Laugh Out Loud

Moaning, mourning and moving on…

Lucid — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 16:52:27 +0000

Preface

I am still ranting about my Ex, but bear with me the Shark is funny!

It seems my friends, that instead of my Ex being released into the wild, that it was in fact yours truly who has come out of captivity, and with an evolutionary leap. It seems I am having a renaissance! You may remember (if you are following this blog that current state of play was an Ex detaching in stages, that I have joined a ´Group` don`t worry, no, it’s not Alcoholics Anonymous, despite what some friends may say, and have finally burst from my cocoon…more butterfly stories later!). Early last week I finally lost my rag, my endearment and my temper with my Ex and threw my rattle dramatically out of the pram. I had had a terrible day, was being messed about by a client and was rather disgruntled so he offered to come round and hug me. All well and good except that he didn`t really want to come round at all and resented it and insisted on pointing out ´…that I am not your Boyfriend` while trying to embrace me! Talk about mixed messages, taking me for granted and on top of that ´…that he was giving me lots of attention and would not be spending the night!`. The arrogance of man! Gentlemen, pay attention…

Number 1: There are times when actually your Ex, Wife, Girlfriend, Lover or Friend with Rights might, just might, have better things to do than make love (or hate) to you.

Number 2: Don`t assume having dumped her, that she is sitting around waiting and wanting you!

Number 3: Have you noticed that actually she has let go and it is in fact you, who is insisting in keeping in daily contact and reappearing for a sexual service once a week and that she actually would like you to go away!

Ah, and breathe…and exhale! Oh one last thing,

Number 4: ´Don`t touch me and yes, I think you should go! `

Needless to say, he left. Then a day later he left to work away again. Ladies, never fall in love with a sailor! Actually he is a marine biologist and on previous trips he was accompanied by my little plastic shark paper cutter, which has now been returned to my custody. Now two things to consider here; one is that if your Ex is also your best friend then that may, and should change, with the proviso that after a suitable mourning period for the dead relationship, that in time, (after the residual resentment of rejection has subsided…Did I tell you I have a Dark Side?), you can move to the healthy state of friendship all be it with new rules. The other thing being the old adage that you should never go to bed on an argument, or neglect to make up before someone goes on a journey, especially to shark infested waters, far out at sea (don`t worry he probably finds this safer than being on the receiving end of my wrath..´Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, sic`). So inevitably with bereavement that contact is cut whether you like it or not. So my friends, I decided not to communicate, respond, engage or carry on corresponding with him. That would be ´moving on`, in case you were wondering.

A short email saying he was sorry that we, (we?) quarrel so much and that he was in fact leaving to work away the next day left me with a dilemma, as I am actually quite sweet and thoughtful and didn`t want him to go away and possibly drown at sea, get eaten by sharks without a kind word. However, my pride would not let me let him think that we can nor should go on as if nothing has changed, confiding in each other, sharing our innermost thoughts, as now he really had pissed me off! What do you do? Improvise (I work with children, Blue Peter, sticky back plastic, talking inanimate objects. Yep, you got it!). Our correspondence was as follows:

Me: ´The Shark says have a safe trip`.

Him: ´Ok, I will. I know this company and their internet policies are shit. I might not get email. `

He really wasn`t getting it was he? I DON`T WANT TO WRITE TO YOU RIGHT NOW, I AM IN MY ANGRY FAZE! HELLO???? (Sarcastic American voice)

A day later after an alcoholic beverage

Me: ´Talk to the Shark cause the face aint listening…the shark doesn`t know how to send emails anyway! `

Him: ´Hmmmm….huh? So was that email from the ‘face’ or the shark…? `

Me: ´The Shark has a Personal Assistant! `

By which point I`m thinking this not communicating business is taking up almost as much time as communicating, was getting silly and now I was using a small innocent plastic shark to fight my battles! Hahaha! Then I went out…

3 Days Later…

Him: ´Ok, we’re sailing now. Nice vacation so far. ` (Did I tell you he`s American?)

Me: ´The Shark says that ´her indoors` has been out partying all weekend and that she said she didn`t find any money on the floor except some paper butterflies and something much better!`

(READ NEXT BLOG TO DECODE)

It seems that the little plastic shark is being rather mischievous and taking on a whole new identity! You can assume there has been a development…

If all else fails…SMILE

Lucid — Sat, 29 Aug 2009 14:02:43 +0000

The weekend arrived along with an email from my Ex boyfriend, who I am now ´Seeing` (or not as it appears, when I want to!) with a list of reasons not to spend time with me and a detailed explanation of his total unavailability for the weekend. Demoted to the B List already? You really know you need to get out and meet some new people when your so called friends pre-empt the weekend festivities by sending you an announcement that whatever they will be doing, that you will not be included, but maybe if you`re lucky they might be free for coffee one weekday afternoon in a month`s time! Guess I am officially single and segregated. Outcast… (Hey Yah! Song).

So I decided to embrace a new opportunity and go out on my own, having spent too many nights sitting wondering where all the friends, lovers and alleged boyfriend seem to disappear to when I am ready, willing and available to go out. What the Hell! With great trepidation I decided to go to one of those ´Meet up` groups, which until now in my very reserved British way, I had always considered to be for ´The Lonely, Losers and Last Resort` or as we say in Spain, ´Desperados` which incidentally is also a rather fine drink which mixes beer and tequila and renders you delirious at which point you stop caring about being desperate and become instantly desirable! Where was I..? Oh yes, well off I went; usual cute little bunches, smoky sexy eyes, side parting, one eye covering fringe, a black boob tube and black Capri pants, chunky, hip hugging belt, cute black Havaianas, ´..scalpel check, attitude check, synchronise watches, CHECK` and an, ´I am a Goddess and I am invincible and if I don`t like it I can have one drink and come home anyway, and maybe this is an opportunity and I want to go OUT! Even if it means meeting strangers… and sod him anyway, I am branching out on my own… Aaarrgghh! ` mantra. Did I mention, I`m a bit shy?

I boldly strode through the bustling streets, between the endless dealers, beer sellers, couples, Friday Night People, holding my head up high and averting my gaze away from the gazes which were burning a hole in my cleavage. Can I help it if I have fabulous breasts? I arrived at the bar which had several tables outside in the terrace and did a distant recky of which group could be ´THE` group that I was looking for, with a mental note of the organiser`s name and Facebook photo. Unsure, I made my approach and patted a woman gently on the back asking if she was in fact who I thought she was and to my relief, she was and I was greeted warmly. I glanced at the group and was pleasantly surprised that only one of them seemed to be the stereotypical loser and checked myself for having made an ungenerous first impression of someone who was probably very nice. I realised that I was baring rather a lot of shoulder and that they were more conservatively attired, but figured why hide my fabulous form under a bushel. Apart from which it was August and still hot and you got to be yourself.

Drink in hand I proceeded to meet, greet and kiss everyone in turn and gave my broadest, cheesiest grin, a self effacing one liner…and I was in. Obviously they had all met before and seemed rather delighted to have a) a native English speaker in their midst and b) an apparently vivacious attractive woman in their presence and c) someone new to practice their English on. I had made a fabulous entrance and no one had noticed my knees buckling with nerves. After lengthy introductions they proceeded to the in depth questioning, the where, how long, whys and wherefores of how I came to be there, here? and interviewed me as if I was on one of those awful chat shows, where you are scrutinised by a panel of experts, or worse ´Ask the audience`, and get points for giving an honest answer. Remembering some points from various self help body language, how to flirt, how to make friends and influence people books (which I have never read of course) and then realising that it was actually OK to be myself, I answered warmly, smiled, asked questions, flirted (OK I can`t help it!) and got to know them and liked them a lot, while being entirely myself, or at least My New Self, as this is how it was going to be in my newly imposed independent state. We laughed, we talked, we arranged to meet up and exchanged numbers and one of the guys walked me home and asked if he could call me sometime. A successful venture into the unknown and as I always say, once I actually get there I have been known to sparkle and end up being the life and soul of the party.

As for the ´…too busy to see you…` he of course stayed in alone and missed out big time on my marvellous company. Perhaps now, I will be busy with my new found friends and will have to check my availability!

What`s in a name…?

Lucid — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 15:56:15 +0000

What a difference a day makes! My Ex boyfriend (who happens to be my best friend and with whom I am and have been in constant contact with since the day we met) is rather smitten that he features rather prominently in my new blog (for now anyway!) all be it subject to the odd venomous retort. So much so, that he has solicited a walk on part if and when my blog goes video. Hahaha! He then nonchalantly added that I too could have a walk on part, to which I replied, ´No Honey, you just gave me a ´walk off` part`, and dryly suggested that his new theme tune could be, ´You`re So Vain` by Carly Simon. He also wanted it noted publicly that in fact he had not given me a cold sore and that in fact it was just a blemish. It seems that we have in reality uncoupled in name only and have renegotiated our relationship as ´Seeing Each Other` or for the very least that we are still together in some in between holding pen of the ´Can`t let go, won`t let go` familiar and well known brand. And, that his shoes are still under the table and that he is still casually and habitually dropping ash on my, ´This is the only place you can smoke! ` balcony. Only now he cleans up his ash! I guess old habits and intimacy are less easy to eradicate.

I have always written…diaries, letters, poetry, one liners, favourite words, and quotes on scraps of paper, notebooks, the back of bus tickets and later emails and now blogs. I pretty much write all the time, voraciously, and could perhaps be accused of wanting to express every single emotion I feel, every single moment I feel it, and as the Ex boyfriend worked away (and even when he is here) we have corresponded compulsively, hence some of the funny stuff has ended up here. Another thing I have noticed is that since my Ex boyfriend was released into the wild and unburdened of his title, that we are in fact very much together, all be it less frequently and more importantly from a woman`s point of view that his new liberated state has improved his performance no end. Needless to say letting things go, allows them (you know, ´THEM`) the opportunity to return to captivity. Apart from which, I am a very practical woman, and if you are going to get naked and expose your inner most thigh, get yourself into what to you seems a most indiscreet and rather ridiculous position with your legs in the air and your bits wobbling around like a squashed Lillo then you may as well do it with someone you know and who may actually still respect you in the morning. As for the squashed Lillo, I am of course, a Goddess!

Needless to say, nothing is going to faze me today, not even The Mysterons.

Musings on uncoupling…

Lucid — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 15:25:29 +0000

I guess when you split up there comes a time of curtailed or interrupted contact or disconnection where ´we` cease to exist as a unit and embark on independent lives…where we begin to depend less on the person we have been in continual contact with for however long it lasted and disengage to embrace the new independent life, new people; ourselves in isolation.

I guess that`s what splitting up is, even mutual splitting up, an uncoupling…a redefining of boundaries, rights and negotiations of a personal, intimate nature…being released from an unhappy obligation, getting away from the needy.

Extract from ´Today the silence is deafening` an email I wrote:

´I guess that when you split up there comes a time of curtailed or interrupted contact…I was thinking that this is one of the rare days in the whole time since I have known you that we have not communicated… that you have not communicated, and how dependant I had become on your presence in my life, but that I willingly let you go…and that the silence is deafening, but that that is perhaps how it must be, when someone uncouples themselves from you and you must let them and that it`s just the way it goes and men and women can`t be friends, because as Harry says, ´the sex gets in the way..it`s out there`, and that splitting up means you don`t want to be with or see or talk to that person and even if you do it is an emotional minefield and may leave you wanting to disenfranchise yourself completely and who would blame you. The sad part is that you get close to someone who is integral to your life, and the love turns to loathing or longing or some other form of disliking and then they are gone, overnight…because you probably drove them away.

If you love something let it go, if it comes back to you, then it is yours, if it does not, then it never was…`

Uncoupling…and the day when you don`t get what you want

Lucid — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 20:50:18 +0000

Slept in and woke up hugging my pillow in the absence of my Ex boyfriend who used to stay over a lot until he went to work away for over two months, and who decided to dump me the day he came back and who had only been home briefly for one week after five weeks away before departing again for a further three weeks which was preceded by a rather limited amount of homecoming passion, a huge row and no sex on the penultimate and last day before departing yet again. What on earth was the man, thinking? Then whose libido and interest suddenly increased post liberation, so there is now a confused casual arrangement of an uncouple, behaving remarkably like a part-time couple, but without the ´Boyfriend` tag? (Please Release Me Let Me Go, by Engelbert Humperdinck, whose real name by the way was Arnold George Dorsey comes to mind…Why oh why?). It had been a long, hot summer and everyone and his dog and his lover were away. No one stays in a humid Spanish city in August unless they are a) poor or c) desperate…Oh dear!

So decided to text an Ex lover to see if he wanted to go to the beach with me, texted twice and got no reply, twice. Obviously this was going to be ´the day when you don`t get what you want` kind of day, when as soon as you want it, ´IT` becomes immediately unavailable.

Went to Starbucks for a cup of Earl Grey Tea and a chocolate cookie for comfort and read my book, which I finished, but which the author seemed to have left unfinished. It was as if they had just published without writing the last scene, leaving you dangling. I felt cheated. The Other Hand by Chris Cleave.

Went to the pharmacy to buy cold sore cream for the cold sore my Ex had kindly given me when he decided to become amorous again and show me his new pants the day after we had split up!

Feeling that the chocolate cookie might not fulfil my need for sugar, decided to go to Dia supermarket in search of Dia Truffles and Cava, which incidentally is my favourite drink. Dia, not having a wide range of well known brands was needless to say, all out of truffles and only had the cheapest, nastiest brand of cava. It seems it was the day of not getting what I want!

I proceeded to the other supermarket and was delighted to buy a multipack of mega toilet rolls with 5 free rolls, not least cause every time my mother used to visit I didn`t seem to have a single toilet roll, paper tissue or suchlike in the house, and now I was forty I had so many mega toilet rolls that they were taking over my 1meter square ´smallest bathroom in the world`. I felt a sense of achievement.

Then I went along the aisles in search of Lindt milk chocolate, the closest thing to sex in a packet I could find. Only to find the shelf was empty and there was just a gaping hole where the chocolate of choice had been. I wondered at this stage if the Universe was sending a message that I should perhaps give up chocolate and drinking alone.

MENTAL NOTE: Must give up chocolate and drinking alone…oh look, I can see pigs flying over my house!

I settled for some cheese (cheese makes me happy) and alioli (garlic mayonnaise) as I assumed I would not be kissing anyone except the pillow perhaps and some mini Moments ice creams. I did wonder about the wisdom of the name in light of the dieting mantra, ´…a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips` but proceeded to checkout without checking out my hips in the window.

As I walked home in the rain, which was a cool relief after a month of 35 degrees and rising humidity, I realised I was inadvertently eligible for the Miss Wet T-shirt 2009 prize and my bazookas were being stared at in turn by old men and a baby in a pushchair. ´MMmmm`…Marge Simpson growl.

All about the Blog, Writer…Me

Lucid — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 19:18:36 +0000

Laugh Out Loud is a blog about life, love, being fatally flawed and the musings and observations on the human condition, of being a modern woman of a thirty something (OK I`m forty, but don`t look a day over 28 in the dark and with makeup) generation. A self effacing journal about my life, loves, laughs and things that make me smile, often in the face of adversity. Universal truths via personal encounters, recollections, learning to laugh at myself, overcome self loathing, and the ability to see the funny side of deep, meaningful issues.