How Will I Know?

I love Autumn. After the wash-out of a summer we’ve had, it’s nice to see the season properly change and to rediscover woolly jumpers, hats and gloves. Dog walking in this weather is lovely, seeing the leaves changing colour and lauding it about in my new Hunter wellies – not a fashion statement but a necessity, I promise! They do look good though…

On Saturday I spent an indulgent night with my parents. We watched all the usual suspects on the telly accompanied by fish and chips. There’s something really comforting about being in my old house. No effort to be made and cups of tea and Kit Kats on tap. The novelty wears off after approximately 24 hours but while it lasts, it’s lovely.

On Saturday morning my mum pointed out that the wardrobe in my old room was full of my stuff and I may want to take a look through it. I obliged and stumbled across a treasure trove of photographs, diaries, love letters, mix tapes. A veritable ‘This is Your Life’ style time capsule of friends, family and lovers past and present.

In the not too distant future, I am sure I will go through it all again. In particular, there is a locked box of stuff from ex1. I was 18 when I met him and our relationship pre-dated social media. There is no electronic record of our relationship but I kept everything. Ticket stubs from our first cinema visit, empty cigarette packets, champage corks, letters, tapes, dried flower petals, his signature on stuff, guitar plectrums. A hopeless Irish romantic he wrote me letters, poems and postcards all declaring his undying love for me and his intention to be with me forever. There is no bitterness with ex1. I believed every word he said because at the time, he meant it. In the end it just wasn’t meant to be. He was the perfect first boyfriend and I will never forget what we had together.

Not so well-hidden were the cards from ex2. One from our first Christmas together in which he declared his love for me, told me this was it and that I am ‘so good for him’ he never wants to let me go. There are others, one from the Valentines two weeks before he left me, telling me how excited he was to be building a future with me. I never started a memory box for him. Maybe I knew.

Then I look at the one card from Karate Kid. We had our first weekend away together after four months and I arrived to find a card and present telling me he how the last 4 months had been incredible and he looks forward to many more anniversaries with me. This morning he sent me off to work with a care package that Paddington Bear would be proud of telling me he wants to look after me forever.

Do you see where I am going here? Don’t get me wrong, I’m a true believer that it’s better to have loved (and been loved) and lost, but at what point do you start to become even a teeny bit cynical? Karate Kid loves me. He has told me and I have no reason not to believe him. After a particularly drunken and sexy night out he even told me that he wants to marry me and have a family with me.  In all honesty, it’s probably a little early for that but whilst there’s a devil on my shoulder shouting GO FOR IT YOU IDIOT, a little part of me is taunting me with my biggest fear. That I am just unlovable. That on paper, I’ve got it going on. I can even sustain this façade for several months when I first meet someone. But once they get to know me, the illusion fades. I’m a fraud. And after 6 or 7 years! Well by that point it has become completely and utterly untenable that I may be a long term prospect.

I am not looking for sympathy here. I feel incredibly lucky that I have loved and been loved. It’s just that when I read other blogs by women my age, a lot of them seem to have found ‘the one’ and are so incredibly sure of this fact that I wonder what I have missed and, more importantly, whether I will ever have that confidence to stick with it and believe that it’s not all going to go up in flames. How the hell do you know?

I'll be there for you...or not

There was an article in Grazia recently (I know, I know) about being single. How you are left out of 'couply' weekends and how others view you with suspicion. How single people living alone spend, on average, an extra £5K per year. How there is a general perception that being in ANY relationship is better than being in no relationship. *yawn*. Honestly, these things kind of bore me. As a responsible adult, I am quite capable of living alone, making friends with people who invite me on their weekends regardless of my relationship status. Or am I?

I moved back to my hometown at the age of 26. Up until then I had lived in my beloved university city, blissfully happy and with no plans to ever leave. I would get married there, my kids would grow up there and I would grow old there. It wasn't just my city though. It was mine and ex1's city. We grew up there together. We moved from student halls to student houses to slightly nicer places and finally a lovely home there together. When we split up, things suddenly felt bittersweet. I needed a change. I started to spend more time back home with my folks and one of my best friends from school. The only one who'd stayed. Various things made me return. On a particularly boozy night out, I met ex2. The job I had once loved had become a chain around my neck. I missed my family. So I did a moonlit flit. It was unnerving at first but felt exciting, fresh, a new start. My best friend happened to meet ex2's close friend that same night and everything fell into place. I had a ready made friendship group. All 11 of us.

Do you watch Friends? That was us. A big love in to the exclusion of all others. Nights out, birthdays, holidays...we did it together. Some of us in couples, some single...who cared? It was ace and I loved it. Not one for cliques, I was often on the periphery. I was Phoebe if you like. There were a couple of times when these friends were the only reason I ploughed on in a relationship that was fast going downhill. My best friend got engaged, married, started trying for kids. I gradually got left out of those conversations. People just knew things were bad.

So finally, when I plucked up the courage to leave, I was deeply relieved to hear these same friends affirming I had done the right thing. He could never give me what I needed. I deserved better. It's a strange thing when someone's best friends tell you you're better off without the person that they love so dearly. Most of them said that anyway.

My best friend has always been high maintenance. Hyper sensitive and massively change averse, she struggles with my up front bolshiness and blind ambition. I love her like a sister. I knew she'd have to see my ex after the split but surely her loyalties would lie with me. Our friendship pre-dated any of our relationships. We are Monica & Rachel. I was wrong. She was quiet from the start. I remember a boozy day in Manchester just after it happened. Breaking down over cocktails and admitting some of the bad stuff. Then it went quiet. She was busy at work. There were no phone calls. No visits. I was completely lost. Stupidly, I had thought that I was over things. I was not. Those weeks and months seem like a blur now but I was a mess and all I needed was my oldest friend. She went away on a pre-arranged weekend with my ex. I graciously ducked out but there was no discussion about it. No acknowledgment that the situation was weird. I gave her the benefit of the doubt. It was tough for her too...right? I met Karate Kid and was desperate for her to ask me about him. Nothing. She was actually getting the skinny from one of our less discreet friends. Our meetings became stinted and awkward. I spoke frequently to her voicemail but no call back.

Then she relocated across the pond with her husband's job. She needed my advice and for the first time in a long time, we spoke openly and I felt some of the bond return. The week before she left, we had dinner. The cocktails did their work and we were laughing and joking like in the old days. Suddenly she looked awkward and told me that they were actually having a leaving do. On Monday. But she was very sorry, they had invited my ex. An embarrassing silence ensued and to end it, I mumbled that it was fine, I had plans. I later found out that all of our friends would be there. Her family, his family. Everyone but me. It was bad.

Two weeks ago, things came to a head. After a disastrous holiday with a mutual friend, I finally plucked up the courage to confront her, albeit on the phone. She was defensive. Said I was very difficult to support. That she had found MY break up very difficult. That she had found it worrying that I was so mad at my ex. That she felt I had embarked on a new relationship far too quickly. That she thought there was something I wasn't telling her about Karate Kid. Basically it was all about her. Turns out my reaction to heartbreak did not conform to her expectations. My desire to move on was, apparently, deluded. The support I had seen from other friends was not genuine but designed to make me feel better. For her, my being in a verbally abusive, negative relationship WAS better than no relationship at all. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that her reaction has been almost as painful as the break up itself. It has knocked my confidence. I have questioned my other friendships.

As a responsible adult, I can move on. I have realised that I don't need to rely on her for access to my lovely, supportive friends. They've been there all along. It has however made me question peoples' reaction to my single status. Being in a relationship, ANY relationship is a validation. Is being single and happy the modern day taboo? Discuss.