Tuesday 24 July 2012

Let's talk about sex (and some other stuff)

Yesterday I told Ex2 about Karate Kid. 'How very grown up and civilised!', I hear you exclaiming. Erm, no not really. I had tried  to get in touch with him but couldn't so I emailed him. At work. This is why:

1. I want to introduce my new boyfriend to my friends, the majority of whom are mutual.
2. I want to go out with him. Properly. Without the fear of people seeing us. I really want to give this a go.

I felt terrible after I did this. Knowing my ex's emotionally fragile state, it was a risk and the last thing I need at the moment is a teary phone call. Last night however I had a lovely cosy dinner with said mutual friends and was reassured that I have done the right thing and actually feel pretty fab today. For the first time I can feel my shoulders relaxing and can see myself just going. with. the. flow.

To put this into perspective, I often have to remind myself why we split up in the first place. This blog so far has focused on the fun and general frippery of being single and embarking on new adventures. Sorry to put a downer on things on a sunny Tuesday chaps but a bit of context is always good.

My ex-relationship was less than healthy. I actually knew this from early on but as I saw that things weren't quite as they should be, I started to see myself as the person who could save me/him/us from the situation. I would be the girlfriend who turned things around and we would live happily ever after! Albeit very unconventionally. If I were to give one piece of advice to my younger self, it would be this: go with your gut instinct. If it looks like a racoon, smells like a racoon and walks like a racoon...it's pretty much a racoon. As a confident, professional, career driven and all round sensible young lady, I am ashamed that I let things get so bad and find it very difficult to rationalise and reconcile the person I was before and I am now, with the person I became. Three reasons:

1. I was in a verbally abusive relationship. There. I said it. I wasn't a beaten girlfriend. I wasn't a nervous reck. But at regular intervals over a 6 year period, I was spoken to in the most disrespectful way I can imagine. I was told things about myself that were untrue. I was called names that I find difficult to say out loud to myself when I am on my own. I started to believe that the things he said were true.

2. I was controlled and manipulated. In between the nastiness, I was told I was wonderful, amazing, beautiful. It was a confusing place to be in. Gradually, bit by bit, most elements of my life were adjusted to fit in with someone else's perfecting standards. From the way I unloaded the supermarket shopping to the way I ironed shirts (cringe) I was never quite good enough. I became grateful of the complements. If someone could be so nice to me, surely I was making a big deal out of the bad bits?

3. I was in a sexless relationship. Out of everything that led to the breakup, this was the major issue that ran like a constant negative force throughout the time we were together.This is something I will write more about at another time. As a woman, it is almost a taboo to admit that your partner does not want you  'in that way' but it happens. More often than you would imagine. And it is devastating. There was never any kind of intimacy in our relationship. That amazing period at the start of a new relationship, where you get to know each other intimately and basically shag like rabbits. That never happened. And as time went on it got worse and worse and my confidence sank lower and lower. According to Wikipedia, a sexless marriage means less than 10 times per year. I was in a sexless (non)marriage and it hurt a lot.

I am pleased to say I have moved on and barely recognise my former self. He has not. He is living with his parents, rejecting his friends and sinking into an all round bad place. I have tried to help. I actually felt guilty about this. So to have sent a very clear message that I am moving on is very liberating and means that he is now someone else's problem. Harsh, but given the issues I have described, more than fair. 

Monday 9 July 2012

Say no to love!

So at the moment I am NOT a lovesick lady pirate. I remain a lady pirate. I am just looking for something slightly different. Not that. Get your mind out the gutter. Well maybe that but other stuff too. I think it might be...shock horror...friendship. That's right. I want to hang out. Hang loose? Chillax? Whatever the kids are saying today. That's what I want to do. 

And for the main part, that's what I am doing. I am going to gigs, watching films, going out for lazy lunches. I am saying all of this because I have a gut feeling that my current beau (2 months in) may be on the cusp of moving things on. I remain smitten with him. Totally. 

Allow me to explain. This week I also indulged in one of my terrible habits and bought a lady-brain diminishing magazine. Let's call it Marie Claire. Ok it was Marie Claire. There was the predictably annoying article on dating. As though the entire rest of the magazine is targeted at women with fellas and us single ladies are afforded 3 pages of patronising BS about taking dating lessons. There was however one moment that rang true with me. It was about a woman, who at 31 became single. She commented at the irony of spending her 20's playing married couples whilst all her girlfriends rocked the dating scene and now they are all settling to marry, she finds herself single and apparently clueless.  

I can relate to this in some ways. Since the age of 18, I have spent approximately 12 months as a single person. I always exaggerate this if people ask me but if I am really honest, it's about 12 months. It was an awesome 12 months. After ex1, I was a mess. It was my first real experience of heartbreak and I felt as though someone had ripped my insides out.  Gradually though, the feeling of liberation crept up on me. So hang on...I can do WHATEVER I like? WHENEVER I like? And I don't have to think about ANYONE else?! Oh...and I can kiss boys at discos as well? Why didn't anyone tell me about this before? So I went out, had fun, started smoking again (just because I could) and kissed boys in discos. I slept in the MIDDLE of my double bed and marvelled at the space around me. I listened to loud music late at night on my headphones and danced around my bedroom like a loon. I also ate nothing but crumpets for 3 months. I wouldn't recommend that as a lifestyle choice but it was still kind of fun. When I met ex2 I was coming to the end of my adventure but I wasn't ready to give up the fun just yet. Eventually I was persuaded to hang my single shoes up and we got together, we moved in and pretty much played house. In all this time though, I didn't give up my independence. I was adamant that I would pretty much carry on as before, just with a man on my arm. And here's the thing. I don't want to do that again. If and when I find love again, I want to jump in, both feet and GO. FOR. IT. Regardless of what might happen. I don't want to be conscious of the single life I am giving up because I won't be giving things up. I'll be making things better. So when it happens, I want to make sure it's the right person. And that's why the thought of love terrifies me at the moment. 

Monday 2 July 2012

I sleep in the middle of my bed

I have been incredibly tardy of late and usually I would come up with myriad excuses but this time I will be easy on myself. I am in the midst of buying my ex out of our beautiful little house. This is involving bank managers, solicitors and all sorts of other nonsense. Work is a mare and this all culminated in an embarrssing mid dog walk collapsing incident last Friday. Ambulance called, I was ferried off to my local hospital, where I spent a couple of hours being poked and prodded by a lovely doctor called Ken (not literally, you understand). He even offered to fashion some shorts out of my ripped up favourite dog walking jeans. Unfortunately I had experienced a temporary GSOH-bypass and had to rely on my mum to laugh at (flirt shamelessly with) Ken to protect his lovely doctor ego.

So fainting aside, I will update you on the last few weeks. I am continuing to date my Karate Kid Tshirt toting younger man and enjoying myself immensely. He continues to label me as his 'girlfriend', which I am playing along with nicely but to be honest, it makes me feel like a silly tween. 'Partner' makes me sound like a lesbian and 'wife' may be a little overbearing at this point so I guess g/f it is. He is good at dating. Very good. We have had some gym dates (shock! horror!), dates at his house eating scones, drinking tea (YORKSHIRE, OBVS) and watching Will Ferrel films, dates at wine tasting evenings where we had a 'pretentious comment off' and then bought some slightly expensive wine. Best of all was last Wednesday. After a particularly horrendous day at work (contributing, no doubt, to faint-gate) I went over to his. We went to Didsbury, had a couple of beers in a lovely, tiny bar and then had Tapas at around 10pm in the sunshine. I genuinely felt like I was on holiday.

So, why am I still hesitant about this guy. This lovely boy, who wants to spend all of his time with me and do lovely things for me? Here goes...

Hello. My name is LK. And I am a serial monogamist.

There, I said it. I am an excellent girlfriend. Seriously. I could do this shit professionally. I give everything in a relationship. I am happy, smiley, I cook, I am good with friends. Did I mention by parent-pleasing abilities? Second to none.

What I can't do is live in the moment and enjoy the bit between casual dating and declaring my undying love to someone. The bit where we DON'T live together and, actually, that is a good thing. I don't have a 3rd gear if you like. It's all or nothing. 

On Friday when I collapsed, I wanted all. I wanted him to run to my rescue and cocoon me for the weekend while I got better. WHat I actually did was act 'breezy'. I told him not to come over as he would inevitably meet my parents. NOOO! I fear I left him rather confused to the extent that when he did call in today, briefly for a couple of hours, I was devastated that he wasn't offering to stay the week just in case it happened again. I guess what I have learned is that articulating some of these feelings now and again wouldn't be a bad thing. Men like to feel useful and needed. He did bring me flowers though. And also looked super hot to boot. 

So tomorrow I am staying off work to do some much needed house admin and I will also think about some of these things. I don't want to jump in too quickly but allowing him to be my boyfriend may be a nice start.
 

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