Monday 14 February 2011

Hearts and flowers? Pah!

So, I'm alone on Valentine's day......again. (Now, before you get the violins out, I guess I should put some context around this. This is actually only the second time since I was 15 that I've been alone on Valentine's day....that's not bad, right?)
Anyway, I'm alone. And I'm pissed off. I can't work out if I'm more pissed off that I'm alone or that I seem to be surrounded by people that have fantastic romantic plans for the day....when I don't. I get into work this morning and my lovely friend Phoenix (please don't be alarmed, this is not his real name, it's just a little thing we have. He's Phoenix – I'm Pfieffer. It's the small things.....) shows me some hideously soppy photos of matching egg-cups and heart-shaped lights his girlfriend presented him with that morning. (He thought it might make me hurl. He was, in fact, correct). The students have been mooning around all day looking star-struck and in love (I've thus far resisted the temptation to tell them that their heart will be ripped from their chest and trampled on right in front of them many times before they get even close to meeting 'the one'.......if 'the one' even exists that is. I feel it's fairer for them to discover that level of heartache for themselves...) Even the Head wished us all a 'happy Valentine's day' during our staff briefing – I mean, FFS!

Valentine's day is actually Husband No 2's birthday (in fact he chatted to me for ages whilst picking up the children earlier, no doubt waiting for the obligatory 'happy birthday'. He didn't get it - he's a dickhead remember). And as it's his birthday, Valentine's never really got a look-in, so in fact, I haven't really celebrated (is that really the right word? Hell!) it since 1996. So why do I care? Why does the whole thing make me feel so utterly miserable, lonely and rejected? Because it's rammed down my sodding throat that's why! It's on TV, it's in every shop I walk into and it's everywhere I turn at work. So clearly, if I'm not with someone celebrating Valentine's day, I must be a sad loser of the highest order, mustn't I? And when I'm in a relationship and could get a lovely card and some flowers or chocolates or whatever (as long as it's not a cuddly toy. What the hell is that about? I've never got the women who appreciate cuddly toys. I actually think they're either a bit dim or have the emotional age of around 14) I don't give a shit. It's ironic isn't it? Valentine's only actually becomes a meaningful day in the calendar when you're not in a relationship.
Which brings me back to the whole being pissed off because I'm alone. Which I am. Pissed off that is (and alone, clearly. I think I've mentioned it haven't I?). I don't even want a capital 'R' relationship with a man who's calling me and texting me all the time, doing my head in. No, at the moment, I think I want something fairly low-key that doesn't involve my children, doesn't involve us being around each other all of the time (God, I'm far too busy for that!) and does involve nice drinks and dinner out, dvd's and wine in oh, and some good sex. It can't be that tricky to find can it? I'm not that hideous am I?

I went to see Avenue Q the other day (bear with me, it is relevant - honest) and, to my horror, found myself identifying with a puppet. (Yes, I've sunk that low). The puppet in question was Kate Monster who sang (in a song called 'It Sucks to be Me'. Uh....yep!), and I quote, I'm kinda pretty and pretty damn smart. I like romantic things like music and art. And as you know I have a gigantic heart. So why don't I have a boyfriend? Fuck! It sucks to be me!”
Now, aside from the 'kinda pretty' bit (body-image issues.....you understand), that sort of sums me up. I have people telling me all the time that I'm a really good catch, that I'm funny, witty, intelligent, attractive, that won't be alone for long, that there's loads of men dying to go out with a girl like me, blah, blah, blah. And actually, a fair number of these people are real-life men. And sometimes it's even single men who are in the right age-bracket, not two-headed monsters, not complete assholes, who say those things. So, if that's the case.....WHY THE HELL AM I STILL ALONE??!

It could of course be that I'm just a little bit fussy (not that there's anything wrong with that. Fussy is definitely good if there's potential for the exchange of body fluids). There's no doubting that I could've arranged a number of online dates (God, how big-headed does that sound?) but honestly, if you'd have seen their details......... And plus, as I've said before, I hate that whole on-line thing – it feels so contrived. So that's not it.
It could be that I'm not as 'out there' as I think. That I have sub-conscious fears of being hurt and rejected........again. Actually, that's really not it either. I'm willing to take my chances of pain and heartache. It's what life's about surely? (plus I have masochistic tendencies, clearly. That, or a very short memory).
Some of my friends would argue that I still have feelings for an ex-beau and that in itself is a barrier to meeting someone new. This may or may not be true. (It's certainly not up for discussion here anyway.....confirmation in itself no doubt :o( Dammit!)
No what I'd actually like is for a lovely someone to just fall in my lap (so to speak). It's happened before, so it could happen again eh? It would certainly make life easier wouldn't it? To be pursued? And I've been pursued before, why not again? I'm sure I'd love it as much as I have in the past (and I do really love it - it's the best bit!) Hmmmmm......can't see it somehow......*Sigh*.

Ah well, until I'm prepared to put a bit of effort in, I'll just bear in mind the one Valentine's gift I did get today. A heart-shaped lolly that arrived during my tutor time with a note attached that said 'Dear Mum, lots of love from Poppy xx'
Love you kids :) <3
xx



Tuesday 8 February 2011

Good on paper


I'm beginning to think that 'good on paper' rarely equals good in real life, particularly when it comes to men. It's puzzled me for some time....why the 'good on paper' guy rarely delivers. Now, I know that sounds harsh but let me explain...

I've looked for that 'good on paper', so-called ideal man at several points over the years. You know the one, handsome (yep, still shallow!), sexy, taller than me (by at least 3 inches – a girl does have to wear heels sometimes you know), doesn't take himself or life too seriously, reliable yet knows how to have fun, good in bed (well, obviously), I could go on...... Now, I'm not completely stupid. I understand that compromise is the order of the day. It's like buying a house. You may get the good sized garden, but it's likely that the kitchen needs updating or the bedrooms are poky – especially if you have a limited budget. And I do. I'm not kidding myself that I am attractive enough, witty enough, clever enough to snap up the perfect man but what I don't get is the ones that would look amazing on a 'man CV' but actually turn out to be a little bit disappointing. With men, you may get the handsome face, but they're dead dull. Or they're super-cool and witty but you just don't fancy them. The combinations are endless.

Take my first husband for example. He was popular, friendly, generous, good company, good-looking, fit, sporty, reliable(ish), knew how to have fun etc, etc– it was hard to find anyone who didn't like him. But...... and it's a fairly big but...... he just didn't do it for me. It took me a while to figure this out – I was only 16 when we met and 24 when we split, so you can cut me some slack! The fact that he didn't do it for me, despite all the wonderful attributes, was incredibly confusing. I mean, what was wrong with me? Several people questioned me on this. Had he done something terrible? Had I lost my mind? He was lovely, handsome, still popular, still generous, still loved me so what the hell was I thinking?! I couldn't answer that.
My hot, single friend P is another case in point. He's seriously good-looking, has a defined and toned bod, he's kind, he's generous, he's chivalrous – he's an all-round really nice guy. However, for me, he just doesn't have it. I can't explain why. He's lovely to spend time with, to have a chat with but I just don't fancy him – he just hasn't got the sexy thing. (Believe me, if he did, I'd be turning on the charm....big time!)

Of course, it also happens the other way. I've been involved with men who clearly aren't 'good on paper' but who I've been unreasonably attracted to. The most recent not 'good on paper' was a personal favourite of mine. It was never going to work of course, he was much younger, funny, very sexy and probably totally unsuitable for me and my life. (Plus the fact that none of my friends who knew him seemed very keen. That can't be good can it?) However, to me, my friends not totally sharing my affections for the unsuitable one was really the only fly in the ointment. I really liked him, we kinda 'got' each other and all in all had a jolly nice time together (well, I did. I can only assume he felt the same....)
Husband number two wasn't Mr Perfect on paper either. He was fine and all but when we got together, I think it's fair to say that not many people had us down as the 'ideal couple'. We met at work; I was Little Miss Sensible (and 24 and married – pretty boring I guess, to be fair), took my career pretty seriously, chasing promotions, working overtime etc... Him – not so much. He was younger (is there a theme here?), keen on beer, smoking, football and sometimes, frankly, being a bit of a loud-mouthed lout. (In the less-offensive sense you understand. I'd never have gone out with someone really common.) No, the thing that I really liked about husband No 2 was that he was funny, witty, humorous and just about every other word you can think of. He made me laugh out loud – all the time. And so did unsuitable younger man.

Now, I've done a lot of thinking about this...... and I've come to the conclusion that sometimes, 'good on paper' doesn't matter. The traditionally held belief that a man who's tall, dark and handsome, solvent, generous and so on, will be the perfect one for me just isn't true. I've worked out that for me to really want to be with a man, he needs to be sexy (well d'uh!). And sexy for me equals funny. And to be honest, you can't be a bit thick and be funny (I know, that's not really a very nice thing to say – but honestly – have you ever met a funny, thick person??) So (drum roll please....!) it's only taken 30-odd years for me to work out that for me; sexy equals funny, funny equals clever. Simples!

So the 'good on paper' guys I've mentioned; husband number one and hot, single friend P....? Are they not funny? Actually, no they're not. And clever? Husband number one? No, really not that smart (sorry, but it's true). Hot, single friend P? I don't know really. I've never asked him for his GCSE and A Level results (no, before you ask, he didn't go to university). I suspect he's not all that clever though if I'm being honest (so sorry if that's wrong P).
And husband number two? Is he clever? Yes, he really is. And witty, sharp and frankly at times, hilarious! (Damn him – he's also a complete dickhead you understand). Unsuitable younger man? Ditto. Clever, articulate and hysterical.

So, now I've worked that out it should be easy huh? I know I have a limited budget (but I'd like to think I was just a little bit funny and maybe a little bit clever). I know I'm not gonna get the lovely kitchen, the huge bedrooms and the enclosed 100ft garden. But just the kitchen will do...oh...and maybe one good-sized bedroom. I just check out the clever, funny ones right? And don't waste time with the not-so-clever, unfunny ones? Yep, that's a great plan Michelle. But they come is disguise don't they? Dressed up as good-on-paper so I get confused and everything (Hell, I even married one of these people – what hope is there?) What should I do? Get them to perform a comedy routine for me before I decide they're worth my efforts? Not sure that's gonna work... Nah, I guess what I do is keep looking, keep trying to ignore the good-on-paper thing and trying to remain more open-minded (eeeew....and maybe I may even have to rethink the 'no-nasty-clothes, no-hideous-home-furnishings rule....? eeeek!)
Hmmmm.... Maybe I'll go down the 'clever' route instead?

Anyone got a spare Mensa questionnaire I can photocopy.....?

Thursday 3 February 2011

Shoes


So sometimes, adult conversation retreats into the world of metaphor. I have no idea why this is but the other Sunday was one such occasion. K, A and I went into Bath for a bit of fresh air and a coffee and a catch up. My single love-life (or mostly lack thereof) is always of interest to the happily married K & A. They seem to enjoy my 'hilarious' (their word, not mine - not much of my love-life is that funny to me) stories of the things that happen in my world and, in return, they love to regale me with their advice. (NB: I will point out at this point that ALL my friends, without exception, like to give me advice. Most of the time I quite like it. Sometimes I listen, but a lot of the time I don't - I have a petulant teenage streak a mile wide). Anyway, this sunny Sunday was no exception. K advises me, as we drink our coffee in some chic pavement cafĂ© (well, you never know who might be paying attention), that I should view dating like buying shoes. I should try on lots and lots of different pairs before settling on the most comfortable fit – apparently. Hmmmmm.

'I think what you need Michelle, is a nice, sensible, reliable pair of Clarks shoes. You know where you are with Clarks', K tells me.
'Uh.......no I bloody do not! WTF?!'
'But when was the last time you looked in Clarks?'
'Um – never? And can I just say that I'm more than a little insulted that you think that Clarks is remotely my style?'
'Michelle, Michelle.....it's not so much that Clarks is your style....I'm just trying to suggest you wear something more, well, appropriate. The last pair of shoes you wore for any length of time were totally unsuitable. They may have looked nice, but they gave you blisters and bunions galore. The heels were too high, they were far too pointed and frankly, you would never have been able to wear them for long. You know that. No, what you need now is a sensible, hard-wearing pair of shoes. Comfort is paramount.'

Now, I don't really find this funny. She's right, the last pair of shoes I was trying on weren't wholly suitable. But for the time I wore them, they felt pretty damn good actually and I really, really liked wearing them. Plus, they looked damned fine. And, if I'm being honest, I was kinda hoping I may just be able to break them in to being more suitable, a bit more reliable, certainly more comfortable and more my style, or I'd become theirs... such is the dreamworld that I often live in. I rather foolishly got more attached than was recommended to the inappropriate shoes and I know that K's talking sense.
Even so, the thought of Clarks.....are you serious?

A chips in at this point:

'Michelle, it's not so much the brand or design of shoes that you're considering. It's the fact that we're concerned that you don't even try them on. You see them in the window, think they look nice and suddenly have them on your feet preparing to do a 20 mile walk in them'.

Well....OK...maybe he has a point.... Obviously, I've never meant to do that. I'm a grown woman who's been around for, let's face it, a little while and shoes are shoes after all. They don't last forever and you only wear certain styles for certain occasions. I thought I knew that....but it's becoming apparent that I may not. I thought I was able to see the pretty party shoes for what they were, fun to wear on the odd social occasion but no use for everyday wear (unless of course, you're willing to put up with the painful blisters and frankly, I've had enough of those to last me a lifetime). Even so – Clarks? Really? Is this all that's left for me now?
I'm beginning to tire of this 'shoe' conversation (and by the way, why exactly are we talking like this? Is it somehow easier to tell me off about my shocking choice of men if they don't actually say the words? God knows, but I appear to be going with it....!)

'OK, OK Michelle. Maybe Clarks would be a bit too...well....old and boring' (Uh – yes it would thank you very much!) 'But how about considering a Timberland or a Rockport? Or maybe something like Dune – they have some lovely boots?'
'Just remember Michelle, you don't have to keep the first pair you try on. There are plenty of pairs of suitable footwear available for you. You have really lovely feet – any shoes would be lucky to be worn by you'.

I think we may just have gone too far now. There really is no reason for us to be talking in riddles about shoes – we're not spies. But for K, A and for me, it seems somewhat easier to give and listen to this sage advice if it's said in code. What is with that?? Maybe the words 'Michelle, you're frankly, just a bit crap at this 'men' lark' are just a little too brutal?

I've been left with some food for thought. They both have a point, nerves have been touched etc etc. I assure them that I'll bear it in mind the next time I'm 'shopping'. And I will. For a bit anyway. The draw of beautiful, uncomfortable party shoes is somehow a little too great... What I can assure myself (and everyone else for that matter) that I won't be doing however, is gazing longingly into the window at Clarks.

As for those inappropriate shoes that were too pointed, with heels that were too high, that gave me blisters and bunions galore....Would I wear them again?? Given the chance (which I won't be – nobody panic!) of course I would! Every time! Like I said, I have a petulant teenage streak a mile wide.... :)