The Pinnocio Syndrome

Some of you dear readers may remember that I fell head over heels in love last year with a man who could not commit because he still loved and longed for his ex-wife who he said treated him like dirt, cheated on him and left him. But that aside at some point this man had decided he was ready to date and that he liked me, or so I thought, because he even told me he loved me. And I fell hook, line and sinker and waited, and waited, and waited. But he lied. He wasn’t ready and he didn’t love me at all, otherwise why would he have put me through such torturous agony waiting for him on the whiff of vague promises? He promised to seek help, promised to sort his head and his heart out, promised to be decisive, promised to take me out on his bike for a ride. Promises, promises.

Earlier this year this same lovelorn soul told me that his ‘best friend’ had fallen pregnant and that he was now – for want of a better word stuck. He was adamant that the child wasn’t his. Couldn’t possibly be his he said. He lied. It is his baby. He’s been friends-with-benefitting. Now they are staying together to bring the child up. So much for still loving the ex-wife. So much for keeping me waiting. So much for love and bike rides.

Some of you may also have followed the story that I’ve been seeing a dapper, charmingly old fashioned guy that my mother picked online for me at Christmas. His profile said he was recently separated, naturally I was cautious because I now have an aversion to men with ex-wives (twice bitten, yes there was one before that too, three times shy). I enquired several times if he was ‘over’ the ex gone since 10 months? He said she treated him like dirt, cheated on him and left him. Yes, he said ready to move on, ready for a new chapter, but the key was to go slow. I agreed going slow and courting was not a bad thing, after all I was badly burnt last year and needed some protection. How quaint and charming I thought that 5 weeks in we were still holding hands, kissing and having a cheeky fumble.

But last week we passed date 11 and the 8 week mark and we are still no further along than at the very beginning. We average a date a week and he plays cool, doesn’t call, just texts and even they are intermittent. He makes me work hard. We weren’t just slow, we had stalled and I was having a cup of tea at the side of the road while he went off to find a mechanic! When I challenged him about it this week he admitted (by text only of course) that we were in different places and that he still thinks about his wife. He lied. So much for slow, so much for new starts. This time we mutually agreed to leave it, but still by text! He half heartedly offered to come and see me at the weekend to talk about it. What an insult, I said not to bother as there’s nothing to talk about. We’ve gone our separate ways just like that after all that effort again. Except for this. I didn’t love him, I just liked him, I did learn that one lesson from my useless, lovelorn beardie and that’s not to trust ’em until you can see the whites of their eyes. Difficult in this cyber world.

My point is – why do these guys lie? They lie to themselves and they lie bare faced to us. And for what purpose? It only ruins everything. And I hate lying. Honesty is the trait I value most of all in a person let alone a man, no matter how much the truth hurts. In future I will ask them first if they have an ex-wife and second who their favourite Disney character is… maybe then I’ll get an inkling? pinnocio


Closed ’till further notice

Dating Kitty is now closed for repairs.

We hope to resume normal service once important machinery is mended and there are more stories to be told.

In the meantime remember…  You is kind. You is smart. You is important.

Miss Kitty xxx



You Got Mail!

Yes it really is as simple as that. Three hours after reactivating my profile and I’m already treading in the shark infested waters, with an online inbox bulging with smiles, winks and messages. I’m the fresh meat on the block and it doesn’t take long for them to sniff me out…

So here I am 5 months on and right back where I started, full circle, chatting to anonymous people and trying to stay positive, bubbly and chatty just like my profile says (insert smiley face here). But this time I’ve got my armour on so I’ve already politely declined every man who has an ex-wife or kids… hey I’m not putting my hand in that fire again.

This time it’s different and yes maybe this old school, freeform romantic is finally shaping up a fussy ‘list’ after all?



Ride ’em Joan

I’m sick of being miserable, sick of being sad, sick of waiting patiently with hope in my heart for someone who doesn’t come, sick of holding myself in like an overfilled cup of water just in case a certain someone wakes up and smells the coffee.

Guess what? It’s me who needs to smell the beans. But you knew that all along didn’t you? It’s me who needs to wake up. Me who needs to be harsh. Me who needs a reality check. He’s not coming. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Not next month. I’ve waited a long time to hear his footstep or the sound of his voice, but it never comes, instead I get empty text promises and lingering silences. The reality is love conquers all and the check is there’s no tick mark for that on my form. It hurts, but I gotta toughen up right? I said back in January that I’d given up, that I wouldn’t look for love. I said I would just be me. Well I’ve been me for 4 months now and I find me is a state of extreme loneliness and longing. Sadness and solitude that I can’t bear.

Driving home tonight and crying over the steering wheel again, I made a decision. I’m not a victim to love, I’m fed up of being an emotional cripple, I will take back my control and come out fighting.  Miss Kitty is coming back! And this time I’m not accepting anything except the very best offer I can get from another person. No half way houses, no baggage (or at least lite baggage only), no skeleton exes in the cupboard, no pathetic excuses  or abuse or drunken twisted 2am blackmail, just someone honest, passionate and pure. Who actually wants to be with me instead of running away all the time like the last two. Someone who wants to have fun and date me (pretty simple you’d think huh? I’m not exactly the elephant woman, last time I looked). No more tortured agony, I mean if it’s like this at the start,what would it be like if we ever actually got off the ground?

So tonight I re-activated my online profile and I’m drinking red wine and putting on my armour (just round my heart you understand) ready to go back into the fray and believe me I need tough skin. Online you get the oldies, the lechees, the insincere, the insane, the day-dreamers and everything in between. It certainly ain’t easy, it takes balls and bravery something my last two guys didn’t have that’s for sure.

But I’m sick of being passive and being walked all over. Sick of falling hard and being left on the concrete. The bitch is back! Well she’s not really back, because I’m just learning, but from now on I will learn to be tougher and harder and not take this shit anymore. There is a FRAGILE sticker on my heart and I’m not gonna let anyone close enough to see it anymore unless they jump through hoops first.

As A.A. Milne once said “You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.” So here goes. Can you see me going? Charging forth into battle like Joan of Arc, dressed in glistening chainmail on a white horse called Faith, with a banner embroidered with the words Love streaming behind me in the wind and in my hand I carry a silver shield held high which reads Hope.

I know it’s good isn’t it? But erm by the way…. I can’t ride a horse, so let’s make it a miniature pony and I don’t have any chainmail so instead I’ll just wear my favourite pretty retro pink leopard print dress with matching pink wedges (which means I’ll have to ride side saddle of course) and I don’t actually have a banner just a hankie and will a compact do for the shield maybe? OK. Well off I go… of course I’ll keep you posted ‘cos you’ll be with me every gallop of the way, well it’s probably more of a trot really eh? But in for a penny in for a pound – let battle begin!


The way you wear your hat

Well I got my answer and a big serve of what I deserve… waiting it seems is a fool’s game. Since I last shared I’ve ridden a rollercoaster only to end up right back where I started. I’ve been treated bad and let down but it’s a familiar road to me now. The ex triumphed in the end. Again.

Romance is dead and even though for a while I was Sleepless in Christchurch, there was no boy meets girl, happily ever after.

I’ve been lying low, re-stitching my seams and wondering what’s the point?  Being honest, being true to your feelings, getting up just to get slapped down again and again. Am I supposed to be learning a lesson? Huh! In which case the lesson can only be never love, never trust, never dare to hope. It’s not worth it for all the pain.

But then tonight I put on some cheesy old school crooners while I had a bath and a good cry and I listened to those golden, heartfelt lyrics from a time when men were men and women were breathless and smitten. It was all so seductive and I realised that I can remember why it’s all worth it. It’s that feeling you get when there’s someone there to share your day with, to kiss, to hug, to hold hands, to share food and laughter, it’s simply to love and be loved. And I may be disappointed and sour right now but there’s a flicker there. You know what? It cheered me up that little optimistic bubble in my stomach.

So I’ll hold my chin up high because at least I tried right? I don’t wake up thinking what if? I stood up, was counted and tried to raise my flag. As the Gershwin song goes “we may never, never meet again on this bumpy road to love, still I’ll always, always keep the memory of…”  in my case the way his hand shook when I held it.

I guess the lesson is you can take the girl out of the romance but you can’t take the romance out of the girl. Peace out x


The Wicked Witch of The West

She cannot be beaten and yet she doesn’t fight, she isn’t there and yet she’s omnipresent, a dagger in the heart where there was joy and last but not least she’s weak but all powerful so you may as well pick up your little sack of toys and go home.

Who am I talking about? The ex wife. And no I’m not trying to be uncharitable. It’s just the way I’ve seen it. Of the last three men I’ve been involved with, every time I’ve played my cards I’ve been trumped by the ex. Granted these men have been hurt by their wives but somehow two years plus down the line they are still holding an ever burning candle. In fact Mr.Twisted, who as you know stuck the knife into me good last year, actually told me that I couldn’t have his heart because it was hers. And even though he knows deep down she’s not coming back he’s resigned himself to an impenetrable solitude.

It’s happened to me again recently and I can’t get my head around it. Sadly I have no way of knowing that they haven’t healed until it’s way too late for me and my poor brave little heart sitting as it is proud on my sleeve. But how can I compete with a woman who has transcended into a ghost of perfection? Who embodies all that was good and golden in the beginning when they were green? These women have moved on with their lives and left their men trampled in their path. But try as I might I can’t help them pick up the pieces, like Dorothy’s companions in the Wizard of Oz they’ve lost their hearts, brains and courage and they push and shove me away all the better for not seeing or dealing. Because you see it’s not fearless, bright and cheery Dorothy they want, it’s the Wicked Witch of the West who broke them in the first place. Life is sick isn’t it?

And meanwhile I’m way down the Yellow Brick Road having done my relationship grieving and I’m ready for my new chapter, I’m so ready I’m positively overflowing with love. But I don’t have a companion to share it with except for my own two, fluffy Totos. Just sometimes I really do wish I could click my heels three times and make the Wicked Witch melt, fix them and live happily ever after. But it seems the universe has a different plan for me, the seemingly never ending journey of singledom and I don’t mind admitting I’m getting really, really tired of walking it alone, but I guess I’ll just keep putting one red sequinned shoe in front of the other, at least do it in nice heels eh Dorothy?