And, she's back (finally)

You can level many accusations at me (no, really, you can); I'm self-opinionated (and who can blame me?), I'm kind of selfish, I don't suffer fools gladly and I am useless until around 15 minutes after my tea in the morning. But the one thing I've always had going in my favour is this:

I never stay down for long.

Admittedly, when I'm down, I'm not just "down", I'm in the very depths of whatever is several layers underneath "despair". I look for answers everywhere, usually in the form of psychic phenomena and tarot readings, that's not to say I don't believe, but they seem to be rather unnervingly my source of information during my darkest hours.

Recently I sought the advice regarding my recent man (or "Duz" as I questionably christened him) from two renowned psychics. The first, a good friend, one could argue was maybe a little too much in the know, and I have to say (sorry, P....) her advice was the advice a friend would give, i.e. "go out and have a good time, let him get on with it". The second said unequivocally he was not right for me; I am at a time in my life when the only demons I should be worrying about were my own. I had too much going for me, apparently.

Both may be right in their own way. One slightly less forthright than the other, but both had an air of sense about them. I felt strengthened and resolved to follow their advice.

11.30pm Friday evening, phone beeps. It's him. Text to say he's back in the country and heading home (has been away on business in Europe). I make a staggeringly insightful comment back via text on the political situation in Russia/Georgia; he's clearly not interested and only wants to let me know he will be whizzing past my door at around 1.30am.

Aaaah. All clear. What do I do? He's not right for me, he needs far too much time to consider the commitment process, he has all these demons, doesn't he? Yet I wonder if the demons would mind just sleeping outside in the car, just for tonight?

He left at midday yesterday, and I should (by now) be filled with doubts and angst as to whether I will see him tonight. But.....nothing. I actually don't want to see him, well, not tonight in any event.

Or maybe this was simply a case of me getting used to the arrangement.

He did call yesterday teatime to make a few disparaging comments that the pain I was complaining about in my big toe was probably gout and to make reference to the fact that my stature is, well, diminutive (he is 6'3" and thinks anything below 5'10" is positively "dwarf-like")

Well, the toe feels better today, and I like my diminutive-ness; it never did Kylie or Madonna any harm as far as I can see. And as I pointed out to him last night, he can barely cope with 5'3" of me, so he should count his blessings.

Of course, when questioned on his need to take several verbal pops at me during said phone call, he told me rather predictably that it was "affectionate teasing". I told him that the only affectionate teasing I was interested in wasn't of the verbal variety.

Game to me, I think.

I'm home; thank goodness. Sense restored, "needy clingy-ness" banished. For now.

relationships

Mars and Venus??

Who has read 'Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus'?

OK, let me rephrase that; who has read it and suddenly thought "Eureka! Now my relationship will be sooo much easier, now that I understand how to relate to him/her?"

Well, I read it, I understand it, I accept it, and I am now seriously considering giving up altogether on the opposite sex! How can I alter the habits of a lifetime (needing to communicate, needing some form of reassurance, etc) to take account of how a man might be feeling, going through, etc?

How can that work? Is it Venusians who need to change (see how readily I adopt the lingo....) or do the Martians need to climb down from their stubborn steeds and do a bit of meeting on the half-way line?

My Martian is a dyed-in-the-wool, "take me as you find me" kinda guy; you've got to love his consistency (well......maybe not) and I honestly think he can't, shan't, won't change, even if he wanted to. Caving is what he does, it's an inherent part of the man.

I, on the other hand, vivacious, bubbly and ready to explore the furthest reaches of this adventure called life, to seize it by the scruff of it's elusive neck and wring every last drop of experience until there is no more, find his current state of being........well, alien. And totally Martian-like.

Maybe there is something in it after all.

Are we programmed to make to the same mistakes in our relationships, or does one need to back down for the other to be happy?

relationships

Just when you thought...

...something happens to suggest you were wrong, right?

Now I'm usually one positive, "up and at 'em" kind of girl, but lately I've been wondering if my life really is a merry-go-round, full of incidents but recurring ones, the type that give you a feeling of deja-vu?

No point in sugaring the pill here, chaps; I'm talking relationships. Those of the man-woman variety, those that look very nice on the packet but you can never get them to look like that in real life...

Following my recent Berkshire-Lincolnshire shift (from the former to the latter) I met a local man who rather surprisingly, ticked all my boxes and a few more. I say surprisingly because I never thought meeting a man of business, of my age (ish), with experience of children and who had been out of a prior marriage (and over it) for some time would be easy here- I have to say it was well nigh impossible in Berkshire, and that was with a higher head count per square mile.

He (let's call him Duz....I initially called him Big after Big in Sex and the City- no imagination....Duz is short for Duzi, which is Polish for big- there, still no imagination) is all these things and more, has an air of assured confidence about him with a touch of gravitas and presence. Very nice, and all without asking for it- I felt like I had stumbled across 6 numbers on a Saturday night.

So, it's going swimmingly well, save for the fact that.......I cannot just let things happen in their own time. I seem to want everything now, I want his unequivocal declaration of his undying love for me signed in blood along with our place in the history books reserved as the happiest couple that ever lived. But not always....hereby hangs the issue:

• When we are together, I need no such assurance. I am just happy.
• I am also happy shortly after we've parted.
• A day or two later I'm looking for problems..."why has he not called....." etc, etc
• Anytime after that I've convinced myself he is a waste of time and I should do myself a favour and get out now.

Which is a problem only if he is not attentive. I really hate admitting all this because it makes me sound needy and clingy, two labels I have tried to avoid my whole life.

So, do I weather the storm and hope that I can hold my tongue long enough for him to see all he needs to see before making a firm offer to commit? Or do I bow out?? I'm reasonably sure that men and women are such different creatures that it would be futile to think that I'm going to find all I'm looking for in the shape of just one man, so maybe I just need to be the one who commits. The one who commits to trying to do things differently this time, to taking some time out, to slow the pace down a bit.

Just when you thought you were ready to stand down, you realise actually you need to step up, and up to the mark this time.

Scrambling, Not Climbing....

Can I be the only woman of a certain age who goes out into the world, full of excitement at the possibilities lurking round every corner, only to feel an abject failure following my attempts to turn my life into something that looks vaguely normal, something that my parents will approve of?

Being the single mother of a four year old brings a level of responsibility, duty and scheduled phone calls from the father (sadly) to periodically shout at each other; it is the best and the hardest of jobs. Ben (said four year old) is a flawless diamond in an array of paste jewellery; his laughter and his incessant questions never cease, he is, unwittingly, my rock.

I remain steadfast in the knowledge that I will get back on top, it is merely taking longer than I anticipated and it is throwing me a few curved balls I'd not expected. It is showing me that there are two types of men- the ones who cannot fathom their own feelings, that unknowingly have deep-rooted issues that colour their everyday existence and that say everything is fine with such conviction that they too think it is true........and the ones who are gay.

So, in an attempt to get back on top I occasionally loose my footing and scramble to get there, rather than maintain an altogether more dignified pose as I ascend to the peak.

"Rambling, not scrambling" I can hear you mutter. And you'd be right. The reason for my malaise is lack of sleep, a list of unsatisfactory attempts at relationships and a lack of money (yes- the last one shows lack of depth and fibre.....but I am what I am and I like my pedicures and lip gloss ;-) ).

I am about to lay myself bare, to launch my history into cyberspace for judgement and to gratefully accept any morsels of advice or observation that will help me make sense of it all.

The unparalleled Carrie Bradshaw commented "“Maybe our mistakes are what make our fate"; maybe my mistakes are my paradox- excruciatingly painful and embarrassing, and yet comforting in that I was brave enough to pick myself up after making them.

People say "you only get one life". Seriously, how many would any sane person want?!