The Curious Incident of the exploding toilet and the bathroom makeover

One of the hardest things to come to terms with as a single parent, is the amount of times that you have to unblock a toilet. Had I known the regularity, I may have chosen to stay married.

But instead, I blew up the toilet.  

Let's be clear on this, it wasn't intentional but following a pragmatic decision to get hardcore with a bathroom that had been the bain of my life for the last few years.

The bathroom started out well, just £100, a bit of MDF and some gritty determination saw a bathroom transformation that served it's purpose for a few years. The financial overstretch in buying the village pub left us with a renovation budget smaller than most people spend on a week in a villa with a heated swimming pool. If it didn't come from Freecycle, Gumtree or Ebay - it didn't get past the front door. And from a functionality perspective, the bathroom did what it needed to. Aesthetically, it looked positively homely, just so long as you bathed by candlelight.





The trick to my current bathroom design is to spend no longer than 2 seconds looking at the detail or bathe by candlelight. Just remember not to overfill the bath

Let me explain life as a single divorced parent. Remember those days when there was someone to clear up the kitchen whilst you put children in the bath? They are over. You cook whilst they bathe. You know when it's time to get them out of the bath when the water cascades through the ceiling. Which happens several times. Over time the bath drops a couple of cms and the sealent no longer fits. 

Don't try applying it with your finger nails, the result is aesthetically compromised and it's not water resistant.

Limestone is not mattress resistant. I wish I had known that.


Children of single mothers tend to climb into Mummy's bed in the middle of the night. And then you realise that the warm feeling you experience isn't love but a small boy wetting your bed. And Tempur mattress's are VERY absorbent. Take my advice, NEVER try and rinse out a Tempur mattress in the bath. What is already heavy mattress topper soon becomes a three tonne dead weight that takes 6 leather belts and three people to drag out of the bath and down the stairs. And it cracks tiles.

Always use childproof hinges. Or don't have kids 

And small boys do not shut hand made MDF cabinet doors, they lean on them, they spray toothpaste and water over the paintwork. Eventually the doors drop, the paint wears off and the MDF swells and that is all before we venture into what they do with toilets.

Paint effected MDF is not child proof. 

And so we get to the curious incident of the exploding toilet. I'll leave out the leaking cistern and the ext-husband and his failure to create a removable panel. And I'll miss out the bit in which I spent 4 days assuming the dripping was a leaking roof until I finally realised that it wasn't actually raining outdoors. We shall skip to the worst part of being a single Mother - unblocking the toilet.

And boy did I try it all: coat hangers, toilet plungers that guarantee splash back and eventually pressure washers (messy). So when I returned from a holiday to discover that a teenager hosted a party and the toilet had been blocked for a week, it was time to get hardcore.

So on the recommendation of the man with the brown coat in the local hardware store, I poured Sulphuric acid down the loo. On reflection, it was a mistake. As I watched the nuclear cloud mushroom out of the loo, I realised that prudent people read instructions. Realising just how dangerous this situation had become, I covered my face in transparent nylon in a bid to get to the window, the mixture of acid and 'blockage' began to seep from beneath the loo. This was bad news. It took several changes in nylon headwear and three cartons of bicarbonate soda to neutralise this toxic substance.

The severity of the reaction had split the loo and melted a hole through to the floor, through to the kitchen. On a positive note, it cleared the blockage.

So just last week, I had a new loo installed but in true single parent 'think in the moment' style, I forgot to allow for the size of the previous loo. I'm calling it a design feature, an inbuilt ventilation system. Who am I kidding.





So when I stumbled across a competition earlier today from The Big Bathroom Store to win a Bathroom Make Over, the timing could not be more perfect. So I am writing a blog, creating a dream bathroom on Pintrest from their online store, in conjunction with Tile Mountain and I am dreaming of a rather nice new bathroom. One that does not reflect life as a single mother.


And here is the thing about modern bathrooms - they are modern. Gone are the days when a bathroom space should be merely functional, we all want spaces that are aesthetically pleasing as they are functional. When you have had a stressful day - you need a spa like experience, not a nervous breakdown.


So clicking through the pages, I have chosen ranges that I can imagine relaxing in, tiles that will stand the test of time and create heritage in keeping with my old beamed bathroom. A perfect bathroom for a single mother is not white tiles and über modern - the aim is to create a sense of well being, not more surfaces that have to have finger prints removed from every five minutes. The classical styling of a freestanding bath can work as well with contemporary furniture as it does with more historic lines.

Modern manufacturing creates instant heritage with the freestanding Winchester Suite & über stylish Skyros Delft Tiles 

The Premier Ryther Double ended Slipper with Skirt Bath is a contemporary take of a classical design. The perfect partner to Craquele glaze tiles. This combo had got relaxation and romance written all over it 

Still under suites, my wild card is the Black Wood Levity furniture suite. Contemporary wall hung in wood veneer would work well in my bathroom, complimenting the beams and adding visual floor space. There are a host of freestanding baths available on the site but this furniture is the statement piece. And from my perspective, clutter free creates harmony.

Ribera slate effect wall tile is the perfect back drop for the Black Wood Levity bathroom furniture suite 

And it all ends with children because perhaps in a strange way we reap what we sow. Perhaps in giving birth to so many, so certain to destroy my finances and my bathroom, that they could ultimately be the very reason that I get my own sanctuary.


And if I do, I am purchasing a very large bathroom lock and giving them a bucket and hosepipe.
There is nothing quite as heartening than a sense of harmony.

Ohm

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Disclaimer - this is an entry into the Dream Bathroom competition in conjunction with Big Bathroom Shop and Tile Mountain.  The dream is still very much my own :)

Think carefully before getting in bed with your mother in law.

One of the single most devisive factors in my marriage was my Mother in law. I was tiny, shiny hair, bright eyes and just 12 years old when I first met her and completely oblivious of her desire to control and manipulate everyone in her family.

At that point, my relationship with her son was entirely innocent, merely childish adoration. On the day of our first meeting, the family was off to the local furniture store and when my yet to be husband asked if I could come along, she looked me up and down and said "There is no room for her".  There was, but she has no intention of letting me get anywhere near her son.

Years later, she admitted that having just lost her mother, she saw me as a threat, the person that would take her son away and she hated me for it. When I was 18 and we had moved in together, she told him that he had to choose between her and me. If he chose me, he could collect his belongings and would no longer be a son of hers"

He chose me but it was an uncomfortable situation all around. Looking back, I made so many mistakes. The first was that I tried to fix things. I simply wanted him to be able to get on with his family and started a long journey trying to do the right thing, making sure that we visited, buying her perfect presents, inviting them to stay, having them for Christmas - you name it, I tried it all.

It never improved. No matter how she smiled in my face, she hated me for taking her son away and did everything in her power to create problems. What I should have done, was let him make his choice and deal with that himself. What I should have done, was have boundaries.

What I didn't see then, her control was entrenched and he so scared at the consequences of standing up to her, that he never did. She could say what she wanted, he would fail to take any responsibility in sorting it out, simply duck in the crossfire and ultimately create a situation in which she became the most divisive factor in our relationship.

When we got divorced, she was elated and actively sought to create a level of animosity akin to The War of the Roses and she did her best to involve the children. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work because children don't like being manipulated. To this day, she does not have a close relationship with her grandchildren and in her mind, it is still all my fault. It never was. I know that, the children know that and so does my ex-husband but still, he is still too scared to point out that the relationships she has are directly as a result of her behaviour and unkindness. He still fails to acknowledge that his inability to stand up to her, had an equal impact on the relationship he has with his children. He simply say's that it is nothing to do with him. Ironically, allowing her to behave the way she does, is the same as telling her it is acceptable.

Over the years, there were so many malicious, unkind and cruel things said, that I would have to write a book to accommodate them all,  but the single cruelest thing she ever did was write a letter about one of my children. He had sent a text from my phone to say that he was unable to meet them one day. This was followed by an abusive response to me saying that I had forged at text from him to turn my son against them. It was he world of crazy. When this 15 year old, with more integrity than most adults,  told her on the phone that it was not okay to try and manipulate them into taking sides in an unpleasant divorce and then refused to accept any contact or gifts from them - I got the blame.

And then the letter that told me my son was rude, selfish and unpleasant, the letter that requested that I show it to my son so that he would know what he was like. So I sent it instead to my ex-husband who replied back with "I didn't write this, it has nothing to do with me" And his fear of her, meant hat he would not stand up for his own son.

In all of my 25 years of a relationship with this man, this was the point in which I realised that I had been banging my head up against a brick wall. On so many occasions, my own father, who never really gets involved in anything had suggested there is a point in which you have to stand up to your mother. We even had a spell of marriage guidance in which ex-husband was told the same thing but when push came to shove - nothing was bigger than the fear of consequence he had with this woman. Not even his own son.

If I had spotted that 25 years earlier, I could have saved myself years of trying put my need for harmony above my need for sanity and more importantly, understanding that in doing so - I had set myself up for failure. We had cerated a situation in which we were not a team, we were not facing the world together because we had created a relationship which allowed someone else to always come between us.

And yep, this was my choice but I was young and what youth doesn't show you is that every one needs boundaries, lines that cannot be crossed. When you create a situation in which there are none, you are creating a ticking time bomb. Know that ultimately, when desperately trying not to rock the boat, normalising crazy means that you are walking alone.

And the thing that really changed in divorce, is that I regained my sanity. I finally realised that you never change anyone, no amount of understanding will change a single thing. Ignoring the issue and pandering to it simply gave her more power and left me in a marriage in which I always came second to fear. Love is simply never enough.

And my life is immeasurably more healthy in no longer being part of such toxic dynamics. My ex-husband on the other hand, changed nothing. He still has a relationship with a woman that he hates as much as wants her to be nice. He has damaged relationships around him and still puts as much effort into not seeing her as he does in pretending that her behaviour is normal when he does.

I don't blame him, it was simply my fault for thinking things would ever change. Love never changes everything, boundaries do. And making sure that you have them.

Think carefully before getting in bed with your mother in law.

When write is on my side.

Amongst other things, I write about trends in kitchen and bathroom design. I used to write on all sorts of matters as a journalist and largely for broadsheet newspapers such as The Times.  I trained as a Graphic Designer and so with no formal training as a journalist, it always came as a bit of a surprise that I never had much trouble getting published.

But the reason for this apparent ease, was simply honesty.  I wrote about things that affected people, things that people didn't talk about openly. Sometimes it was merely my cynical observations that saw my words in print.

That is the funny thing about writing for a living. You can write with honesty or you can manipulate words to create your own truth. Journalism should be about reporting the truth or telling a story based on the perception of events or the interpretation of facts. It should never be knowingly based falsehood because when you use words either written or verbally to manipulate the truth, the outcome is never good.

And words are such powerful tools, possibly the single most deadly weapon ever developed. Being able to write, to articulate the truth, to create a story, to  communicate in such a way that others can relate to or empathise with, is an empowering skill but one all too often used to create damage, chaos and cruelty.

And I guess that is why I am comfortable about writing on matters that make others uncomfortable. Because I am comfortable with honesty. Since I have nothing to hide behind, no public image to keep up - I have no problem with writing about anything that affects my life. And nor do I have any issue with anyone knowing things about my life. Nor indeed, any fear of those that are not comfortable with the truth.

I remember my ex husband being utterly furious about my blog and the things that I wrote about our divorce.

"I don't write anything that isn't the truth" I said.

"Exactly" he said "that's the point"

He wasn't particularly comfortable with me writing about dishonesty, control and emotional abuse. I was, those were his issues and they affected me.  And that is exactly the kind of thing I like to write about most. I like nothing better than to write with honest about the dishonesty of life and relationships.

And there reaches a level of comfortableness in honesty that is impenetrable. Imagine if I presented as one thing, and behind closed doors  - was an entirely different person. Imagine if I only wrote in a way that presented me in the best light.  To be good at writing, you have to be honest, because if you aren't  - there will come a day when everyone realises that every thing you said, everything you presented to be - was untrue.

There are no words that could adequately describe how scary that would be.

Honesty is always the best policy.

You cannot control happiness but fear depends on it.

I have been deep in thought all week. And debate. I have had heated discussions on the current state of affairs in the Middle East,  debates on the Koran, the hypocrisy of Christianity, what colour a dress is, the ignorance of arrogance, the sadness of people that control and the misery of those that are controlled

And I figure that the root of all control, of domination, manipulation and plain unkindness - is fear, fear of not being in control.

And even for those that allow themselves to be controlled, it is the fear of taking control that paralyses them, the fear of what happens when they are not controlled. It's all a rather pointless self fulfilling prophecy.

So what is the point? None of it creates happiness. To feel the need to control others, to always get what you want, is the very thing that prevents ultimate happiness. You cannot truly receive until you can truly give. When you control others, there is a part of your soul that is simply closed off.

Religion is all about control. It is fundamentally a code of conduct that creates consequence for actions that do not adhere to the rules within it. This creates control through fear. Religion is a belief that many need and perhaps they are simply ruled by a fear that there is nothing more than themselves and it is the self that creates the life around, not a religion that tells them their view of the world. Perhaps it is merely fear of thinking for ourselves that creates the issue. I suspect it is really just fear of taking responsibility for our own thoughts and actions that is the real issue.

Controlling relationships create fear and yet the need to control someone else is all about your own fears.

Working your way up the corporate ladder? You are climbing rungs that are rooted in fear. You enter a world in which you will play the game to protect your own back. You will be terrified of putting yourself in a position of risk. Your fear of loss and status will make you play the game, because if you don't - there will always be someone coming up behind you to take over.

And then there are the bullies, the ones that fear not being socially accepted, not being strong enough, not being good enough or simply not being in control of their own lives. What better way to control those feelings than to make someone else feel worse than you do.

But really, where does all of this get us?

Take my marriage. My husband controlled me because he hated the control I had over him. He loved me in his own way, but he hated that I had that control over him and so he punished me with control. He was unhappy, so he made me unhappy. And the more he did it, the more I let him because by then,   I was too scared to take responsibility for my own happiness. Since I was unhappy, I carried on letting him control me. Then I learnt that control was about someone else need, not mine.

So imagine a world in which we walked away from fear. We simply stopped this fear creating the need to control others, to control life and everything in it. Imagine a world where we just accepted that the fear of the unknown, is just a response.

Imagine a world in which we were all simply contented enough that we didn't feel the need to control everyone and everything around us.

Imagine a world in which we didn't accept control because we were not scared of being ourselves.

Don't hold your breath

Adopting a new concept of family

I am in the midst of writing a reference for my brother and his partner in their quest to adopt. It is an interesting view to offer since no one really knows the ability to parent until they are given a child. It's a role like no other and very few achieve the one thing we should all achieve as a parent - realising that it is not all about us.

The concept of family is changing and it is about time. We hold on to the idea that family should be picture perfect, with sing songs around the Christmas tree. When they going gets tough, family should stick together and support through thick or thin. The reality is all too frequently different.

Children that are put up for adoption are rarely the result of a happy childhood where there status changed by way of bereavement. These are children that have had the kind of start that no one deserves. Almost all will have had their roots with parents that for whatever the cause, were ill equipped to meet their needs. These are children that may have seen the most terrible things, been neglected or perhaps abused. Whatever the history, all need security and safety. And it doesn't end here, because when you are rejected or neglected as a child, the effects can be life long.

My mother was one of these children. And whilst she went on to maintain a long marriage and children, she came with life long issues over trust and emotional security. When you have been rejected in your childhood to the degree she was, you see love as a pie. Anyone showing love to someone else is taking a piece of your pie.

You cannot ever truly get into the workings of such damage. In my own family, it is pretty universally acknowledged that it translates into an issue with girls, which is only a problem if you happen to be one. For my Father and brothers, they didn't really have to deal with it and since it didn't affect them, they didn't.

So for my entire childhood, I rationalised that the very strained and difficult relationship I had with my mother was as a result of her own traumatic childhood and as such, I had to understand it because no one deserved a childhood where they felt rejected. In doing so, I can't really say my own emotional needs were met. So I learnt not to have any.

You can rationalise all you like as a child but when you don't have a normal healthy bond with your mother, you spend your whole life never feeling quite good enough. Every choice you make, every partner you chose, is as an indirect consequence to your experience of the most important relationship you ever had - the one between mother and child.

And over the years you realise things: the reason you constantly had to prove that you could do anything a man can do was because yo learnt that you were only really ever accepted if you were male. So I learnt to strip a car engine, respray a car, plaster walls, never show female emotion, never have needs in a relationship. What I have finally managed to accept is that I am not a boy.

And the route of everything is in fear. For the boys in my family, there is a universal adoration and an unsaid rule that no one rocks the boat. And so no one rocks the boat except me. And I do that, simply by being me.

It is a family in which we are all expected to behave in a certain way. To never question parental authority, to never question our past for the actions of parents because if you do - you are banished for a period.

And as I find myself banished once more, but with that I gain the clarity that I always needed. Family is all embracing, it is about acceptance of every member within it and it is about love. It is not about control, it is not about punishment and the constant need to control by consequence is about as healthy as being bulimic. In fact, it's arguably a similar concept. My family is not made up of bad people but it is not one of healthy construct. If you do not exist in a family as yourself, or only exist if you behave in a way dictated by others - then the reality is, you don't have a family that actually loves you.

But I do. I have the family I created, the one with 4 amazing boys that I have raised without the benefit of a whole heap of support - have grown up knowing that no matter what they do, they are loved wholeheartedly and free of judgement. And the one thing we underestimate in children, is their capacity to see when you are taking something from them to fulfil your own need. I am guessing that the reason why these children (and two now adults) are so free to love is that it was so freely given when they were growing up.

Family is not the one that you are told to have, it's the one you create. We hold onto the past even when it has done us harm. We desperately hold on to the concept of family because we are taught to believe that this is where we find acceptance and support when often we find the opposite. When we don't find it, we assume the role of responsibility.  And this is the bit I am no longer prepared to do.


So  instead of looking as adoption as a solution to failed families, perhaps we should see it as the the start of creating families in which people chose healthy loving relationships instead of feeling failures for the ones that didn't work out. The creation of new families is not about blame, it is about acceptance. People don't stuff up being a parent on purpose, they do it because they do not have the skills to love without need and do not have the ability to face their own truth. For whatever the reason, they do not have the ability to create the one thing every child deserves - a childhood in which they are are raised to be accepted and loved.

So I look at the family I created, and I look towards the family that my brother is choosing to create and I cannot help feeling happy for this child, or children - that despite a traumatic start, will be raised to understand that love is in giving not taking.  The concept of family is and should remain a fluid one.

Sometimes the words of others are so much better than your own

“When your mind wants to bolt, but your heart hangs on, it is because you don’t know with absolute certainty what the truth is. When you waste so much time on something that you want to believe is true, you begin to overthink things.


Eventually, something obvious becomes twisted into something absurd, which keeps us from believing a simpler answer. Over time, you believe your own lies and fantasies to shield yourself from hurt, when following what is logical would have been the quickest way to healing. It is through your own self-imposed delusions that you lose your perspective. The world then becomes different to you when in fact you are different.


Why? Because your own ego gets in the way. Everyone wants to feel special. Everyone wants to have faith in others. Everyone wants to believe in fairytales, happy endings and have all bad interactions with others explained. It is easier to sit in denial with your delusions and pray God will intervene, not realizing he has.


He gave you commonsense and intuition, but you didn’t like how it made you feel. This is what true mental illness really is: Following your gut instinct through hell because you want to prove you are right, either to yourself or others. You sacrifice choosing to do right, in order to avoid pain. However, you don't realize that you have been in pain for a really long time and believed this was how happiness felt.”

― Shannon L. Alder

When women take men from behind

I have a very wealthy friend; lots of property, fabulous home, plenty of dosh and a pricey divorce. He is understandably cautious about dating women since he now recognises that his ex-wife was little short of a gold digger. A relationship with very little respect coming his way and when it came to an end, she was nothing short of vicious. Sadly, in his 40's and of generous nature, he now finds himself pretty wary of dating and it's easy to see why.


I know this because I went on a date with him, saw how much he spent on his divorce as a red flag and went instead, for a good friendship. The only evidence that he has that not all women are like this, is the fact that I didn't go on any more dates with him.


And it would have been so easy. As a single mother on a low income, with enough children to warrant an exceptionally large car - there can have been nothing easier than date a man that would make life a lot easier. But that is not how I am. After a financially and emotionally controlling marriage, I swore blind that I would never be controlled by money again and neither would I accept a relationship that did not have total honesty in it. Yes money makes life easier but not as much as honesty does. If I was in situation in which someone wasn't completely open and truthful - I would simply leave. If someone tried to manipulate me financially, the front door would bang as I left.


But it still staggers me just how many women will take what they can from a relationship, with no recognition that the person they are taking from is in fact, a human being with emotions, feelings and needs. And it staggers me just how many men do not see what is going on.


I am not advocating that a relationship should not be financially supportive. Of course it should, but men need to make sure that the women that they are in a relationship with them through love and not because of control. With my own experience, I have no idea how one gets to a place of trusting someones generosity. I have a pathological fear of conversations involving money and am pretty independent - which is fantastic except that I was raised to see financial union as much a part of commitment as emotional union. When I hear tales of women taking advantage of men and manipulating generosity for their own gain, it makes it harder for women like me to ever accept financial involvement from someone else.


So I was reading this today from a website that supports men in abusive relationships. I stumbled upon it a while back and realised that I had spent so long dealing with my own history of emotionally abusive relationships that I hadn't considered that men suffer them to. And yes, it's different. Men are raised to feel that they are the stronger sex, often the provider, the protector - and when you realise that, you realise that it's perhaps harder for a man to see what is going on at the hands of a manipulative woman.


www.shrink4men.com


Here’s the latest from CrazyBuster, Micksbabe. It is a follow-up to her article, How to Spot a Gold Digger.


This article will discuss the manipulations of the Gold Digger’s evil counter-part, the Damsel in Distress. Whereas the Gold Digger is overt in her, “Gimme, Gimme, Gimme” in exchange for sex and other favors, the Damsel in Distress is much more covert in her manipulations. In fact, you can think of the Damsel in Distress as a covert Gold Digger.


The Damsel in Distress’s shtick is that of the helpless waif, tied to the tracks with a train approaching. The Damsel in Distress first finds a Giver or Rescuer and begins appealing to his inherent generosity with her needy helplessness, and rewards him with gratitude and makes him feel like a Knight in Shining Armor for saving her.


The Damsel in Distress would have the Knight believe that, without his intervention, she would certainly perish. In this relationship, the Damsel in Distress has her needs met by fulfilling the Giver’s need to be needed.


In reality, the Damsel in Distress is lazy and shameless and is, essentially, seeking a host. She’s an entitled manipulative brat who was trained in this manner, either by observing a female role model, or by having a male role model who treated her like a Princess.


She is not responsible for her own actions or solving her own problems. She will never carry in her own groceries from the car. She will not mow the grass, take her car in for an oil change, move a piece of furniture or use a screwdriver, for anything. She will not get up in the middle of the night to care for her crying baby, even though she doesn’t work.


At best, she will insist that you work in feeding shifts. She hates changing diapers and will moan about it until you end up doing it and it becomes your job, exclusively.


The bills? Those are yours, too. It is your job to fund her shopping sprees and if there is not enough money left to pay the utilities, then you failed and you are not only no longer a Knight, but you are no longer a Man.


In the real world, all of us suffer natural consequences. The Damsel in Distress manages to find a Giver who is willing to insulate her from natural consequences, just as her parents did when she was a child. In fact, the Damsel in Distress is a child, emotionally. But a child with an adult intellect who learned how to be manipulative to continue getting all of her needs met by someone else.


Here are a few warning signs to watch for that might indicate you are dating, married to or divorcing a Damsel in Distress:


1. She’s always in peril. This is not normal. Normal people figure out how to get their shit together and avoid crises. The Damsel in Distress manufactures crises and uses them as her mating call.


2. She has problems with finances. Occasionally all of us run into some financial problems. But the difference in the Damsel in Distress and the rest of us (normal people) is that we figure out what went wrong in the first place, suffer a little until we get back on our feet, and don’t let it happen again. Improvise, adapt and overcome. The Damsel in Distress flops around like a flounder until someone takes pity on her and bails her out. Incidentally, the Damsel in Distress never pays back loans.


3. She “Can’t.” Normal people “can.” There are a long list of things that the Damsel in Distress “can’t” do, and that list looks very similar to what the Damsel in Distress doesn’t “want” to do. Avoid dating women who overuse the word, “Can’t.” Otherwise you will be the person picking up her dog’s poop out of the yard.


Before you think I am admonishing you for being generous, I’m not. There’s nothing wrong with being a Giver. It’s better than being a Taker. Givers make the world a better place. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if two Givers got together and gave to each other? Reciprocal giving – there’s a concept.

What have the Romans ever done for us? Divorce Italian style

In September last year, the high court overturned 180 divorces involving Italian nationals who had used a PO box address as proof of residence. That is 360 people pretty keen on being divorced and now consigned to the grindingly slow process that is the Italian divorce system.

Generally speaking, when one decides that enough is enough and the marriage vows are no longer worth the paper they are written on, most of us are pretty keen to get the paperwork stamped and get on with our lives.  The Italian divorce system is not known for making this process any easier, hence why so many tried to make use of a system in which allows couples that no longer want to be together, to be apart.

Except the Italian that my partner is married to. Being married to an Englishman gives a few advantages. Not only does it secure a few more options later in life for any offspring, but should the marriage fail, it affords the option of divorcing, legally - in the UK. Once agreed, within a short few months you can get on with perhaps the only commitment that is lifelong - parenting.

The alternative is grim, 3 years separation that only counts from the day you stand in front of the judge and only if you are in agreement. Any period that you weren't sharing the marital bed is discounted.  It can take months to get in front of the judge and the period up to this is defined by how long it takes to come to an agreement, or how long it takes you to make the other person give in to your demands. Failure to agree to consensual separation could see you still married a decade later.

So it came as a bit of a surprise that the woman that my partner is married to demanded an unnecessarily protracted route that causes upset all around. Not as one might assume, that she wants a husband - it was abundantly clear that she no longer wanted one of those. And clearly not because she wanted him to get on with his life, equally abundant that his feelings really never counted in this equation.  And it is nothing to do with having a child, since divorcing in the UK does not alter child access agreements being agreed in the Italian courts. And it's nothing to do with religion.

So I am left completely perplexed as to why an apparently intelligent Italian woman, with a moderately prominent role in the media, would dictate that a protracted Italian divorce must be pursued when the option of a UK filed divorce is available. Apparently, to do otherwise would result in a re-enactment of the War of the Roses.

When I first first found myself in a relationship with a man yet to be divorced but living in a different country to his estranged wife, I was happy to be obliging.  When the time came, happy in reassuring this woman that her daughter would always be her daughter, we would be an extension of her fathers life and when and if her daughter was in my company, that she would always be safe and cared for.

I was at the time, happy to meet, to show that I posed no emotional threat, no danger. And I would do this because I have been on the other side, of knowing that my children spend time with another woman and knowing that I have no say in what influence she has.  I know the fear of letting go and the just how hard it can be accepting that you do not have total control of a child's life. Particularly when you are no longer involved with the father. This of course, was on the assumption that this divorce would be perfectly civilised, since the man she is divorcing has been perfectly civilised.

And then she made it abundantly clear that she would make life hell if he filed for divorce in the UK. He, being a man that takes the path of least resistance, a man that has struggled to see how controlling this situation is, a man that has his daughter held as ransom on far too many occasions - was so petrified to the consequences of filing under threat, has gone along with an Italian divorce route that most sane Italians would bite his hand off to avoid.

So at this point, I an not interested in meeting this woman. I don't need to reassure her, what she thinks of me is not relevant to my existence and not relevant to my relationship. And I don't need to reassure of my ability to be around children because the only person that needs to be certain of that, is her daughters father. Since he is so involved in my own children's life - he can make his own mind up.

If you want your child to accept that you are no longer together, its far easier to do so when you are not married and have no ties other than co-parenting. If you want your child to understand that marriage is important then creating a situation in which parents are still married but one party is living with another family, makes it a pretty complex equation.

And the rub is that I believe in marriage. I absolutely believe in commitment and I totally believe in the concept that my children, having lived through and witnessed an unpleasant marriage and divorce should benefit from the chance of celebrating a newly formed family. So holding out for a longer divorce has created a situation that creates unnecessary tension, potentially unnecessarily confusion to one child, and preventing my children from what they would like. And that is not a situation that fills me with the warmth of sisterhood.

And this is all about children. Because children are the one thing that can be used for power and control. If you want to do the right thing by your child, you will die in a ditch to make sure that you do the right thing by them.

And it's not easy, I know. My ex-husbands girlfriend is high on my list of women that I do not want to influence my children. I am no fan of infidelity, no fan of women that have affairs with married men and since she is one, we will never share anything in common. But I accept that I do not have the right to dictate who, how and where he spends time with the children.

Now I could be bloody minded and try, but if I want my children to respect me and grow up emotionally balanced, I need to make sure that they see him with regularity, free of emotional blackmail and manipulation from me, because children see everything.  So this is what I do. It might be through gritted teeth at times but since it is in their best interest, it is what I will continue to do.  But how I wish that my children were around someone that they felt safe with. Someone that I knew would look out for their emotional and physical wellbeing in my absence.

And this divorce, this long horrid journey that is dictating my choices, impacting on the values that I raised my children with, challenging my morals and my patience at every turn - is all about control. It seems that almost every interaction in a failed relationship is ultimately about control. Right at this moment, all I see is a situation in which one person dictates the future of everyone around. And all because control is more important than the bigger picture.

Children are not owned, they are on their own journey. Your job is to give them the love and confidence that they need to be on that path. Children are not confused by circumstances, they are confused by the messages you give them, by the atmosphere they sense. And when you divorce, you do not get to own your child, you get to co-parent. When you seek to to own a child, you end up causing pain, unhappiness and resentment. When you prevent a child from benefitting from as much love around as is available you restrict their ability to grow self esteem and confidence. When you prevent a child from freedom, they ultimately resent you.

In my happy head, I met the man I love and he was divorced. His daughter benefits from an extended family because we all know that the more children are loved, the more happy and confident that grow up to be. In my happy head, his wife, having chosen to not be married, would wish him the opportunity to be free of a failed marriage, to be happy in the next stage of his life because when a child has a happy parent, they have a happy life.

How I wish that the man I divorced had never been unfaithful, had always been financially supportive, responsible and emotionally supportive to his children. How I wish his girlfriend understood children and cared for mine in my absence. How I wish that he was in a relationship with a woman that when my children were feeling poorly, I could call her and check that they had their favourite bedtime story. Yet despite not having any of this, I accept that they when they see their Father, it is their time with him. It is their right.

So do I understand a women that does not see how fortunate she is, how lucky her daughter is to have a father that loves her and how much her need to be in control of everything impacts on the lives of so many. Do I understand a woman that thinks that a consensual divorce is one in which she got her own way?

Do I hell.

Watching hastiness unfold

I find myself in a perfectly imperfect situation. I am in love with a man that is in an imperfect situation, which means I am potentially in an imperfect situation independantly and as a result of his.
And the only way someone can do what is right for them is to think about what is right for them. The minute what is right for me comes into it, then what is right for them is influenced by it and then it becomes all wrong.

So I sit and see, watching a story unfold at a painfully slow pace, and knowing that this is not a scenario I ever planned on being in.  And I guess none us know what the future brings and how we will deal with it. Least of all me. and so I silently play out the scenarios.

My head hurts.

Badly

Past imperfect

Over along period of time I have figured that there is only one way to get over a realationship and that is not to date anyone for a very long time. With a bad experience it is not so much getting over the person, it's getting to a place in which you have sufficiently recovered from the pain caused or at least, getting to a place in which you realise that you will never find the answer in anyone else. You cannot fully commit to another person whilst you have unresolved issues with another person.

There are times when you need to accept that you will never understand another person and no amount of understanding will make the carnage they inflict acceptable. The best place to be is to recognise that whatever the issues of another, there is no place for them in your life.

And this is where I got to a few months ago, the understanding that whilst I may have taken a disproprotionate amount of time trying to understand the issues of others, they were irrelevant. If I wasn't good for me it was time for a complete emotional disconnect.

And it's taken a long time to get here. To get to a place where I have no unresolved issues with a past partner. They don't need to be resolved since as relationships went, they sucked. None of them provided a feeling that I would ever want to feel again. All of them have served to warn me of the things I do not want to feel in a relationship. And to have them would make being single the only viable option.

And the irony is that this is the time that you meet someone, the time in which you are ready to love another wholeheartedly without any 'what if's' about anyone else. And for them to be in a place where they can truly love back. That said, it's not an easy path. People are frequently not conscious of their own emotional reactions, they don't necessarily have a full awareness of their own learned behaviour. I know without question that my emotional barriers can come up in an instant. My fight or flight mode is pitched higher than most people and with a history of relationships in which what people say being out of kilter with my gut instinct, it's going to be hard work for anyone to engender sufficient trust in me that I will commit whole heartedly.

And how do you ever really know if your gut instinct is telling you something you don't want to hear or if you are simply on red alert? It's an impossible question. And that's the thing about the future, you can only walk it with your eyes open and hope it's going in the direction you want it to. And you can only really do that when you have stopped looking back.

Oh Lord, I have seen the light - lay your hands upon me

This weekend I shall be going away with a man that a barely know.

I am good at spontaneous but I rarely do rash. This man is utterly out of my comfort zone.

He's happy. Which means he's kind and that I have little experience of such traits. It's a fairly accurate rule of thumb that when people are unkind, they are generally unhappy.  And I have had too much of that in my life.

I'm not worried about the future for at this present moment, nice is good.

So I am going to go away with a man that is happy, kind, cooks, sings and is physically and emotionally confident.

The fact that he is in a three month deadline to the full abs look helps, but his qualification as a massage therapist has nothing to do with it.

Nothing you hear. Nothing

When having a Tempur is a pain in the neck.

I recently did some extensive damage to my deltoid muscle and the knock on effect caused further strain to adjoining areas. Before I knew it, a planking competition with a teenager had reignited an old whiplash injury and I found myself in ongoing and considerable pain. The cause wasn't the planking, it was my ego. I intended to win, no matter the cost.

And so far, the cost has been £200 at the local Osteopath. Since my shoulder is attached to my neck, which is attached to my spine, which in turn is attached to my pelvis, I am - apparently, buggered and will need extensive healing. My body is like Newtons cradle - except it's not bouncing back.

It was an enlightening experience and with hand cupping my sacrum, he asked how my back had faired post twin delivery. "Perfectly fine"  I  exclaimed smugly, explaining that the purchase of a Tempur mattress had seen to it that I could jump out of bed in the morning with all the glee of a 10 year old.

"You have solved nothing' said the Osteopath "You have merely masked the problem"

And he is right, any more than two nights on a mattress not given the thumbs up by NASA sees me whimpering for all of the wrong reasons. My miracle cure only works as long as I don't venture too far from home or only stay in the very best in accommodation.  Since I live my life by the art of the tenuous link, it struck me that the tale of the Tempur mattress and the deltoid injury was just another of life's lessons on the journey to understanding the bigger picture.

And the bigger picture appeared when idly scrolling through my Facebook friends. Spotting a couple that had hurt me recently, my finger was itching to delete them forever and eradicate the things I wasn't prepared tp face. Yet pressing delete doesn't work, it's no more effective than sticking your fingers in your ears and humming when someone says something you don't want to hear.

Pressing delete would make these my Tempur friends. Get get rid of them and I would only have people around me that hadn't hurt me, yet. And there is no guarantee they won't so that list could just keep on growing. But you don't get rid of hurt by pretending it never happened, by looking the other way. You don't move on with your life when you leave things unaddressed and you do not grow as a person unless you choose to handle situations differently. Rather like the planking episode, turning your head from issues of discomfort is no more than an attack of ego.

When you cannot bear to face something, cannot bear to listen to something - so much easier to shelve the issue, to avert your gaze or pretend it didn't happen - but the things we do not wish to deal with are the things that create that annoying knock on effect.

So someone hurts me. I stop speaking to them, not because I want to but because I cannot verbalise hurt. Sure, it gets rid of the immediate pain but long term I feel guilty that I have avoided them and remain hurt that they didn't see how much they wounded me. Hardly a win win situation. And so I feel guilty and guilt is corrosive. So I feel bad about myself and the next time someone is horrid, I think I deserved it. And if not guilt, then shame or anger or some other pointless emotion until we learn that the only time that anything changes, is the time that we do something different.

It's the Tempur effect. Simply masks the problem.

Sexual frustration starts with a mobile phone

I have written before about my lack of flirting skills and they rose their head again this weekend. Except, I am beginning to wonder if it is not my flirting skills that are the issue but everyone else's.

Flirting in 2013 seems to be more about sexual explicitness than any meaningful titalation and I am fairly certain that it is not a skill I have much wish to learn. It is no longer about seduction and nor is it necessarily specific to the person receiving it, but seemingly just another string to the bow of porn.

I entered into some texting with a man that I simply have never understood but to be fair, he is  attractive and someone you would certainly consider worth flirting with. It moved from a bit of flirting to overtly sexual pretty rapidly and I was simply not comfortable with where it was going. Had I already slept with him, I would have enjoyed it for he wasn't without good word skills and to be fair, nothing he said was crude. But we haven't slept together, we probably never will and since he only makes contact when he is away,  I suspect that in a moment of boredem - he thought he would just make use of the mobile phone for a bit of fun.

And so now I am sexually frustrated. Indeed, he wrote such that I couldn't help but think "That would be very nice, thank you very much" and had he been here, I'd have been pretty pleased to know he was thinking in such manner. But that isn't what it was about and now I am frustrated. I had got quite used to the sexual desert but now frankly, I am feeling a little robbed. So why do men text women with things they would like to do, that they have no intention of doing?

And there are so many men that use mobile phones for meaningless sexual pleasure. I should imagine that the printed porn industry has seen a decline in profit in the last few years. Fertility units will no longer have to produce magazines for men to produce, they will simply need to make sure they have 3G in a private room.

So how did we get to place in which people text each other sexual suggestion that they have absolutely no intention of seeing through. Phone sex is nothing new, when I was younger and couldn't see my boyfriend, it was the way to go but it involved actually knowing the person because you had to speak with them. Unless of course, you were paying for a service. And perhaps this is the change, texting dismisses the need for personal contact and makes sexting with just about anyone a free service, giving you access to a multitude of contacts that may be willing to play ball. So to speak.

Yet its more than that, we have become a society in which meaningless encounters are more common than anyone actually getting to know each other. Someone being attracted to you doesn't mean anything any more. It simply means they probably just want sex. And its all a little insulting, that a man that is clearly not interested, feels free to get sexual by text. Seriously, how sad is it than in a society where self gratification is so easy and sex so freely given that we appear to have anaesthetised ourselves to needing to know someone. Sex with someone who's body and mind you actually like - is so much better

A close friend regularly benefits from text images of mens pride and joys in her inbox, which may be pretty amusing to see but really, I know few women that are genuinely turned on by a picture of someones penis. Women don't tremble in excitement, they simply assess it and there are few things men like less than being compared. These are invariably not men interested in a relationship, they are just men that want someone to help them through a moment of self gratification.  And as men get off to the 'mmmmmmm' in reply, they should know the truth. Women are not moaning when they tap in mmmmm, the are simply speechless and bored. The same can be said of ummmmmm.

I love my mobile phone, at times I love social media but I do not love it enough for send pictures of me baring all. The truth is, I love my reputation more. In a relationship or someone I am dating, I'd happily be as suggestive and since I excel at innuendo, a lot of fun could be had, but sending men I don't really know overtly sexual texts, is just a little weird. Particularly when it is pretty clear that the only contact they want is when they are bored.

So my reputation remains in tact but I am more sexually frustrated than ever before.

Great. Thanks

F****ed off with the F****ed up

I have missed writing so very much. Too many of the people I find myself surrounded by are so driven by their oddness that I find it impossible to write about them. And really, do they ever change?

Perhaps I have just reached the stage where behind the smile, the hello or the nod of acknowledgement - is the voice in my head that screams

"Oh for fuck sake, just bloody grow up"

I feel better for writing that.

Putting on a brave facade

A man that I had considered a friend, recently sent a text telling me that he found me more attractive than he should. I was a little stunned. Particularly as we had already had a conversation on that very issue. A conversation in which I had made it perfectly clear that I was none too keen on men who created disingenuous friendships on the off chance something may occur from them.

So I didn't respond. It was awkward. Even more so when I then received a day long barrage of texts asking me to consider his unlikely scenario. I declined. Yet despite being appalled - I admired him.

It seems that all too often we play games, we mess with peoples heads - simply because we are not brave enough to be honest about how we really feel. The fear of rejection can paralyse us into not being able to reveal our true thoughts and worse still, can make us appear to want the very opposite.

I am a master of this. I would rather die in a ditch than show someone I really want, that I really want them. So I give nothing away. I play games. And all to often I play games with people who are equally incapable of revealing their true thoughts, because they have the same fear I do. So they play games.

And the reality hits that you can play those games for years. You know, deep down - that the thought process is mutual. There are always just enough signs to back up your hunch, just not quite enough to evidence to fuel sufficient confidence at making those thoughts a little clearer. And because of this - you end up committed to a very long game of emotional chess.

And what a waste. Because until one of you is brave enough to break that pattern, to be entirely honest about your inner thoughts - nothing will ever change and you will watch a thousand days of chance simply fade away.

I'd like to say I worked this out myself but I didn't. In complaining of someone elses control issues, it took a friend to point out that since I was controlling my true thoughts so much - I was equally culpable in the push pull mind game. It was a fair call.

And I do nothing about it because the fear of rejection is paralysing.

So to the man that I didn't want - I take my hat off to you for making your thoughts known. You have the kind of bravery I wish I had.

Talking defecation for a living

Apparently, I am not allowed to use the headline "Good wrist action for men that get stiff" for the only range of garden tools to be awarded a commendation from the arthritic society. Which is a shame.

When writing about axes, I was out voted on my suggestion of "The perfect gift for men that demand good head" Now clearly., I didn't forward these to the client but hey, it makes the working day more interesting. In truth, I am fairly puritanical in both behaviour and word, but have a quick wit when it comes to innuendo or tenuous link. I suspect that there is a part of my brain, called smutsphere.

However, if I wanted to get the word out there for Fiat, I could write about infant defecation and snot.  This is the link sent to me on Mothers Day from an equally pure colleague in local branding agency.

Genius. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eNVde5HPhYo

The hardest question, the simplest answer

Someone asked me today, "How you know if someone is right for you?"

It's an interesting question. "I guess you just have a gut instinct, you just know," I answered.  And as I tend to, I have spent some time pondering if that was the right answer.

Thinking back to my marriage choice, I knew he was not the right man for me. But I wanted him to be, so I set about ignoring the large flags a flying, wilfully disregarding the facts in favour of only seeing what I wanted to see.

And that is what we do. We enter relationships with people who have something about them that we genuinely like and we will it to work. Since we want it to work so badly - we fail to look at it in the cold light of day and ask whether this person is right in all the places they needs to be right. And they often aren't.

It is true that there is no such thing as the perfect person. No one is without fault. No woman, no matter how beautiful looks beautiful all of the time. No man, no matter how strong will fail to be as irritating as hell at some point  -  but there is such a thing as perfect for you.

And the answer lies in how much we think about it.

When I was dating my ex-husband - I had an ideal of what perfect was and he needed to fit it. His quietness, I put down to being deep. It was actually an inability to communicate. His inability to show compassion, I put down to being overwhelmed by situations and an unable to articulate it. He didn't have any. His lack of ability in sharing thoughts, I put down to being contented. He was simply devious. No matter what it was, I found a way of making it look peachy. It never was - I signed my own divorce papers the day I got married.

The reality was - I was thinking about it too much.

Perfect, is not a relationship in which you make everything fit. Perfect is when you trust someone enough that you just know that you don't have to think about it too much.

The last man I dated could have been perfect, but he wasn't and it wasn't. And sometimes it is merely a case of the wrong time, wrong place.  If he had been more self aware, perhaps he could have been. We got on with ease, we had some great times but emotionally - he was a long way behind me. And I wanted it to be perfect. Did I trust him? absolutely. Did I trust enough to be totally emotionally honest with him about my needs? No.

I was spending way too much of my time having to analyse some of his behaviour.  And one day I woke up and realised that it would never change and in sticking with it, I was compromising too many of the values that I knew were fundamental to what I knew 'perfect for me' needed. And so, he wasn't perfect for me. It was a hard call to make -  but  in doing the one thing I didn't want to do, I was doing the right thing for me. Wrong time, wrong place, wrong man.

It takes a long time to work out who you are and perhaps you never truly truly do. Yet every relationship teaches you something about yourself and what you need from those invited into your life.

The four years I have spent since my marriage ended have had ups and down. I have, without question loved the people I have dated. They were part of that journey and both taught me a lot about myself. And whilst I have associated those with a great deal of pain - they played a huge part in understanding the things that needed understanding.

Arguably, I met them at the right time for me to see how much I needed to sort my own stuff out , and because of that - the wrong time for it to have worked out.

Big toes with too much hair, an irritating facial expression, a habit of keeping you waiting when you are trying to get out, spending too long in the bathroom, superficial misunderstanding- none of that stuff matters.

But the bigger question such as how do you know if someone is right for you,

I guess you don't ask yourself.

When reflection is not simply projection

I wore a wig last week - just for the fun of it. I also wore false eyelashes. Nothing intrinsically wrong with that,  but if it got to the stage where I couldn't go out without fluttering large nylon lashes - I would become one of those women that have to get up at 6am to stop the world realising that without props - I am as short lashed as the next woman. You can only keep it up for so long.

So someone wrote a dating profile for me recently. It is something I shall revisit - there is far to much fodder in the process not to. But there were two things that really stood out for me and whilst both were very different - one a description of my traits and the other what kind of man I would need - they are intrinsically linked. Because both relate to the same word - honesty.

It is true, as they stated - that I can be overly analytical. It was a fair summary - to a point. For what I have come to realise, is that I am only overly analytical with people who are not honest about who they are, or what they want. Someone  asked me recently, how I am so good at maintaining great friendships with male friends and yet so poor at choosing the right relationship. As a female with possibly more male friends than female - it was worthy of consideration.

And then the light bulb moment occurred. I have higher standards for friendships. And since I only enter true friendships with people I can trust - I analyse nothing. And it is why such friendships are so precious - total of acceptance of another and total trust.

Relationships are a whole different matter. I have a sorry history of getting close to people that I don't trust. I don't trust them because they are not honest about who they are to themselves, let alone anyone else. And yet it all comes out and for a brief period they feel relief that someone 'gets' them, but since we generally feel more comfortable in our own self fulfilling prophecies - when it all gets a bit too much - I scare them. Furthermore, since I have never really believed their is such a thing as a safe relationship, I have dated in my comfort zone. Unsafe ones.

Which is ironic really, since the ability to have insight into the issues of others is invariably because we recognise something in that behaviour. The men that I know who are petrified of people getting too close, seeing past their outer bravado - they offer little surprise. I only know what makes them tick since I see it in myself. The key difference is that they are so focused on themselves they are incapable of considering others. In observing them, I learn a little more about myself and become a little more understanding of how far I need to push myself out of my own comfort zone. And I will.

So logic would dictate that I would date my male friends, but I will never risk jeopardising such good relationship with the quagmire that is emotion. I feel perfectly comfortable, until they are too nice - and then I start analysing why. One male chum recently left a 'Love you lots' post-it note on my kettle. It made me smile. Briefly - until my mind went into overdrive analysing whether there was an expectation to our friendship. Of course I know there isn't but lets face it - if one thing freaks me out - it is someone who is genuinely affectionate with no agenda. It is outside my comfort zone. Equally - since I now see it as a pre-requisite for new relationship standards, I know that I have to get past that irrational response. And I will.

So I could run from spontaneous shows of affection. I could dismiss friendships where there is too much loving going on and my natural inclination is to do just that. Yet, I also know that running from what is good for us, is a default setting for the emotionally afflicted and it's a pattern I have no wish to repeat.

And so my dating profile claimed I need a confident man. Having initially agreed, a week of pondering has made me realise that I don't need a confident man - I need an honest one. I am not convinced that anyone is entirely confident and a relationship is the one place where we should be able to be honest about our lack of confidence. A good relationship is not about hiding insecurities or indeed, masking them with overly confident baloney that hides our true self. Indeed, those inclined to do so are normally masking such huge insecurity that the only thing they know for sure - is that they never feel good enough.

Honesty, is the ability to communicate the lack of confidence that we all experience from time to time. Surely a great relationship can only be one in which you are truly yourself, one in which the other person accepts you for who you are -  and as much as we all believe that is what we want - many of us are not in a place where we can be honest with our self, let alone anyone else.

We hae all done it. I have been immensely accepting of men - only to realise that they have lied for such a large part of their existence, that the mere whiff of total acceptance from another half sees them scurrying into the hills. Gees, imagine having to be honest about yourself for the rest of your life when the lying has worked so well.

So we date in our comfort zone. We date people that allow us to perpetuate the life long lies we have concocted to protect ourselves from the reality of who we really are - which is vulnerable. We date people that mess with our heads because we have spent so many years needing to outwit a partner, it's the only thing that feels safe. We date people that cannot be trusted because we believe deep down, that no one can be trusted. We date people that make us feel needed because without feeling needed, we feel nothing. We date people that we have to analyse what they do, because deep down we don't believe anyone wants nothing more than just us.

But lies don't work. If they did, most of us wouldn't  end up with relationships which are never really quite enough. More than this, we wouldn't end up in relationships in which we know deep down the red flags were waving but the fear of doing something totally different was greater that accepting the truth.

Imagine a relationship in which what your heart really wanted didn't terrify you, in which you didn't run from things that are good for you, simply because it was outside your comfort zone, outside your personal history. Imagine the freedom of being totally honest about what you really want.

I don't need a confident man.

I need an honest one

The games we play - 'You've been snubbed'

Sometimes one post naturally follows another. Since the last post was all about what a rubbish flirt I am, then it makes sense this one should prove it. And it does.

Whilst I am a rubbish flirt, I am pretty good at banter. Banter with innuendo is my forte but my real strength lies in ambiguity. Pretty handy since a lot of the people who enter my life are equally ambiguous.

Then throw social media into the equation,  alongside the real reason behind modern day inability to communicate effectively -texting, and you have my very own recipe for disaster.

And so begins a texting fest with someone who crossed my path through social
media. It is undoubted that this occurred through my love of posting pictures of my shoes but since I love shoes, it's not unreasonable. With that, followed a fair few months of texting and then we met up. Far cuter than I ever  expected, I was completely flummoxed. When you only know someone through flirtatious texting, it's quite tricky knowing how to handle normal conversation. After all, if you have built a level of communication based only on this, then normal conversation would be as disappointing as discovering the voluptuous woman is merely a silicone fillet girl. So I did what I do best when thrown - I made an arse of myself.

So the story went on. We met a couple of more times but it was both confusing and mystifying. Flirtatious texting and a gentleman in flesh. I shouldn't complain since my idea of sexy, is a man with manners. Equally, I quite like men that you can tell if they find you attractive and this one - gave NOTHING away.

Perplexed as my mind lurched from 'If you just want to be friendly with people, then why flirt in texts?'  to the 'If you are flirting in texts then why are you the absolute opposite on meeting.' It was most unsettling. And he was, so I thought, an apparently genuine man which to me, was pretty out of my comfort zone since a) I rarely meet genuinely nice men and 2) I am never attracted to genuinely nice men and always place them firmly into my chums pocket. A totally new experience to meet a man who came across as genuine that I not only liked, but actually fancied. Now that is what you call progress.

Except that I couldn't work out what it was he wanted. So I took advice from an ex man in life, who put his head in  hands in despair at my inability to interpret. He was equally despairing of my own ambiguity and forced my hand in doing something that I find immensely difficult, which is to let my guard down.

So I sent a text that simply said I had been thinking of him. Now anyone who knows me will stand testimate that I can be very honest with those I care about, but those that I am unsure of will be subjected to a barge of smart arse answers and aserbic wit. What they won't get is honesty. So steeled by a vodka, the support of ex man in life's wisdom - I sent a text that simply stated the truth, that I had been thinking of him. And as I sat there squirming, I thought 'Really, how bad can this be, months of texting, three meet ups, cute face, nice thighs......

Response back. 'You need to get out more'

Snubbed. Big time

I am NEVER being honest again

The art of not flirting

I am a rubbish flirt, which is odd since I am naturally flirtatious. Actually, no one specifically said that I was a rubbish flirt but the enquiry as to why I feel so unable to be flirtatious when out - was a polite way of telling me that I am in fact, rubbish at it.

If we were in the 18th century then I am sure that my flirtation skills may have caused public outrage but in 2012, it seems that my expertise is woefully inadequate.

I am a bit shell shocked by the revelation that I am so rubbish and frankly, more than a little grateful. After the most entertaining night out in town, one in which every man I came across was carted and I appeared to be the only person in Bath that was actually sober - it became more than apparent that flirting is no longer a subtle art, but a blatant precursor to sex.

In fact, it seems that every interaction between male and female is simply about sex. Flirting has become no more than a superfast highway to the inevitable, one in which you decide if you like someone after you have slept with them and not before.

Now I get a fair amount of flack for my old fashioned views and the assumption that this somehow makes me uptight. I love sex, but like the best things in life - I think it is better when valued. Think fast food versus good restaurant: one is readily available, everyone knows where to get it, what to expect and knows they will probably feel a bit unfulfilled afterwards. A great restaurant on the other hand, one you have researched, considered, chosen carefully from - far more likely to be a memorable evening,  to be savoured, to remembered. Sex isn't so different.

And if sex is the main course, then flirting is the appetiser and this is the bit in which I am apparently hopeless. And I admit that I didn't find anything appealing about the mating dance of drunk men and I found it equally sleazy that some carted idiot thinks he's in with a chance by ordering a drink I didn't ask for. The only man that managed to have a vaguely intelligent conversation, plummeted in my opinion when he saw fit to but his arm around me. Frankly, after 20 min's conversation I felt it more than a little forward.

And when you miss sex as much as I do, it's odd that there is not one single cell in my body that hankers after meaningless sex with a man that values me no more than the next girl. It seems that my the reason my flirting skills are more than a little outdated is because flirting is all too often little more than an evening long with some pretty descriptive language.

Is this such a good thing? The more old fashioned approach in which two people play a protracted game that is far sexier, inevitably building intrigue and sexual tension. In old fashioned flirting- your not stating 'I want to have sex' but 'I'd probably like to have sex with you, let's see'  It's not perfect but it is sexy. Old fashioned flirting isn't a promise of sex, it's showing an interest, it's about the potential and the build up of anticipation. A flirty conversation leaves you smiling like a moron and the further down that road it goes, those little flutters of excitement that are simply priceless.

So you dispense with the  intrigue and the build up with a slightly more brutal version of "Your hot, shall we have sex?" Granted, the more blatant contemporary version is less fraught with error and making ones thought process so abundantly clear does leave less margin for misinterpretation.

With my method of flirting there is so much margin for error, and it seems I am simply rubbish. Admittedly, when there is no possibility for further venture I can flirt like a pro. It all goes a little awry when I actually like the person I am flirting with. Then I flirt like the march of a Russian soldier, two steps forward, one back. I flirt a little, a little more - then I panic in fear that my flirting my appear to forward and I may be judged for being, well - too forward.


So I flirt, I retreat, then I complain that the men I flirt with aren't being forthcoming enough. I recently had a conversation with ex- man in my life on my hopeless inadequacies in interpreting flirting. Sometimes, I struggle to tell the difference between someone being friendly or flirty. I think they are flirting, so I flirt back. Then I think they are just being friendly and I have misinterpreted and have made an arse of myself. According to ex-man in life I am in fact a quite unique combination of intimidating and contemporary version of Mother Theresa. It seems that whilst flirting used to be about subtlety, using me as a benchmark results in a fair sum number of mixed messages.

From my recent education into the world of modern flirting, I have nothing to fear since anyone I was flirting with would simply think I am in fact, retarded.

I fear it may be a long time before I ever have sex again

For an indispensible guide to the not so subtle art, click here
The non subtle art of flirting