stop giving me choices…

i think i may well have written this or something like it about a dozen times in the last 8 or 9 years.

that may not seem excessive, but when i add to that the fact that it’s running aound in my head pretty much every day, it gets repetitive.

almost everyone i know has found their one, with relative ease it seems. they’re all settled & happy, which is wonderful.
but i’m that desperate woman in her 30’s who’s womb is a time bomb.

and i get it, i’m not the most captivating prospect. i’m difficult. i’m too old & dated too many fuckwits to put up with even the tiniest hint of bullshit.

i’m mental. really, properly mental. if you’re in any doubt scroll back through a few posts.

i’m covered in scars. literally covered in them. that’s not a hot look in anyone’s book. actually, i don’t think that’s really the issue with the scars. it’s what they signify rather than how they look. they’re scary. i get that.

this isn’t a oh no, i’m a pariah, no one loves me thing. i know i’m not repulsive. i can be pretty damn sexy & on my better days i’m a cool person.

that may be part of the problem. i know who i am
and i undeniably know what i want.

try as might, almost, just isn’t good enough.

i have gone out with a fair few lovely men. smart, attractive, funny blah, blah, blah
but
they don’t set my world alight
to be as cliched as fuck, there are no butterflies.

i’m lucky. i’m grateful.
i have extraordinary friends.
a close, loving family.
a bloody roof over my head.
i have a lot.
i know.

i want more.

folk are so supportive. they tell me how fantastic i am. how much i deserve my happy ending. i’m sure you’ve all heard this stuff at some point.
it’s never too late
there’s someone for everyone
you just haven’t met the right person.

of course the glaringly obvious point is, i have.
i have met him.
i’ve known him
&
laughed with him
&
fucked him
&
loved him
for years. for forever, really.

i know he’s the right man.
he’s an integral part of my life. a person who gets me through some really shitty times in his own undemonstrative way.
the only man i could realistically see myself being happy with
the only man who ever made me feel i was in movie love.
the only man who didn’t tire of my weirdness
and
matches me pound for pound with his own variety of odd.

my friend. my lover.
the man i can not have.

there’s that biological clock
&
it’s deafening.
the desire for a child is all encompassing
time is running out
i’ve spent too long being crazy
&
dating the wrong men
&
trying to be brave enough to try again.

there aren’t any years left to waste.
i have to get my life in order
and
do it.

that probably means i’ll be having a baby on my own
i suppose that should be terrifying
it isn’t
i’m not scared in the slighest
raising a child feels inherently right
i can not comprehend of a life in which i am not a mother

he can’t conceive a future in which he is father.

i can’t have both
we talk abstractly about what we’re giving up
if we’d met earlier
if we both weren’t so damaged
how happy we could be together.
if. if. if.
those conversations occupy my mind
sometimes.
they circle my thoughts before i fall asleep.
but
that circle isn’t never ending
i can not have both
that’s were this love story ends.

i’ve made my decision.
i believe it’s the right one
it’s not simple
or
painless
it is unequivocal.

i think i have always held romanitc notions of fate.
it never occured to me that destiny would be so cruel.
that’s life.
you roll your dice
you make your choices.

Vomity conversations with the man…

Me – I’m in bed already. So tired. Come cuddle me.

The man – Oh you want a ring and a cuddle.

Me – I feel pitiful

The man – sad face

Me – cuddle would be better

The man – cuddle also

what a difference a year makes…

last year I met a nice man.
he was attentive, intelligent, funny & well read.
i found him attractive.
perfect, I hear you say.

no

i rejected him in favour or rather difficult man i met around the same time.
the man I picked was selfish & uncompromising.
even in bed.
it did not last.

I
i’ve talked about this with various people.
my therapist, my best friends, my mum & sister
all of whom, agreed that i had a bit of habit of selecting inappropriate men.
i did not disagree.

what I needed to know was why?
further discussion & some introspection brought the answers to the surface.

that nice man was too nice.
i was suspicious of his apparent loveliness,
i didn’t believe that it was real.
surely, his best behaviour would dissipate
&
i’d be left disappointed.
more worryingly, i was not convinced that i deserved this nice man.
i have never been with someone who gives me what i need.
there is always a catch,
a perpetual shortfall.
the idea that i had met someone i could relax & possibly be happy with frightened me
it’s hard for me to think i am entitled to that sort of contentment.

i’m not worthy
and
he was bound to discover that fairly quickly.
how long before my craziness, disability & general not good enoughness was uncovered?
how long before i was rejected?

so, you see,
liking this nice man was just too risky.
it could only end badly.

he could be a fraud
&
i would be disappointed.

he could recognise what a sub-standard person i was
&
i would be rejected.

either way it was too dangerous.
getting close to man who may actually be possible of meeting my desires was too threatening.
it was easier to choose men who never could.
relationships with built in obsolescence could not hurt me.
i always knew it would end
& therefore never become emotionally attached.
i’m sure you can see the problem with that.

Earlier this year, he got in touch.

just to say hi.
we talked for a few weeks.
i remembered how enjoyable conversing with him was.
we decided to meet
&
this time, I am allowing myself to hope that maybe I do deserve this.
perhaps happiness is within my reach.

it’s very early days.
we’re enjoying each other’s company.
who knows what may happen.
the important thing is I am open to the possibilities.

i know you care…

You’ll never read this. You will never know how much I love you. How much I would sacrifice for you will remain unsaid. It doesn’t mean it’s not real. Not saying it out loud won’t prevent me from going to sleep with thoughts of you every night. Even when I’m not alone, my last waking moments are filled with you.

I compare every man I encounter to you. They never meet the grade. I don’t know if you will ever stop being my measuring stick. It’s not because I consider you perfect. I see your faults. You drive me crazy. It doesn’t matter. I see you and you’re what I want.

It’s such a cliché, but I’ve never known anyone who made me feel the way you do. Every time you kiss me is as exciting as the first time. The slightest touch, that stern look, the sound of my name on your lips and I melt. And the sex, oh god, I will miss the sex. I never want you to stop talking. I will always want to know more. I devour your details. You make me feel like the me I used to love. I’m smarter & funnier & kinder & sexier in your company. When your eyes fall on me, I feel real. I feel like I am worth something. I’m not sure that you even know that. I wish I could find the words to tell you.

I hid all my dirty secrets from you, thinking you’d run. You never did. You accepted things you never wanted to and you haven’t held it against me. You know how truly fucked up I am, but you still see the whole picture. You’re there for me in quiet ways. You don’t send flowers or make a fuss. You know when I’m desperate. You know which two strokes of the keyboard can reach me. A genuinely nice man is hard to find, but you are. No matter how hard to try to hide it or shirk it, I know.

I’m pretty sure you see right through me & you’re not half as opaque as you believe you are. I could be happy with you. You don’t want to admit that you need anyone at all, but I’m almost certain you could be happy with me too. I don’t want anything much from you. All I’d need is for you to keep being odd & charming & difficult & honest. I’d do everything within my power not to hurt you. I’d never ask you to be anyone, but who you are. I don’t need you to slog away in a job that makes you miserable. Do whatever you like. I don’t want your money. I’d never ask you to take care of me in that way. I’m not that woman. You know that.

I know how futile this is. I am aware that none of this matters because there’s one obstacle we could never overcome. You do not want to be a father. Playing happy families is not for you. Sadly, if there’s one thing I want more than you, it’s a child. My heart pines for you, but every cell in my body aches for baby. It’s not your fault. You’ve never deceived me or given me false hope. I had oh so many opportunities to walk away.

I’ve tried. I really put myself out there. I’ve been on so many dates. Some of those were really cool guys. Men I saw again & tried to forge a relationship with. A couple of times I even started to consider being over you. It never lasted. Never worked. They’re never a match for you. I hold onto the hope that someone will sweep me off my feet & I will forget all about you. I wish he would hurry up because I can’t stop loving you on my own. My attempts have universally failed. At least part of me wishes for the mystical Mr right. The bigger part just drips in sadness at the thought of not being in love you. I’m still not ready to write you out of my happyily ever after.

If I can’t have you, I still want you to be happy. I want you to be loved by someone who can give you the life I can’t. I know you’ll meet someone. There is no way for me to prepare for that. It will tear me in two, but we can’t continue like this forever.

Just don’t let her shrink you. Don’t keep doing things that make you unhappy to please someone else. Don’t conform to her tastes. Please don’t let a woman tame you again. You don’t belong in a tight little box. That’s not love. You have edge. Always keep your edge.

I will never tell you that you are the love of my life. I will most likely never know exactly how you feel about me. That’s probably for the best because there is nothing you could say that would make it better. I know you care. That is enough.

i can feel the distance as you breathe…

i’m a little bit lost
and
a lot broken
but you could patch me back together
i don’t mean in any permanent sense
that’s up to me

you could fix me today

Xmas conversations with the man…

Me – Will you go on the big wheel with me ?

The man – ?

Me – You know, the big Ferris wheel at the Xmas market thing.

The man – You are after cock.

Me – I am not. Every year I want to go on it & every year no one will come with me. Go on. I’ll do something you want.

The man – Bumsex ?