Stepping Over A Line


It’s been a long time since I felt myself ‘drawn’ to a man, nearly two years now, but I know myself well enough to know that often, not always, I have a ‘type’.
And recently, one of those ‘types’ has arrived at another office I regularly visit for work.

Tall, confident, sure of himself to the point of being a little cocky, well spoken and interesting – enter the Alpha male.
Having been in a place where I’ve avoided even the very idea of being interested in anyone for so long now, it’s taken me a bit by surprise that I’m attracted to this guy.
I’m not sure I think he’s even all that good-looking – oh laws of attraction, you do vex me so!

Obviously the fact that he’s a work colleague means I would never ‘go there’ even if it were mutual (we all only make that mistake once, right?), but, still, I’m drawn to spend time in his company.
He’s several years older than me – at least ten, maybe more – and has been about a bit, travelling around the world before returning back to the UK.

Today, whilst driving and then walking to meet a colleague, we swapped war stories about some of our life’s disasters and found some similarities.
He waved his hand around nonchalantly whilst he told me about the house he’d sunk his money into in France, and the woman who’d walked out on him.
After, he strode forward whilst telling me about the woman who’d stalked him and needed police intervention.
Running his fingers through his hair, he described the motorcycle accident that had almost cost his life.

He slowed the pace and lowered his hand when I mentioned the man who’d threatened to kill me.
He stood stock still whilst I tried to articulate the man who’d messed with my head so badly, and left me so unsure of who I am, that I can’t always find words to explain it.
We shared a wry smile and a raised eyebrow when I described the man I called my boyfriend, whose girlfriend had phoned me at work to ask what was happening between me and her boyfriend.

I have no idea if there is chemistry between us, but in the last few weeks I’ve felt we’ve sought each other out at meetings or before and after.
I know that if there is chemistry, nothing will ever come of it. It can’t.
I know that all the bad men I described were just as Alpha as he is.
I know that just thinking about something that would never happen gave me goosebumps nonetheless.

I know that entering this slightly familiar territory, hearing these different-but-the-same experiences, it feels like walking into an old bombing range – there’s an air of excitement, but you also risk stepping on explosives too.


Thank you for the music

So it took me about ten seconds to Google some info about a subject that will come as absolutely no surprise to anyone, ever:
It has been scientifically proven that music affects our emotions and mood.

No shit Sherlock!!

The nerd in me wants to research this link between emotion and music and try to understand it more, but seriously, am I really going to tell anyone in this blog anything they don’t already know? (Click for more, here, if you must)
There’s the science, which is undoubtedly interesting and important, and then there’s just the reality – the raw, tangible, undeniable, goosebumps, tears, smiles or memories we all get when a certain song comes on the radio or we dig out a CD just to hear it (yes, I still listen to CD’s).

Today, the song Wonderwall, by Oasis, came onto the radio and instantly I was taken back in time to the man I spent ten years with, from 17 to 27. He was a huge Oasis fan and whilst he wasn’t a classic romantic, he used to tell me that it was ‘our’ song in his mind. It was his version of giving me roses, and I loved him for it.

So here’s some songs that trigger memories/feelings/times and places in my mind.
I’d love to hear some feedback about what songs are important to other people.

The OCD in me is quietly agonising about whether I should post these three songs in some sort of order (chronological? importance? type of emotion?) but I’m fighting that, and am just going with whatever comes to mind first.

All I See Is You – Dusty Springfield
So yes, I know that Dusty had her heyday WAY before my time, but goodness me, I love her. Her voice, oh, that voice that conveys a thousand emotions in a word. She captivates me in a way I can’t explain.
I sing this song, in the car, every few days, It’s about him, the one who broke me. The one I loved more than anything on this earth. The one who walked away.
The lyrics say it all – they say everything.
“The days have come and gone since you were here,” and yes, “In every way, all I see is you.”

Do You Realise? – The Flaming Lips
Call me weird, but I imagine this song playing at my funeral, with pictures of all the amazingly wonderful people in my life. Like it is my chance to finally point out to them how beautiful they are, and they don’t get to argue back with a whole load of ‘yeah, but’ because we’re all programmed not to take compliments.
Does anyone really realise how wonderful they are? Are we all too busy putting ourselves down and feeling angsty to notice?
I look at my friends and think “wow”, so many amazing people, and how much time do we really take to recognise that? Is it so bad to notice how massively cool we are?

To Sheila – The Smashing Pumpkins
I have no idea who Sheila is, but gosh, to have someone write a song like this, for you.
I just think this is the most beautiful song ever written. I love The Smashing Pumpkins, and Billy Corgan’s voice is extraordinary. I’d say this is my favourite song, ever.
Can you just imagine, just one person in your life, thinking enough of you to write this song?
This song?



I came across the Ben Folds album Rockin’ the Suburbs just by chance when it was released way back in 2001.
(I had to Google when it was released – yikes, 2001!)

It’s one of those albums I’ve always gone back to periodically and I don’t think there’s a single duff track on it.

It’s a bank holiday weekend yet again.
And yet again that fact is making me feel very aware of my alone-ness.
And, just for a change, I’m thinking about the guy who broke me, possibly forever.
One day I may blog about him, but I don’t know that I could ever find the right words.

Sometimes, when I’m feeling blue, this song makes me feel a bit stronger.
That’s it. Not happier or sadder or better or angry, just a bit stronger.
And some days, a bit stronger is just enough.


700 Words of Confusion

So this post is a bit off-topic (ish), but it feels worth it.

I set up my Twitter account for this blog at the weekend and started to have a browse around and start
selecting accounts that I would like to follow.
Among them was the No More Page 3 account, which is a campaign asking for The Sun newspaper to stop printing pictures of topless women each day.

I’ve heard of the campaign before and hugely admire and support the work the team behind it are doing.
But today, I started pondering the campaign and why it is happening. And of course then I started to think how completely bizarre it is that in 2014, this campaign even needed to happen, and yet, it does.
Somehow, Britain is still a country that allows, every day, pictures of women with their breasts out to appear in a national newspaper. So-called ‘lads mags’ are, quite rightly, on the top shelves these days to protect children from their soft porn content. And yet, right there, amongst the real news, as though it is perfectly normal, is massive soft-porn picture of a woman with her boobs out.
The more I think about it, the more downright odd it seems.

On the one hand, I feel like I should be attempting to write an insightful, thought-leading post about how wrong Page 3 is in the modern day. And on the other, I can’t stop pulling a confused face and thinking that Page 3 is just downright strange.

How? How is it okay for this page to still exist?
How is it okay for children to grow up with that paper in their home or in a public space and be so exposed to soft-porn that they become de-sensitised to it and think it is perfectly normal for a woman to just stand there, appearing like she has nothing to offer but her breasts.

Like so many women, I’ve had to put up with the misogynistic comments from men who think it’s ok to leer, tell me to ‘get your tits out for the lads’ and then laugh amongst themselves as though I’m just there for their entertainment.
Or men who think it’s ok to grope you in a bar or on the tube.
Or the men who think they have the right to judge you based on your appearance – as though that’s all a woman is.

We can’t assume that all of these idiots think the way they do because of Page 3, but how are we ever supposed to instill a sense of equality and mutual respect in our young men if they grow up believing that a woman with her boobs out is a perfectly normal and to-be-expected display in every environment where you might find a newspaper?
I cringe to think of the boys growing up seeing their father ogling Page 3 and seeing a woman being judged purely on appearance as a perfectly normal thing.

The No More Page 3 campaigners call for women to be shown doing a multitude of things instead – like the men are. Women playing sport, or running a business or working for our country or, or, or….
How are young girls ever supposed to grow up truly believing they can be admired and respected for their minds, when every day they see a woman being judged for the pertness of her boobs?

We sit in judgement on other cultures where women are not given equal rights or prevented from getting an education or not seen as being as important as men.
We wring our hands and talk about equal rights and equality and feel smug about our progressive culture.
And then we degrade a woman and reduce her to nothing more than a body, a pair of breasts, someone purely there for the sexual pleasure of men.
And when I think about it like that, it feels so bizarre and sad and depressing and ridiculous, and like our boasts of equality are nothing more than the Emperor’s New Clothes.

And nearly 700 words later, I am still pulling a confused face and wondering how and why Page 3 ever existed and how anyone at The Sun can defend it, on any level.
I don’t often feel completely ineloquent, but the very existence of Page 3 is just totally baffling.
Thankfully, the campaigners and many of their supporters say it far better than I do, and, to finish, I would highly recommend this video, and although The Sun editor has since changed, I think it is still superb. 

A Moral Maze

I went to see the film The Other Woman a few days ago and it reminded me of an incident that happened a couple of years ago.

I mentioned in a previous post that I’d once had a relationship with a guy (five months) before I found out he had a girlfriend (seven years).
I met the guy – let’s call him Bozo – through a mutual hobby and we started seeing each other fairly regularly, and then it actually all moved very fast and we were seeing each other very often and he was making all sorts of declarations about love etc. I’ve never been one to rush these things and I think it frustrated him because he perceived it that I was holding back on him.
He also told me that he’d recently broken up with a girlfriend, so I guess I was keen not to be the fall-back girl.
Aside from feeling a bit bulldozed by him, I didn’t have any reason to be suspicious.

Until I was at work one day – yep, AT WORK – and my phone rang, and a voice asked me what was going on between me and her boyfriend.
She introduced herself as Bozo’s girlfriend and wanted to know what was happening between us.
There followed a somewhat lengthy phone call where she wanted to know in grim detail what had been happening over the last five months.
It turned out they were taking some time out, she had gone to stay with her parents and believed that he was home alone every night. And when the arsehole wasn’t with me, he was with her. What a guy!

Despite this being one of the weirdest phone calls I’ve ever taken, I should mention that she actually seemed like a really nice girl. She knew that I didn’t have a clue what was going on, she didn’t shout, she didn’t swear, she didn’t blame me, she just wanted to know the facts.
Don’t get me wrong, this was no scene from a Cameron Diaz movie, but I did end up putting the phone down thinking that she seemed like someone I’d be friends with in another world and I admired her bravery and level head.

Aside from being pretty hurt by Bozo and saddened to have been nothing more than an unwitting mistress, I walked away from that mess with my head high knowing I hadn’t deliberately done anything to hurt anyone.
I have never spoken to him again and never intend to.
I believe she stayed with him and have seen them together at hobby-related social occasions. We give each other a wide berth and effectively pretend each other isn’t in the room. I imagine that whilst she never blamed me, I don’t suppose she wants to see all that much of me either.

But this incident has had me thinking. At what stage, if ever, should you tell someone their other half is a cheater and a liar?
I wrote in my previous post that there has been a number of married or attached men who have tried it on with me, thinking that because I’m single, I’m happy to sleep with another woman’s husband/boyfriend.
Each one of these men has been sent packing (obviously!) but I must admit it has made me feel bad for the wife/girlfriend who probably doesn’t have a clue what a shithead she is with.
I’ve never said anything to any of them, because to tell someone their other half cracked on to you feels almost vindictive, like playground bitchiness that would cause upset between them deliberately.
Or is it a dis-service to not flag up to someone ‘hey, he’s shithead’?

You obviously won’t be the last one he tries it with and eventually she’s going to discover he’s been sleeping with someone else.
So should you speak out or stay the hell out of it?
Is there a difference between another woman you know? Or one you’ve never met?

If you knew someone was planning to burgle someone else’s house and steal their most precious things, would you tell them in advance? Or wait for it to happen and then show sympathy for something you could have prevented?

The Other Woman

The longer you’re single, and the older you get, the more you learn just how often the appearance of a devoted and happy relationship can be just that, an appearance.

Something I’ve increasingly noticed is that when you’re the single one, women don’t like you talking to their husbands, presumably because they’re convinced you’re after him.
Spend any amount of time talking to a man at a party or social occasion and you can do a mental countdown for the time it will take for the wife or girlfriend to appear at their side.
This appearance virtually always plays out in one way – she will always stand next to him, and more often than not link arms or touch his hair, she will smile and outwardly look delighted to see you but there will always be a slight air of something else (panic? a warning?), the three of you will engage in polite conversation for a minute or two and then either she will find a reason for them to move on, or, dying in the awkwardness of it all, you make your excuses and slink off as though you had been caught doing something wrong.

marital infidelity concept. Love triangle passion hate

It doesn’t seem to make any difference whether these are people you already know or if they are new acquaintances.
Even when they are a couple that you think of as having it really together, you still get that look from the woman that essentially makes it clear they think you’re after their man.
None of them ever stop to consider that just because you’re single, it doesn’t mean you’d sleep (or even flirt) with a married man. Why, is that there so often that assumption that our standards or sense of self-worth is so low that we’d stoop to that kind of behaviour?
Of course, I know there are single girls who probably would, but there are plenty of married women going where they shouldn’t too.
I can be persuaded to put up with ‘the look’ from women who don’t know me, although frankly it still pisses me off, but from those who do? That’s just really poor.

What the poor loves don’t realise – or don’t want to – is that more often than not, it’s not the single girl they should be concerned about, it’s their husband.
Depressingly often, these family men are incapable of holding a conversation without their eyes doing a quick sweep up and down every now and then. I’d say I dress reasonably conservatively, and yet often their eyeline seems to be several inches below my face…
Or there are the other men, the ones who greet you with a polite hug, but leave their hand on your waist that bit too long, or the ones you catch having a discreet ‘look’ when you’re chatting in a group or who you notice watching you on the dancefloor.

I went to a wedding a few weeks back with a group of friends which includes a couple who’ve been married about a year. It was the evening and the dancing had got a bit silly and we were all laughing and enjoying ourselves, it was great.
And then there was that tiny moment where you catch the husband checking you out and he doesn’t stop even though he knows you’ve seen him, and then you notice that the wife has spotted it too and she shoots you a look as though it’s your fault.
None of you say anything and the whole thing is over in less than ten seconds but you know that the only acceptable thing for you to now do is make an excuse to leave the dancefloor.
And then you see them again a couple of weeks later and everything between them is great – it always is, they are a great couple – and yet she’s just a tiny bit cold with you.

But much worse than the ones whose eyes linger longer than they should, is the fact that I’ve really noticed an increase in the number of married or attached men who try it on, looking for some no-strings fun.
There’s a few who are worthy of posts (case studies?) of their own, but it never fails to shock me how willing men are to cheat, and that they assume that will be ok with you, because you’re single.
In the last year, there has been two married men (one my age with a young son, and one in his fifties), one engaged guy (several years younger, called me cougar….) and one single-dad with a girlfriend who have approached me looking for some extra-curricular activity.
Add to that the fact that my last boyfriend cheated on me more than once (shame on me for giving him the chance) and that a couple of years ago I had a five-month relationship with a guy who turned out to have secret girlfriend of seven years, whilst another guy was recently trying it on until I discovered he had a girlfriend, and there’s some pretty damning evidence for the behaviour of some men.

I don’t feel I should have to offer this explanation, but there could well be someone reading this who thinks maybe I’m the kind who seems like I’d be ‘up for it’.
Well, I think I’m actually pretty boring! I don’t go out drinking and pulling men, I’ve never had a one-night stand and have never knowingly been involved with someone who is attached.
If I had a reputation for those things, then who knows how many more would try it on?

I’m not interested in other women’s husbands or boyfriends.
Don’t laugh, but I also have a sort of personal belief in the ‘sisterhood’ – a belief that as women we should be looking out for each other, not making life harder.
Men treat us badly enough, surely as women the least we can do is treat each other with kindness and not do things that we know would cause upset or harm?

So why, just because I am single, do I sometimes feel like enemy number one in other women’s eyes?