stability for Connor. But Connor is not going to come back to me in 20 years time and say, "thanks so much mum for putting your life on hold and living with that man so that I could grow up in a misogynistic, self centred, dysfunctional - yet stable household"

Is he?

I'm a lizard

I guess this happens to everyone to an extent, but maybe I am worse affected since I have moved countries 3 times since I was 25 and I got divorced. Here is my problem.. I keep leaving large chunks of my life behind. Usually quickly and under traumatic circumstances. Like a lizard losing its tail. For all I know they keep on twitching after I leave them, like the those perfectly nice circles of friends, those groaning bookshelves, a couple of decades shared with my husband. Those severed parts can twitch all they like. Me I just walk away.



Photo credit: www.naturephoto-cz.com

But look, my beautiful tail, it grew back, but not like before. Something is lost, something is changed.

I've been away

I'm sorry, I've been away. I'm not gone. Actually I got a little sporting injury and now I have some metal in my leg. Time consuming. But whilst resting up I have had time to set my blogging agenda (always keeps me on case) and do a lot of reading. So here is what's coming up in the next month:

(1) I'm a lizard
(2) Celibacy and Anorexia
(3) The world according to my ovaries

I watched a lot of Jane Austen and developed a special affection for Elinor Dashwood. She will appear in (2). But how could I be disappointed to discover I am actually Elizabeth Bennett?

You Scored as Elizabeth Bennet As one of Austen's most beloved characters, Elizabeth Bennet represents what most women would like to become: strong, independent, and loyal. Of course, she has her faults including a stubborn will of iron and a clinging to first impressions. Overall, Lizzie is bright and lovable...something to admire and aspire to.

...and read a most disturbing book, disturbing because I found myself in it. Myself of the last post in fact.