The art of dating when you are in your 40’s is a perilous, soul destroying mission. I blame my misfortune with men on the 'fairy tale factor'... That never ending belief that love conquers all and that one day a prince will come.

Reality isn't even close to the fairy tale. Especially when the prince doesn’t just come with baggage – he comes with a bitter, money grubbing ex-wife clinging to his back like a hump.

I gave it a shot. It sucked. I suffered a potential serial killer teenager who would pick his nose and wipe it on the wall. I gained 15 kilo; became invisible to the world. Yeah; I don’t think I’ll do that again.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Big Girls Don't Cry

This weekend, I walked around the house like a ghost.  I tried to read; tried to write… But I just couldn’t settle.  For the first time since moving house, I was lonely, teary and fidgety. 

I couldn’t work out why I was feeling so miserable.  Generally, I’m comfortable in my own skin; content with my own company.  Yet the feeling of loss escalated until I was like a cat on a hot tin roof.  To take my mind off it, I set out for the Classic Cinema mid-afternoon to catch a movie. 

I went on my own which I’ll admit; I force myself to do on occasion.  I think it’s supposed to empower me.  It doesn’t work.  Mostly, I hover in a corner until I can slink into the theatre and sit in the darkness but even then, I’m waiting for someone to look up, point and yell ‘lonely loser alert!!!’.  I can almost picture it; as I drag my carcass out of the theatre, hunching my shoulders against the barrage of abuse and possibly rotten vegetables thrown by the villagers.

As it happens, there was no villager riots and the movie was a rather amusing vampire comedy that did dull the sensation of ‘blues cloak’ that I had previously worn.  The blessed relief of laughter did not last.  As the credits rolled I was already leaving the theatre and I realised that I’d embarked upon a rather large outing without actually speaking to another living soul.  Hell, I purchased the ticket online and had to do no more than push my phone towards the ticket checker and may have offered them a nod or a brief smile, but certainly no conversation.

By Sunday morning, the roller coaster was zooming down to a full on panic attack or a desire to throw myself down the stairs.  Instead, I threw on some runners and walked.  By the time I got home I realised that this was my own fault.  Somewhat stupidly, I had opened the door and let the Squeeze back in…

We are mature adults.  Best friends – or at least we were.  Why couldn’t we be again..? And when the door opened a crack, it creaked open further and further until our email exchange became of flood of flirty ‘carry on’ down and dirty emails - of around one hundred for the week.  That didn’t count the skype messages or text messages or sitting at my dining table and laughing our heads off like old times.  Even as I drifted into an exhausted sleep on Friday night, he was still sending emails.

The conversations had been growing over the last month or so; now it had reached avalanche proportions.  What this meant to me of course was that the budding romance had died a death and we could be friends again.  I didn’t think he would suddenly develop a dose of humanity or an ability to love or that we would skip into the sunset to live happily ever after; but somewhat stupidly, I did think that maybe, there was a chance we could be friends again.

On Saturday morning, all contact stopped.  I finally sent an email on Monday evening to say “are you dead..?”  It took four direct emails before I pushed through his evasive avoidance of my dating question and I finally sent a single line to say 'are you dating???' Frankly, between work and our comms avalanche, I couldn't see where he would find the time. Then I got back: “I am seeing someone, I told you that..”

WTF? What had the last week or so been about then..?

Seriously, I knew he was weak, but I didn’t figure him for a player.  Good luck to her is all I can say because the life she has signed up for is even uglier than the one I had!  At least I had fidelity! 

So he selfishly coaxed me away from a path of change and like a fool, I allowed it. All to make himself feel good - and screw the fact the in taking his 'upper', he plunged me into despair!  Obviously the poor woman that took my place is seeing the relationship for what it is (keep a measure of delusion that he can change) and kicked him to the kerb for a week. I was the bandaide to help his poor battered ego. What a selfish Dick!

Well I won’t let that happen again.  He is dead to me.  No…  We can’t be friends.  We will never be friends again because friends don't use and abuse friendships like that.  Friends don't hurt you. Mess with your heart and mind. 

And me..?  I am catching up with the cute builder tonight for dinner. I'm spending the weekend down the coast.  I signed up for life drawing classes that start in October (nude male model if you don’t mind) and this morning, I was up and jogging at 6am. 

No time for tears; because as we all know: 

I did toss up using this one; because I did love Glee when Cory was there :'(

But in all honesty.... it's a wanky song :)

Can we still be friends....

I guess I've discovered that no...  No we can't be friends.  :'(

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Don’t you walk away!!!

The other morning, I awoke to a facebook message from a girlfriend at some ungodly 5am hour.  ‘Update your blog! I’m bored!’

I’m not sure who can be bored at 5am when there is sleeping to be done, and later in the day, I replied to say ‘there is nothing to blog about!’ And the reality is there were no new dates this weekend.  No one was rocking my world; I didn’t move any closer to the elusive ‘wild thing’ with anyone.

Wynette; this one is for you…

Today, while walking and reflecting to the sound of Diamond Dogs done Moulin Rouge style, I realised my life is a world more than blogging about some noodle headed spineless ex or a guy with Miss Daisy driving skills who had the potential to get me killed in a freak road rage incident; or even the stream of tic tac teeth, fungus fingers or impotent guitarists…

Dating a Hunchback began as a tale of woe.  Single women dating when in their 40’s and worse, dating morons that haven’t/can’t/won’t get their shit together.  And maybe that is my lot.  Maybe I’m not destined to be with someone and if that’s the case, I can’t see me no longer blogging – which means getting my act together!

Somewhat weirdly, I’m enjoying work at the moment.   Still, I applied for a job yesterday.  Why?  I need a house; which means I need to earn more money; or at least leave where I am, take all my leave as cash and put that towards my deposit.

The dating scene is quiet and I’m not chasing it.  I am talking to a builder (bring on that tool belt) who lives in Geelong and we may catch up next weekend when I go down to stay with my sister.  I quite like him too; he is my kind of people with similar family and 'tough love' kid values.

As for the title of the blog; I loved this song in my youth:

I noticed that she is playing at the Caravan Club – and I plan to be there.  I haven’t worked out who I’m going to go with as yet since my usual gig buddy is out of the country - but I have two tickets in my hot little hand and even if I have to go on my own – I’m going!

Annoying really that I basically introduced the ex to my gig world; and he introduced his friends.  Now they all go and I have no one to go with.  :'(

Other than that, life is relatively simple.  I even caught up with the ‘ex Squeeze’ through the week and gave him several boxes of records that I didn’t want.  It’s annoying.  I really like him as a person.  Why can't I hate him?  It' would be easier.

As an aside, I do think he is morphing into me.  I move to an amp and speakers, ridding myself of the preamp.  He does.  I get a Pro-ject turntable.  He does.  I get new headphones - he has to! I get a red car – he does! (admittedly, mine is way better and looking his interior just makes me want to sing Scottish songs!