I’m back here

Despite declaring it loud and proud to anyone who would listen that I am actually quite content and don’t want ‘a man messing up my house’. I am not fully living that truth. I still miss the ex daily (don’t worry this isn’t going to be another one of those posts) and there are times when I just think how nice it would be to have someone to help put out the washing, load the dishwasher, cook tea after a long day, share money worries.

I know that none of these reasons are good enough reasons to start a relationship, and when I’m not tired/hormonal/it’s dark outside and I’m scared to walk BD alone then I am honestly very happy doing it alone, in fact I have commented how pleased I am to have my little house and how happy I am – the happiest I’ve been for a while.

However, there has been a little male interest in me. I have been asked on a couple of dates and I have made out with a guy.

The problem is the make interest is not from the sorts of guys I should be wanting it from. One of them has openly admitted to not wanting a relationship with me in the past and offered his services if I had an ‘itch that wanted scratching’ the other is well actually pretty much the same, he claims to fancy me despite trying hard not to and is kinda not fully single.

I AM BETTER THAN BOTH THESE GUYS.

But that doesn’t stop me from checking my phone every few minutes hoping one of them has text. It doesn’t prevent me from analysis to death the messages when they do. It doesn’t stop me wanting to run into them when I am looking my best or prevent me from spending an extra few months agonising over what to wear to an event that I know they will both be attending….. and I hate it!

I hate it.

It was one of the many things I loved about being in a relationship. I had done the dating thing. I had lived the single life and before meeting the ex I had decided that I would properly try to find ‘the one’ and was going to start using dating websites in the new year. However, the ex coming along in June of that year put pay to a need for dating sites. Co-habiting with the man I loved was not only amazing and wonderful but for a whole other side of things it meant I was free (at least I was until it all went tits up) I didn’t agonise over texts, I didn’t wonder if a touch was intended or not. I’d been there done that and reached a new exciting place – one with talks of baby’s and plans for retirement……..to be honest I am less than thrilled to be back here.

I know that I don’t want these guys.

I know that I am just enjoying a bit of fun. But it’s not fully fun. Sure I love the attention when I am getting a message and I even enjoy the flutter of butterflies when one of them gives me a look across a room, and I know that the look is intended solely for me. But the rest of the time it’s just a bit poo.

The really annoying thing is I know that this is just the start.

I am going to have months if not years of playing the dating game and a few months in I am already sick of it!

I have the most amazing friends in the world.

This weekend one of my very best girl friends came to stay with me. She is going through a similar heart-breaking break up, in fact we both moved out of our ‘marital’ homes on the same weekend. It’s been brilliant having someone going through a very similar situation at the same time. We seem to be enjoying slightly different journeys (when I’m up she’s down and vice versa) but on the whole. She knows what to say, what not to say, knows how you go from fine to the opposite of fine and agrees that despite everything her ex has put her through; she too would go back if given half the chance; although like me she knows she really shouldn’t and he does not deserve her!

Anyway, while crying on her on Saturday night (like I said, not the best weekend!) I made a throw away comment about how one of the things I missed was BD creeping up the stairs and coming to wake me on a morning. The ex was always amazing at bringing me a cup of coffee while I was still in bed (he managed this every morning Mon – Fri) and BD would accompany him into the room. His wet nose and smiling face would be one of the first things I would see and I loved it. I would wait for the ex to leave and then I would invite BD to join me on the bed, where we would cuddle until I had to get up.
However, now I live alone there is no one to bring me a drink in bed and more upsettingly this means there is no one to let BD out of the room he sleeps in which allows him to sneak up and join me in bed. Something I really miss. I told my friend this.

The Sunday morning, as I am considering getting up I hear paws on the stairs and see a big black nose, followed by ginger head come around my bedroom door.
My lovely friend had gotten up before me and let him out of the bathroom so he could come and cuddle me.

I cried. Hell I’m crying now as I type this.

He headed straight for the mattress I was sleeping on and lay down next to me with his head on my pillow. He cuddled into me so tight…. It was perfect. I just lay there, basking in the moment, trying to savour ever second.

I love BD so much and I miss him so much.

And I love my friend so much. It wasn’t a big thing, but it meant the world to me and those 30 minutes I would not trade for all the tea in china.

I am a very lucky girl!!

I miss you.

That’s what he said to me. “It would be great to see you again because you are beautiful and I miss you”. Now before you all go into panic mode, this wasn’t the ex. No, he’s still living life like there’s no tomorrow and acting as if dating me was a major inconvenience and life has never been better – I digress! This was said to me by a male friend in response to the question ‘how are you?’

Now you might think it’s very sweet – and it kinda is. But mainly it isn’t.

Because….if I’m completely honest…. he doesn’t even know me.

We met on a course, through work, a few years ago. We have kept in contact a little through Facebook and text but that’s it. Obviously we discuss our lives with each other, although I probably share more than he does. He seemed to cut contact a little when I met the ex, but has picked it up again now I am single – which I try not to think about too much. I have tried to tell him I’m not interested in anything more than friendship. Hell on more than one occasion he has been on the receiving end of ‘I know the ex is a jerk but I want him back’ messages

He’s now asked if he can come and stay and the honest answer is I just don’t know. He’s a sweet guy, but I don’t want to spend a weekend being hit on (yes, that does make me sounds very big headed.) If I said he would like to see me, that it would be good to catch up – great, but to be told constantly he misses me. He doesn’t know me, how can he miss me??

Plus this guy doesn’t do subtle and doesn’t pick up on hints; he spent the week of the course hitting on me and even left a rose outside the door of the room I was staying in. Any other guy I spoke to during the week (and there was a few, being as I was the only woman on the course) was given the evils – something which amused them no end! I tried to subtly drop hints I didn’t fancy him, and wasn’t interested in him in that way. I tried dropping brick size hints telling him I wasn’t interested in him in that way. Hell I told him how I wasn’t looking for a relationship at that moment and encouraged him to pursue a relationship with any other woman on the planet!!!

He’s a sweet guy, and I believe you can never have too many friends, but this ‘miss me’ thing annoys me. In fact I think I’ve already had it out with him. I don’t know where to go from here. I don’t know how we can be friends if he doesn’t listen. I would love to meet up with him, but don’t like the idea of him staying at my house.

I don’t want to cut all ties, I like having someone I can message when I am down. But that’s as far as I want this to go.

I’m loving the single life!

I am not a morning person, add to that the feelings about my job and staying up far too late to finish a good book and getting up when my alarm goes off is a real struggle. I have tried to initiate a new morning routine. Alarm goes off, hit snooze 3 times until you get the ‘turn me off, fall asleep and you’re screwed screen’ and the I properly wake up and argue with myself about getting up.

I head downstairs and start running the bath (I still don’t have a shower). Have breakfast while waiting for bath to get to acceptable level. Once breakfast is finished, turn off bath, burn left foot by putting it into the bath. Pull foot out while muttering, turn on cold tap and brush teeth.

Wash face. Have bath – length varies depending on what time I finally dragged my butt out of my bed. Go upstairs get dressed, retrieve lunch from fridge (which was prepared the night before) lock all doors. Check you have locked all doors at least twice. Leave the house and due to your new 5 minute commute arrive early at your desk.

However this morning I didn’t want to get up. I knew I had to. I didn’t even have time to hit snooze – I had failed to pack for a trip to my friends the night before so as well as the above I had to throw some clothes and toiletries into a bag. However, my duvet was just too warm and just to comfy, Then the lightening bolt struck.

I live alone.

I can do whatever I want, whenever I want.

So I dragged myself out of bed, taking my duvet with me. I wrapped it round me like a cocoon and carried it downstairs. Where it was dumped on the settee while I made breakfast, before I returned to it to eat my breakfast. It was bliss.

I think it was in that moment I realised I am totally free. I can do what I want when I want. I can make plans and don’t have to check with someone else. I have a new freedom and I’m loving it.

Yes, it’s not always perfect, there are things about being in a relationship that I miss, and there are moments when I suddenly miss him like crazy. But those moments are few and far between and on the whole this single think rocks!!

I am going to die alone, and I can prove it!

Todays post is inspired by the lovely Dawn – thanks hun! She told me not to worry, that I was still wrong and have time. I don’t often do this but for once I have unarguable proof that she is wrong!

When I was little I was going to have twin girls and be married by the time I was 16. I must have been about 4 or 5 playing with my barbies, but back then 16 seemed very grown up, 16 made you a proper adult and so obviously I would be married and have children by that age! Ha ha ha.

I reached 16 and suddenly realised how young that still was and you will be pleased to know I did not spend my 16 birthday hunting down a man with which to reproduce as I decided I would be at least 30 before I had kids as that was years away and I would clearly have a clue (and a man) by then! Now, as I am rapidly approaching 30 I have realised that you possibly never get your ‘shit’ together and just get better at acting – it’s true wisdom comes with age!

However a few years ago I decided to plan out my life, in the style of Rachel from friends… not the clip I wanted but enjoy anyway!

 

So after this, she starts to plan out her life. So I planned out mine….

Ideally I wanted to have had my second child by the time I was 30…… this meant getting pregnant when I was 29.

I wanted about a 2 year age gap between  my two daughters so I wanted to have had my first one by the time I was 27….meaning getting pregnant at 26.

Ideally I wanted to have been married for at least 2 years before having children, meaning I would have had to have married my husband, the father or my children by the time I was 24.

I would have liked a shortish engagement, but realistically I was thinking two years from proposal to aisle. This meant I should have been proposed to when I was 22.

Ideally I would have liked to have dated for a few years before we got married, so we should have started dating ‘the one’ somewhere around my 20th birthday (latest). However, I didn’t want to rush into a relationship straight away and would have liked to have been friends for a couple of years before hand so lets stick another two years and so I should have met the man of my dreams when I was 18!!

*spoiler alert* this hasn’t happened!

So if I work from my age now forwards, I am looking at having kids in my late 40s. That was if I was with the guy today, right this moment. Instead I am still hating the entire male species and looking longingly at pictures of cats.

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Am I too poor to have principles?

Following on from yesterdays post I had the “Am I too poor to have principles” thought whilst browsing the shelves of Aldi and Tesco the other evening. I was in desperate need of some tea time inspiration, as although I intend to become Miss Organised, planning out the weeks meals and only buying items that I need and will use, at the moment it hasn’t happened.

Although I did do well when i bought reduced Kindey for 88p and it has so far lasted me 4 meals; two lunches, two teas (N.B: If i shouldn’t be eating cooked Kidney which has been sat in the fridge for a week please don’t tell me -I am very much working on what doesn’t kill me or give me food poisoning will make me stronger and save me money!!) However I toyed with the idea of buying the Kidneys for a long while before finally putting them into my basket and before finally buying them I walked the shelves of both Tesco and Aldi for over an hour putting in and taking things out of my basket.

The fact that I am living on kidneys for the week should highlight you to the fact I am not a vegetarian. I respect people that are, although I do sometimes get on my little soap box about why some veggies I won’t cook meat for a meat eater when they come for dinner yet I have to cook a separate veggie dish, but that’s for another post. However, I do love animals and I firmly think that ANY animal that gives its life should be treated with the utmost respect and compassion, and the end should be as quick, low stress and painless as physically possible! I do not agree with driving cattle across the country to kill, I do not agree with sow crates or battery hens or anything that causes pain and suffering. All animals are more knowledgeable, caring, compassionate, understanding and generally kick ass than we give them credit for. Have you ever looked into the eyes of a cow, sheep, chicken, pig? Try doing that an then tell me these are just dumb animals – they have souls.

Therefore I aim to only every buy cruelty free, free range products. I will never knowingly give any money to a company for a product that is in any way tied to cruelty.

But going around the stores they make it as difficult as possible for you to find out where the meat has come from and what kind of life it had pre-fridge (or maybe it is just me?) So many products didn’t say anything about whether or not the meat was free range and I don’t know what happened to the brilliant free-range budget products that Tesco used to produced as I couldn’t find them for love nor money! Not being sure of the origins I put them back and wrote off meat for the week.

I headed to the tin isle and decided to look at the tuna. Same problem. Most of those tins didn’t advise ‘line-caught’ and those that did were significantly more expensive that the other tins.

When I get more settled, and stop DIYing on the weekends I will start taking advantage of my local green grocer and even source out a good butcher. I have used the green grocer before and not only are the staff friendly, but their produce seems to last longer than the store bought crap, meaning I throw less away. I think all the produce is local which pleases me and it has a proper caring about it’s customer feel. I have on occasion had to resort to buying their last less then perfect carrot or a tiny onion and because the quality is not as high as they would like I have been given the item free of charge – I didn’t ask they just said “we can’t charge you for that and put it into the bag!”. I don’t know about you, but knowing they care means a lot to me as a consumer and gives me confidence that they care about where they produce comes from.

Likewise I feel using a butcher who can trace the history of the piece of meat in front of me means that the quality of lives those animals have had before giving their lives will be of a higher quality, even if all the meat doesn’t carry the ‘free-range’ logo.

I am very aware that I could probably get my meat, fruit and veg cheaper if I bought it all from a big supermarket chain. But I can’t bring myself to do that. There will be occasions when I purchase supermarket meat – in a ready meal for example or when I’m broke and Kidneys are 88p. But I am a firm believer in quality over quantity and I would rather eat a little high welfare something than a whole load cheap crap.

However, branching out alone. Lo0king at the costs of my mortgage, bills, petrol, groceries, tv licences, council tax, water rates…..the list goes on. I am worried about being able to afford my principles.

Things that go bump in the night

I am not very good in the dark. It is one of the more practical things I miss about the ex. Having him there meant that I wasn’t alone in an evening, and due to his side of the bed being closest to the door, I was aware if anyone broke in in the middle of the night they would have to get through/over/round him (regardless of whether or not he was actually awake) before they could get to me. I even had a plan. As they came in the bedroom door I would make my exit out of the window. I would shimmy down the drain pipe before finding BD and taking him somewhere self before either waking neighbours or calling the police.

Ok, to be honest it probably wouldn’t be in any way that refined. The venetian blinds in the bedroom hated me and I could never get the bloody things open. So while the ex did his night in shining armour bit and fought for my dignity I would have been tugging on the blinds like a crazy woman, calling them every name under the sun and then have to wait for a break in the fight so that he could open the blinds for me.

Once I had overcome that hurdle, the next would have been my fear of heights. I don’t know if even the motivation of a burglar bursting into the bedroom would have got me out on the windowsill. But that didn’t matter, I had a plan!

Now there is just me. No warning bark from BD. No ex to get defend my honour. Just me.

Add to that my over-reactive imagination and it’s a wonder I’m not a gibbering wreck every evening when the sun starts to go down. I lie, I so am. Last night I walked past my kitchen windows trying very hard not to look out into the garden (I still don’t have any blinds!) then worrying that because I hadn’t looked I hadn’t seen the person hiding in the garden so forced myself to look anyway!

My stomach lurches every time I hear a noise.

Then last night as I lay in bed I heard the unmistakable sound of a door slowly opening, followed by the sound of someone climbing up the stairs.

I lay there afraid to move. I lay there afraid to breath.

The rational side of me told myself  “the walls are thin, it’s just the neighbours. And if it isn’t the neighbours all I have to do is scream”.

However,I still couldn’t help but look around my room to decide what would be my weapon when the time came to defend myself…….

I had a TV remote……

I had a hair brush……

I had a cuddly toy……

I’m screwed!