‘Light at the end of the polytunnel’
Being Uncoupled, a beginner’s guide.
if you’re looking for a book on ‘How to grow successfully’ or ‘All about polytunnels’, this isn’t it.
What is it then? You might well ask.
Maybe I’ll start by introducing myself. Mother, failed wife, Drama teacher , now retired after 35+ years.. hang on, I just said ‘failed wife’ so that’s maybe a Huge One and what this book actually is trying to be.
What is a ‘wife’ and can we ‘fail’ at it, and if we do, how did we, and what’s all this pressure on us to be coupled and can we be happy as singled out?
Do we ask people ‘Are you married?’ as a 1st question, even if unspoken? And if they’re not, are we judging them?
Are some people destined never to be successfully coupled, or is finding your ‘Other Half’ ( shudder) all a massive cosmic lottery?
That’s a lot of questions isn’t it. Oh that was another one.
Ok so this morning I actually wrote on a bit of paper all the names of my past b/fs. I had to define boyfriend first..
It all felt a bit ‘Christmas carol’ like they’d all visit me and teach me lessons. (shudder)
Facts:-Twice divorced, twice engaged, but oddly not to either of the eejits one ended up matrimonied to. ‘’Married twice, two kids, that didn’t work out so divorced them’’ to paraphrase Police Squad.
Adventures with online dating. Hmm. Misadventures would be more accurate.
Case study one:Radio Wikkipedia. Let’s call him that rather than his actual name.
Description: this is an out of work, recently recovered from pancreatic surgery, rather pathetic type ( on paper) and as always my overactive maternal instincts kick in but once you MEET him that all evaporates faster than your precious perfume when spilt on the carpet.
This is a guy that TALKS (and please believe me I am not exaggerating), a sneaky glance at watch ( not that he’d notice) would show that his 1st subject ‘’The Airfields of Chelmsford’ ( why?) has been broadcasting relentlessly -and without even a sip of the lager I bought him- for 35 minutes.
On our 2nd date ( as I wondered if maybe he’d been nervous, so ever the optimist) I’d given a lift to town to my son, who actually *got out of the car and walked off* rather than listen any more to Said Bore. RW was oblivious, just as he had been when I tried to head him off ( 4 times) with the suggestion that he might *ask me something about me* this was greeted with a slight pause in his lecture and then: ‘You can tell me anything you might want me to know’ and then back we were again on ‘Tensile strength of climbing ropes’ or ‘How pigs differ from humans’, all unsolicited and frankly alarming. I’d suggested in a text message that a series of signals might be needed, eg one tap for change subject, two for ask me something.. and so on. Ignored. He was equally relentless via texts, an avalanche that over rode me saying: ‘I’m driving so can’t reply’.
Other things that staggered me: when in my car he suddenly got my CD collection out of the side pocket, rifled through it, grunted, and chucked them back in, without commenting but clearly unimpressed. He then resumed whichever lecture he’d embarked on eg ‘Israel, then and now’, or ‘African rift valleys’ or ‘My operation and after effects’.
Description: THIN to the point of being worryingly frail, clicky shoes with steel Blakies ( remember them?) and the exact same clothes as in his photo on the site. On both dates. Some hair ,which he’d SELF cut; see the signs? And teeth missing. NOT attractive in any way, even if you could stand being talked at for hours on end. Oh and I forgot to say that a lot of things he’d said were actually quite nasty.
Eg ‘my Dad had a painting like that and when he dies I’m getting that as I put a sticker on the back saying it’s coming to me’. My face on hearing this, reflected back at me in the glass on the painting, was , as they say, a picture, but he was as ever looking away.
My son loved the moment when I suddenly said ‘I made this waistcoat’ hoping for a response. None. To which I said it again, Exactly same intonation: then he announced he had the mind of a butterfly and couldn’t keep his mind from wandering off, right now he was thinking about chipotle and its many uses.
Perma Single: a poem for the online man
Online man : ‘easy going’ you claim
I bet for you it’s more of an aim
as your list of demands is long as your arms
And demanding and tetchy are some of your charms
She must live nearby, her age must be less
She mustn’t have baggage , her house not a mess
‘Tactile’ you say, a phrase makes me nervous
Knowing it’s got an ulterior purpose
A licence to thrill or an insistence on cuddling
There’s a difference between them I find quite befuddling.
Online man: you’re here to find love
You say that; but when push comes to shove
You want her next door and you don’t want to say
Travel’s for holidays and not every day.
What if the ‘right one’ lives miles away?
She doesn’t look as she did in your mind
Her size rather curvy, her face may be lined
But she likes all the things you said you found groovy
Life is like that; we’re not in a movie.
We all lose our looks in the end
And what we want most is a bluddy good friend.
From my son: Yeah i read your last email. Looks pretty forking dire. I almost wish I’d seen the school play now, but im guessing it wasn’t even funny bad, just… hairpulling, frustrating, teeth grinding, hari-kari, airplane crash, please god let it end LET IT END bad.
Dating woes, sch, jeese. Men huh. Scabrous dullards. You’re better off without them. Not really much advice to give on that one, besides look to yourself for inner happiness. After all, if you aren’t happy with yourself, you can’t band-aid it with some boring man. As for Colin… eh. You might meet a decent enough bloke on the NT things, i shouldn’t worry.