Hamish Seamus and the Stoics

I am looking for a word to describe a yearning or need I have in my life of late for Stability. Its not commitment, exactly,  or predictability. I just don't want to go through the process of being savagely terminated for reasons I don't understand again. I want to know that  I can depend on Seamus to be there for me, or give reasons why not. I have been hurt, and one approach, which I understand would be the stoic approach, it just to not allow myself to get emotionally involved.

We grieve because we stake our happiness on things we cannot control. If you think that your well being depends on things that you cannot control then you will become a target for coersion by anyone who does have control over those things. 

" you see, as Hamish said... you love me more than I love you" Hamish was holding all the cards.

So that would be a solution. We need greatness of soul and courage, wisdom and temperance and not to allow suceptibility to grief to make us feel weak, worried, upset, flustered and clouded. We must simply block out any feelings of vulnerability. And this I think is where sex is very handy as a proxy for love, particularly for men. Well you can protect yourself by saying "it's only sex"

but then come variations on a theme of giving into it to properly live.  We have Alfred Lord Tennyson

"Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all"

Or the more prescriptive:

''If you try to love on a limited liability basis, you limit your ability to love at all. It is for these reasons that the church upholds the idea of Christian marriage, lifelong, exclusive and faithful, as the only setting in which human sexuality can be responsibly and fully enjoyed.''Archbishop Robert Runcie 1987

Image: Happiness: giving in to the goods of fortune might be crucial. (Frank Renlie/Getty ) 

And more recently Daniel Russell, talking more broadly than about love sex and relationships

"If the way you approach the happiness of your life is to try to make sure that you're never invested in anything enough that you would ever have anything to lose then you have utterly missed the point" Daniel Russell

So I suppose I conclude that real happiness means having something to loose, something to grieve for when its lost, not making sure you do not become attached to anything.

The Girl That was Me II

Last week a girl who I knew at school came to visit me. She is (very sadly) widowed since her husband died when he was 49 and she 42. She did not work during her marriage and she is materially better off than me. She owns her own home outright, has two very functional and effective twenty-something sons and apparently does not need to work anymore - ie she is retired.

Rewinding 30 years at school she kicked her heels, didn't bother too much, never planned to have a career. Dabbled in a bit of secretarial work then got married.

I on the other hand set the school alight with my hard work and intelligence, always getting prizes and trying my best. But I find myself barely holding on to my (highly cerebral) job, being a single parent to a difficult child and only half way through paying off a huge mortgage.   It made me think again about The Girl That was Me

Maybe I should've just ignored my Physics homework, and set my eyes on the main chance - a man who could provide me with a home and a family and not expect me to work. Or perhaps, more likely, our personalities have dictated our destiny.

She, prepared to play second fiddle. Needing to be emotionally and financially supported. Me, driving, striving, independent desperate to prove I could do what any man could.

Thus who I selected as a partner was immaterial in terms of support because I could do that for myself. So I chose a playmate. She was more circumspect, knowing she needed someone to make a nest for her.

And whilst I feel somewhat ripped off by the state of affairs as they are, I could also say that this early determination has served me well for my current lifestyle. If I had been a more gentle, passive, unambitious woman I would not be able to carry this off even at the level I do. I would be a single parent in the popular understanding of the term. Poor, uneducated and with health and social challenges.

But the mistake which has been obvious through many of my posts was to assume the immateriality of a man who could protect and provide. I suppose I threw the baby out with the bathwater. Because if less of my  energy was spent on the day to day business of living, I would have more to offer to my career.

Be careful what you wish for

If being treated with benign indifference has become irksome, I am wondering how the alternative would make me feel.

He prioritises everything above me, including his ex wife. 

He opened a new facebook account and decided to feature the date of his marriage in his timeline (he's been separated for a year) I mean, I'm glad they get on and all that, but this just looks to my friends as though I'm having an affair.


If he frequently shares ideations about "the one who got away"...he gave everything up for her, he loved  her, he was prepared to start a new life with her... and yet somehow (tiny voice) not me.  And despite the fact that she treated him so BAD and I treat him so NICE. Incidentally Hamish did that too. Before me there had been Clancy perfect, beautiful well groomed, but an utter bitch. I really  do fit awfully well into the Tart with a Heart subplot.

He objectifies me and judges me purely on my physical attributes and sex appeal.. This is so obviously a way of making me matter less so he can justify it as "just sex"

In other social media websites, he flirts openly with other women. Our mutual friends. When I pick him up on it he says "well better than doing it behind your back".denounces any attraction for them.  He honestly claims not to realise he is leading people on.

One mutual friend from our bike club was stuck at home with a broken arm. So he rang her to be friendly and proceeded to go round with a bottle of wine because she was claiming to be house bound. She was no such thing later that week she was out clubbing and now she is off overseas whilst on sick leave...but he didn't see this behaviour (personal visit with alcohol) as in anyway leading her on or sending the wrong message.

So if I'm feeling uncomfortable about all these things feeling essentially that what they spell out is that he is not ready for commitment and I am just Mrs right now.

What if he was rushing into a relationship with me, pushing through his divorce, making it happen, moving in declaring his love...What then? I don't think I would really want him.

Benign Indifference

Well, hot tradie, I am going to call you Seamus, because the whole thing has gone a bit like Hamish.

Hamish. He dated me for 9 months introduced me to his family took me out to parties. Studiously avoided telling me he loved me, or any sort of commitment. At one stage he did say he would like to find someone to grow old with. I would see him at least twice a week, once at his once at mine. He never prioritised me over his other engagements - dinner at pub with old friend or quiz night.

I interpreted his behaviour as follows:

(1) he was not able to talk about his feelings - perhaps even emotionally unavailable

(2) he did not want to form a lasting partnership with me right now, but I was, at the very least, a contender

What I now know is that his feelings were probably more along the lines of the following which I would describe as benign indifference.

(1) I was not unduly unattractive or irritating
(2) I was a handy and available way of getting laid
(3) I was good enough to pass the time with until something better came along.

All this done with no malice, if I were to put it like that he would probably deny it, but this really has to be the underlying premise that allows your to suddenly say.. It's not working for me, we got involved too fast, but you are an angel.

In short the classic tart with a heart 

Courtesty of the Daily Mail

I have recently woken up to something similar in my relationship with Seamus. He never prioritises me everything comes first. He will obviously pop round at 9pm after he has done overtime, helped his ex wife with the lawn/ pool/ moving the mattress. Fixed his son's car, done a 66km bike ride.. he never makes plans with me, and if he does 5pm often becomes 7pm whilst I wait around.

I think sometimes we work harder to please those we respect/love. So I bend over backwards to fit around his plans. but as another old cliche goes familiarity breeds contempt. So it is easy to make yourself the handy shag.

I need to care sufficiently little to say "no" to him occasionally. And if I am afraid that this will result in him leaving me. Well so be it. If he really loved or respected me he would fit around my plans.

Life happens to the un-canny

The mid life crisis has really kicked in. I am quite startled at how I have become "old" ish and I have neither made an impact, had a successful career nor even, yet, left a lasting legacy. The feeling is uncomfortable. I have missed the mark on many things and it would be facile to say "It's never too late!" because it patently is. However,  I do feel the need to ask the question "Why?"

Why did I marry the wrong guy? Why didn't I follow a career that allowed me to be creative? Why did I not use my unquestionable gift for foreign languages? How did I end up only having one child?How did I end up living on the opposite side of the world to my loved ones?

And here is the answer. From my earliest childhood, my philosophy on life was that it is something that happens TO you. I can only assume that others are more canny. My understanding has always been that life is like a movie, a story waiting to unfold. You jump at opportunities when they arise, but essentially you are on a roller coaster and there is no getting off, or changing its course.

So it was that, like Cinderella or any of the other fairytale princesses, I dreamt of who I was going to marry. My diaries would have probably said it explicitly "I wonder who I'm going to marry". The vision was always a happy and benevolent one. A person would come along, or perhaps according to my mother's advice I would put myself in the right place at the right time. In due course there would be home, family and in accordance with social mores of the time and my mothers ambition for me I would also have a career. Maybe a doctor.

In the early hours when I can't sleep I try to unravel all those questions and yes, the answer is a lack of self determination. And what of those other "canny" ones?  there is no other explanation than they planned their lives, saw their main chance.

When approaching marriage they weighed up the options - quite right. What man would just say yes to the first woman who swept him off his feet? In some ways it seems liberated to have the self respect to take each offer on its merits and reject them if they do not advantage you.  It's probably the only time an object in a shop window gets to choose its owner.  I was just grateful someone had finally asked me. I was the last to get a bra, start my periods, get engaged... I waited in vain for so long  on all occaisions and when Simon finally asked me it was with gratitude that I welcomed this next stage in lifes progression.  I didn't look that hard at the man I was marrying or the implications of this marriage on my future life.

The canny ones would re-chart  their lives when they went off course. They would have enough assertiveness not to be held to ransom over when they would give birth, or whether they would live near their families

The canny ones would recognise that earning a living was secondary to doing something that makes your heart sing because really you only get one life.

So it's a personality thing. This inclination to accept what is thrown at you? or is it upbringing? It might work if everyone did the right thing and behaved well. As for selecting a husband from the myriad of offers (which there weren't) money didn't come into it. I thought it crass to even think that money was an issue. Like being bought like a whore. Marriage really would've been prostitution. You marry for LOVE. Yet somehow, whilst being completely and properly in love my "canny" friends managed to marry someone who could earn a living and in most cases support them fully whilst they took a number of years off to bring up children.

A slightly more tricky one is being brought up a Christian, with a hope of eternal life. The job in this life being to be nice to people, work hard and be honest and have integrity in everything you do. This is counter-productive to having a career. So naked ambition is out the window and so is doing something to please yourself. You might be forgiven in your late 40s for looking back and hoping to god there is an eternal life to look forward to because you just squandered this one on trying to make other people happy. Canny friends heard those truisms "life is not a rehearsal" or "your life lies before you like a path of snow, be careful how you tread it, for every step will show"  and they heard listened and comprehended them. It makes me wonder how someone like me with a modicam of intelligence could have been so stupid to realise these were not just cliches.

If I had planned this

So here I am mid forties, parent of a grade-school child (conceived by IVF), Well/over qualified and working in a professional job in a country far from my country of origin.

Now, ya know, its not so bad. I get by. There's no pesky cheating husband to worry about, I can just about cope with my job. I think I'll be able to handle the mortgage and school fees if I stay in work. I can get him to and from school, attend performances pay for outside activities and child care when needed.

How about if I had actually aspired to this lifestyle? How would I have prepared myself?

Well I wouldn't have bothered with all that fruitless husband-chasing in my 20s. I would've kept all my relationships light, and rejected them ruthlessly if they tried to commit (probably resulting in a string of proposals - but no matter)

I wouldn't have carried a dead weight of a husband all through my 30s. I wouldn't supported him through graduate school.

No. I would've focussed on making and saving money for what I had planned. I would've bought a house within shouting distance of my parents. I would've had my eggs frozen and ruthlessly pursued my career from graduating at 21 to 36. I would've taken out life insurance, school bonds, income protection. Perhaps bought a home in my adopted country (although I can never see myself planning that) Then I would've had myself inpregnated by a handsome intelligent sperm donor at 37 cut back on work to focus on bringing up this child -whilst still keeping my hand in - the same as I am now, but financially healthier, and not tied to this country or my ex-husband. This plan would, quite likely have resulted in a less difficult (if not as good looking) child. One of the features that makes this alternate universe attractive is that I receive no money and little practical support from Simon, so I really would've lost nothing in that regard. But Connor would not have had any form of putative father.

The main thing that would've stood in the way of putting this plan into action (at the time) would've been the morality of it - to actually choose to be a single parent how crazy? ie make yourself some sort of fallen woman. But actually its a little deeper, it would be thumbing your nose at the notion of the family. A boy needs his father and a woman needs society, help and comfort from a man (many or most don't get that might I say) but there's the dream. And is a man with the label "dad" sufficient and complete. That a child at least knows where it comes from? Many dads do little more.

Flash in the Pan

What peaceful hours I once enjoyed!
How sweet their memory still!
But they have left an aching void
The world can never fill.

How to even begin this post. I haven't written since September. After which I became, if not happy, at peace with my situation. Bowing gracefully out of the race to snare a man in favour of being thankful for my child, my community, the ability to indulge in sad single-parent behaviours like sleeping in the same room as my child, my job, and how close it is to work and school.

Anyway one thing I resolved to do was increase my circle of friends and thus it was that one fateful Saturday morning I found myself with a non-threatening groups of bicycle bimblers amongst whom was HotTradie.

In the days and weeks following he made an intense and targeted attempt to win my friendship and my heart. He was completely there for me. And slowly but surely my cynicism turned to love.

At first I thought it was laughable like the proposal below (he didn't ask to marry me, but made sure I knew his intentions were honourable) and I thought this is plain ridiculous someone falling for me in this way at 47. 

But as it persisted, I began to enjoy being admired and began to think perhaps it was not too late for me. He was so very kind, consilatory, loving helpful and adorable that I soon felt the same way as him.

We took it slow having met in October we finally took Connor on holiday together in January. Connor typically behaved in a very entitled and high handed way and there were a few tantrums.

And after that, without warning  received a text saying he was not ready to raise someone elses child. He had done his parenting, and he was sorry he thought we shouldn't see each other any more, or just as friends and he still thinks I'm sexy.

Bewildered doesn't even come close. I feel unpleasantly tethered to the earth. I think somewhere in that (as it turns out hymn verse by cowper) the sensation is described. I have an aching void, that is possibly filled with helium, and if I could untie myself from earth and fly away I would because there is nothing and noone here (not even my son, maybe at this moment especially not my son) who can fill it.

What is a man? and why would I want one?

Posted Retrospectively

Today August 29th 2012, approaching my 47th birthday I have crossed some sort of a divide and found myself in this alarming territory in which I can't see the point of being married to or being in a serious relationship with a man.

This is probably just nature's way, as at 41 I woke up and realised that I knew for sure I couldn't manage another baby. Suddenly though, men have become optional. Why? have I lost my mojo? quite possibly. But only 3 months ago I was nursing a terrible crush, so there's every possibility it will come back again... to HAUNT me.

Let's get something straight. I don't dislike men. They can be solid, dependable influences. Good looking lust worthy (but not generally after 45). They can make good decisive collegues. I've heard some are very good fathers.

Suddenly I feel about women over 45 who date men of their own age or greater somewhat how I feel about abortion. I think we all should have the right to choice, but it is not for me.

So dating has become for me something akin to having something ou love ripped out through your lady garden. This isn't a man hating diatribe, its the conclusion of a personal journey that has left me to conclude that many men are good, but they are not good for me, and here is one reason (as of 9/17/12 I've forgotten the others - as a result of this one!!)

Dating is Making me dumb. lt's not So Much the dating itself as the need to block out the appalling abuse, disrespect, personal loss, degradation and futility associated with it. My brain, it would seem, deems it necessary to block these out along with many good or important things that are happening concurrently. Thus I become chronically forgetful, distracted, unfocussed, numb and dumb.

http://www.esquire.com/features/what-is-a-man-0509

http://au.askmen.com/money/mafioso_60/98b_mafia.html

Nascent love, dead in the cradle

Oh school dad, I'm not sure if I should even give you a name. Sometimes it's better with these babies not to christen them, just give them a private burial, and noone will know they existed.

Hope without expectation?

 Given how flat and even sad I am feeling today I can only assume that my carefree hope and mindfulness was laced with some form of expectation. School dad came round to dinner, and it all went quite well, but we are fundamentally different. I got a bit tipsy and gushed about all sorts of crap then woke up feeling somewhere deep inside that I might have made a fool of myself, and this mattered.
Hope not expectation

Living in hope

At the moment I am feeling very relaxed and happy. This is due to four things

(1) Work is very quiet (so, less frantic rushing around acheiving nothing)
(2) I have managed very tentatively, and with some pain, to run again and as a result of this, and some dieting I have lost 8lbs
(3) I have joined a choir
(4) I am living in hope with respect to school dad

You've heard the old cliche it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Well, in my current untrusting place I also feel it is better to live in hope of a happy relationship emerging than to rush into things and have those hopes dashed. So it is almost like the crushes I would have at school, admiring a guy from afar for a term or more, having happy fantasies about it, but never actually acting on them and somehow getting succour from this. Thoughts of running away to be near my family have moved on to the backburner for the time being, and I am relishing the here and now with some positivity.

Dating Self Sabotage

On Friday I got randomly invited out to lunch by a single dad from Connors class (after a school event). On Saturday I dipped my toe back in the dating pond when I attended an organised cocktail party.

Now I am nursing a terrible crush on the single dad whilst fielding contacts from two men at the cocktail party, one of whom I really could never date (although he shows all signs of being a nice bloke) and the other one I mildly fancy but have so far ignored two of his calls in a cowardly way.

I think I am my own worst enemy. Two men with deliberate intentions on the dating front and one who was "just being friendly" and I prefer the "just being friendly" guy.

I spent almost a year juggling parenthood around Hamish on one occasion (I am ashamed to say) paying a babysitter $100, driving 50 mins each way just to cook him dinner and have him fall asleep after sex.  I'm not going down that path again. I don't even want to pay one baby sitter to even start out on that road. I know it is unfair to the cocktail guys but I am now judging them on past experience, I am just simply unavailable.

Single dad on the other hand I could definitely have lunch with again.

Dear Hamish

Dear Hamish

It's three months since you terminated me, and still I seem to need closure. With much therapy and subconscious homework I have come to an uneasy acceptance of the situation. I have also surmised (rightly or wrongly) that one of the most likely explanations for your behaviour* is that you met someone else. So in summary, if you have met someone else. I accept it nobly. If you are rotting in a garret, consuming yourself in self-loathing, could you please let me know that you are OK.

Fiona

*by behaviour I mean dating me, introducing me to your family and friends, buying me flowers, gifts, sleeping with me, and then suddenly after 9 months having a prick of conscience (pun fully intended) and realising I am no more than a fuck-buddy to you and really, nice as it all is, you should not be wasting my time, all washed down with a dose of "I'm in a strange place right now, I don't know how I feel, I need to find myself/some joy/inner peace" and hinting at depression.

P.S I fully expect no reply to this message and thus I conclude the following as my closure. You told me all I needed to know in the debriefing. (1) that you are just not that into me (2) that hard as it seems you were in fact doing the gentlemanly thing by telling me so (3) if you had met someone else, the story you gave me about being lost, finding life hard, needing to get your head together was aimed at protecting me.

What was less gentlemanly was acting like a partner for all those months. True, I probably would've run a mile if you had tried to negotiate FB status in which case I would not have had the fun that I did, nor the albeit artificial high of feeling that I was falling in love with you.

the things I carried

Following on from my last post, I realise there are actually two things I've been carrying about (assumptions that I have held onto) that are no use to me any more - like furry lipsticks in my handbag (or at least two things that need dealing with)..and they are kind of analogous to each other

 (1) The notion that I could marry again should I want to

(2) The notion that I could return to my country of origin (COO)

Time just ran out on me, when I was busy living day-to-day. I established that this marriage option gave me [a chance at]

a) affirmation of my attractiveness
b) being a matched pair (companionship)
c) assurance for the future.

By analogy the option to go home gave me [a chance at]

a) genuine tangible family life (initially assumed to be provided by my dear husband and any children of that bond)
b) a sense of belonging
c) practical support from relatives in a blood-is-thicker-than-water type of sense (again thought to be supplied via marriage)

Oh my goodness, those two little sublists appear to have covered just about every basic human need apart from food and shelter. Further I deduce from the dependance of a) and c) on marriage that leaving your COO as a couple puts even more emphasis/weight on the marriage bond.

I think Simon knew this it was a quite deliberate running away from his family and setting me apart from mine to improve his power over me. But that's also another story

By contrast to the option of marriage, which is reduced statistically by age, the option to return to my COO is not quite so final. I can obviously go back on holiday (but there again I can take a holiday into marriage with a short no-strings dalliance), I have not been deported from COO. Also I am only held here by parenting responsibilities. My parenting responsibilities will take me through almost to retirement. So what is left that is worth carrying? Obviously food, shelter, gainful employment, friends, health, parenting, writing, art, music and quite a few other generic non-personal things. Is this a life worth living?

Marriage - counting the loss

Marriage is a leap of faith but also a calculated risk. I don't think I was smart enough to get the big picture when I was in my early 20s. Life is too short to procrastinate over this one. You do kind of have to plump for someone, but you do have to be savvy and then quite prepared to stick at it.

I revisited the protect provide post this weekend, having heard a radio program about a piece of research claiming lads mags comments and rapists statements are indistinguishable. I was startled to hear the researchers refer to comments such as "A woman is sweet and needs protecting" as benevolent sexism. Gosh possibly when I was 20 I would have seen it that way, but I have lately become distinctly post-feminist - imagine someone wanting to either protect or provide for me! I don't think I'd know what to do with that. I am left with this legacy though, that my life plan started out with this dogged independence. Anyway there is no changing that.

When I split from Simon I must admit to a feeling that it would be possible to find a new husband, should I want to. I was 39 and still attractive. six years later it is dawning on me that this may no longer be an option. Except if I am able to make extreme compromise. To be with someone a lot less attractive than my ex husband and likely no nicer to be around. Apart from the question of why would I do that? there is a harder question that requires an unflinching answer. What have I lost in this option to be married?

Well in my case it was neither protection nor provision, nor financial security or status, nor even emotional support. (I have gained my freedom from an irrational leader who was also a selfish ineffectual fop).

By and large when I put myself back in my shoes in the heyday of my marriage, the feeling is not more, or less, isolated than I feel now, but about the same. I was overlooked, diminished, controlled and exploited and very, very lonely in my marriage.

The trouble is I am still subject to some of this from my ex-husband via connor - but that's another story

I think what I have lost is

(1) Some form of affirmation - of my attractiveness as a woman, of my ability to attract (and keep) a mate. Probably more critical as you get older,

(2) The facility of functioning as a matched pair- accepting dinner dates, reciprocating with other couples. Lovely non-threatening family parties and dinners.

(3) I have lost some sort (however false) of assurance about the future - that this person promised to, and will be, there for me if things go wrong.

Toy Boy Speed Dating

This is a little out of place, but it is something  wrote a couple of weeks ago hoping to be a guest blogger on  The Plankton



Why don't you just date younger men?


It is often put to me that what we older women need is.. younger men. The two major arguments are the carnal and the demographic.



As a colleague recently asserted across the table from several single planktons. "Women over 35 are their sexual peak, and well, lets face it, men of that age will basically fuck anything"


Whilst you choke on your chai latte, I will move onto the demographic factors. Here in Australia the Man Drought is an entrenched concept. Thanks to Bernard Salt we have the hot deflation index (HDI). Briefly, women under 34 and men over 40 have such a glut of available members of the opposite sex that they get an inflated idea of their own attractiveness. To quote;

"This oversupply of single women relative to single men, especially from the 40s onwards must have an impact on men's self perception. All that attention from women would go to their head. Where others might see a paunchy, balding middle-aged man, he sees a modern day Don Juan who is quite irresistitble to women"

I venture to add a third argument, from a personal perspective. Many of we middle aged people have not addressed our issues of self-love appropriately. Hence out there, in the dwindling bachelor market, (along with those who find themselves irresistible), are a fair number who can't commit, who are looking for others to make up what is lacking in their lives and are continually disappointed, or who using sex as a form of drug - to relieve stress boredom and self esteem issues.


So here, in a nutshell is my argument. If my ernest attempts at forming a mutually respectful pair bond with a man of my own age are going to result in basically being used as an upaid hooker, or having my investment of love thrown back in my face. I eschew the paunchy bald egotist for something younger, firmer, easier on the eye... what's the worst that can happen?


Then last week an invitation to "Toy Boy Speed dating" dropped into my inbox. I hastily crammed those lustful thoughts right back in the pandora's box where they belong reasoning that $89 (60 Quid) was way to much for such a hiding to nothing. Yet insistently, a day before the event, a half price offer came through, and my resistence and buckled in the face of mounting curiosity.


So it was that I found, paraded before me, twelve eager, good looking young men. The event certainly had a frissant borne from the spirit of experimentation. Both [sets of] parties were out to size up the market.


The clumsy chat up lines were sweet, often complimenting me on my physical attributes "you have a nice smile" or "your accent is such a turn-on". I've forgotten, but is this how we got chatted up in our 20s? no need for them to feign professional interest a woman's career, or big themselves up with oblique reference to their house/boat/bike/car/expense account?, nobody dredged up sordid details of their last horrific relationship...


But even by the time I put the keys in the door of my single girl oasis/cocoon I was acknowledging what was really going on. In putting myself forward for such an event, I was offering sex. There wasn't, and never would be any chance of a meaningful relationship there.


Within 24 hours, all the men I ticked had got back to me, asking me out for a drink. Including one whom I seriously fancy. Only one of them honest enough to say he was testing the waters and would be dating many women at once.


And suddenly, I had cold feet. I can't trust myself to treat it with the playful abandon it deserves. Part of my experience as a sexual being is a need to truly love desire and admire the person I am sleeping with. I need to respect their, and my own, human dignity.


For now at least, I think I have to accept toy boy dating as an end in itself. I paid my 30 quid and was openly chatted up and lusted after by twenty and thirty somethings for an hour or so. One walked me to the bus stop, and planted the sweetest, softest kiss on my cheek. And in that moment, I was walking on air.

Missed call (2)

I'm glad to say I can definitively classify the missed call. Its a (5). A day or two later Hamish sent me one of those Junk Mail circular kind of emails. In a day or so I responded asking if he had "Butt Dialled" me to which he replied that he had been ringing to find out how I am.

So he is trying to be my friend. I have to say this is an entirely new situation for me. I am more used to the "ignore her and she'll go away" approach from exs. Actually in truth I don't like the gray area.  I suppose whilst genuine respectful friendship would be a beautiful thing. I can see it is more likely to be a case of being held on a string and giving into sex with him if he presses the right buttons. I would really rather nothing at all.

If he rings again maybe I'll tell him what he wants to hear (reassurance and an ego boost):-

Things are pretty good, I'm keeping busy at work. I've booked a couple of holidays. Can't say I don't think about you, I still love you, but part of this is that   I want what's best for you. I really hope you find it.

Or should I tell him the truth:-

I'm pretty much existing from day to day. My life is very boring and I only booked the holidays so I have something to look forward to. I think about you every day, trying to fathom why the hell you would terminate our relationship. I miss you very badly. I haven't been able to sleep in my own bed since you left. I can't understand how I have arrived at this particular point in life. I'm at sea. If this had happened to me in my 20s it would've taken me apart

 I have just found one more (slightly contradictory) thing I wrote in relation to break ups and aging (my personal experience)

I fall in love easily, but have found since I turned 40, that  I fall out of love rather easily too. Fickle. Not a good predictor of relationship success maybe? Or else a wordly conviction that I will not be " used" and there is no point flogging a dead horse.  I had a further slightly unnerving thought this week -perhaps it is just my failing memory. Nothing is so intense these days as i simply can't remember the detail.

Three Challenges

You've heard the stories right? of people who come back from adversity? Like the man born with no limbs who climbs mountains and has a lucrative career giving inspirational talks on the lecture circuit. Well, if they can do it, why can't I? Come on cheering squad..!! there is NOTHING we can not do if we put our minds, hearts and souls to it..

…and so it is that I find myself with three independent challenges

(1) Osteoarthritis

(2) Effective parenting

(3) My career

I used to be a record breaking masters athlete - not so long ago. I loved the rush. I had no issue with training hard. No pain no gain. Well I tell you now the worst pain I ever felt in finishing up a middle distance race, is nothing compared to the pain I get just walking up stairs or lying in bed often theses days. I am only 45. Yet a little voice still says to me, with the right training, physio, pilates, drugs, surgery I could overcome this. I could be back on the track doing what I love. The bloody gruelling uphill struggle that this presents is daunting, but no doubt if I put my mind to it, I could make a comeback. It would be worth it because I would be energetic and enthusiastic again.

I have a difficult child. He is manipulative, negative and angry most of the time due to his severe dyslexia. Many parents would quit  work and devote their time to getting the best out of him. He needs a lot of help and attention. I have slipped into a fairly servile role to him. I know he is getting the upper hand and this is no good for the teenage years. Often it is motivated by just wanting to give him a rest from his life of failure, just wanting to have some FUN together. However I know this behaviour situation could be turned around with the right discipline, routine, intervention, remedial help. I know it can be done but it could be one person's life work to make this change manifest. But I am only one person, and as you see I have conflicting imperatives.

Before Kids, I was a very ambitious person and moderately successful person(not an unfamiliar story). I think many women adjust their ambition, even accept, as society does, the virtue in devoting your life to home and family when the kids come along...except I married a man who couldn't support me and then rendered me into a single parent, so by necessity I had to KEEP GOING. Sadly in my career I am stagnating. I can't seem to make the reward system work for me. My child takes so much energy away that I can't acheive what I need to, let alone what I want to. This adds to stress.What I want to know is ..

Where is the lynch pin in all this?

Time obviously appears in a couple of spaces. But time also needs to be used effectively. Its no use having all the time in the world if you squander it away worrying, blogging or blogging about worrying.

 I could find ways of getting myself more time (apart from paying someone)

• Pay someone very little...
• A favour for a favour
• Sleep less

Whilst we're on the subject of time, How the hell does one find time for a husband/boyfriend/lover? I barely have time to sort out my tupperware/knicker drawer, sugar soap those stains off the walls or trim the hedges. (I guess perhaps society or nature intended that the man would assist in all this home upkeep stuff, or even assist with the child shock horror) but I can't expect this of a new man.

"A man is not a plan"

Seemingly I can't expect this of Simon either (that's a topic for another post).

What if health is the lynchpin? Get strong, feel good about yourself. Or maybe just get medicated to feel good about yourself. There is a definite link here. Being in pain is tiring, being tired affects work and parenting.

I have long thought that my career was the lynchpin. If I can sort that out. I will raise my self esteem, make more money, be able to look after myself in my retirement, see connor through school earn more money so I can see more of my beloved family (which is another issue in here probably under health - mental health and well being)

Or maybe parenting is the lynchpin. If I get him to behave better, I will have more energy to devote to other things. He will take responsibility for his learning. (Even as I write I can see there are no guarantees here). I could put in a huge effort and he could still behave badly meanwhile I would've lost other things. I honestly am not sure if I am the right person for this particular job ('course you are you're the parent you dingbat) yes, but this requires specialised help. If I lose patience we take two steps back.

Imagine I took one challenge away, which would it be?

(a) Give up work for health and parenting?

(b) Give up parenting for health and work?

(c) Give up health for parenting and work?

I am currenting opting for (c) (a) is a popular model where a functional co-parent exists, and (b) is probably what I would like to do (ha ha!!)  - outsource parenting so I can keep fit and apply myself at work - no wait? this is what Dads do!!!

If I were to think outside the box and (a) actually give up work for a while. The families immediate well being is at stake - how to pay the mortgage? what'd I do? sell? get tenants in?

Maybe a snatch of each - take long service leave, go on painkillers and/or anti depressants and get a lodger/nanny.

Missed Call

Last night, whilst I was kid-wrangling, I got a missed call from Hamish.  In the free (brain space) moments I have had today I have come up with this list in ascending order of desirability

(7) He wants something from me: Can I fix his computer? he's in the area, can he come round for sex? Do I know someone who can give him a quote on...?
(6) The Butt Dial he accidently called me from his pants
(5) He wants to play at friendship - can he come over and fix my shelves, hedges, bathroom tiles....
(4) He realised he was too hasty in terminating me, and want to see me again
(3) He really wants to see me again and has a specific date and time in mind (not a bedroom date)
(2) He's seen a doctor, sorted out his shit, and realises he wants me back in his life
(1) He realises he loves me.

I guess if he loves me he'll call again, right?

Forty-Five (45)

 I suppose if you read this blog from start to finish you would find my love life runs in cycles, and currently I am in a trough. A giving-up sort of a trough.

If you imagined dating as you would investment, then dating after 45 for a divorced woman is a very poor strategy. A much banded statistic is that only 3% of  divorced women over 45 will re-marry (apparently I can soften this a little because it means  in any one year). However, if a woman does acheive this feat 60% of second marriages fail.

As a divorced mother of school aged children..

hiring a babysitter,
squandering precious time with these children,
introducing instability into the lives of these precious children,
following loss leaders such as the emotionally unavailable, sex addicts, free loaders and otherwise emotionally, morally or actually bankrupt....

...in the hope that you will form a meaningful (married) bond, is akin to putting your life savings into an offshore pyramid scheme. Why would you? wouldn't you read the warning signs?


Forty five is a watershed for women in many ways. I think it is pretty much the mean age where men lose interest in you in a primordial fertility based sense. We all know women who have happily re-partnered after 45 and we probably know women who have given birth in that age range as well, but they are rare.

I suppose I might assert that by the time you get to this age there is still a stock of ova in your ovaries/men in your social ambit... but of this stock only a few are viable.

Alternatively I might assert that the  reasons for this low remarriage rate is not the tragic croning of the women in question, or the lack of men, but the fact that in many cases marriage suits men better than women. Just as women frequently don't want babies over 45 many of them don't want men either. (I won't insult your intelligence by spelling out the enslavement and drudgery that bad marriage can involve)

but I do suspect that men like marriage more than women do.

 Turning to myself for a moment, the last 6 years have been tumultous and traumatic for me with a divorce, repartnering, separation from new partner and two financial settlements.

But, Knowing the facts above, I think I was entirely correct to put energetic efforts into re-partnering at 39 because at that stage there was still a chance of forming a family with someone. Now I believe that time has passed.

I think my "money" is best invested in ensuring stability and happy childhood memories for my child and intellectual and spiritual growth, physical health and emotional stability for myself.   Luckily for me being born in an age where women are afforded equal rights to men I also believe that I have the resources and am capable of this.

I'm a crone at 45, I'll still be a crone at 60 when Connor is off my hands. What's the rush to go out and repartner really? I am an attractive and amusing woman, I'm sure I'll get laid in those 15 years should I wish to.