Showing posts with label moving on. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving on. Show all posts

Monday, 17 October 2011

In which I come out of hiding

Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? I have no excuse for my absence except that I am happy, and "happiness is a bitch to creativity"'. It's much harder to write about a Saturday night spent curled up on the sofa with a DVD than it is to write about emotional fuckwittery and crying in the bath, and it's also far less interesting for you to read! Also, I don't need the therapy like I did six months ago. And it was therapy. To paraphrase Caitlin Moran;

"You can always tell when a women is with the wrong man, because she has so much to say about the fact that nothing's happening. When women find the right person, on the other hand, they just... disappear for six months, and then resurface, eyes shiny, and usually six pounds heavier".

So, that's where I have been. Curled up on with Essex Boy in front of a range of DVDs, drinking white wine and eating ice cream, meeting friends and family, and reading the style section while he looks over the sports pages on a Sunday morning. He is kind, and clever, and funny, and it feels right. I haven't gained six pounds though. Not yet.

But that's not all I've been doing. While my weekends have become a blissful picture of coupledom (bookended by hours spent on the M25 and hundreds of pounds spent on petrol), I have also made the biggest commitment in my life as an independent woman - I've bought a house! After years spent living at home and saving my money like Ebenezer Scrooge, I have finally had an offer accepted on a one bed terraced house about fifteen minutes away from my parents. (I didn't want to be too independent, who would help me put the shelves up?) The house is a tiny two up two down, but it has a garden! And stairs! And a corner bath! And parking! It's perfect and I can't wait to move in - something which could take some time, judging by the speed the solicitors are currently progressing. I'm hoping to be in by Christmas, although I won't have any money left over, so the festive season will most likely be spent sitting on the floor in my empty living room, admiring a single bauble.

I'm excited and nervous about living alone. Being able to decorate the place myself, eat whatever I want, and watch endless episodes of Gossip Girl are all things which appeal to me immensely. Then there are benefits to come from not living with parents, like being able to come home whenever I want (rather than receiving a text message to check I'm still alive every time I work late) and not having to sit in my bedroom like teenagers whenever I have a friend round. There are a few things I'm worried about, of course - the expense is a major concern, because I won't have anyone to help me out and I've just spent my life savings on the deposit. And I'm slightly concerned about security, although if I'm honest, large spiders are more worrying to me than any other kind of intruder.

Overall though, I think it's going to be a huge adventure, and I can't wait.

Sunday, 7 August 2011

In which I try to unpack my emotional baggage

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a woman in possession of a new boyfriend will suddenly become irresistibly attractive to all the men she liked before, none of whom were interested at the time.

Or maybe it's just me, I don't know. What I do know, however, it's that I'd really like to be enjoying these blissful early days with The Man I Am Seeing (aka. Essex Boy) rather than having a war of words over text  with Future Husband. He seems to have forgotten that I was interested in him, and it was him who stopped texting me; that many of my phone calls went unanswered and unreturned; and that the last time I saw him he told me he "wasn't sure" whether or not he wanted to be with me. He is also failing to understand why refusing to see me or speak to me now, and sending me multiple texts (including the immortal line "I was coming round to the idea"), has really, really wound me up. FH seems to think that the fact that he was "coming round to the idea" of going out with me is something I should be happy about, even grateful for. A few months ago, I was wondering why we weren't together. He's now demonstrated some pretty compelling reasons. I just hope that our friendship can survive.

Meanwhile, Essex Boy is making me very happy. I'm not sure how much I should say about him - it's much easier to disect the confusing and downright weird behaviour of men I don't care so much about, and much harder to talk about someone I like more and more with every passing day. It's now been a month since our first official date, and I've done the journey from Bucks to Essex a couple of consecutive weekends. We've also been to our work summer festival, meaning that our relationship is well and truly "out" amongst our colleagues. I can't overexaggerate how wonderful he is and how lucky I feel to be with him.

It's pretty scary, though. I wasn't planning to meet someone I felt like this about so soon, and as soon as I met him, I knew things were going to change. I'd be lying if I said I was over Former Love of my Life; I know I wouldn't go back to him, but yesterday I was reduced to tears by finding last year's Christmas cards (featuring brief, neatly written messages which masked a lot of pain and confusion - when I wrote mine I wasn't even sure we'd still be together at Christmas). As my feelings for Essex Boy get stronger, I'm finding that the pain of my break up is coming back to the fore. It's like I'm trying to deal with it so that I can put it behind me once and for all, but I'm not sure how long that is going to take.

For the first time in my life, I'm aware of myself carrying some baggage into this new relationship. I'm so, so happy, but I'm all too aware that relationships that start like this can still end in raw, painful ways. That old cliché of "love like you've never been hurt before" is proving difficult, and I'm still holding back a lot of myself. I guess that's normal though, so early on. What I do know for sure is that while I'm lucky enough to have Essex Boy in my life, I'm going to hold onto him.

Saturday, 18 June 2011

In which I try to move on (in more ways than one)

That's that, then. It would appear that my involvement with Future Husband is over before it even really started. He might be my oldest and best male friend, but he's crappy boyfriend material. Aside from the fact that he's barely texted me for three weeks, there are the following reasons: he was three hours late to an event we went to last weekend, having woken up a mere thirty minutes before I was due to collect him from the station, an hour and a half away; he is a hypochondriac who reckons he has cholera when he in fact has a slightly dodgy stomach (I'd like to think he was joking, but I'm not sure); and he managed to keep me up-to-date on his recent job hunt and coinciding life-threatening illness without once asking me how I was (since you ask, I had tuberculosis).

We haven't actually discussed the demise of this phase of our relationship, but then we didn't discuss the start of it either, which could possibly be why we ended up as 'friends with benefits' for two months, rather than any sort of proper couple. I'm not going to deny the quality of those benefits, but it wasn't quite what I had in mind. Still, I am sure that we will stay friends and laugh about this in years to come.


Anyway, as a result of these realisations and the fact that I have been out every night this week, I found myself with a very quiet weekend on the horizon, so I decided to make a start on the flat hunt. For years now I have been saving my pennies in a variety of ISAs and e-savings accounts, and thanks to the generosity of my parents, who have let me live at home for years without contributing more than the odd loaf of bread, I now have quite a bit saved. Thanks to my recent promotion, I'm also in a position to get a mortgage (terrifyingly, they seem to think I'm actually 'a good asset' - I did not wear my Kurt Geigers to the meeting). So this morning I headed off to my chosen location to visit lots of estate agents. One or two of them actually listened to my specifications - safe area, parking, bath, and balcony/direct access to gardens - and led me to the conclusion that I will easily snap up a place of my own. Just as soon as I've saved another twenty thousand pounds, plus money for fees. Like I said, easy.

So you see? I don't need a man. Not even a little bit. I am an Independent Woman, as Beyoncé would say. My life is fabulous and full and I am happy and healthy (apart from the TB) and my future is full of excitement.

And besides, there's this cute new guy at the office...

Monday, 16 May 2011

In which I wonder what it means to be single

It is three months since the Former Love of my Life and I made the decision to split up, and it feels like three years. I still feel like I'm drowning if I think about him too much... but I've realised that I'm going to be ok. I don't know when, or if, I'll ever wake up and not care about him, but I've realised that even when something heartbreaking happens, life is good. And I've learnt a few things about being single:

1. Girlfriends are the best. A girlfriend told me that the only possible reason that The Brazilian hadn't called is that he'd died. When I told her he'd updated his Facebook profile that morning, she told me I was in denial. I laughed so much I forgot to be sad.

2. You have more friends than you think. I have driven to Wales to spend the bank holiday with a dreadlocked uni friend, been clubbing with a girl I haven't seen since I was 10 and her hilarious friends, watched the Royal Wedding with friends I've seen every few months since I was four, and been to a gig with a Twitter friend I'd never met before. And that's just the start of it.

3. You meet men everywhere - but you might not care. When I was in a relationship, I thought I might be missing something, or someone. Now I realise I probably wasn't. There are gorgeous, kind, sweet men everywhere (as well as some grade A tossers) but most of them aren't for me. I'll wait for someone exceptional, thanks very much.

4. Bathtimes are depressing. God knows why, but I've lost count of the number of times I found myself crying in the bath. Often I accompanied the crying by mournfully singing Adele songs. Maybe it's a rite of passage for the broken hearted. Exercise damage limitation and don't take a glass of Pinot to the bathroom with you.

5. On a related note, Pinot is depressing too. Drink Martinis instead. You might fall off your stilettos and graze your knees like a schoolchild (hypothetically, of course) but you're less likely to end up sobbing under the duvet.

6. You can be really, really selfish. It's awesome. When I was in a relationship, mine was the "sensible car", with five seats and boot space. I've since bought an apple green convertible. I also bought clothes I knew my ex would hate, and had my hair cut the way I wanted it for the first time. Can you believe I'd never decided on my own hair cut without wondering if a guy would like it? Jeeeeezus.

7. You will remember what you actually like. I have listened to Adele's new album pretty much every day, I have watched the Sex and the City movie about six times, and I've filled the gaps in between with the Cold Feet box set and a pile of books. Oddly enough, I haven't watched a single episode of Top Gear.

8. You can plan for a future which is all about you. Yes, I hope to get married one day, but before then I plan to buy my own flat, with money I have saved up, and decorate it however I like. Pink, probably.

9. You should buy a Rabbit. Don't ask questions, just do it.

10. Being single is a permanent state of hopefulness. You could meet your next Great Love anywhere you look. He might be your best friend, or the guy you meet at the bar, or someone you work with, or the drummer in the band, or Prince Harry. Tonight might be the night you meet him. Or it might just be the night you drink fifteen Martinis and graze both your knees.