Bank holiday, wank holiday

Today would’ve been my 20th wedding anniversary. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want to go back to that life, however today social media seems full of loved up couples and people pretending to be happy. I say this, not as a cynical person, but because, behind the “spent an amazing weekend with my soulmate” bollocks,  I know that these are not essentially happy people, because I know what their real life is like because they tell me about how shit it is and I always feel glad that I”m single.

But it would be nice to find a person I could call my soul mate. Do they even exist?

My daughter came home for the bank holiday weekend. We had the loveliest weekend, full of wine and food and shopping and laughing and looking at pictures of her dad now and wondering what has happened to him with his gigantic nose and his hideously frizzy hair he is growing long to cover up the thinning. But we walked through the streets of Cambridge and looked at all the couples and felt irritated. Really fucking irritated. I hate happy couples. My daughter is single too and we signed up to the same dating app. I have to say, her pool is much more attractive than mine….mine are all big belied 50something year olds in mine who will no doubt need viagra to fuck once, never mind all night, who would be happy laying on the sofa or going to the pub…..or even worse going to the pub every sunday afternoon and drinking bitter and then farting all night. I’m not happy to settle for that. Lots of my girlfriends have boyfriends post divorce but they are physically unattractive and they tell me tat the attraction grows, that they are lovely people. Well, I don’t want to suck the cock of anyone unless I find them attractive from the get go.

Sometimes, although I know in my heart that I did not cause him directly to have an affair, I know I played my part, as we all do. My safe place to go is to wonder if I was too fat, too ugly, too boring, too anything, too not enough. I know in my reasonable head its not true. Ive been called beautiful, I’m a model in my spare time. I have an amazing body, no stretch marks, no baggy bits, a peachy arse. I’m fit. Interesting. Funny. Educated. Intelligent. A high sex drive.

So why am I single?

Am I too fussy? Is that wrong?

The guy I was seeing who had a depressive breakdown last month is still depressed, not in contact due to wallowing in his own self pity.

Towards the end of our short relationship, and the reason I suspected he was depressed, he started falling asleep all the time. Once while I was giving him a blow job, how rude of him, and once while he was down on me. Now, a normal person would rationalise that but no not me. In my self blame personal culture, I decided it was because my clitoris was too small and became paranoid that I couldn’t come in 2 seconds and that was why he had fallen asleep.

And I bought a clit pump.

I mean, really! I wasted £40 on something that I have never used and because of him being a fucking depressed cunt. I’m not so annoyed with him as I am with myself.

So, here I am today, feeling sad. Not sure why. I wouldn’t go back, our anniversary was always a rowing day. Always. A disappointment.

I’m waiting for the arrears he owes me to get to court and I think that shall be his anniversary present from me. 20 years on and I am so much stronger, that he cant fuck me around and I will stand up for myself which I never did when I was with him.

Happy Anniversary shit cunt. And thank you for the present. The present is me.

Priorities and Liberation

I have decided to take a break from on line dating.

My girlfriends have all been asking me how Saturday night’s date went and when I tell them he had a handgun, they look horrified. But worse than that, I tell them, he had a 13 year old son. I mean, holy fuck!

And I realised I’d rather date someone who is a raving nutter than one with children under 20.

And that’s not entirely healthy or entirely normal.

So I have come to the conclusion that 3.5 years of on off on line dating has absolutely warped my standards and acceptability.

So I’ve joined the dating agency of The Universe. I will ask The Universe to send me a partner who will be right for me (handgun or not, but no children under 20 please) and I shall trust the process.

And I cannot even tell you how strangely liberated I feel with this new mindset. I feel free. I’m just going to be me, living in my very lovely life, with lots of friends and lots of fun stuff and lots of creativity, and loving my work and I’m not even going to think about dating. Or destroying my soul as it has become.

Today I have clients, but in between them, I may crochet. Or lay on the sofa, or read a book, or paint a wall. I will not be trawling through a number of odd looking men and feeling sad for them that they are out there in the world feeling lonely (it’s the empath inside me) or that they might be a total fucking nutter (it’s the cynic inside me).

Of course all of this may change by tomorrow. But for today I am feeling happy and free, (and aware I haven’t had sex for 3 weeks eeeeeeeek).

Introduction Agencies….worse than on line dating

Yesterday.

Around a year ago, a friend and I paid a considerable sum of money to join an introduction agency. Sounds posh hey? Don’t be under any illusions. We paid our money to join, and then we had to pay to go to a function. SO we chose a black tie ball.

We had high expectations on our 2 hour drive to the venue, only to have them totally dashed, no smashed into the side of a rock face as soon as we walked in. It was like a glam evening at the old folks home. Which then developed into an evening from the set of The Undateables. I sat next to a guy who was seriously autistic and who had never worked for starter, a guy whose best friend was his spaniel Ralph for main course and for dessert, a man who could’ve been my grandad sat next to me. My grandad’s been dead 40 years, so I made my apologies and went and sat with the other disillusioned women.

Need less to say, I have never attended another do of theirs, should’ve rung all my alarm bells when the registration lady told us upon signing up that it was LIFETIME MEMBERSHIP. On a dating site. Really. Not filling me with hope.

Anyway yesterday they advertised a Sunday lunch in Cambridge. It was £45 a ticket (no wine, and believe me you’d need wine. A lot of wine) My friend and I decided that, rather than buying a ticket, we would go and lurk in the bar and watch who came in. Win win situation as if they were all minger, we would be glad we hadn’t wasted our money, and if any were potentials, we could snap them up in the bar.

We waited and all we saw was a convention of elderly people with walking sticks, coiffured hair, highly hoisted slacks and big ears.

It was them! We toasted our savviness with a few glasses of sauvignon blanc and some brie and basked in our triumph. The over 50s lunch had been taken over by the over 80s brigade! And we hadn’t wasted £45 finding that out!

On my way home later tho, I felt sad. Sad that 3 and a half years later, I’m still looking. Sad that every man I see while I’m out I wonder, are you taken, are you happy. Every fat or ugly girl I see with a boyfriend or a husband I wonder, how did you do that? Ive got it all going on and I had such a lovely message from the handgun guy from Saturday night saying how I was the complete package and I would be snapped up quickly. Well, I’m still single. Maybe I’m too fussy, but my fear is that I would compromise and settle for someone who wasn’t perfect for me and then my Mr Perfect For Me would come along maybe a year later and it would be too late. I was messaged by a man on POF last night who wanted to rant at me for being beautiful and how he would never date me as I would mug him off as the woman who he left for cheating 2 years ago broke his heart and we are all dishonest. I was annoyed and answered him, as one thing I am, especially after what my ex husband did to me and my daughter, is loyal and honest. Anyway he messaged this morning to apologise, and he had sunk a bottle of wine and got ranty.

I get that. And it showed me that not all men are cunts, there are cunty women out there too, trampling over peoples feelings without any thought for anything other than their egos and their sex life.

My daughter is home next weekend, it being a bank holiday, and I am kinda relieved to be absolved of the duty of having to go out on a date! Yippeeeee…..might not check POF once this week…..oh wait, what if Mr Right messages me………