Letting go

So I am currently still trying to divorce the Arsehole ex. (He whose name must not be spoken will be referred to as Mr A(rsehole) from here forward.) In between the aftermath of seeing Mr F and trying to understand how and why I put up with sooo much shit from Mr A I discovered that I’m still totally fucked up and still have a lot of healing to do. In order to make it through the messy hell of divorcing a narcissist whilst trying to heal and not implode, somethings had to go. The first was work.
I needed some time out. It was the first time I’d ever admitted defeat and listened to my body. It was screaming at me to STOP. So rather than experience the breakdown that I could feel hurtling towards me with the force of a thousand Lewis Hamiltons, I took a leave of absence that would go on to last five months. 

Second to go was Tinder, Okcupid and the search for sex. I could not be doing with the stress of online dating with all its checking and waiting and swiping and updating and poor results. It seemed as though turning 36 had taken me over the desirability threshold. Notifications dried up; no fish were biting. This was like a death nell to my vagina which was already having a MAJOR self evaluating crisis over the appearance of a few grey hairs. To be honest though I was too busy just trying to make it through each day to do anything about it: there were no ‘come fuck me’ photos to edit or warm smiles to flaunt, no full body shots for me to upload. I didn’t have the energy to come up with any more witty but not too intimidatingly clever one liners. I weaned myself away from daily swiping, deleted the apps and focused on living life offline. There were a few trips back to it all but after a day or two I was always left underwhelmed by what was on offer.  

The last thing to go was my car. My first baby. I bought it in 2003 and sold it for £90 in May 2015. I thought I’d shed a tear but instead I felt liberated. These days I’m in the world not in my car. I’m connected. In the rain. In the warm sunshine. Connected to the pavement as well as the person sitting next to me on the train. 

I’ve let go of all sorts of things. Tossed weight out of my canoe and into the sea. I’m paddling to the left and then to the right, plunging my oar silently into the water. Life feels lighter, as does my boat, as do I. 

Advertisements
Standard

Sex in the City of London

Ok so I have begun to refer to my new bed friend as Mr F. Partly because I am channeling my inner Sex in the City Samantha and because I always liked the brevity of Carrie’s Big. And also because when I asked for exclusive rights to his dick he said he didn’t want to put all of his emotional eggs in one basket. So he is now without a personality. Devoid of characteristics that might make me care. He has become for now at least just someone to fulfil my sexual desires. I do still keep abreast of developments on Tinder and now also Okcupid but goodness it’s a lot of work! Mr F may wish to keep his options open but I’ve got better things to do than to search for fresh meat. All I need is someone to tide me over until the end of the summer. For now I’d like to think that what I’ve got is a pretty efficient system.

He wants to sample all the dishes on offer at a cheap Chinese buffet while I like to order exactly what I like from the a la carte menu. But I guess when it comes down to it there’s no accounting for taste when both of you are just really fricking hungry.

Standard

Why so serious?

Time for some dating frivolity. So if you’ve been keeping up with me and my one a day for one year blog challenge you will know that the last time I dated prior to Deluded Dick was way back in 1998. Wow that’s actually last century. It was a time when stopping a girl in the street was a legitimate way of meeting someone. It was a time before Tinder.

Now I know there are a lot of mixed feelings about the Tinder app. You know how it goes… It’s just for people looking for sex…it’s a hook up site…guys post pictures of their abs and penises… It’s shallow and based only on appearance blah blah blah. Well ok that camp has it’s opinion and though it’s not a free world, folks can think what the hell they want. But if you are trying to date online those arguments don’t make much sense.

So hmm let’s see. Firstly yes it is for people looking for sex. Yep. Can’t argue with that. I am looking for sex. And…the problem is what exactly? Aren’t we all. I’m pretty sure the guys and gals over on Eharmony want to fuck someone too. Oh. Sorry. My mistake they want to fuck somebody who has a degree or is 5.11 or likes books or (and this is my pet hate criteria) likes to travel. Now to me all of that seems a bit shallow. If a guy is broke and can’t afford to take snaps up a mountain does that mean he is not worthy? If a guy is 5.6 does that mean he is lacking in some area of masculinity? And level of education? There are some smart pieces if shit out there. And what’s more one does not fuck a degree or an MA certificate. And a sheet of paper is no reflection of someone’s character or emotional intelligence. A high paying job won’t stop them from cheating on you. Good character can’t be a tick box quality. I mean who would choose not to tick a box that indicates yes I am a nice human being? So complicated. And then you’ve got to sell yourself! Aaaagghhhh! You actually have to write your own flipping press release. Now one could say that the writing of faux self deprecating nonsense or self grandiose spiel is distasteful and discriminatory. I mean what if you are crap with words but are a kind and talented artist? What if you come across as an awesome catch but the truth is you’ve written nothing but lies?

I think it’s best to just show your best self. Smile at a camera and see who bites? I’d rather have someone who I fancy and who on the basis of a couple of photos fancies me. Not someone who is necessarily an Adonis but someone who whets my appetite. Also truth be told I am lazy and hate with an absolute passion filling in forms online. If too much info is required of me I click the x. Even setting up this blog was touch and go.

Tinder is a nice Luke warm step into the sea of love. There may be sharks out there but at least I don’t have to pay to swim with them or don a full scuba diving outfit to get wet. It’s free and honest. Unless you write up a press release that is make believe. Like my ex, who I happened to see whilst happily swiping one day. And yes before you ask I did indeed swipe left. But not before taking a screen shot and cackling wildly to my friends over the hilarious profile he’d written. Some people are just plain crazy. Don’t believe their hype but do believe in their photo. As long as the person who you end up meeting in real life is the same as the one you’ve been communicating with you’ll be good to go. Then all you’ve got to suss out is whether or not they’re a waste of time or if they’re likely to slit your throat.

Standard