Witty Title – Fairytales

Once upon a time, there was a little Princess who was born into a less than privileged setting. She grew up strong and determined. She rebelled and forged her own path growing into a success, ambitious, independent woman. She had a fulfilled life with lots of love in family and friends and hobbies and interests that allowed her to explore her own personal knowledge and experiences.

But deep down, something was missing. She wanted companionship, somebody to share in her wonderful achievements and hobbies. Somebody to laugh with and make dinner with and hike with, somebody to support and cheerlead. Somebody to cuddle up to or make love to.

And one day, when she stopped worrying, and stopped overthinking, and stopped trying to guess, and just relaxed, Prince Charming knocked on her door (or iPhone App in this fairytale) bowed down in front of her and showered her with quality time, laughter and friendship.

For four glorious months, they chatted, went on adventures and dated. He bought food, she cooked, they found mutual enjoyment in the outdoors and films and sports such as tennis and football. They had their separate interests too and were able to spend time apart without getting bored or lonely or needing to fill up time with each other, even though the princess wanted to.

Now this fairytale princess took a long time to trust this Prince Charming. He was too nice, too secure, too normal, to look after a princess. And the princess kept asking ‘this isn’t quite right’ and ‘do I even like him’?

The Princess was scared to admit it. Because all her life she had experienced liking and loving someone with rejection. She had led a life of unrequited loves.

But, eventually, the day came where she finally accepted him, for who he was, admitting her attraction, admitting she had gotten used to his presence in her life. Wanting to explore beyond the superficial and dig a little deeper. He knew she was looking for a marriage. He knew about her Elvis superman status. He knew her bad habits, he was accepting of her and she was of him.

And so the story goes….

He ghosted her.

The Wedding Planner…

I’ve never considered myself to be the marrying type. I’m not really traditional like that and to be honest, I don’t have a single positive role model in my life that makes me really want to get hitched. I actually really value the ‘til death us do part’ vow and i’ve never met a man who I have been absolutely sure I’d want to spend my life with. I mean I was engaged to son’s dad, but honestly…thank fuck that didn’t happen. Close call. Phew! That said, I’ve planned the wedding…partly because I like to get carried away with myself whenever a new love interest comes along, but mostly because I like to entertain myself and then laugh my ass off at the sheer audacity of my imagination…Looooooool.

Truth be told, whether this is football dad or some other hunk O’ junk that leads me down the aisle; if it ain’t this, I don’t want it….

The two of us (and children only) jet off somewhere hot and exotic. We marry on a beach next to the sea, waves gently lapping against the shore. We are bare foot. Football dad, I mean groom 👀 wears a light grey suit and white shirt with open collar. I’m wearing a floaty backless dress and lashings of factor 50 (I am a red head after all). Our children are wearing smart shorts and Hawaiian shirts or floaty coral dresses.

The priest/minister asks us our vows, we include independence and respect in them because that’s all we really need as a couple; respect for each other and the life that we will lead. A simple ceremony sealing our commitment to each other and then we walk away hands in hands (with the children) for al fresco dining of fresh fish, fruit and vegetables. Steel band music is playing in the background as we eat and toast our mini celebration. We spend the day laughing, playing games on the beach and just enjoying the quality time together as a new family. I’ve just become Mrs Football Dad. Goddamnit. I mean Mrs Hunk O’ Junk.

As the evening draws in, we move back to our amazing suite with private swimming pool and Jacuzzi. The kids entertain themselves and we sit with our favourite cocktails elated at the fact that this is forever.

Back home, we have a big party celebration planned with all our wonderful friends and family. It’s summer and it’s in a barn, with hay bales and a maypole. Our wedding ceremony is playing out on a large screen in photos. We don’t have a honeymoon yet, that comes later as a surprise anniversary gift when the kids are adults. Our friends and family are dancing, drinking, eating, laughing. We are in our wedding clothes again and we first dance to Branches version of ‘I believe in a thing called Love’. People start to join in and we all twirl around the dance floor. We have hired a BBQ truck and people help themselves to lashing of smoked fish, meat and vegetables. The music turns uptempo and the dancing really starts. My father/daughter dance is a jive to Johnny B Goode. After this, a chair is pulled up in the middle of the dance floor and I’m made to sit it in. The barn goes quiet. I have no idea what is going on (ignore the fact I’m planning this)…. The twangs of guitars start up and a bass and I hear ‘we’re caught in a trap’ being sang from somewhere I can’t see. I look around and just see faces of guests smile knowingly; I’m definitely the last to know. The crowds part as the first verse is sang and before me stands my new husband, dressed up as Elvis giving me a Las Vegas-esque rendition of Suspicious Minds. I’m floored. Is this really happening? I’m getting my own personal Elvis gig!!!!

And it’s not just one song, I’m handed a single red rose as I get a medley of my Idols songs. I start to dance and the crowd joins in. Mr Footba… Hunk O’ Junk laps up the attention and pulls Elvis dance moves that makes me want to rip his clothes of there and then. Everybody is dancing and joining in, the band takes over the vocals as my husband takes my hand and dances the rest of the medley with me. This is the happiest I have ever been in my entire life and I didn’t think I could love him (husband) even more.

The night continues and everybody is merry. Cameras flash and fireworks boom. The kids are staying with grandparents, Football Dad (OK, I give in!!) and I say our goodbyes as we ride off into the night, I want him all to myself, he’s not the only one with a performance planned tonight…..

P.S. Thank god for this blog as an outlet for all my crazy…I have no idea how I’m going to be able to allow a relationship to burn slowly, I’m really, truly, honestly just not made that way!

FD#3 – Slow-Burn Kitten

At the weekend I was lucky enough to spend a whole day with football dad. A whole day!! We covered 21 miles on foot, it took 7.5 hours and we laughed and chatted non-stop the whole way! Not that either of us have classified these meet ups as official dates, but away from football we have spent a total of 12 hours together in just 3 ‘dates’. That can only be a good sign, right?

We got to talk about loads yesterday, lots of things about our past, previous boyfriends/girlfriends. Relationship breakdowns. Our families. Goals. Jokes. How we feel about dating now and being single. My cheeks ached from all the laughing and smiling I did. He has been through the mill with his ex’s though and although I get all the signs that he’s into me (light flirting, eye contact, teasing, questions about me, touching me, I even got a half cuddle and an arm around my back at one point) he needs something/someone that is going to go slowly, take their time, not rush in (despite the fact our ‘dates’ have escalated quickly to 7 hours spent together) so that’s what I’m going to do.

Trouble is how the hell do you go slow??? Because I’m smitten! I have had the biggest smile on my face over the last few weeks and I’m practically beaming after yesterday! The NRE (not that this has been classified as a relationship) makes me want to chat to him and see him and bug him and tell him everything. I’d love to try not getting too involved because I could be totally wrong and he isn’t that interested, and if that is the case I’m going to be very disappointed.

So how in the world do I go slow?

1) Don’t talk everyday, initiate contact couple times a week but be sure to reply to him if he contacts you.

2) Don’t stalk his entire family. Just don’t. Nah ah! Stop scrolling. Oh nice Fridge. God damn it.

3) Now that you have failed number 2, forget every bodies names because you don’t want to blurt out ‘How’s Loz’s recovery coming along’ before he’s even said my Sister’s name is Lauren.

4) Be as understanding for him as you would expect for yourself, particularly when it comes to the children

5) Learn Patience. Accept the fireworks that erupt and feel the joy, But slow-burn means not seeking that high every day. All good things come to those who wait.

6) Google the benefits of a slow-burn and then write your own diary entry into a blog named ‘There never was a saint’ and pray to god that he will never, ever, ever, ever see it!

Remember?….

Way back when I first started this blog, my inspiration came from the love of my life. I mean he was a total jack ass and it didn’t work out. I had no way of letting out my emotions though, so I thought writing about it would help. I didn’t stick it out. I think I made two posts about it and then forgot all about it and eventually empowered myself through music and good old fashioned will power.

However we met while we both had partners and the inevitable happened, we drifted apart. Mainly because he wasn’t satisfied with a girlfriend and a side chick….turns out I was one of many.

At the time I was head over heels for this idiot and genuinely thought I had met my equal. He could match me in all aspects of my life, he was funny, smart, career focussed, handsome, tall and dynamite in the bedroom. We rarely came up for air!

I spent a long long LONG time being angry. Angry at myself for allowing it to happen. Angry at myself for being a fool. A mug. I mean of course this guy wasn’t going to be faithful…he already wasn’t. Anger soon turned to guilt as I realised just how his poor gf would feel if she found out. She did eventually.

And I have been living with the guilt since then. Guilty for being the cause of my family break up. Guilty for being part of the cycle of this knobhead and contributing to the hurt. Guilty at not being enough for him urgh! Guilty for gliding through life, not seeing the colours and guilty for not seeing other opportunities around me.

During lockdown, there hasn’t been a lot to do, other than think. And one day I woke up and decided I didn’t want to feel angry or guilty anymore. Closure is a strange thing. People will tell you that closure can only come from yourself and I agree, to some extent. But I also believe you can’t get closure without doing some work. It’s a bit like the 12 step programme in addiction, and I have been withdrawing for 3 years.

So I reached out. Yes I was curious to know what had happened to him and some very small part of me still wishes things had turned out differently, but mainly I wanted to wish him well. And if I could do that without the jealous rage and inferno erupting inside the pit of my stomach, I’d know I was truly moved on. And so a quick message to him hoping he was safe and his family was well was all it took.

He was surprised of course. Think my last message to him was more along the lines of ‘Go fuck yourself and die’ I think I also thought about vandalising his car Carrie Underwood style.

He told me he still thinks about me and that we were great together. He hasn’t apologised or admitted any wrong-doing (not that I expect him to) but for the first time I’ve stopped playing the victim and held up my hands to my own misgivings. I was never really present, only ever enjoying the way he made me feel. I never opened up, acting stoic to prevent the walls tumbling down. I would ignore him or rant at him, rarely talk to him. I’d use big words to try and belittle him because I had zero control. I made it clear from the start of our relationship I was only after a physical relationship and I kept the pretence up, even when I knew my heart wanted something else. When the lust didn’t go away and the love took over, it was too late and I was heartbroken and have been ever since.

The funny thing is, even through all the hurt and pain, the ups and downs, the rough and the smooth, I still think of him fondly. He’s happy now in a new relationship and I am genuinely happy for him. Not jealous, not bitter, not indifferent. I’m pleased that despite all I remember, I want only the best for him. Some might say that I’m the definition of a fool, the victim of a narcissist, gaslighted. I probably am, but I’ve also been in love and if wishing the best for someone you once loved is wrong, then I’m wrong, but I’m also free of any negative emotions and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that I got to experience real love in my lifetime and I think that is a wonderful thing.