Calling In The One

I found The One.

Now that is quite a bold statement and a bit of a shock for me to write and read back, but it’s true. They always say you just know and well I guess I just know? And yes we are talking about me, Miss Kitty who has struggled with the notion of being single for three long, lonely years, through rejection, sadness, stupid dates and silly men. And in four little words I can change my whole life just like that? Well no actually it’s nowhere near as romantic, lucky or serendipitous as it sounds, it boils down to plain old practical, common sense with a touch of silver lining.

I didn’t call him in like a sea siren on a lonely rock amidst stormy seas, I actually called myself in first, truth be told. So really it’s not about him at all, it’s actually all about me. I finally took the time to find out what I needed in my life and gave it to myself.

Yes I admit I did go a bit hippy chick there for a while, diligently doing counselling, a lengthy personal development course called Calling In the One and even reading The Secret. They were great tools to help me step back and look in, but none of these things independently were the answer, in the last few months I’ve made a concerted effort to create big change in my own behaviour, my outlook on life and my quest for love.

If you read this blog, apart from funny dating disasters which are weird and often random, there is a common thread of heartbreak, chasing ghosts, rotten scoundrels and selfish men. The quality and focus of my life was all wrong. I finally realised that I needed to work on the inside stuff first – as trite as it sounds. So finally I lit the fires and guided myself home back to contentment.

I worked through tears and upsets identified my bad habits, found my triggers and this time fixed them for good. In the process I got me some happy and around about the time I started to feel like a room without a roof he showed up and we got on just like a wink and a smile. It really was that easy and that cliched…

We dated before and were tender but we couldn’t quite make it work because our hearts and minds were elsewhere, bound up with other hurts. Now we’ve grown, opened our hearts and can see the best in each other. We have gradually built up our connection, spending lots of time enjoying each others company and exploring the world together. He feels like my best friend, when he holds my hand I feel safe and when he’s not there I miss him. I could say an awful lot more about this gentleman of goodness, integrity and beauty, but instead I will simply say it is the beginning of everything and the end of something and finding him made it all worthwhile…

the one

 

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Double standards

So I reactivated my online profile for what feels like the millionth time in my 3 year journey. Everytime I do it it is with heavy fingers and a dramatic Victorianesque sigh. This isn’t romance right? Trawling through profiles like I’m reading labels off a supermarket shelf? It should be wham, bam, no thought, no effort, but this is the way of modern day love, hard work, effort, investment and above all else patience.

Our society ties have broken down so much that you have to fend for yourself these days in the realm of ‘mature’ love. Thinking back to my Mother at Christmas and the Magnificent Seven who spawned one glistening (but ultimately doomed) bauble of a gentleman I awoke at 6 am unable to sleep and impulsively sent 7 love messengers out into the wide world, 7 mini cyber cupids. OK, OK I’m being overly poetic here, really I sent 7 smiles at guys I liked the look of and this time I didn’t trawl through their profiles for hours weighing up the pros and cons, I just looked for the fresh meat and smiled at them like you would someone across a crowded room, I just looked and hit the button – kinda like poker!

And what do ya know one guy came back within 45 minutes (please bear in mind it was only 7am by now, an ungodly hour for romance) – he said he was pleased to have a smile from me, but obviously a newbie to the whole internet dating thing – he said and I quote he found the whole medium ‘discomfiting’ and I thought yeah mate who doesn’t? No-one wants to be on this site, not a single person on this site would choose meeting a complete, anonymous stranger by this totally synthetic and unnaturally forced method, none of us here are actually enjoying this process, it’s tiring, depressing and energy sapping. Everytime I go back online it’s like returning to some sad old memory of a washed up youth club of misfits, failures and loners “Oh yeah there’s him again, oh and him, and him, oh yeah and I recognise you, and oh I haven’t seen you for a while, back again eh?” Same faces, same places, on and on, over and over, for several years and these people aren’t ugly or weird they are normal, good looking, probably kind and lovely people and yet here they still are. Just like me. Still sitting on the shelf waiting for the next buyer to come through the door, till they get returned again for being faulty or not to standard or even voluntarily send themselves back to the point of dispatch. So yeah, wait a minute Miss Kitty… take a look in the mirror aren’t you back again too? Bruised and sore from you latest disappointment? Aren’t you just as sad and sorry as these poor buggers? Going round and round in the same washing machine?

Pat Benatar said ‘Love is a Battlefield’ no better words for it in my opinion. I’ve been knocked about so much in the last few years. But I take a breather and eventually I drag myself up, I dust myself down and I walk on, well what else you gonna do? Really? Don’t let it break your heart. If I’m lucky one of the seven will lift me up and galvanise me to keep on struttin’ my sexy stuff! Because odds are one day my husband is going to just turn up, just like that out of the blue and say “Hey you! Miss Kitty, where the bloody hell have you been all my life?” and will I then just say “Erm, I’ve been here all along just waiting for you?” Will I bloody hell as like! I’ll turn round and say “Hey you yourself, I’ve been hanging out and having some fun with these dudes, you shoulda turned up earlier!”.

Marilyn

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

Learning to smile again

Hello you, I’m sorry I’ve been away so long but you see I’ve been on an emergency hetox.

Yes, no men, no dating, no online, no nothing. Just me and a long, hard look in the mirror. It was really lonely and horrible to begin with and then it got easier and more normal and almost in the end dare I say it even enjoyable. I’ve got my mojo back.

I’m ashamed to admit I’ve had an unhealthy addiction to one particular guy this year. I laboured for 8 long months under the tortured impression that he loved me, that we were star crossed lovers, that our timing was wrong, that he was trying to find his way to me. I opened my heart and he never looked, I waited and he never came.

Bottom line? He’s just not that into me. When I finally faced this harsh fact it was sad but liberating. I don’t want to be anyone’s dirty little secret, a fancy on the side, I deserve to be celebrated and cherished.

So I’m proud to say this sister finally dug deep, found some good old fashioned gumption and went cold turkey. I broke the lovesick habit, and now I see what a waste of energy and love it’s been. Energy and love I need for myself.

Like attracts like and now that I’m centered again, fate has stepped in and surprised me. I found a truly nice, gentle, caring, sexy man. He’s been there all along but I couldn’t see him, his energy was blocked and overshadowed. But something magic happened and here we are. I am living in the moment again not in a fantasy in my head. He makes me feel happy and that today is a simple, precious gift.

smile

Heartlines

I feel really good today. To sum it up there’s a Florence and The Machine song called ‘Heartlines’ and it goes like this:

“But in order to get to the heart, I think sometimes you have to cut through.

Just keep following the heartlines on your hand, keep it up I know you can, just keep following the heartlines on your hand, cause I am.”

This song speaks to my roots, dripping in Celtic harps and drums, driven by Flo’s amazing voice and the vivid lyrics which conjure my homeland: rivers, tumbling stone and overgrown castles.

Its beautiful imagery makes me homesick or as we say in Welsh it gives me ‘hiraeth’ meaning a longing for the ‘Motherland’. But it also speaks to me on another level, it whispers to my inner druid. Call it mumbo jumbo if you will but I truly believe in spirituality and serendipity and I’ve finally decided to obey my heartline too.

It means conceding happily for once to leave my future to destiny. I already closed down my online profile two weeks ago and this weekend I said a sad goodbye to the lovely, gentleman scaffolder I met speed dating. He was one of The Good Ones, I knew it when we met but a month in and my spark was still damp.

I’m clearing the decks. To explain, I went to a new tarot reader recently and spookily picked the same cards as 6 months ago, the same reading, chapter and verse. I drew the Star, the Two of Cups, the Sun and the ‘wish’ card – the Nine of Cups.

I’m told I will learn to love myself first and then meet my version of the famous tall, dark, stranger abroad and only when the time is right. No matter what I do, it’s in the stars. The only travelling I have planned is homeward bound to ancient, misty Wales at Christmas. It’s a long way away and who knows what the future holds or if the cards are playing fair?

But in the meantime I’m going to enjoy hanging out with my girlfriends, being single, being selfish and following my own heartline to wherever it takes me. Because surely I’ve tried enough to no avail? Now I’m just going to relax, no more dates for tired, disappointed me.

As Florence says maybe the dog days are indeed over?

florence

No sex please I’m British…

The short answer to the question in my last post ‘Do two sorrys make a Mister Right?‘ is no they most certainly do not!

The fellow in question was certainly a catch – handsome, rugged, funny with a good job. After his initial approach we chatted intensely for three weeks online, he’s based in Wellington but was working in Sydney. After swapping more pictures by email, he teased me that he was surprised I was still available and asked if there weren’t any decent men in Christchurch? Cheeky little scamp.

Last week he called me and we chatted for an hour and a half on the phone, his voice was deeper and slower than I expected and he was relaxed and cool on the line, but really nice and had me blushing and giggling like a schoolgirl. Next up he Facebooked me and we continued the conversation there.

He seductively told me he liked the look of what he saw and asked if I was checking him out too? Of course I was! I have to admit I was secretly pinning my hopes on this one he was cute, smart, loves dogs and was in hot pursuit of little old me, what a potent combination. And then he blew it…

Mid conversation he asked me was I drinking? I said yes, I was having a nice slow glass of red, he replied saying that he liked a nice slow BJ. Whaaaat? Stunned I stared at the blinking cursor on the screen, surely he was kidding right? After a few minutes of silence with no sign of activity from the other side, I typed ‘please tell me that was a mis-timed comment?’ no, he pinged back ‘I love a good blow job don’t you?’

Needless to say I brought the conversation to a close pretty quickly. But I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Next day I asked him if he was feeling sheepish? No he winked back. That night again we went through the same rigmarole this time he told me that he was ‘busy stroking his cock’, record scratch moment! Now Miss Kitty is pretty sure he doesn’t have a pet cockerel in his bachelor apartment overlooking the city… so one can only draw a seedy conclusion.

I challenged him about his behaviour and he responded by asking me if I didn’t get horny too? Now my calculations tell me dear readers that I haven’t had sex in 8 months and by some standards that might make me a born again virgin. Am I horny? Too bloody right I am! But that doesn’t mean I want to have sext with a guy I’ve never met! I called him out and told him that we were obviously on different wavelengths that I didn’t want to be a long distance booty text and wished him luck in finding his woman (read Miranda style cyber sweep out of room). And? Finally rumbled, he fell dead silent. No final farewell or best wishes.Transmission terminated. So there it is, another epic fail.

Not one to give up lightly I pulled on my big girl heels and trotted out for a date with a local boy who had been very dry and humorous online. In person he was slightly eccentric and boho which initially I loved, but as the evening wore on I uncovered a rude person with a boastful ego, who thought he was cleverer than everyone else and I suspect actually blind drunk!

I dropped him back at his house and popped in to meet his dogs before heading home disillusioned and disappointed again. Except next day I discovered his smelly old boxer shorts left on my car’s passenger seat. Hello? At what point did he take them off and leave them in my car? And what’s with that? Sigh.

So tired and worn out from the constant erosion of dating stupid, horny men who’ve taken their brains out and transplanted them into their willies, I have yet again closed down my online profile. I don’t think I have the strength anymore to deal with the weirdoes and the sex starved.

cock