Saturday, 20 June 2015

Blinded by your flesh

One year, maybe a little more, I had him in my life. Not completely, no, just a toe dipped into the warm waters of my life, a finger slipped in between my thighs. Why he ventured my way I cannot tell, why he lingered too long, it isn't fair, but all the while his eyes were on the horizon and mine were on him, transfixed, fascinated, by this strange beautiful sad man. That's how I saw him, but that's not the truth of him. I got it wrong. Interpreted the cameo he played I my life as the main act. I can't remember ever wanting anyone more than I wanted him. It caught me by surprise and it ruined me also. 

He took things from me that did not belong to him. They were for a man I loved, who had intention to return my love. He used me in a callous way that I have not been used before. What sort of man could allow a woman to give of herself like that for so long without having a care for her.

He broke my heart by not caring enough to tell me himself. By letting me find out in a way that was so destructive to my self esteem when I need every ounce of strength I have to get through my life as mother, worker, friend.

I see now that he takes what he can get from the world. Beyond empathy. And he did not want me, he wanted someone else, but perhaps recklessly enjoyed the thrill of getting away with cheating on his beloved. When I found out, how coldly and cruelly he threw me aside. How I envy her and pity her simultaneously.

He did not appreciate my affection, my kindness, my intellect, my imagination, my sexuality, my body, my initiative, my time. I gave him these things, where I should have refrained, because I have a loving heart. He never made me feel important. He wasn't kind in return to me. I have to learn to expect more from people. I will learn.

I have to try and now understand what it was that got me hooked. I know it was the cybersex. I loved sharing that with him. Making him come with my words. It was spiritual to me, created a strong emotional connection, but perhaps not for him, and not when it came to being in person.  The money and the freedom to travel, a big attraction to one who is so down and out financially. A man on a giant white horse and I am most definitely a damsel in this area.

His quietness. Made me feel I could say more, move toward him. Not be suffocated.

I liked his looks and his skin. I romanticised him deeply. Absence made my heart grow fonder. But not his, not when it was already filled.

How do I look upon her photograph hand not feel inadequate. The jealousy I felt when I saw her beauty. The outrage that her lips were on his and her naked body lies with his. It made me sick to the stomach and filled with anguish. But he's mine I wanted to yell. But that wasn't true.

All the missed opportunities because I was blinded by that one dull light. He did not see me. He did not see me at all.

Why can't I be more ruthless. Why so meek. It hurts to think he just moved on so swiftly, while I suffered for months. If he felt no attachment to me after all that time, then is something awry in his heart and mind. How do I get past this. When you offer your heart, the best you could of it, and you are passed over, as though it was a worthless gift. When you would have given your eye teeth to be his girl.  My ego wants retribution but all I have the stomach for is this anonymous post. Just to touch upon what an act of revenge might feel like. It feels quite sickly to be honest, I'm not vengeful by nature. But wounds will change your character, at times.

I have to be the one to determine my value, my worth. I'm so loved and supported by my friends and family. That is something. No, that is everything. They see me and my good heart. I must stand tall, and keep finding courage, and choose the people I let into my heart more wisely, not be blinded by pretty flesh, fooled by a shallow man. Search and search for integrity and accept no less.

Monday, 14 April 2014

From the Mountain

He texted me from the tallest mountain on the smaller island that also forms a part of our country. So typical, such an adventurer he is. His life makes me feel like I've just spent the last 39 years twiddling my thumbs, watching the world go by. But despite his acheivements, and they are many, his shyness and introversion humble and temper his demeanour. It's his introversion that has me hooked, that make me want to clim into him and explore, just as he has explored the far corners of the world. I miss him acutely while he's on this trip with his children. Much more than he misses me, I know, I'm much further along the path than he, having been on my own now for the requisite time. Whereas he lost his love in the hardest way possible, and scarcely a year ago. I'm unafraid of his grief though, of being the one who comes after the loss. My need to express love is greater than my need to be loved. I want to open his heart again, and see that shy crooked smile, always. 

He tries so hard in everything he does, his solitary pursuits, his sole parenting, his work. I think in his way he is trying hard to please me to. I want to be naked with him now. Milky skin, freckles on his broad shoulders, his lovely belly and blue soft eyes. He kisses beautifully, softly, like his personality, which is unobtrusive, steady, but gently encompassing. 

Patience will be needed if I want his love. Not necessarily something that I have in spades. So I've come back to my writing, to help me stand waiting at the bottom of the mountain, loving but undemanding. 

Friday, 19 July 2013

Bye bye boy

The preceding days did not pan out for me as I had hoped. My bed remains empty, my desire unfulfilled. We didn't cross that line, ultimately I don't think he wanted to, he was just careless with his words, flirtatious in his ways. I sensed my want for him became heavy, demanding, not the mindless fling his body was seeking. I tried not to be that way, but I suppose my craving for passion overtook the reality of the situation. So needy and greedy, wanted to swallow him whole, yet hated the thought of him not being free. He hurt my pride, I thought it was just me, unique me, that he wanted, but I've learned this wasn't the case, and I learned it the hard way, like a stinging slap across the face. His farewell drinks and dinner, I ended up not being seated near him, but across from a sweet young man, and we got talking, and talking and shared our food. I could see my beloved bespectacled boy flirting with a girl, not from our work, and much closer to his age, but secretly I still hoped I'd find my way to him later in the evening. At the end of the meal, he came around, organising the payment of the bill. The young man I'd shared food with, commented to him that we'd had something of a dinner date. My colleague, drunk by this stage, said something along the lines of 'she is mine'. No, that's exactly what he said. She is mine. Proprietary. Perhaps in jest, but I heard the underlying warning. I didn't look to see his face, or at least I can't remember it now, I remember I laughed and rolled my eyes, but I felt something very primal respond in me at his words. Yes, I am yours. 

But he did nothing further that night to claim me. In fact he seemed to divert his attentions back to the other girl, and after a time I couldn't take it anymore so I left after a cool farewell, a nothing hug, an embrace that would have been warmer between strangers. And that's the end of that story, I'm relieved in some ways to see the back of him, my feelings had escalated and intensified so much in these last days with him, and it was becoming too intense. Having him disappoint me, show me his true colours, his carelessness, his lack of desire toward me when compared to my own, makes it easier to not look back, not dwell, soak, parade the memories around and around in my mind. I don't want to feel bitter, he is just so young after all, I can't expect him to have the intuition and nurturing care that I have, to know how to let me down gently, or to even have the insight that I might need to be treated with care, my vulnerable heart. 

So goodbye to you forever. It turns out I loved you. Yes. I am yours. But I will never ever ask you to be mine. 

Tuesday, 9 July 2013


What a deliciously intoxicating day. 

The anticipation, the waiting and wanting. The breaking of rules, work place relationships, age difference relationships. Quivering all day long across from him exchanging flirtatious messages while the busy work of our colleagues swirls around us. I did my work, as best I could, while in flames, my mind gone, body controlled by my desire. 

Of course I worry still a little bit that there may be regrets, ramifications, aren't we taught that bad things happen when we give into our most primal needs. But this could be it, my last shot at passion, I could find out in a month, a year that I have cancer or some such modern day disease, and will have wasted this precious time on fear of retribution. My sexual drive will begin to decline, as I'm told it does with age, and these heights, like I experienced today, by his knowledge of my secret desire for him, will be forever out of reach. 

Monday, 8 July 2013

Some kind of farewell

It's hard on me, uncertainty, about the extent of another's feelings. I've written, many times before, about my younger male work colleague who has the ability to induce a significant desire within me. It waxes and wanes, but it's never really that far from the surface. Being the adventurous boy that he is, he has taken an internal transfer overseas, to the Middle East. Of course I understand that drive, remembering what it is like to be young and seek adventures. It is one thing I would like to have done, would still like to do, spend a year or two, living and working in a completely different environment and culture. So off he flys, in just three weeks time, possibly never to be seen again by this saddened heart. We went out as a group on Friday and we all drank a little much, and we were talking and he suggested to me that we should have a sexual relationship before he goes. Our very own office romance. I said that I would like that. But he said that I should think it over. Then others came along and we talked about it no more. Shortly after, a friend of his arrived, a girl, who sort of commandeered his attention for the rest of the night. I felt some jealousy but I hid it well, I feel I have a strong jealous streak sometimes, something I should work on. I texted him the next day, short but overtly sexual which he responded to quite nicely. I feel confused about how to progress. I'm worried he doesn't share the depth of emotion I feel, and is perhaps just looking for the stereotypical older woman sexual experience, and I feel pressure from that as well. I worry that he was just intoxicated and wasn't thinking of what he was saying, that it was just flippant. And he hasn't thought much of it since then, whereas it's all I can think of.  I could scarcely look at him today, let alone concentrate on my work with him just a few metres away, knowing that I want him. I'm worried about showing him my  older body with its marks of childbirth, and age. I'm worried about putting pressure on him by trying to instigate a conversation about this, in case he's hoping to just let it slide. I feel incredibly insecure about my position here. Does he want a guilt free uninhibited sexual experience, or a deeper connection, which is something he seems to seek from me, but through conversation only, so far. Am I alone in being asked to be his lover in this short time he has left. And then I think why am I giving away all my power, giving in to my insecurities. Why wouldn't he want to make love to me, now that this is potentially our only chance in life to be with one another. Our final goodbye. He will be gone for two years, both of us will have moved on by then to more appropriate partners and if there is a passion between now, in time, it will be lost. I don't want to let this moment pass. I might not feel this way about a man for a long time to come. It might be awful, uncomfortable, we might jeopardize our friendship, but it will surely dissipate in time, as right now we are thrown together by circumstance. I hope that these weeks won't pass without me knowing what it's like to have him, completely and utterly. A tragedy it would be to let him go because I'm afraid of his rejection, afraid I care more, afraid of some sadness when he leaves, afraid of ruining this last of our time together because of these fears when I could just be brave and open and loving and show him my heart and my passion and that experiencing such openness would just be enough. Why can't I just enjoy this, without all this associated emotional attachment, it isn't the way to love. I want to write to him and tell him everything but I also I don't want him to be forced to have difficult conversations when time is precious now for him, his time with friends and family. So I will wait and see, try to be open, not insecure, and hope he finds his way into my arms so I can love him properly, even just for just one night. 

Friday, 28 June 2013


Each morning I park my car 1.5km away from work, it's in an area where you can park all day for free, rather than pay ten dollars per day to park, closer to work. Money is tight, so I figured it was worth it, adding a few extra steps into my day, and saving myself ten bucks. On Wednesday I returned to my car to find it had been vandalized. My mirrors smashed, the rear light smashed and a screw driver or key had been run across 4 or 5 panels of the car. Hundreds of dollars worth of damage, done deliberately, for no apparent reason to my car. Yes, I am insured, but my excess is $600, far more money than I can spare right now. I have to admit I have overspent lately, the two trips for the half marathons were costly, although I will never regret them, pretty life changing they were. But I was upset by this act, I feel like I am working so hard, trying so hard, and taking a few unfair kicks in the guts. I suppose we all have to face life's unfairness sometimes, but this one hurt. My friend at work tried to tell me not to look for deeper meaning in the act, that it's not a higher message from the universe, but I guess I just for a moment felt that this was the straw that broke the camel's back. I was teary, felt cheated, ready to throw in the towel, and even angry. Often in these situations I find compassion and can justify actions like this by imagining that the person who did this was some poor lost soul. Still, it was pretty malicious. They rammed a screw driver into both my mirrors, take this you naive, broke, exhausted, stressed, single mother. I suppose I felt like I was being kicked while I was down. And I was scrambling to get up again. I feel better now, I am on holidays for a week with my boys. Not going anywhere, just a week of relaxing at home, being unhurried. I've been overwhelmed these last few weeks by my busy schedule, struggling to get out of bed each morning, but already I feel better. We made home made pizzas and chocolate pudding last night, squeezed some fresh orange juice this morning. Slow simple enjoyable tasks. A step back from the pressure of my deadline driven job, which I enjoy, but means I'm often working in a fairly adrenaline heightened state. So I'm going to go slow for a week, remove all pressures, get my car fixed, and perhaps I should do a budget. But I guess it's a reminder that not everyone is as lucky as me, and has compassion within their hearts. It's wiser perhaps not to always expect the best from people, in fact it's better not to have any expectations at all. To see things at face value, so I'm not thrown into a spin by random acts of unkindness. 

Tuesday, 25 June 2013

Brain storm blowing in

So I've hopped off Facebook, spent all my money, got no lover, so I may as well try start figuring out the story I want to write. I'm just going to put down a whole heap of fragmented ideas here, see what happens.

The female forensic structural engineer going to investigate a fault in a remote mining camp. Or implement a renewable energy project in a remote area of Australia.

Sent there by her lover, who is also her team leader, he's married.

She is sexually assaulted while she is out on site. Concern, stereotyping unfairly mining/ remote communities. Maybe it's a car accident instead, she is hurt. Something else, neither of these are right.

Not a fun story to write? Who would want to read something set in a Mining camp. If it were describing a new technology, or something many people aren't that familiar with, it could be okay.

It would have to be juxtaposed with another story. Her twin? Leading a different life somewhere else? She might be an athlete or dancer, something non academic. Would they be close, or divided. I think close. A healthy sisterhood.

Any Children? Or a long term relationship. One twin with, one without, exploring these decisions and implications. Which would be a mother?

Words, criticism, verbal abuse, maybe that's what the engineer experiences in the mining camp from the project manager out there.

Dementia? Maybe the story could be a retelling of their life story from one twin who has memory, and the other who has not.
I'm definitely interested in exploring sexual relationships between people that work together. And the masculine, non-emotional nature of many work places. 

Interested in exploring obesity in some way. This is such a huge issue, a shameful issue really when you consider the degree of starvation in the world. Maybe the girls have a friend who is obese in their life that plays some sort of pivotal role. Or a brother, step parent. 

But I also want to create a female hero, somewhere between Jane Tennyson as played by Helen Mirren, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer as played by Sarah Michelle Gellar. I want a story that could be filmed, that has acts of courage. Not fantasy or sci fi. Although set in the near future might be okay. 

What kind of heroic act could the engineer do? Stand up against a corporation like the Russell Crowe character in The Insider. I don't think I want to paint a corporation as the typical bad guy. Maybe it could instead be that she instead champions a new innovative approach in engineering, climate change related, renewable energies. Something a little inspired by Ian McEwans Solar. The genuis at work, a mess in the personal life, sleeping with her Director, obsessed by him, and every one knowing it. Having to defend that she is the authentic author of her intellectual property, the innovative technology. That would take a lot of research on my behalf. Whatever it is it could be juxtaposed with the physical heroism of her dancer/athlete twin. 

I guess I'm also interested in religious tolerance. Tolerance of Islam in Australia, even though there are instances of Islam being used to justify the denial of basic human rights to women. Religious tolerance vs feminism. 

Maybe she is an urban planner or master planner or architect or doctor or policy maker working on innovative ground breaking policy that relates to obesity and creating healthy environments, maybe it's active transport, and that's how my interest in health is woven into the story. That might be closer to my own interests than renewable energy or mining. 

How could a character like this have recurring story arcs. Maybe they could be a crack team of engineering/ architectural professionals. Different consulting projects representing different social issues. Pfft, I should just make a documentary at work.

That's enough for now. A crack team of infrastructure specialists working 20 years in the future. Global consultancy, so they can work in different countries, address different issues. I'll mull this over tonight. Bit excited, lots of real life experience that I can start with. 

Oh, also if her sister is a dancer I can introduce ideas of body image, perhaps she doesn't quite fit the stringent mould of a professional dancer, more muscular than lean. Perhaps also she is performing in a dance piece that tells a story that is also a metaphor for her sisters life/ story.