Timing

For the first time in my life I have a psychologist to talk with. Our discussions have been mostly about sorting out my financial and working life. On Thursday after not seeing her for a month, I gave her an update. With two job interviews, a new business plan for the shop and my overall improvements in general, it was a good catch-up. One topic we had not covered as yet & that was my love life. Over the last month I’ve developed a relationship with Voice Man. On the scale of ‘how good’ it’s pretty up there. I just love Virgo Men. They are funny, witty, kind, know how to cook & have a stability to them that calms me.

TypeASuperFit is also a Virgo, so is my best male friend & a few previous ones over the years….all can cook & chat & are fun. I don’t go looking for them..it’s just what I attract. The only problem is timing.

TASF was recently separated, a 5 year marriage, no kids and his wife cheated. He is still pretty ‘out there’ . When we first went for coffee, he said, ‘Cat, you tell me what you want, I’ll go and get the papers, do the ordering, you just sit there. I like doing this part” Those words thrilled me. What he wanted to do, was what I like receiving. We laughed all morning as a result of this perfect understanding.

Voice Man is also recently separated, has two kids and while he’s not ‘out there’ sexually, like TASF, he is still exploring the world of friends and inner city life, along with Friday nights with friends. Less commitment to the family and more about him.

The problem is he is too recently separated. It’s only six months. He’s only just developing the separate father role, the newly single role, the man with freedom role.

His birthday is next week. He’s having a party at home & he’s not sure about me coming along. The ex will be there along with their common friends. As he said, some people will feel there’s not enough mourning period before the next relationship.

I haven’t meet any of the friends and also don’t want to go. For reasons of first introductions & explaining the relationship, I’m not ready. So I talked to the psychologist about it. “As you’ve only just meet, in the last 4/ 5 weeks, his birthday has just come at the wrong time”, she said. ” It’s not necessary to be with him and vice versa. If his birthday was in a few months you are better prepared to be involved. Do something else for his birthday, separately, if you want.”

I agreed and the answer was right for me & I’m sure he’d be happy to hear it too, thus solving everyone’s dilemma.

Only problem is Voice Man has done the disappearance act. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since Tuesday (it’s Saturday morning) although I left a message on his phone. I don’t feel right about this. After having such a huge night & then absolutely no contact.

Maybe it’s all too early for him, does he need a bit more ‘mourning’ time? Sort out his ex, his kids, his friends and let him have his single man time.

So, if you’re reading this, Voice Man, I’d rather quit now, before it’s too deep, before you realise you need more time for yourself & regret moving on so fast. Happy Birthday for next week. See you in the future.

(the first ever break-up via blog?)

Me or My Emotions?

Am I just better at sex, or does the other person contribute to the enjoyment?

Had a late night phone call from TypeASuperFit. “I’m awake, but why are you awake? ” I answered. “Now, Cat, don’t be like that! ” “There’s only one reason why you are calling me at 11:30pm on a Thursday night” “Can I come over?”

“No way, besides I don’t need it from you. I’ve got a boyfriend”

“That’s great”, he said, “You deserve someone, No really I’m happy for you. You know I can’t give you that. Who is he?”

“You don’t know him. He’s in the film industry, he’s younger - that’s how I like them & he’s really good…the other night we had absolutely no sleep”

“That’s great, you know I was with this girl the other night & it was really bad, like nothing. You know you’re great Cat. ” (his flattery is accepted!)

“It really depends if you get along, the old ‘connection’ issue. The more you trust and are open, the better it is. It’s hollow otherwise”

‘You’re so right. Can I ask you for help, seriously ? “

“Dr Cat’s advisory service?, so long as you call during office hours! “

So why is each experience so different? It’s not about what you are, but how the both of you are together. Do you trust, do you get each other, kind and funny & silly together. ? have these & get better sex as the reward

Purple Patch

“You’re having a Purple Patch” said a friend recently when I downloaded my week. My cousin used the same word yesterday. It’s freaky when a word starts back in circulation. Which meaning should it take ? A bunch of flowery prose? Purple bits of fabric to enhance my social standing (only if I was a Roman) or a series of events both romantic and life changing that occurs in a cluster.? I’ll use the last one.

Tuesday was ‘Replacing the Rabbit’ day (below)

Wednesday was an interview at a Web company (I’m thinking of changing jobs) and the night was a Web 2.0 debate with the eloquent and knowledgeable Polly.

Thursday was an overhaul of the shop. We changed our whole business plan & this lifted everyones spirits. Nothing like turning your working life around in one go. It was a great day but I was so tired ! Was waylaid by an old friend recently back from overseas for dinner and drinks.

Friday was more work serendipity. The changes of yesterday brought another opportunity through the door. Things were falling into place. That night another attempt at going home early turned into dinner with Petal’s visiting sister, Liz. We had a disagreement over Facebook at dinner. Liz was fining her staff for every hour over the agreed limit on Facebook. One staff was near a $1,000 dollar fine. She runs a PR company & that alone was enough for me to determinedly point out the benefits of allowing staff to network and socialise on Facebook. I’m quite passionate about social networking (like blogs etc) and believe this phase of the Internet, with such dynamic content, is the most interesting. Liz quite liked being stood up to & started confiding all sorts of personal things to me later that night.

Resting all day Saturday in order to pull myself together for Edith’s birthday. I felt like a big fat alcoholic hefer. Marilyn came by in a hire car for the 40 min journey to Edith’s house. We drank a bottle of bubbles in the car & 5 hours later continued drinking on the way home after Edith thrust a ‘traveler’ (a bottle of sparkling shiraz) in our hands.

Oh Lord, what a week ! I finished a cigarette on my balcony at 1am, still sipping the shiraz. I looked out at the lawn. Eight months ago the body corporate taped off the lawn to help the grass. All I could see was restrictions. Sectioning off grass? it’s been months & the grass is fine. I wanted to do something right then about it.

I changed into a large coat, put on a hat, grabbed the kitchen scissors and jumped the wall to the garden. Snipping the plastic tape from every post I dragged it all to the bin. The lawn was free at last ! Jumping back into my apartment I proudly viewed my work.

Several hours later I felt the rush of acid. I had seconds to get to the bathroom, ripped back the toilet seat & shouted down the porcelain line. Managed to brush my teeth after that, somehow.

Who am I ? a 40 year old alcoholic wastoid? No. I’ve had enough of this type of life. Time for an overhaul. Summer is on it’s way. I want to swim, do exercise, stop smoking, reduce the drinking, enjoy my work…. just change a few things ! !

Yesterday I hung out with my favourite cousin, Tash and her two kids. We danced to Elvis, told stories, drank pots of tea and ate cheese and tomato sandwiches. From there was another interview with a prestigious advertising company. There was no specific job on offer, just a recommendation via Edith. The contact person sat down, put her business card on the table. She’s the Managing Director. I took a breath & just told her about my passions, showed the portfolio of work & after an hour she offered me a job.

I’m shit scarred about this job & glad I am. It’s a good sign. Being scared means I care, means I want to try & also means changing my life (from a health perspective) will happen. There’s a few more weeks while we talk about the offer. More people to meet & more work to do. But I want it so badly. I’m scared but excited.

What else can this ‘purple patch’ deliver? seeing Voice Man tonight he’s coming over to cook dinner (love a man who cooks)

Replacing the Rabbit

You exist for so long on temporary pleasures, band-aid solutions & being resolved with what's on offer at that moment. You begin to wonder if it gets any better & if past pleasures are an exaggerated fantasy. Say you've been drinking Australian Champagne & then drink a glass of French. The taste is infinitesimally better. Each sip is explosive. You drink carefully not quickly, the whole experience is altered from just getting squiffy to being possessed by the liquid.

So it goes with sex. Each experience can be pleasurable; you learn enough about yourself to discover how to do this but it's a band-aid. A quick shot in the arm of skin & desire. We have needs, as humans, to have such contact with others. TypeASuperFit is my quick and only shot in the last year. He finds pleasure in my lack of other lovers, believing he has a unique power to satisfy.

Tuesday night I caught up with Voice Man. Our third date. The conversations and discoveries are so much fun, that time slides by, so I knew it would be a guaranteed good night. Mental preparations were surprisingly sparse. I thought only of the night ending with a pash in the car and maybe creating a little window condensation.

In a simple way, we get each other. Word plays, silly laughter, cheekiness & trivial knowledge as personality attractions. There's something really solid about him. Whereas I get flustered and loose all sense of decision making, his presence calms me.

I will blame the toilet door. Seated next to this draughty door at the restaurant encourage us to leave dinner earlier than expected. Carrying the half finished bottle of wine home, the suggestion was to finish it on my new deck - under the outdoor gas heater.

Slowly falling into each other arms after a good hour of silly chatting we almost fell off the couch pashing. He said, "this is your house you tell me what to do". "Well", I said " we can go inside to my room, but no hanky panky!" Voice Man is a rule breaker, quelle surprise. Maybe I'm not good at enforcing them ?

For the next hour I held out. "Underpants stay on!" I demanded. "It's a Tuesday night!" I tried to explain, "I got a wax this morning & I've still got bits of wax on me!".

"I'll do whatever you say, I can be a gentleman" he responded as he stroked and inspired me to break all my rules. This man knows how to touch, to bring your skin back to life. Everything he did worked. He could hold and lift and touch and move like in perfect choreography. Unlike something taught it was a naturally synchronised elevation of desires.

In short, dear reader, after many years of bad sex, I had a night of fabulous sex, thrice. No sleep, who cares ? ! We even saved water by showering together in the morning.

That wonderful rumpled bed hairstyle, smug smile & over-heated skin was the souvenir of the long night of action.

And strangely I'm not worried about where it's going. It's good, he's good & I'd say we are both making each other happy. That's enough for now.

The rabbit is replaced.

Voice Man found this blog yesterday & read it (will read this post too) ...my greatest fear has past. Hello you!

White Unicorn

A White Unicorn is a mythical rare beast. In Sydney girl speak, it's that rare man who is ready and primed for a relationship. The timing button has been pressed , the issues dealt with and he's ready to be released for set-ups and parties.

When a White Unicorn comes to visit or is introduced to you, as has happened a few times recently, the crowd parts and you are left with The Unicorn to examine his Relationship Readiness. Not that you haven't been given a vast set of notes on his desires, tastes, a few quirks and googled him prior, by the keepers of The Unicorn (our common friends). He appears remarkably at ease with probing questions, speaks eagerly and longingly of his nieces or children of friends, tells stories of weekends spent in wineries or out sailing, then mentions a piece of furniture he's bought for his house, uninhabited by others, just him, he pointedly hints.

The night goes well, eye contact is consistent, events in the future are proffered for potential coupling. "Would be great to catch-up sometime" he says "Do you have a card? " And your mobile number is simultaneously clicked into his phone. Everyone holds their breath as this action occurs, is it success?

I think it's all a rouse. To get the monkeys off his back. To tease the friends and allow them some set-up satisfaction. He's really a serial unicorn. He loves this attention from friends, a mix of pomposity and sympathy as well as being introduced as the Guest Unicorn of Honour.

Somehow the man who is so-called ready is not. The hunt for a mate is his, not others. No-one likes a walled garden...he wants to be free to roam to find a mate for himself. The captive prey is not as desirable as one he has to chase.

A new toy

It's sitting in my bottom drawer, wrapped in a towel. Can you guess what darling TJ bought for me? my first vibrator. It's purple & has pearls inside the lining, plus a rabbit thing on the outside. Edith bought it in Canberra on her last trip. Apparently they are heaps cheaper there...along with fireworks and dope. A strange benefit for living in the world's most boring capital city.

You have to clean it first - take away the plastic residue. Luckily I had disinfectant wipes from the India trip and then purchased lubricant.

The night I meet Voice Man was the first time I used it. I was a little wired up & this is what it's for. I thought it was so big & once I hit the button it was not silent..like an electric toothbrush. Prehaps I need a Ipod speaker system for further noise diversion. How do you dress for this occasion? I had my nightie on...pyjamas would be wrong. Lights or no lights? how do the buttons work again ? back, forward and swinging side to side. whirr, whirr, rumm, rumm... just like an episode of Top Gear. Think there' s too much lubricant. Oh, now I have to move it around.. the battery action can only do so much. Just like a toy, half the fun is the imagination you apply to the game. Luckily I have such an imagination.

Who can this purple rabbit be ? Voice Man, Type A Super Fit , or the Mysterious Stranger ? Madonna's song, Beautiful Stranger started playing in my head crossed with a version of Harvey the 6ft Invisible Rabbit. (played by Jimmy Stewart, oh, don't think about that)

I could just fall asleep now, just like a bad fuck... would that damage the ego of Mr Purple Rabbit? how long would the batteries last? Mr PR is only as good as I make him be.

The good thing is there's no cleaning up afterwards. I just chucked him on the ground and went to sleep.

In the morning I found a little dark patch under him on the carpet. I'd forgotten to put the lid back on the lubricant & it spurted out. I didn't miss out on the wet patch after all.

juggling continues

I'm a whirlpool of men and dating opportunities. There's no panic; just seeing how each date/ conversation pans out. For instance The English Indian (TEI) was interesting for about 2 dates. We played scrabble on Facebook for days ( I won 2/3) we emailed and talked. You know when you are just keeping a conversation going to fill in time? it was that energy.

After having lunch on Monday with TEI, listening to him blab on about his dogs for 20 mins, I had the clunk moment. The 'I'd rather be alone than here with this person' moment.

Type A Super Fit is overseas skiing in New Zealand currently, since he wont' give me a relationship, and now I've mastered the technique of simultaneous dating, I don't need his games....another dating dilemma sorted.

My dating life has now improved with Facebook. Two more old boyfriends are in my network. One is really cute & still single. We've been facebook messaging for a few days now and yet the before 40 Cat would have angled for a drink or catch-up, the After 40 Cat is just happy to converse, keep the intrigue going.

The biggest surprise is the blind Facebook date. A spontaneous message came from a bloke who also wrote 'Church of the Poison Mind' as his religion. There were only two of us in this 'church' according to Facebook. I read his profile, saw a few images & just kept up the messaging. There's a way someone uses language that appeals to me.. the references or usage is interesting or similar. My facebook bloke used the word 'squiffy' for 'get tipsy or drunk' . To me 'squiffy' reminds me of Blackadder. Queenie would ask Blackadder if he wanted to 'get squiffy'. I love this word & his use of it incited many responses culminating in an agreement to meet.

(squiffy becomes sozzled then finally smashed, for those who like to conjugate a verb)

I'll have to call him The Voice Man, because he has that deep mesmerising tone. In fact he did a voice over for a short film at Tropfest. Strangely I had seen it recently and noticed his voice.

Voice Man was leaning against the bench waiting. He was sweeter looking, cuter and warm when I met him. I had to do an cheek kiss, because I wasn't shocked I was delighted he was nicer in the flesh.

We talked non-stop. Drank champagne (he did too!). Liz joined us for a hour, before voicing her approval..and to him when I went to the bathroom. She did the 'my friend is fabulous' in a slightly threatening manner on him, bless her.

Before we knew it the pub was closing. He wanted to walk me to my car, we stopped outside my work & admired the swimsuits in the window, talked more & the lunge happened. I was living in his eyes and had to visit his lips. This pash made me happy...some pashes turn you on, but this was a happy pash. We said good bye & this smile just overtook my face. I think I slept with that smile.

his facebook comment for the next day was Voice Man 'is smiling'

facebook

Apologies for not posting, even though heaps has happened, I've been obsessed by Facebook. For those who don't know this site...be warned! it's addictive. I've found so many friends, old boyfriends and just people in general. You can lurk around and play with games, applications, see what everyone is up to. As a web tool it's had an incredible impact on many people I know so the whole experience is not in isolation... for some reason we have all taken to this site in a swarm & that's precisely what makes it interesting.. that so many people you know are there.

Okay... you know when it rains it pours? well it's a virtual flood, a damn bursting wall of dating activity. Facebook has something to do with that too. I poked an old flame, TypeA -Super Fit.
A 'poke' is a facebook term for saying 'hello'. Cheeky but cute. The poke turned into a few texts, then phone calls at 10pm on Friday night. I madly cleaned up the house, lit candles and then put on sexy underwear including the black lace-trimed stay up stockings.

Why was I inviting him over again ? I needed it. And that man makes me do things. He enlivens me & we have fun. His muscular body is also slightly appealing.

The next night I meet an old friend in the pub...lots of discussions about relationships while watching the Bledisloe cup (australia lost :-( ) .

Meanwhile on Facebook I attracted someone & we are in email contact.. it's seems harmless? !

Then on Sunday I walked and lunched with a guy from RSVP. He is incredibly sweet & funny & is English of Indian origin. Not on my radar..but he's so easy to talk too. Five hours went very quickly & nice to do day-time non-drinking stuff.

Meanwhile on Ebay, my auction of some shoes was attracting attention. On advice I modelled the high-heeled shoes, as had had too many emails asking what they look like on.. An email question came through...'nice legs, sexy even'.

By Sunday night I was EXHAUSTED. 3 men in 3 days, one on facebook & email contacts. Plus text messages flying all around.

Normally I would panic. I would feel guilty having to split my interest & think it was my decision to make, or I should tell them I am seeing other men, albeit socially. But each of these guys is appealing to me in different ways. I can't make a decision. So this time I am just going to keep going...see what happens.

My multi-tasking skills are being exercised in a situations I didnt' expect. Havent' had time to read HP 7 too!

Follow through

That was the topic of the party. As I'm the expert of dating (even though I'm single) conversations are now centered on such issues. It's about being purposeful, especially at a party and seeing if there are any opportunities for flirting. There always are ..you just have to remember to do so & forget all your business niceties...don't shake hands, instead do the air kiss...be playful, dress well, look your best, smile & be interested in people...avoid heavy conversations & especially people who want to tell you long intense stories of broken dreams.

We all tend to rely on skills we are good at, and maybe too good at avoiding what we are unhappy with. Pete's 40th on Saturday was a perfect example. Pete is recently single. The last time we all met he bored everyone with a misery guts story of breaking up. Like me he was probably having issues with turning 40. Marilyn & I prepared by drinking the Moet (my present from MR BV) before arriving.

Pete was smiling. He was the great host, the proud 40 yr old, surrounded by family and friends, slapping backs and greeting us with true delight. I love seeing people's parents too. His mum's silver grey hair was in an elegant chignon, the dad was like a cute professor who chuckled as he spoke. I'm one of those sucky people who talks to the parents.

There's the moment when you look around & see people you never expected. Being a Sydney person my prior lives with other boyfriends or work comes back to me at such events. The connections were discovered as we asked the 'how do you know Pete ' question.

Mr Bv's friends, TCPP & The Englishman were both there. These two are lovely boys. I've never seen them with a girlfriend, but they always turn up to events, behave well, send thank you emails & generally fill the 'single-boy-quota' at parties. It was The Englishman's turn to ask me more flirting stories. The emphasis was on the follow through. He's a tall blonde English man. Beautifully dressed in a pin-stripe suit & soft purple shirt, he looked really smart. Not my cup of chai but he's been sniffing around some friends with no results. He has the best manners, but never initiates anything physical. He turns up for long chats & organises get-togethers. In short he doesnt' even get to the pash stage. As Marilyn says not even any 'hanky-panky-pants-on' fun.

The EnglishMan & I sat in the corner, out of the freezing wind. It was time for the talk. Like any of us, we've been hurt.." Why", I said, "are you still affected after 5 years? stop being so sensitive and stiff." My bossy self was coming through.
"After a while I can't see the relationship being the one, so I stop"
"Not even a kiss?"
"No" he replied.

"You can't know how a relationship is always going to play out" I explained " I've been so sure sometimes & three weeks later, he's a nut-job ..othertimes someone will grow on you & it's better than you predicted"

"The problem now is, TEM. You've shut off your physical side. You're stiff and lost interest in playfully touching someone." Very conveniently TCPP came by. "TCPP here loves a good playful clutch" I said recalling TCPP's boob & bottom grabbing at my party. I put my arm around TCPP & gave him a squeeze.

"TEM, near the end of a night, my friends are often lying on the couch, having fun conversations, giving hugs and being affectionate, in a friendly way. We all need the touch, it keeps you alive. So put you arm around me, we're friends and keep talking."

We all know how nice it is to sit back, be comfortable with friends and just talk? I'm on a campaign to have more of it.

Looking over at the Bar was MrBV. He was at it again. Hocking into some girl. He'd only been there a few hours, as he'd come from a wedding. He's like a kissing street performer.

TEM and I just shook our heads. "he's at it again, he can't help himself" he said.

By now it was almost 3am & his lift home was leaving. I gave TEM a last hug & said, 'Try this again, with someone else...don't be afraid of being affectionate..it's nice isn't it?"

I'm such a good love coach, as I walked home, perfectly alone.

He texted 'thanks' the next day.

Femininity

Finally shedding any sense of being a tomboy, being a 'mate' to my male friends & dressing in a neutral way, in flat shoes, trousers & being covered up. The androgynous fashions of the early 90's had us going to gyms to be muscular, wearing man-style suits & general baggy clothes. Wearing a dress was unusual, unless it was a classic LBD, which was worn with black stockings and tailored jackets. I look at all my work photos of this time & I look so boring, so corporate and I loved wearing navy & brown.

Perhaps it was an insecurity to look older & responsible. I lost my femininity, my love of clothes and dressing. With the re-interest in second hand clothes tantalisingly re-badged as 'vintage' I rediscovered my love of the unique, the finding and seeking of dresses and accessories. Yesterday I wore my favourite jumper, found for $5 at Bondi Markets. It's black and yellow and features a giraffe. Worn with straight jeans and ankle boots, I felt more myself & my creativity than I have for a while.

I really want to look like a woman. Heels, salon hair, make-up, french perfume & the other night I wore those lace rimmed stay-up stockings. Gosh it was easy to use the bathroom too! no hitching and re-adjusting ! Perhaps the resurgence of Burlesque and lacy flirty femininity is better for us. A bit of body fat, curves and white skin is easier for me to achieve than spray-tanning my whitey skin, using some device to a bad exercise video & wanting to exercise all the curves away. I'm even showing some cleavage..my final exposure barrier.

This weekend is Pete's 40th, and I really want to look alluringly feminine, classy, seductive but with a Katherine Hepburn/ Lauren Bacall edge. Using the 1940's style to be in my 40's? looking forward to it.

Silliness

Silliness is important. You have to jump around, sing badly - but happily, clap out of time & feel exhausted from dancing at the end of the night. I did that twice on the weekend. The first night was expected. Skye, Amanda & I went to an 80's concert at the local workers club. As you can see from the image, they have bad carpet & cheap drinks. Three die-hards were determined to be up the front...thanks, but they're not us.

The line up was Uncanny X-men, The Models, Machinations, Shantoozies & Kids in the Kitchen. All local Australian bands who were 'big in the 80's'. The cost? $20. bargain.

Saturday night was a French film called "I Do'' with Marilyn and Mand. Highly recommended. Afterwards it was time to de-brief our week at the local pub. Bottles of champagne and chips were ordered and the pub was full of various spunks all alternating between watching the Rugby (Aust vs South Africa) and each other (this includes myself)

Mand had lent me 'The Game' by Neill Strauss, about the world of pick-up artists. It took two days to read & I fascinated by the method of picking up in bars. In summary you ask a group or person (who you want to talk to) an opinion question...to settle an argument & then go back to your friends. The idea is you started talking but didn't hang around. Inevitably they will want to talk more, find out the response, etc & then you are all talking.

Edith had arrived by now & in her refreshingly straightforward way, suggested the question to be whether a guy would be freaked out to find his girlfriend was bi-sexual. Interesting, suggestive and controversial.

We stopped one bloke as he walked past, excuse me, we said, we'd like a man's opinion on something...The question was asked (we tried not to burst with laughter) He pursed his lips, said something about how he's from the country & didn't know how to answer. His friends looked at him & started advancing on our table. We soon had all three of them talking to us.

Once the dynamics of the room shifted, it was like a kaleidoscope effect. Everyone started talking to each other. We felt empowered to talk to different groups, in fact people wanted it that way. I was talking to a divine guy from NY, Reid, he had such seductive eyes. Using the 'how old are you really' routine, I asked to see his drivers license. Luckily Edith was there to help me read it, my eyes were a bit wobbly by now. 1976? that made him 31, almost (a libran too)..if only he lived in Sydney, such a nice looking boy. The nine year age difference is still a touchy point with me, but I am learning to let that issue go. Just not interested in flings.

Suddenly closing time arrived & Edith luckily drove me home...I was a little too wound up doing so much social dynamics. It was 3am.

A successful weekend? I've learnt to pick-up, talk to boys, be demanding & still go home intact. There's another 40th this weekend...more games to play? MrBV will be there & TCPP. At one point our social dynamics will form into some kind of relationship; hopefully. I think I'm giving myself the best chance to meet someone, not be shy & not just talk to the chatty dags.

romance

No, I haven't bounced back that quickly, but have made a small significant discovery. Must have read somewhere about a film called 'Notebook'. That it's a lovely romantic story. As it happened I got an offer from Bigpond Movies (my service provider) with a 6 week free DVD trial. You just order them on-line and they arrive in the post.

The first 4 to arrive included Notebook and a Katherine Hepburn. Sunday was a cold winter's day & before I knew it, had a cup of tea, my ugg boots on & a blanket. I have an enormous sense of guilt watching films at home during the day. I should be outdoors in the fresh air, getting pink cheeks and enjoying the winter sunshine.! bugger that. I need something else. The previous night I saw the Paris Opera Ballet, one of the great ballet companies of the world. I was mesmerized watching the physical yet elegant movements of their bodies. My brain switched gears & my limbs reacted in rubbery approval. Culture does tame the beastly mind.

(note: we ran across to the pub after the performance to watch the Wallabies win against the All Blacks! high and low culture is good for you)

With the ballet as mental champagne, I needed to extend that feeling & watch a romance film.

Notebook soothed me & revived me. Too much of the West Wing's political grown-up dramas, CSI's forensic analysis & reality manipulations on TV have blocked my hope: the genuiness of the Notebook story was like a huge bubble bath for my mind & body.

Do I believe in romance again? I am ready to think so. That's my breakthrough.

control

Who is ever in control of that battle - the heart vs their head ? love makes you go spastic. Desire thwarts sense. They say women are peacemakers, anti-war & should be in charge of armies. We have the inner war going on all the time. The battle over desire, justification, common sense, self-esteem and happiness. Constantly plotting and analysing what the hell I should say, do, act...does HE LIKE ME OR NOT issues.!

My heart enjoyed kissing MrBV. The gentle affection and perfect fit made my heart sing. My head, experienced in his fey charm, knew it was a glitch in his romantic patterns.

So I did what my ego demanded. What therapists say you should do. My heart wanted to be free of the anger...so I did something not unfamiliar to an overwrought teenager in hormonal torture. I wrote him a letter.

Enjoying the sound of the keyboard as I pulled out the words. Watched them take a stand, highlight the events of our meetings and show how I was justified in feeling something for him, but asking for a final comment. 'this is how I have to deal with it' I wrote to him. 'Stay single, MRbv, and I'll go away'.

The beauty of my thoughts on that glowing page. Here was a summary of the back and forward of my emotions with him. I wanted him to know I found it hard to keep dismissing my desire for him. That I had done well up until the night of the party, the night of our first pash. Because, unfortunately it felt bloody good.

I wrote the letter in the morning. The words came together via the night's sleep. By the afternoon, and a bottle of bubbles with Liz later I decided to send it to him. I always think you can deal with that stuff later in the day.

Sending the letter as an attachment, I wrote.
subject line: ????
"instructions: print the attachment. read, then toss. burn or delete.. whatever you think fit.
yours. cat "
time: 5: 13 pm

The reply came back at 5:38pm

"All I can say is I think you are a wonderful girl, I never meant to hurt you and I would never intentionally do it. I am sorry that I have. I did not mean to lead you on.
The night of your birthday I didn't plan what happened, it just happened and I enjoyed being with you. I want you to be happy"

my reply
"thanks. just needed to know something. cheers, cat"

and finally from him
"Just one more thing, I don't give out bottles of Moet to everyone, I just say things like that because I get embarrassed giving presents."

(he said to me 'I give this to everyone' when he presented me with Moet... I now realised I was being dumb & should have teased him on that.... I was playing too sensitive)

Sending the letter did work. I emptied myself of him. Not quite ready for anyone else yet...but I'm closer to being ready for someone.e

continuing on

It's only been a week since my birthday party. We've rebuilt the kitchen island (like the 6million dollar man) it's better and stronger than before. There is some cake left in the fridge (with a knife on the plate next to it) Four bottles of French Champagne are proudly displayed along with all the cards & pressies. Having the party at home has extended the sense of the night. I see my home thru the good times of friends.

The past weekend was a continuation of my determination not to be bothered by MrBV & his lack of initiative. He cancelled our meet at the Art Gallery due to work. Maybe I should rename MrBV - The PartyPasher ?

Saturday night was two parties. The first, a wig party, although only a hour in attendance, I so enjoyed trying to dress the curly pink wig borrowed from Louise...you just pile on the make-up & go crazy with accessories. Afterwards I kept the wig on for Thierry's housewarming..."Didnt' you say this was a wig party? " as I greeted him in the costume. Not sure what his mostly French friends thought when I pulled out the iPod, and started dancing with a plastic chair. .... some nights you just dont' care. I'm not harming anyone...not misbehaving...just making people do things they really want to..secretly.

I really think my anti-depressive drugs are making me a hyperactive exhibitionist. Not the flesh baring type but 'lets all have fun' type.

Speaking of the depression. It's been about 6 weeks now. The drugs have definately kicked in & a cushion is protecting me from thinking badly of myself. My other worries: starting with finances, need to be sorted. Tomorrow I meet with my lovely doctor & we are putting in Medicare forms to help off-set the costs of professional help.

oh, and the most interesting person to contact me from RSVP is a 23yr old physio. Everyone else is too slack to organise a coffee meet.

And the walls came crumbling down...

I won't say how I know & it's only because my friends really love me & don'' want me to be hurt, but MrBV is over for me. He's been doing a lot of flirting and kissing of other girls in his obsession network. Others like me who are happy with some attention & have all recently experienced a more physical moment with him.

I was fine to start with...you know when you take such news calmly and gradually over the day you get angrier and angrier? As more evidence came to light, the slow glow of my experience suddenly lit like an airport at night & reality landed.

Everyone from the party has emailed or phoned their thanks, offered to pay for the damaged kitchen too, all except one person. The Monday email from me has gone unanswered. I re-read his card, it says' thanks for being my friend' , as he gave me the Moet he said' I give this to everyone' . He likes me, but he did say 'I like being single' on Sunday morning.

I want someone who wants to be with me, love me, so I can let all this love out that I have. To be 'loved and adored' is what I desire & so do all of you (my dear 5 readers!) and we all deserve it too.

Goodbye MrBV.

40th cont.

As the party warmed up, so did the need to be silly. The turntable was commandered by a member of the Bolshoi Ballet, with a fondness for 80's pop rock..'Kids in America' anyone?

The kitchen island was cleared and the table dancing began...which quickly turned into stage diving. Gosh I love to see my friends have a good time.

We each climbed up & did routines, longways, sideways, upways & through ways. It's amazing how many things you can do on a kitchen bench! A pause in the music and although no-one was on the bench it gave a sudden creak and fell over, plates and drawers rattling to a stop as it crashed into the cuboards. 'That's bloody Ikea for you' yelled Mathew appropriately.

The boys quickly righted it & typically in over-imbidded situations, the music went back on & we continued to party. Laughing as we re-told the story to those who missed it.

Don't know how it quickly became 3am. With 7 people left, everyone had a sudden thought to leave. They filed out - Penny, Thierry, Hunty, Amanda, Phil, Nicole and MrBV was last. He hesistated at the door, I stalled him with a 'what's the time question' Nicole turned to say some thing, saw a moment happening and quickly scurried off. I looked at him & thought 'Here goes'. The air kiss goodnight turned into a pash, a really good pash. The kind where he touches my neck, my hair; the kiss is soft and perfect. The cold 3am winds were blasting us at the open door. We closed it and walked to the middle of the empty room, with candles softening the room, the remainder of the Barry White album played as we continued the pash.

'Let's go into the room' I said. We calmly blew candles, turned off lights & walked into my room. Crawling onto the bed, we continued talking and it felt like the most normal thing in the world, that we were together and going to bed. 'I hope you'll get under this time' said MrBV, referring to 2.5 years ago when I slept on my bed in my dress, the first time we met. "Of course, I'll just get changed." Quickly grabbing my sexy nightie from the draw and removing the dag pyjamas from under the pillows, I went into the bathroom, removed only the eye and lip makeup & brushed my teeth. Emerging, he was in my bed, wearing his t-shirt.

I wasn't interested in sleeping with him, it was almost 4am & it was more about being affectionate, just having such a comfortable feeling & being with him. We kissed some more & I asked him why he called me a 'good girl' (from the text message) and he again said it that night. 'what do you mean by 'a good girl?' " I asked. Whatever he was going to say, I had to accept it...you just have to ask these things.. I held my breath. "You have such a generous heart, are always interested in people & are a wonderful person" We lay together just breathing close while he stroked my neck, jaw and shoulders. Such bliss.

We held each other until we needed to sleep. The morning was more affection & around 10am we woke, easily talked about life and stuff. I knew he would leave about now. I stood in my dressing gown (hair suitably touselled) and looked at him. Here's that bloody moment when he should say something..you know, like 'I'll call you'. I didn'' want to let that pass. 'I don't want to embarass myself by asking when I'll see you" I said quietly. "Oh, I'll see you again, maybe we'll see a movie?" he walked away with a long glance.

Walking slowly, carefully back to my room, I considered the night, the party, the damage, the fun & the unexpected 4am pash.

want to see the photos? click here for my facebook album. Can you spot MrBV giving me my present ?

40th Party

In one word it was 'unbelievable'

Starting with the weather, it's been raining here in Sydney for 2 weeks solid. My plan to have an outdoor element to the party was almost safe as we have an outdoor covered area. The day beforehand I bought an outdoor gas heater like they have in cafes.

My friends are scattered over my life, from school, uni, work, family & various friends popping back in & out. One thing is they all know about each other but I've never had them in one place together. I spent the week thinking of comments to connect people... this is Linda, everyone, she wrote the baby list! - And here's my oldest friend, Alison, we used to love men who ended up gay.. those sorts of introductions.

The theme also helped. It was a combination of Russian Winter, fur & hats. Strange how many people have fur in their wardrobes.

All that day friends dropped by to help prepare food (thanks Cass!) clean, arrange and place flowers (thanks Di!) and bring extra man help (thanks Suzy & Adrian!) The rule was to help during the day & leave me to peacefully get ready...none of this early arriving nonsense.

My dress was vintage. Black velvet with blue lurex threads. Shaped with an empire waist & short bell sleeves. Topped with a long vintage Mink coat, my Russian name became eKaterina.

As the guests started arriving we rubbed coats. A few men came in full fur - and I don'' mean on the chest ! . But it was Suzy & Adrian who stunned us all; arriving in all white, they were the Russian Bolshoi Ballet complete with Man Tights and strong blue eyeshadow. Soon after Hunty arrived in his White Man Tights, another stray from the Ballet.

My thing is 80's music. I spent way too much on records in my youth & what was once a waste is now super-cool. Records are a party thing, people can see and choose & select the next track. The hilarity of image records from Bon Jovi, Duran Duran 12" singles & long forgotten tracks where the words came effortlessly back got us all dancing soon.

The plan was to keep feeding people, keep the alcohol going. The outdoor BBQ was constantly fired up with new snacks - prawns, chicken skewers and Chinese dumplings. A trick I learnt from another party, to use the empty dishwasher (the drawer type) as an ice bucket. The delight as people pulled it open to see it stacked with Champagne... gosh I love indulgence at a party!

Time for the cake, Di made a caramel mud complete with shoe banners & sparklers. Nicole blasted 'Hungry like the Wolf' as the candles were lit. It was so special seeing everyone gather around and sing at the top of their lungs Duran Duran. I'm a dag and I love it.

Now the champagne was hitting a bit. Not too much, but the crowd was working out. My instincts told me TCPP (two chip packet phil) was interested in me. This was picked up by Linda & Craig (my best male buddy & his wife). Linda decided to be my love coach. 'You've got to loosen up' she said after yanking me into my room. 'Don't put your hair behind your ears...tousle it!...go out there and flirt!"

I'm the birthday girl! I need a pash! so I starting dancing with TCPP. I stroked his legs, draped myself over him & did back-to-back bum dancing.. then I ran away. Then I started all over again.

As the night progressed a few friends started whispering in my ears...'hey, I think MrBV still likes you!" indeed he arrived with a bottle of Moet for me, he was talking to everyone, but I just left him alone...jumping in every now and then to be updated.

to be continued...

Got there!

Sydney: 4pm, bucketing rain, 12 deg, winter is well on.
At home, glass of bubbles, plate of cheese & salami.
Ugg boots & cashmere hoodie.

it's my birthday. I'm finally here, quelle relief. Yes: I am relieved. The drama of the last few months is over it feels. Now I'm 40. The wait is over.

Taking the day off work to sit at home or do whatever I like. Spent most of the day on-line, talking to friends and not feeling guilty for doing pleasurable crap. Must learn to switch off guilt button more often.

I'm organising my party for Saturday night here at home. It will be cold so asking everyone to wear fur coats (which we all seem to have in our wardrobes) Hoping for a massive pile of fur as everyone warms up & tosses them in a heap.

I had an epiphany of sorts this morning, regarding 'my life'. Have been concerned about procreating, whether I can, should I, will I issues. As I have no partner/ husband or looming potential, the pressure to meet & make babies is less likely.

Five years ago I started my own business, working from home for the first few years I felt happier and less stressed. There was plenty of room for a partner & another life. It could have been a good set-up for fitting in marriage or motherhood, but that never happened. Over the last few months I've struggled with giving up this career for something else more stimulating (and better paid), plus accepting the life I have, plus wondering what to do & what can I do..only a few big questions.

This journey took me to the doctors. I'd spent weeks crying and feeling lethargic. I stopped exercising and lost all interest, except in episodes of The West Wing & drinking red wine. I needed be to challenged. My job was dull, the financial rewards few, creditors were calling & what I was , was depressed...officially. (the stolen handbag was the trigger, btw)

Tom Cruise may not approve, but Brooke Shields would. Taking anti-depressants has made all the difference. There's a cushion to my thoughts. The Darkness is not there. I can speak more openly about myself & to myself.

I told my mum first & she said the same thing...that I need a challenge, wasn't stimulated at work & what I was thinking was correct. It was time to move on & find another working life.

I've let go of so many ideas about my life in the last few weeks, so sorry for not posting, it's been a big month of thoughts. I've let go of my current work, and thought about how to wrap it up. Updated my CV, told some friends about the depression (happy to tell everyone, hence this post) and had a good conversation with a few friends about other work

So letting go of 'not being a mother' is not because I am selfish or deluded about motherhood, it's entirely circumstantial. I'm not having a child without a strong partner & I won't put pressure on an early partnership with a too soon pregnancy, just because, at 40, I should make it urgent.

I visited my lovely cousins last night, whose 4 yr old is my godson (who thinks he's a pirate). I loved being there, being a friend, an aunt, a godmother and playing walk-the-plank. Regardless of who has children, we love each others company & I love their kids. It all goes together. (wow think the champagne has kicked in!)

I feel unbelievably resolved. And ready to find what I need to find, as a 40 yr old & happy to be one.

rsvp so far

I've been on the site for the last week. I selected about 10 possibles and put them in favourites. None of these have contacted me so far.
What I am suprised at is the number of young guys contacting me, or even viewing my profile. The youngest is 23, a couple are 30... as I'm nearly 40, I find it amusing but I'm not looking for a toy-boy. Nor looking for fat balding men with 3 teenage kids.
will keep you updated!

testing the blink

has anyone read 'Blink'? it's about those first gut thoughts we have to a person or situation. Often you don't trust these & rationalise it away, yet, you ask sucessful people about certain decisions & they often respond 'I trust my gut' or 'I had a feeling about this one'.

It's truly about the gut too, the bulge in the stomach, the tastes rising up your mouth, the gurgles and noises it makes. Also trying to breathe deeply so it's not all knotted up.

I went to Suzy's housewarming last Saturday night and during the party, I tested my reaction to the surrounding men. I discovered I like a man well dressed. In a suit or jacket, clean cut or just well dressed. I react to a nice stripey shirt or velvet jacket & good jeans. Not too smooth, but in quality clothes and well styled. Interesting eyewear too.

Going to the business district and seeing all the suits is a turn-on.

I'm sure there's a deep psyhchological reason behind this, but I'm just reacting to what pleases me. A man in a good suit.
what's yours?

Charity night cont

you long for someone's company, their attention and desire. Why is it, when you have let go, they start contacting?

it was just after midnight when MrBV texts me asking where I was. I'd made a decision to go home. After 5 hours of drinking, on a Thurs night, it was time to leave. 'Should have said goodbye' I texted back.
'Yes you should have'
At this point. After having a 3 year crush on him. After enduring all the silly fantasies I'd harboured, I just couldnt' believe he was worried about where I was.
This was my reponse 'Tough Titties'
'That was harsh' he replied
Time to spell it out ..'I am a contradiciion. Just like you. You are interesting. But you are after one thing & I'm after another. So I left'
'Ok can't argue' he replied. Then another 'you're a good girl
'You are always my friend. That never seems to go away.'
'that's good'. he finished with.

I felt I'd been honest & decided to send him some 80's band info the next day. It was about the friendship now.

Lying in bed, by now, the phone buzzed again. It was 12:40am. Bloody hell, it was TASF! he loves long texts. trying to focus in the dark I had a suspicion of the contents. Yep, he was asking for it, a late night visit, all on his terms. 'but just understand it's not a permanent thing'

So not interested. I was sick of his rude demands. "darls, I have my period"
'don't be silly, sheets can be washed"
"If I'm so desirable, then wait. good night"

He's an ex-lawyer so he loves long text messages. There is not enough space, nor do I have the inclination to post all the crap he said. I was just amazed at the messages. Where were these boys? sitting in bars sending messages, it was almost 1am. Just sad really.

Early the next morning TASF texted again. 'cat, you get the common sense award, good to see you....sorry about high testostorone conduct, you can probably tell I'm still a bit out there... "

I am over both of them. Their behaviour, their texting, it's all too immature and so unfulfilling.

Still can have fun, as friends. They are both coming to my birthday party on June 16th. MrBV emailed the next day. 'count me in for your party'

life; always interesting

Charity Night

It was last Thursday night. Planned for a few weeks; it was a group of us, including TCPP & MrBV. The lure was a room full of Sydney's singles drinking for charity. I love getting dressed up & had my hair specially done. I felt just right. Not eager, Not desperate, just ready to enjoy my friends and see what can happen.

It was a high vibe room. Trays of drinks, everyone looking good, even clowns making those balloon animals. Standing back sipping champagne and scanning the room, ever so subtely, we girls decided to 'take a turn about the room' Our Jane Austen excuse for checking the scene, seeing who was there & figuring out where to stand to best take advantage.

MrBV had arrived, he air kissed me & held out his hand as I walked by. He was talking to two chicks in bad shiny dresses so I said hello & catch you later. The rule is you dont' talk to your targets too early on. You wait until they are loosened up and more able to focus just on you.

Several drinks later, the music was amped up. We had our spot & more friends arrived. Mr BV was in deep discussion with a girl I knew had a crush on him & she was giving him dirty looks. I smiled as I walked by and talked to people near him. More manoeveurs laters and he came to talk to me. I called him a 'shit'. I hadn't seen him since January (five months ago) and he didnt' call after the TV show, despite sending a text message saying he was looking forward to it. 'Everyone calls me that' he said. I wasn't really mad, just wanted to get it out. We launched into our usual fun conversations, 80's music, work & holidays.

In a room full of people juicing up everyone shift places and positions like crazed synchronized swimmers. Being slightly inebriated ; conversations change quickly from lack of concentration. I was getting pushed by the crowd and stepped back onto someone, turning to apologise, it was TypeA-SuperFit who I was addressing. "I thought I'd see you here" I said. "I thought I'd see you here' he replied back.

That's when my night compacted. There were really only 3 people in the room. Me, MrBV and TASF.

I wasn't confused. It wasn't about re-igniting old flames, or seeing if they still like me. I know there is a bond & we can laugh and can be friends, but it was figuring out the 'something'. The bit why they are both 'shits' why they like me but do nothing. Right there I had their attention and took my time to speak to both of them, seperately, in the context of happy drunken chit-chat.

TASF is still a post-divorce mess. A high-testostorone women-heat-seeking would-be giggolo. He is heaps of fun, but so determined to have his way. Whereas MrBV is a workaholic socialiser. Equally determined not to be in relationship as it's not part of his plan.

It's a timing thing again. You can meet the right person and it's the wrong time of your life. busy-ness is evil. Acquiring status and security is paramount. Corporate socialising takes care of your personal life.

With all my practice leaving events, on my own timing, I finished my drink, realised the room was starting to empty and with a quick backward glance waved and left.

It's not until you give directions to the taxi driver that drunkeness really starts to appear. As I stomped to the house, my phone buzzed. It was MrBV 'where are you?' 'just got home' I texted back.

to be continued....

almost ready

Dating is a multi pronged game. And like most of life, there is too much choice in the methods.

I would love to do interviews, like a job. Have 40 CV'S and invite them into an interrogation room. have them strip to underwear and turn around, then mix a martini, turn on various household appliance without asking, say 'would you like a foot massage, darling' and mean it, send him to the bathroom and see if he leaves the toilet seat up before finally allowing me to reverse park while he says nothing.

Instead I am contemplating going back on RSVP. So I did a quick seach to see what's on the menu. A strangely familiar face starred back, it was The Coach. Funny reading someone you've dated. Would I have choosen him? probably not!

My profile and photos are all updated. Rather than rush the updates and go back on-line, I'll sit on it for a few days, in case I want to change anything. Also going to a big charity cocktail party on Thursday night...you never know. A room full of singles? like a room full of interviewees.

more miles

"Our greatest heart-treasure is a knowledge that there is in creation an individual to whom our existence is necessary - some one who is part of our life as we are part of theirs, some one in whose life we feel assured our death would leave a gap for a day or two. And who can this be but a husband or wife? Our parents have other children and themselves, our brothers and sisters marry and have lives apart, so with our friends: but one's husband would be different."

'My Brilliant Career' Miles Franklin. 1901. aged 16.

Sometimes you have unformed thoughts and when reading your thought is expressed for you. This happened last night while finishing the above book. The character, Sybylla, doesn't marry the 'hero' and her explanations for that time are modern, to do with not being seen as a man's property, to have a separate existence, and not be tied to eternal child-rearing (in the days of 10+ kids)

Luckily the world is 100 years different, so I don't have to toss over the hero in order to have life. So not to have this heart-treasure of a husband, is, in the words of Bonnie Tyler 'It's a heart-ache, nothing but a heartache'


ah, I make myself laugh sometimes with this blog..

A breakthrough

It seems women organise everything. From pub nights, movies, dinners and at home parties. Rarely do we get emails from our bloke friends organising something & if we do it's so last minute, ie. 1pm on a sunday for drinks, that you feel like ripping out your hair.
Give me something to look forward too! don't call last minute! organise something you drip-heads!

For example, Phil is called TwoChipPacketPhil (TCPP) The last BBQ he organised, was all BYO, from food to alcohol, he had only 2 chip packets open on the table. I had a drunken word in his ear a few months ago about reciprocation, organising things and the dreaded unpersonal last minute group email.

The Secret, my friends, is not a DVD, its telling blokes how to behave. My long rant to TCPP, has gained clear results. Invites to cocktail parties, well in advance; Drinks at nice pubs with interesting people and actual phone calls, not emails. How nice. We all had the best conversations last time, from dating, flirting and how to tell if someone likes you (guess who was the expert? moi) . everyone joined in. It was the nicest Sunday afternoon for a long time.

These are all MrBV's friends. I havent' seen him since January. I'll see him in a few weeks at the charity cocktail party TCPP organised.

The other benefit? I would recommend TCPP and his good friends to single friends, as good eggs.

If I knew

If I knew when I would meet 'the love of my life' then I could relax. But every psychic has said 'he's just around the corner or in the next few months' so I get all hyped up, expectantly seek the connection with all new arrivals & watch as it all fades to nothing.

Just tell me when. Tell me the truth! I want to say. If it's not for another 5 years, then, sayonara to this rabbit hole & hello to a new cubby house in another world. Teach opening champagne bottles to 3rd world waiters ! run an illegal boarding house in Fiji! catch fish in Greenland !

I'd love to take a sabbatical from this dating fiasco. My entire life is geared to preening, watching, observing, trying and hoping it will be over soon (my single life, that is) I'm exhausted!!

I went to a party on the weekend, by circumstance I went by myself, thinking I have the social skills to get around and I thought I'd know enough people. It was a swamp of gay men and married people. I felt like yelling "who's single here? come and talk to me!!" The party represented one of those 'best opportunities' for meeting someone. ie. it was a private, friends' party so you can talk to anyone, you know they are from a certain background/ professional group and more likely to be of interest to you.

One thing I've learnt, cut your losses. So I left after the speeches, snuck out the door and with some sorrow, walked slowly back to the car, re-assuring myself I did everything I could, he just wasn't there. I do hate having to judge an event on the dating sucess rate, but that's my life.

Response to 'Spewing'

"The demons are shouting down the greater angels in my head"

Toby to Barlett. The West Wing. Season 1. Ep. 4.

I call that negative voice in my head 'The Knocker' it puts down or damages my sense of fun. Luckily I have Seasons 1 & 2 of The West Wing to bring me joy.

spewing for a bit

Please don't be alarmed by this post....but I do have to balance this blog sometimes. I'm going to spew out some thoughts..but it's just for my needs..

I want to enjoy my age and my life. I hate that birthdays are seen as negative but we are all seeking wisdom, inner peace and fulfilment. We have to age to get there. It's like you loose by getting older? you haven't achieved ' insert x thing' by a certain age, you are compared to your peers or siblings or elders at same age & you come out the loser.

My rantings will come off as 'bitter' whereas a younger person it's 'youth, energy, drive and immaturity' I don't' feel any different from 16 or 24 or 32. I know most people feel the same, the cheeky teenager, uncertain student or rebellious flat-mate is still submerged in your skin.

But I do have failings, I do have insecurities, regrets, suicidal thoughts, overwhelming resignations, tears and general malaise over my life on some days, at certain times & after external events. Sunday mornings can be hard (see post below) Invitations to christenings or weddings are challenging. Putting on the 'face' & trying to blend in. I now feel a huge gap between my life and the lives of family and friends. Like I'm pushing a tricycle and they are thundering ahead, blowing dust in their six-horse carriages. It's not about 'progressing' but 'experiencing' things. I want to experience a greater range of emotions than what I have already...seemingly stuck on a well-trampled course.

Emotions of partnerships, my own family, building homes and lives together, planning holidays, complaining about toilet seats, timetabling sporting matches, just being exhausted by things other than doing BAS statements and taking calls from phone companies.

Time is torturing my sense of balance. I want to be logical and sensible and reasonable about my life. That I've done nothing 'wrong' to be single is something I am questioning. You can be too passive seeking what you really want.

Desperation is a word I've avoided, like land mines in my path. But the Despos Wall of Time is something I've walked into & it's knocked me down. My panic button has been pressed.

Okay so there is all is , the ugly stuff, the self-pity and frustration.

I just want to get married, have babies and grow herbs and vegies while listening to 80's music. Being a modern woman is acknowledging this as valid and attractive.

Feathers

In Catholism, an angel appeared before Mary and told her she was with child, etc. There's quite a bit about Angels in Christianity and you pray to Saints, believe the Holy Spirit sits with God and Jesus rose from the dead. There's much new-age in religion and yet when new-age people discuss Angels it seems skeptical and foreign. You can't please a Catholic.

Listening to Doreen Virtue, an angel expert, talk about them she mentioned that FEATHERS are a sign of an angel present and your wishes are being heard and attended to. Like finding a 4-leaf clover or seeing rainbows. I started noticing a few feathers about the place and kindly thought there's an angel present who's listening to my wishes (for a big bedroom romp!).. I wonder how many feathers I need to see before it happens?

Took myself to Centennial park for Sunday morning lie around with papers and pastries. Masses of feathers everywhere. I suppose it's contextual. Where the feathers are, not the amount. Being next to a pack of ducks and geese is not feather significant. Come to think of it, my doona is full of feathers ! no bloody use at all !

Urgency

"It's been fun hanging out with you, but to find the right way to say this, I haven't felt any URGENCY to keep going. You know it's not personal, you're a great person and all, but that' s the factor for me, and the only way to describe why I haven't called, is that reason."

I admired his interpretation of the great dilemma. How do you know when you are with the right person? what criteria do you use to discern the importance of the current date and time afterwards? How much effort to expend? Who are they to you? Friends, acquaintance or lover.

The Coach hasn't called and I'm realising it's not URGENT. The quote above was from another relationship, a few years ago, but The Coach or I could say that to each other now.

I meet eligible blokes all the time. Kind, interesting, good jobs, totallly ready for a relationship, but not with me, or me with them. Urgency is the starter motor

(also have that Foreigner song in my head ' urgent, urgent, emergency')

Sundays

My cheery optimism that life will get better slips a little on Sunday mornings. Mondays are not a problem. Going to work is something to do. Something meaningful and distracting. In fact I can't sleep in on Sundays. I was awake at 6am. Weekdays I keep pressing the snooze and force the covers off.

The weekend is a reminder of my personal pergatory. My boring single life.

I don't want to moan and complain. So many times I've switched off the brain, got into gym outfit, my cossie or yoga pants and exercised the morning away. Cooked for lunch and looked forward to afternoon naps. It feels hollow. All this time and space to do anything you want.

I can be self-occupying. I love my own company and of others. But life is about sharing, having purpose and meaning. I spend my working life being self-directed. Writing lists, tasks and planning the day. The weekend is meant to be the opposite, the antidote to work. More about play and rest and the personal, including personal obligations, such a family and friends outtings.

Sunday mornings is when it all hits. I can do Saturday nights at home. A few glasses of red, tucked up on the couch, and with 2 seasons worth of The West Wing to get through, I'm supremely self-occupied.

This morning it was too quiet. There's no-one there. The inside me wants a cuddle, wants a hand to flop over my waist, to feel the warmth or hairiness of another being. Wants a reason to stay in bed and enjoy the quiet.

full moon full on stuff

ah! what a weird 12 hours !

The full moon in scorpio produced full on doozy 3D surround sound dreams. Earlier that night I had to quell a small desire to call MrBV, which I did by enjoying the warm autumn evening, sipping a strong Vodka Tonic, while writing a short story for a friends' 40th, all about her first vomit. I'm such a good friend.

Well guess who emailed me the next day? after a 3month gap, MrBV. We emailed about music gigs - The next retro 80's concerts and Sneaky Sound System, a hip Sydney band. Nothing was planned. I might do something later, but he's just the same. Contact is all over the place, never plans a thing, never asks specifically to go out somewhere. I still like him of course.

Liz called in the afternoon, I answered the phone 'Champagne!' fits of laughter ensued, she was calling to organise exactly that. "meet me at The Clock in an hour!' she said. Sitting on the wide wooden verandahs at this lovely old pub, we looked out on the street. Another mild autumn evening. It was one of those super night you have with good friends, we talked about MrBV, The Coach, her current pursuers etc. Went off to order food, Liz was texting some paramour. Came back, no handbag. In that flash, a local junkie had seized that moment to take my handbag. Security ran outside, managers were alerted, the video tapes were examined. People near us all recalled seeing a dodgy looking bloke in a tracksuit...but not the actual snatching moment. All I had was my phone and my current ideas notebook.

As we all know it's not about the cash in the wallet, it's the keys, id, credit cards and make-up, plus snotty tissues and diary notes. Ha! they stole the worst credit card in sydney... no use at all!

So I'm looking out the office at my car, sitting there, we are trying to find the spare keys. Later today I'll go down to the Police station with my passport and report the bits and pieces.

In these moments I think of who you call in such a situation, who will provide the umbridge, the succour to your situation? is this a litmus test of a relationship? The Coach or MrBV? neither at this stage. ... maybe I'll email both and see what happens.

Robbery Update

Remember this night? 12 hours of Everything.

Well the Police just called. My iPod has just been recovered from a Pawn Shop. Oh, joy and happiness! just pays to have your name & number engraved on the back. Working on home insurance too.

CUB's vs FUB's

C.U.B. - Cashed - Up - Bogans

Tradies and other manual workers, Small Business Owners with no University Qualifications. Early School leavers. Working Class, Blue Collar, Trade Union Supporters. League Fans, Ute Drivers, Holdens and Fords. Greyhound owners. Flannel shirt wearers, Up the sleeve with a pack of smokes. Howyagoing, luv.

F.U.B. - Frozen Urban Blokes

City Types, Professionals, Nice Manners, Suit Wearers, Good Schools, Rugby Union. Liberal Party, Huge Mortgages, European Cars - NorthShore Holden = BMW. Labradors and Cockaspoodels. Country Road and Ralph Lauren. Good straight teeth. "Sorry, must take that call". weekend workers.

'Should have married a plumber or builder' is the new cry from the professional working poor. Those who are moaning the cost of replicating their childhood lives of big homes, private schools and holidays in the sun. Marriage to a Lawyer, SuperSmart Accountant or Stockbroker does not augur well for financial freedom.

It's the tradesman as the desirable one. The on-demand renovation desire has created a new sub-species. Sucessful Bogans.

The 80's was the Lawyer, the Partner, the LA Law bespoke suit verbal warrior, as an ideal husband. The 90's was the Money Market Man. Mysterious Hedge Funds and whispers of massive bonuses. This decade is the Tradesman. The transformer of backyards, kitchens and creator of nifty space savers, particulary walk-in-wardrobes.

I've dated through all these decades. Barristers, Lawyers, Stockbrokers, Engineers, Money Market Traders, I.T experts. They freeze up on commitment. Ever so well mannered. Fork and knives in the right place. Suits all beautifully cut. Take them anywhere, but not up the aisle. Not as enlightened as you might think too.

Now is the time for the CUB. the tradesmans charm, the cash-only man, the small to medium business owner with energy, sucess and is on-demand vocationally. They are interested in Plasma TV's, boats, simple holiday cottages and have no sense of cutlery.

The Coach is more CUB than FUB. strangely have only seen him eat with chopsticks. Don't know when our next 'meeting' is. I asked him if we can stop talking about work more about personal stories next time. He smiled with that horribly appealing eye twinkle and said, "yes! and on a couch too."

astro note: he is capricorn x 4. sun, moon, merc, and venus.

randomness

I usually wake from broken sleep and scribble thoughts onto my notepad. If it's dark, I'll use my mobile phone light to scratch the ideas. My little moleskin notebook is then tossed into whatever handbag, dived for at cafe's and traffic lights to further the day's relationship question & answer.

I left my notebook in the seat pocket of the plane. They can't find it. It may take weeks of flying around the world before someone finds it deep in the pocket. Or maybe not.

Over the trip to FNQ, Liz and I discussed ideas and I had to quickly find another notebook to start over. Here are some of the conversations..(before I loose this one)

What fills you, as a single person, with dread? a wedding? christmas? company functions or holidays. It seems fun at first to be unemcumbered, to float around a room, flirt, drink & talk to whomever. Then the events start being too random in entertainment. It would be nice to know a guaranteed person to attend these with, someone to capture the thread of life's events.

What makes you angry? Jewellery was my answer. I once bought a Tiffany &Co necklace, a nice little Elsa Peretti piece, modern and daily appropriate. The hideous witch I worked with commented 'it would be so much nicer if a man had bought that for you'. With that one sneerful comment she embedded a life time of voice data to my new necklace. I had honestly never heard of such an idea. Only a man can buy you jewellery? what of the gifts from parents, relatives and the inherited items? isnt' love the imparting emotion of jewellery. I love my necklace & hope it turns into a cherished 'aunty cat's' necklace story.

Finally over Mai-Tai's by the pool, came the big discussion. Why are we still single? Am I dealing with prior-life karma? do I still need to be single for some reason ? are there any more bloody lessons to learn? I'm as ready as anybody can be. Just in case I continously purge my house/ office/ handbag & car boot of extraneous objects in case 'hoarding' is spoiling my relationship feng shui.

so it's to Miles Franklin, for a final word on what I'm looking for in a partner.

"...it would be one who could put his finger on some hidden spring in himself and in me and in grand fusion reveal the fullness of life."

astro note: miles franklin: sun & merc - libra. Moon, venus, uranus-virgo. Saturn - aries.

I tried

Sometimes you can do everything right and still fail. The best bit about getting older is you don't take the knocks so personally.

Event: Advertising boys having a combined birthday party.
Location: by the harbour
Theme: rock star

Great friend Nicole wore all pink, because she was Pink. I choose the strapless cocktail number and did Cyndi Lauper, with less make-up. My new FNQ tan would enhance my shoulders and bust in the outfit, a boy-catching outfit, I thought. My new dressing strategy is to look more feminine, show off the female bits, but not too much. More Scarlett Johansen than Paris Hilton.

I used eye contact, chatted to people, danced and wiggled, only had a few champers, got introduced to various single boys....but nothing. The biggest group of men were in the corner smoking dope & drinking jugs of beer.

We called it a night before 12, happy to dress up, go out & generally be 'out there'...but if he's not there, he's not there. And anyway, sometime a good night's sleep is more enjoyable.

Avoiding superficiality

I'm falling into the superficial conversation trap. Why do I have such great discussions with my female friends, ranging from issues on The West Wing, diatribes on best bakeries to life, the universe and rabbits: when I talk to blokes it so banal. so boring. Its all so nice. When I try to deepen the conversation..their eyes glaze over..conversation comes to a grinding halt, like talking to a mule. So you try to stick to conversations they are excited about... sports, holiday plans and whatever is their current passion. I accepted long ago you are rarely asked questions about your life. More evolved men will ask, socialised ones will too. I think it's just polite to have a bit of to & fro with conversations.

back to superficial.

I saw The Coach last night for easy meal in Chinatown. We both picked better this time and really enjoyed the fragrant meals while the rain poured down outside. (does is rain everywhere in April?) he's really sweet, has lovely sparkly eyes (probably because he doens't drink) but all we talked about was work. Which is a valid part of any conversation, but not all of it.

So I'm trying to stop this pattern of being superficial in conversation. I want it to deepen without resorting to 'twenty questions' style or asking any 'where is this going' demands.

Starting with 'can I ask you something personal...?" as the entry to these ideas.

• In the last 5 yrs of your work what are you most proud of?
• What made your last relationship good, was it similar interests or such ?
• What qualities do you like in a woman ? that's she's similar or different in which ways?
• Where would you like to be in 5 yrs time both professionally and personally.
• Are you a dog or cat person?
• What's your favourite pizza toping?
• Tell me something naughty you did as a child.
• When you're cleaning the house, do you sometimes start singing 'whistle while you work' ?
• What should we name our first born ? (only kidding!)

I've learnt from the Catalyst show that doing something exciting, adrenaline producing, does bring you closer together. I find some conversations can be exciting in this way too. let's see if I have the guts to go deeper.

56 Days

Birthdays are huge to me no matter which age I am, I feel the clicking of time and life. I used to count the days from my brother and sister's birthday to mine, which was yesterday, it's 56 days. This year I'll be 40, so these 56 days are weighty.

Discussions are underway about the party. Being slightly wealth-challenged, I'll have it at home. Not easy in a 2 bed flat with my brother and his fiancee living there too. But I love the squashy party feel. The noise level of so many people conversing. Added to this, it will be the middle of winter (Im in the southern hemisphere, don't forget) and for Sydney this is about a 12deg night. So the theme is Russian Winter. Vintage Furs are required, Vodka shots and coal fires to be warmed by. My gorgeous friends are all offering to help decorate and prepare food/ cocktails.

Not being morbid, but situationally, I've been single on each of my important birthdays - 21st, 30th and now 40th. I'm not sure I want to start seeing someone before then, the pressure of an early relationship and then an important birthday is loaded. There is a strange dance of expectation on birthdays in the early stages. Firstly you have to tell them you have a significant birthday coming up, but emphasize there is no pressure. All your friends and family are celebrating and yet there is one eye on the new love interest. It's both a familiar and unfamiliar situation. Can he handle the attention just on you? can he be left alone amongst all your family, and what qu's will they ask ? Oh well, I've got 56 days to find out what will happen.

Fantasizing

I can't Fantasize anymore. The mental pictures you allow yourself to have when you meet someone. I don't mean the naked lusty one: they can be had just visiting the beach or pool or wherever you see nice male torsos.

It's the life-with-someone- fantasy. How you imagine a good partner will be, the together feelings, the companion thoughts, the things you can do together. You have a mental picture of one who will work best for you, prehaps a fellow cheese lover, or outdoor enthusiast.

You start mentally picturing life together when you talk, he'll tell you of holidays/ activities/ great experiences and you'd love to be there too. Then you hear about work or friends or family & it all sounds good. You can see yourself in that world. Equally he is interested in you, that look he gives of both softness and interest, the look that says he 'gets you'.

You explore more of life's desires, there is agreeance on places & spaces. Prehaps he is companion for all this. So you start fantasizing. The nesting thoughts, the easy company thoughts, the cheeky thoughts..you can see yourself doing that with this bloke. The rarity of this experience heightens this fantasy...finally someone to daydream about, someone to fill in the void.

Slam on the mental brakes! the hardest part is pulling away from the fantasy, it hurts more than the physical. Flesh pain is resitant, the mental life you've created is harder to repair & recover from, when a relationship, on the verge of becoming something, fails to start.

I like The Coach. He sent me a message last night. I'm still on holidays here in FNQ, back in a few days. Will look forward to seeing him again..but there are no fantasies. I'll just deal with what really happens, if it does and when it does...reality is the new reality.

F.O.S.

We all need it sometime. Similar to an S.O.S. Today Liz & I headed for FNQ, we had decided to F**k Off Somewhere. None of this mini-break palaver, this is about a head-space shift for the tired sydney-sider. A get-me-out-of-here shriek for an antidote to current life.

Far North Queensland is about 3 hours flying from Sydney. It's a great Somewhere. I came here 6 months ago for Mum's significant birthday and loved all the different things you can do. The reef, the rainforest, the tropical heat and thunderstorms, the fruit & fish.

Tomorrow is white water rafting. We will get seriously wet, scream our heads off & sleep like deflated rubber pools afterwards. Sleeping tonight is also aided by pink bubbles consumed at lunch, followed by DVD of 'Wall Street' found for $9.99 at Coles. Dont' want to tax my brain watching something new.

Also sorting how I feel about The Coach. Searching for someone never seems to take a break.

This is what White Water rafting looks like. 3 in the water, and the others laughing as they pull you in. I'm one in the water. Heaps Fun.

The Coach

The new name for MrUltra fit/ FitManly (it was getting too confusing) is The Coach. We went out last night for a quick meal. I found out he doesn't have a kitchen in his city apartment. Something to do with cheap rent and close to his work. Which means having a cheap easy meal is something he needs to do regulary.

He also doesnt' drink. So I skulled a vodka shot before I went out.

So bizarre. The other year I had 6 dry dates with the Marathon Runner, until we got plastered one night. We had to as it wasn't going anywhere while sober. But this is different. The Coach is used to being sober. Unlike me who starts to twitch and I get sleepy early on..the alcholic sugar keeps me awake. The Coach is naturally talkative and cheeky. We made a few jokes, walked around the area and it felt nice, not an enforced sobriety, brought by over indulgence, but an easy, dare I say, healthy feeling of enjoyment.

Without thinking to much about it, my downfall activity, he jumped down from a ledge while putting both hands on my shoulders, his body contact was powerful. He has a strength emanating from him, a radiating warmth. I was kind of shocked. Have I not felt someone's body contact for such a long time ? It struck a brain cell and wouldn't let go.

We bought some cakes after dinner. The benefit of not drinking is you can have dessert. He's not a scary fit person, he eats sweets and doesn't look annoyed at junk food.

So after dinner, I dropped him home. There we were sitting in my car, I was just laughing to myself at the similarity of my last billion dates where I drive them home and it gets down to the car for the pash. Keeping my foot on the brake, the car was bum out to the hilly street, while he pointed out his building etc, and he leaned in to say goodnight...the lips locked, the pash was short but nice. Just enough. Look forward to more.

High Maintenance

To me High Maintenace is about grooming. Having super straight hair, seeing a beautician for every need, and more annoying, being worried about your appearance instead of enjoying the people you are with. That's not me.

So was suprised to come across an old magazine article where a certain accessory was deemed 'high maintenance'. 100 men were asked to rate a date's clothing. Bare shoulders, plunging necklines, dangly earrings and silver shoes were rated highly. Ra-Ra skirts, stripey dresses, white boots and long thin scarves were not attractive. In one of the six pictures analysed, the nicest looking girl, to me, carried a large hangbag. A large modern printed carry-all. Kind of like the one I use. Huge, fits everything, the kind other women ask me where it's from. My women-envy bag.

Bulky Bag " She's high maintenance ! it looks like she's porting her life around with her." - was the comment.

Does a small bag evoke freedom? Out last night was new mother, Sonya, she was brandishing her small shiny clutch, a welcome relief from baby and sticky fingers. I could see her small bag symbolised her lack of responsiblity, her freedom gained temporarily.

remind me to switch bags before I go out.

Bad Date Karma Places

There are a number of pubs in Surry Hills, all re-fitted to modern inner city standards. Last night we chose The Dolphin, instead of the usual Clock or the White Horse which sits inbetween these two, all 200 metres apart.

While walking past the White Horse with its Italian metal horse sculpture on top, I was reminded of a fatal date I had there a few years ago. As I left the flat to go out, the current flat mate yelled out, "Oh, the White Horse, not a good place to meet a date, it won't work out." "why?" I asked, "They just never work out, It happened to me and a few others." The date was with MrBalconyView, our first, it didnt' work out & I was left to handle the after effects of that infatuation for another few years.

Last night, of the three pubs, the White Horse, was the emptiest. Not because it's a designer space or more expensive drinks, but I think it's a Bad Date Karma Place.

The Hollywood Hotel, a pre-war style pub, in the wrong part of Surry Hills is my pashing pub. You get good snogging karma there. The lighting is dim, the bands sometimes too loud or silly, so you end up snuggling up to your desired. Squash & Pash.

Do you have favourite places to take someone ? or do others consistently create the wrong vibe? don't leave the night to chance..! take heed the location vibes and choose well. Pash or Dash.

Profiling for a mate

When you list yourself on a dating site or attend relationship -finding events, you're generally asked what you are looking for. By being specific you think you'll get exactly what you ask for... tall, educated, well dressed, likes Duran Duran etc. Some profile questions you can be relaxed about..

Here's what I go through when selecting

• Age: 37- 43 (don't like them younger, dont' want them that much older)
• Height: at least 5ft 9in (I'm 5ft 6.5)
• Education: university level ( I have a bachelor and post graduate)
• Music: must like 80's
• Smoke: no
• Drinks: yes. (excessive drinking is no longer attractive !)
• Food: meat, yes. (no vegetarians)
• Body type: medium, fit, athletic (no fatties, no man boobs)
• Ethnicity: caucasian. (Been through the Italian/ French/ Argentanian stages.. not interested, not even English/ scottish/ irish guys. I like aussie blokes.)
• Star sign: virgo, libra, leo are best. dont like sag or cap & aqua' are weird. everything else is fine. cancer can be sulky.
• Dressing: hate sports sunglasses, those velcro-walking sandals, rugby jumpers except at the game. everything else can be changed.
• Relationships: would prefer a not married/no children background, but divorced is okay and so is' has kids but with the mother mostly' is okay. (I'm softening)
• Political: has views, but not too radical or too right.
• Religion: christian. (to be honest it's easier they are same, would prefer catholic, but any christian will do)
• Sport: must like exercising. If he's a swimmer, even better. Not a soccer, AFL or rugby league fan. More off the couch than on, for sporting interests.

this kind of self-selecting profiling is detrimental, because really I like blokes who are active, interesting, dynamic, well-mannered, nice looking/ well preserved, but not pretty, will try something, not afraid of different foods or cultures and can be taken anywhere & will get along with most people. doesnt' suffer fools and boring people.

and what I've just selected is not necessarily going to help me find what I've just described.

Right now, the bloke I dated the other night wouldn't fit that self-selection..he left school at 15, likes working class sports (soccer and league), is same height as me, is older than I think he is, is wrong star sign, but he's worldly, interesting, dynamic, adventurous, hard working, no kids, and many other things better suited to me, but not profile perfect. Scarily I wouldn't select him based on some criteria, such as education, yet he's top of his field and well respected.

lesson learnt: don't be too worried about self selecting.

finding the fit man

A few years ago I saw Elizabeth the psychic. Many things dont' make sense but she did mention stuff about TV & Films which is now true. I have focused on the few keys things she said about the next bloke, as you do.

The description was 'nice partner coming into life, caring, fit, kind. nice family. A boat, dogs, 2-3 children, you'll live near water - not in sydney, he'll have ppl in Noosa."

Since then, never in my life have I gone out with so many fit blokes. There's been marathon runners (he'd run to get the car the next day after big night out, a handy skill) , rowers, 6am gym maniacs, the surfing physiologist, a pentathete (the horses and archery kind) and now the fitest of them all, a motivational coach & fitness book writer, MrUltraFit, called for a catch-up.

All of them want to live near water, all want to buy boats... it's like a package, once they are fit, they want the other bits.

So the Ultimate Fit bloke, the one I kissed for a bottle of wine six months ago, emailed to catch-up. We meet in Chinatown for a quick meal, ended up talking until they cleaned up around us & stacked the chairs. And guess what? he just bought a boat, and is off up the coast to his dad's holiday house, you guessed it, by the water for the weekend.

Blog-versary

One year since I started this ! now I'm 130 posts down, the tv show has aired...but still no man.

In my obsessive astro way, I look for reasons why. I'm constantly looking at astrology sites to see what the stars are doing to my Gemini life. While I thrust myself into more embarassing dating situations, well, I now hardly blink at speed dating now...I just find it exhausting & RSVP is time consuming. I fantasize about someone parachuting into my life and getting entangled in the trees outside my bedroom. Then I think about drag-queen Paul's Dad who was caught in a parachute and couldn't have kids, so I scrap that idea. (the answer to this puzzle is Paul is adopted)

I think one day I'll wake up and be in a relationship & it'll feel like it always existed.

Pluto is to blame for my lack of relationships. I just listened to Jessica Adams' podcast on Pluto the planet of Control & Power. Apparantely it's been in my relationship sector (7th house) since 1995, and it's about to move to the house of finance and business. It completely mucked up my relationship house, like some over staying backpacker, preventing any other interesting guests staying. It's been a party pooper. So I had to be strong, get rid of this unwanted guest by exposing it, like some vampire to light, by blogging my relationship life & going on tv & doing ridiculous things like speed dating.

The pluto monster is now headed for my 8th House (of business & commerce). Best to vacate this house to the pluto beast. that's a good excuse to stop working!